Page 60 of Gifted Destiny

The tingle reaches the tips of my fingers and toes, and I fill my lungs several times while adjusting to the rush of sensation. Breath isn’t necessary, but it’s reflexive and calming. My physical senses aren’t overwhelmed this time because the floor is abnormally quiet and my sense of smell remains nonexistent.

The ambient magic from the floor above me nudges the edges of my consciousness, and a soft breeze ruffles my hair. There are no open windows and I haven’t glimpsed any vents or grates, but the library somehow maintains a steady current of freshly filtered air.

Although I’ve expressed my gratitude multiple times already, I mutter more appreciation for the new clothes. The shirt is softer, the pants are looser, and the boots are the right size. Besides my clothes and hair, the physical manifestation of my body is less intrusive than I remember. Digestive processes,hunger, thirst, and aches or pains distract the living, but I don’t experience any of these.

I shake out my newly reformed limbs and widen my stance, preparing to separate the copycat book from its fellows. My solidity enhances my suspicion that it’s not right. The entire set appears untouched, and I doubt the tomes are in high demand. Does the author – Admiral Benedict VonGertren – regret the time he spent on the thirty volumes? Or did the Admiral possess the ability to speed-write?

A wave of dread overwhelms me, but it’s too late. My fingers make contact with the leather binding. A yelp of shocked pain echoes down the aisle as a burning wave of electrical magic causes my muscles to spasm uncontrollably. The unpredictable movements rattle the book from between its companions, and it falls to the floor.

For a fleeting second, I’m overwhelmed with regret for treating a book so callously. The pain quickly banishes that thought.

Fuck. It hurts.

Unlike running into the door or being shocked by Bren’s magic, this pain rivals the intensity of last night’s orgasms. That felt so good and right, but this is all bad and wrong. I cradle my throbbing hand against my chest, but I’m no longer solid. The pain ebbs the longer I’m incorporeal. Instead of agony, it subsides into static numbness.

I mutter a string of curses that would make Zosia blush and see that the book is lying open instead of closed. As I lean over it, something dashes across the page. What in the magical fuck …?

“Are you all right? I heard you yell. I also think I felt something.” Garrett’s low voice nearly scares me into a second death.

I didn’t hear the shifter approach because I’m entirely focused on my discovery. I know I didn’t imagine the movement.The cursed book appears like a complete duplicate. The open pages explain how to construct special armor for partially transformed shifters. The text is more interesting than I’d suspected because magic and supernatural traits alter battle tactics.

“What are you doing? What’s that?”

“Don’t touch it!” The scream is instinctive and louder than I intend because Garrett has actually reached for it. He jerks back, gaping at me. If it hurt a ghost, it could definitely do harm to the living. “It’s a book, but there’s somethinginit.”

“Words?”

I glare at the shifter, but his sarcasm hides his rattled confusion. Can he sense the wrongness too? I’m more prepared when Avery glides noiselessly into the aisle, but he maintains a safe distance.

Before I can explain, the flap of wings signals Zosia’s arrival in sphinx form. Bren arrives at the same time, and the narrow aisle can barely accommodate us. I hover in the air several feet above the book, prepared to protect the others at a moment’s notice.

Once we’re all assembled, Zosia asks the first question. “What book is that?” Her human nose twitches as she sniffs the air, and her cat ears flatten against her head. It’s adorable.

“The ghost says not to touch it. He thinks there’s something in it.”

Now that we’re bonded through Zosia and the library, I realize something. Garrett’s normal tone sounds judgmental, but his emotions don’t match. He must have a resting bitch voice – if that’s a thing.

“It’s dangerous. There was a spell protecting it, so it took me forever to find, but the spell isn’t like the ones on the tenth floor. When I pulled it off the shelf, it hurt. It really hurt andautomatically forced me back into ghost form. It fell open like that, but I saw something move across the pages.”

“Are you all right?” My mate waits for my curt nod before turning her intense gaze onto the book. Her tail twitches with short, jerky movements, but her paws remain firmly planted.

“Kodi is right. No one should get any closer to it than we are already.” Another delicate sniff provokes a scowl. “I think this is what I sensed. Can’t you smell that?” She directs her question at everyone but me. Avery sniffs elegantly, and his expression sours.

I question Garrett’s intelligence when he inhales so deeply that his chest expands. It’s immediately followed by coughing and gagging. I wince. The library won’t appreciate it if he regurgitates his protein shake all over her books. Thankfully, he manages to prevent recreating that horrifying scene from The Exorcist.

“What do you smell?” I ask. I can’t smell anything even when I gain solidity, but I don’t miss it. I can’t remember the sense being very useful when I was alive.

“Death,” Zosia replies in a flat, ominous tone. My distaste for the book increases.

Bren has circled around the row to stand opposite the others. Blue sparks no longer fizzle on his skin, but I can feel his magic just under the surface of his usual energy. This is a new skill, but I attribute it to his gift of power instead of the bond.

“Have you seen any of the goblins?” The mage asks while glancing sideways at me.

“Nope. Ah!” I point my wispy finger at the book. “There! It did it again!”

“I didn’t see anything,” the shifter grunts. Zosia doesn’t say anything. She was looking at Bren when the shadow dashed across the page.

The sightless vampire is the last person I expect to confirm my vision. “Kodi is correct. The book contains something … substantial. The manifestation is fragile, as if it’s not entirely here. Ironically, it reminds me of you.”

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