Page 59 of Gifted Destiny

The mage frowns and reaches for my hand. I take it eagerly, latching onto the comfort he provides. “I feel a storm cloud looming that is not of my creation. We expected a storm today, but that one has passed. Still, the danger remains.” He speaks absently, as if reciting a quote, but I know these are his words.

My grip on his hands tightens. The storm we expected was the detectives’ arrival; this is something else.

Chapter 27

Kodi

I’m not certain that I understand what Zosia feels, but I know she isn’t okay. Her energy and strength are being co-opted – like she can’t tap into her reserves. My ghostly spirit doesn’t offer any energy, but I’m certain Garrett has extra.

Our nightly activities robbed her of sleep, but she seemed perfectly fine at the beginning of her shift. I can feel her vitality waning through the bond, though, and the descent seems unnatural. None of us wants to leave our mate, but we’ll accomplish our goals more quickly that way. Since Bren needs help containing his magic, he stays by her side.

I’m still getting used to the evolving friendship with the other men. The only friend I’ve ever had was Zosia. Technically, a friend is a friend despite their anatomy. However, I can’t deny that it feels different. It’s unnerving when we automatically veer into different areas after a single, wordless exchange.

Garrett begins on the first floor and Avery sprints toward the fourth with vampiric speed. I fly to the eighth because I believe I’m at a disadvantage without any physical senses.

As I zip up and down the aisles, I realize my mistake. My greatest asset is my bond to the library, not a sense of smell or touch. Although the building lays still and quiet, I feel the energyin every shelf, chair, and piece of wood. I want to marvel at this new connection, but my worry for Zosia gives me a sense of urgency.

The new bond is strange, especially when I’m incorporeal. Items typically carry little meaning, solidity, or presence while I’m in my ghostly state. The library, however, is more than an item or thing. Sage feels as real and as infinite as Zosia and it isn’t because of its material aspect. The structure of stone and wood, the paper, the furniture, or the books – these are inconsequential.

I can’t define what holds me or attracts me … it might be magic, but it isn’t like any magic I’ve ever encountered. The library is like the sun. Without her, our world wouldn’t exist or thrive.

I chuckle to myself as I finish my scan of the eighth floor. Bren’s magic might have scrambled my leftover brains because my thoughts don’t make sense. They’re also very conceited when I evaluate them from a different angle. I just theorized that our planet would be nothing without the library – that I am now a part of. If Bren could read my mind, he’d spout several quotes at me.

I glance toward the tenth floor as I float to the ninth. Mist forms a nearly impenetrable wall and the magical security I couldn’t see yesterday shines a bright orange. The arcane floor has its own security guard and its protection is many times stronger, so we haven’t considered searching it. I don’t see Finatan, though. I haven’t seen any of the goblins today and hope the ugly little creatures are okay.

The ninth floor is dedicated to social and political science and receives little attention. It’s no wonder considering the books are huge, ugly, and require a translation from legal jargon to normal words. I bet Apocrypha’s elite students receive their own version of the law from their parents and biased teachers.

As I search for the disturbance bothering Zosia, it comes into sharper focus. I don’t know when the shift occurred – perhaps when that idiot detective tried to grab the book; the change was so subtle that it took several hours to register. I can’t remember the taste of spoiled food, but I remember when something was slightlyoff– this feels like that.

I’m about to call the ninth floor a bust when a strange pulling sensation in my gut stops me. I think it’s instinctual, but I haven’t had instincts since I died. Something necessary for survival isn’t necessary after death. The tug insists that I stay on this floor – the anomaly is here.

I don’t question my intuition as I restart my search from the beginning. Similar to my first inspection, my thoughts swarm like bees. I worry that the others will think I’m slacking, that Zosia isn’t safe, that the goblins don’t want me here ….

The doubts are so intense and overpowering that they’re not normal in my ghostly form. I recognize the difference between my usual state of distraction and this outside influence. A spell or enchantment is attempting to waylay me, but the magic didn’t factor in my stubborn nature. I defied eternal rest to sleep with the woman I love; if necessary, I can search these shelves for centuries.

If the library allowed dust to accumulate, many of these shelves would be concealed under several layers. Some of the texts look like they’ve never been touched. Although I can’t acquire entire transcripts like Zosia, I can access general information. Several volumes define obsolete laws that existed centuries ago and some describe military formations in such detail that boredom threatens to erase me permanently.

A few books carry more magic than others do. Mages can spell the images to move or help the reader retain knowledge with less difficulty. I’ve never engaged in formal education, but I bet both magics are valuable.

I’ve almost reached the end of my second pass and each remaining book makes me doubt my already questionable instincts. Then, in the middle of shelf 9.MH.10, a tickle assaults the back of my neck. I shouldn’t feel anything because I’m currently incorporeal.

I whirl around, grasping for the offender, but I’m alone. Nothing has changed; I can’t even see any dust motes swirling in the air. The tingling sensation remains, though, and I can’t scratch the itch without a body.

I stand in the middle of the aisle and close my eyes, focusing on my connection to the library. It feels dampened, and I wonder if this rogue magic is blocking it. Instead of looking for something out of place, I search for an obstruction.

It’s not obvious, so I meander down the aisle again. Just past the midpoint, the tickle becomes a sting. My ghostly form shudders and shivers; the sensation reminds me of when Zosia hurls something at me. I can prepare to pass through solid matter, but the reverse is unsettling.

I open my eyes. The shelf in front of me bears multiple copies of what appears to be the same book. It’s a set of military encyclopedias cataloging tactics, formations, and other dull topics. The only difference is a number instead of a title, and the uniformity of the wallpaper-like covers, size, and description makes my eyes cross. My brain really wants them to be a single entity.

I scan the shelf four times before I realize two volumes bear the title XV, which I think is fifteen in Roman numerals. I frown and search the entire lot again, looking for other duplications. Maybe fifteen requires two volumes?

Now that the book has caught my attention, though, it won’t let it go. It’s odd in other ways I can’t explain, except that it might be … glowing.

As I reach for the strange book, the ashen color of my hand reminds me that I can’t touch it in this form. Calling for the others along the bond would be easy, but I don’t want to alarm them if it’s nothing.

Regardless of whether the book presents a true threat or not, I’m useless to Zosia and the others if I can’t do anything on my own. I concentrate on the person I love the most, and my chest automatically warms as I remember the joy and contentment she gives me. My skin prickles when I contemplate the monumental opportunity I’ve been given – involved in her life as more than just a sarcastic bystander.

My solid form surfaces differently this time. The change starts in my mate mark, sizzling along the lines of the huge, swirling knot before spreading outward. Thankfully, a raging hard-on isn’t necessary every time. My dick twitches because lust supports the foundation of my solidity, but love is the ultimate catalyst. I love Zosia more than I loved life.

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