Page 62 of Gifted Destiny

I close my eyes to prevent any distractions and access the repository in my mind. “I may not have the false book’s record, but I have records of the books around it,” I murmur.

My cat ears twitch as if responding to the inaudible voices of the books. They react instinctually and I’m more aware of them than my human ears. The ears also have a purpose, unlike my tail. I still haven’t gotten used to its random movements. The strange appendage sweeps the floor while I think aloud. My mates are intelligent and more magically educated. They might hear something that I miss.

“The object Kodi found is not a book at all,” I realize as I send my senses further. “It was specifically designed to store the spell and the soul, not information. These two pages are the only ones with text on them, and the book won’t open to any other page. They don’t exist.”

This kernel of knowledge offers more solace than it should. If it isn’t a book, I haven’t been betrayed by my beloved stories. The texts surrounding me represent individual worlds waiting to be discovered. A more accurate name for the object on the ground would be a box.

Because it isn’t a book and doesn’t belong in the library, I contemplate removing it. My instincts immediately rebel, although I can’t determine whether it’s a lingering trick of the spell. Sage and the goblins have instructed me to trust my instincts, though, so I will.

“Can you tell whether the spell is spent? The dangerous one?” I direct my question toward Bren.

“I can’t tell,” Bren says with a note of frustrated regret. “It’s a different kind of magic than I’m used to.”

“If Sage can’t help, can another mage? Can we call Tremayne and ask him for advice?” The library has never indicated that we have to be an island; we just have to be judicious about who we trust. The old mage has already proved his trustworthiness.

“He might know,” Avery confirms. “The spell appears to involve energy of some sort.”

When no one else opposes the idea, I lift my head to look at my shifter mate. “Garrett, can you call Tremayne on the magic telegraph/telephone thingy?” The proper name of the academy’s complicated interoffice messaging apparatus still eludes me. Garrett’s lips twitch despite the gravity of the situation. “He can’t enter the library right now, but tell him the situation and ask him if he has any advice.”

“I’ll go, but no one can touch that thing while I’m gone.” Despite his overbearing tone, we all nod without thought. No one actually wants to touch it.

When he turns to race downstairs, I almost call after him and tell him to shift. My lips close again when I remember I’m the only shifter that retains their human voice after transformation. Tremayne wouldn’t understand Garrett if he squawked into the device.

Considering my mate’s strengths, I turn to the vampire. “Avery, is there anything else you can tell us about the soul or its intentions?”

Avery’s shapely lips turn downward as his eyes narrow on the object. “I’m finding it difficult to separate the soul from the malevolent spell that trapped it. I’ve rarely sensed an enchantment this strong and inherently malicious. I mentioned the soul’s similarity to Kodi, but there’s more. I sense a touch of something … familiar.”

The disquiet in his tone makes my wings ruffle again. My body naturally leaned toward his after I lost Garrett’s support, and he continues to stroke the fur between my wings.

The vampire is the one that displays the most physical affection, and it leads me to question what each of my guardian’s primary love languages might be. Although it might be gimmicky, it’s backed by useful science.

And … I’m off track again. A psychiatrist might diagnose all of us with attention deficit issues, except for Avery and possibly Garrett. Still, three out of five is a majority.

“What’s going on in there? You’re suddenly all tangled up.”

The ghost is lucky I love him because he never fails to call me out. I consider not answering, but he’s too stubborn to let it drop. “You know my stupid brain – distracted again. We have a potentially dangerous situation, and it decided to contemplate love languages. Then, I began thinking about attention deficit disorders and wondering if any of us would qualify.” My shrug translates into a rustle of feathers.

Bren’s soft smile warms me from the inside out. “Your brain is beautiful, little lioness, but those are just labels – not disorders. Labels like that one were created when humans realized they’d built a society for a specific personality. That person thrives in a capitalist environment, doesn’t require creative work, and doesn’t reject hierarchies of authority. The creation of diagnoses and disorders, in addition to marketing treatments and medications, was preferable to admitting that all human brains, magicless and supernatural, operate differently.”

“Furthermore, the label you mentioned is wildly incorrect. People like you and me don’t suffer from a deficit of attention. We are pros at multitasking and focusing. We just can’t spend hours, days, or years performing very specific tasks that only benefit our superiors and offer no personal enjoyment.”

I am not the only one who stares at the mage with awe. Kodi’s jaw hangs open, and I imagine a metaphorical light bulb turning on in his brain. He might have a case of hero worship where Bren is concerned. I don’t blame him; he never ceases to amaze me. Avery’s emotions are a mix of tender appreciation and delight.

“Affirmations, by the way,” Bren continues. He’s either oblivious to our collective appreciation or choosing to ignore it. “That’s my primary love language. It’s common among adults who experience childhood trauma because they didn’t receive enough reassurance as they matured.”

Kodi barks with laughter. “Your brain is similar to Zo’s. You’re both crazy.”

Bren’s shrug indicates that this particular label doesn’t bother him either. I smile at him in agreement. “Crazy loves company, which is why I love all of you.” The escaped words echo in my ears with more gravity than I gave them. I just told three men that I loved themat the same time. I clear my throat nervously. “What I mean is that you’re all perfect for me because you understand.”

“And you are perfect for us,” Garrett drawls as he appears behind me.

I jump with surprise. When did he come back? Did he hear what I said? Also, did he just sayus? What happened to the jealousy he’s been holding onto since I met him?

My brain is still attempting to process when he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips.

“Dude, you just kissed a cat.”

Garrett stands with a heavy sigh and glares at my incorporeal mate. I’d assumed he disliked Kodi before I bonded with him. He just dislikes the ghost’s lapses of immaturity. I can’t blame him.

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