Page 69 of Gifted Destiny

“I was too harsh with your mother, Granddaughter.” Her gaze returns to me as she answers Garrett’s question. “I was desperate for her to take her place as the next librarian and only succeeded in pushing her away. We knew what was at stake when the power shift occurred in the supernatural community. I knew the danger the library faced when their father became the Alpha.” Her gaze shifts toward the two men on my right, and her ears press flatly against her silver-streaked hair.

“Their presence isn’t simply coincidental or ironic, however. Jonathan Addington wanted your mother so badly that his attention drove her away as surely as my desperation. Still, you chose his sons as your guardians.” She nods toward the men who no longer identify as Addington’s sons before her gaze drifts to Avery. “Destiny might have guided them and you, Granddaughter, but you chose them. They are strong choices.”

I don’t know how to react. The five of us had recognized the strange circumstances connecting us, but we couldn’t alter the past or Destiny. If the outcome is the same, does it matter who – or what – orchestrated it?

“Please call me Zosia. I’m unaccustomed to family names,” I blurt. As usual, my request is abrupt and unfiltered.

Atanea’s lips curl, revealing the points of her sharp teeth. “As you wish, Zosia Aviram Abram. Karasi chose well when she named you. When the library informed us of your biological father’s identity, I wasn’t surprised. Your mother had very few male relationships, and I believe Karasi originally took Ansel as a lover to spite Jonathan. She developed some affection for the weaker shifter over time, however, and allowed your conception because she knew she wouldn’t survive long outside the library.” Atanea’s voice holds infinite sadness, although her expression barely changes.

I marvel at the fact that the dead woman is the only connection between us. My mother might be dead, but she still has a powerful effect on Atanea, the library, and me. Ansel is another who is still affected, too. He hadn’t believed my conception was intentional.

My gaze flickers toward the photo of my mother. The markings on her shoulders appear more visible now that I’ve seen her mother in person. Neither of us has them.

“Why does my mother have those stripes on her shoulders?” The question isn’t important, but I can’t help asking.

Atanea’s gaze follows mine. “She didn’t have the markings when she first shifted. They started on her sixteenth birthday – when she told me she wouldn’t become the next librarian. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but until then, her words were always considered a declaration of childish stubbornness. Thereafter, the stripes darkened and grew larger every time she denied her birthright. I told her they were a sign of Destiny’s disapproval, but it didn’t deter her. She wore them with pride.” The affection in the older sphinx’s voice is apparent despite Karasi’s transgressions.

I want to know more about my mother, but we contacted Atanea for a reason. “We have a dilemma and can’t reach Sage or the goblins. Do you know why? How much are you aware of?” I don’t want to explain every detail if it’s unnecessary.

“We know everything Sage knows,” the apparition replies smoothly.

“We?” It’s not the first time she’s used the pronoun. “My understanding is that Sage is a culmination of the librarians … and something more. But aren’t you a singular entity?”

My grandmother’s smile is feral and full of pointy teeth. Although she is dead and four times my age, she’s still formidable. I’m filled with amazed delight when I realize that I probably look the same, even with a crooked leg. It’s satisfying because I’ve appeared weak my entire life.

“I am never alone, child, just like you. I am connected to our ancestors, but my guardians’ spirits joined with mine in death. Except for Agustin ….” Her last few words are almost incoherent through grief, regret, and sorrow. The emotion overwhelms me to the point of tears, and my guardians are similarly affected. The concept that death will not part us is so bizarre that I push it aside to consider when our lives aren’t in imminent danger.

Bren steps up beside me. “Agustin didn’t leave, did he?”

Behind us, Garrett mutters an apology regarding his brother’s bluntness, but Atanea doesn’t seem to hear. Pain and sorrow settle into the lines on her face. It steals her color until she nearly resembles Kodi’s gray tone.

Several seconds pass before my grandmother is able to speak again. “You’re right. We never knew he was here all along, which is why it was easier to draw us from the library. We didn’t until your guardian opened that book. His soul is within, albeit altered. Once we felt his soul, we understood. We believe that my Agustin was trapped in the book by one of Addington’s mage followers, possibly his brother Walthers. The spell was triggeredby someone today, perhaps a student, when the BSP detectives distracted the library and the librarian.”

As she speaks, Atanea’s strength returns. “Whoever set the trap didn’t care which one of my guardians they caught. Agustin was the unwitting prey. Likewise, our enemies didn’t care who found the book. Luckily, it was the ghost.”

“Walthers is Addington’s brother?”

“The BSP? Which student triggered the spell?”

“How do we help?”

Avery is the only one of us who remains silent. I’m surprised our target is able to separate and understand the three simultaneous questions. Instead of being taken aback, she appears amused.

“The relation is very secretive, more than I believed if Addington’s sons weren’t aware. I am positive they are brothers, however, although perhaps half-brothers, step-brothers, or by marriage.” Even without the bond, the brothers’ surprise is apparent; they truly had no idea.

“The BSP is not as infallible as it claims, which you have learned yourself. My memories are not as clear as they used to be, but I remember a similar situation when Agustin went missing. A BSP detective drew our attention away from the upper floors. When they arrived yesterday, I suspected nothing good would come from their involvement. However, they possessed a reasonable excuse this time.” The older sphinx’s gold-blue eyes inspect Bren, but he’s lost in his thoughts and staring at nothing. “I can’t say which student it was. The threat to the contract book distracted all of us.”

Atanea pauses before answering the last question, and I brace myself for bad news. “As for how you can help ….” She sighs, her wings drooping. “I am ashamed that I can’t offer precise instructions for nullifying the magic and freeing my guardian’s soul. I can only tell you what I know. Sage hasdistanced herself from the collective of sphinxes and you. She senses more malevolence within the spelled artifact.”

I have to exercise significant control to compartmentalize the information and not derail our current investigation. I’ve been acting under the assumption that Sageisthe collective of sphinxes. I suspected she wasmorebecause she existed before the first sphinx’s death, but Atanea’s words suggest she is a wholly separate entity. What is she?

My grandmother’s voice recaptures my attention. “That spell was meant to kill the one who found it. Your ghost guardian’s unique attributes saved you from losing a newly formed bond. If they’d succeeded, you and the library would have been half-defeated. In hindsight, this might be the reason your ghost was lured away and tethered twice; they didn’t want him to find the book. This is a victory, Granddaughter.”

The impact of the name is lost under my best friend’s smug pride when he hears Atanea’s praise. He loves playing the hero.

It makes perfect sense once I quell my discomfort regarding her intimate knowledge of my life. Just how much can she and the others see? I reassure myself that Sage must have rules and ethics regarding the invasion of privacy; she made the bedrooms soundproof, and they are likely secure in other ways. Furthermore, my grandmother probably has the same amount of interest in her granddaughter’s sex life as I do in hers –none.

“Is there no way to destroy the book and free your guardian?” Avery’s question is softened by his empathy and compassion.

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