Page 9 of Gifted Destiny

“What’s the integrity of the supernatural authorities and law enforcement – particularly the BSP? Is it less or more corrupt than Apocrypha’s employees?”

Zosia’s question distracts me from the contemplation of enchanted beards. She doesn’t pull her punches. I will be proud to call her my mate when … if … the time comes. Ansel’s face flushes with shame and his gaze lowers to the table.

Tremayne is either too old or too accustomed to the emotion to succumb. His expression doesn’t change as he replies without hesitation. “That’s a good question. Supernatural enforcers are similar to their magicless counterparts, and they are all human. Each individual is just as corruptible as any other is. However …, I’ve always believed that the BSP is different. Their detectives are a specialized breed capable of sensing truth and supposedly gifted with moral integrity. I cannot confirm that, though, andI cannot assure you that everyone at the BSP is righteous and trustworthy.”

“One never can,” Ansel murmurs with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t appear more or less energetic than he had earlier. The library is providing him with a steady trickle of strength.

Tremayne taps his finger on the table and meets Zo’s gaze. “While we’re on the subject, I want to apologize on behalf of Apocrypha – even if I don’t possess the authority to do so. The academy has always held the potential for fraudulent dealings because it was founded by powerful and biased people. Still, the decay spread rapidly once Walthers became the OSC delegate during your grandmother’s time. He has slowly replaced anyone who might put ethics or morality above other factors. If any remain, they are likely being exploited. When I started teaching here, the student body wasn’t as elite as it is now. Money and power can breed corruption. In this sense, the magicless and supernatural communities are no different.”

“Will removing Walthers alter the makeup of its elitist clientele?” Zo’s question is followed by a shake of her head. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m getting off-topic again. The academy isn’t our biggest concern right now. If the BSP thrives on integrity, can we divert them toward Addington’s illegal activities instead of Bren’s magic?”

Tremayne considers his reply while I fidget with the hem of my t-shirt. This one will have to be thrown away, but it isn’t the first I’ve had to abandon. Sitting still is driving me insane, and the only thing keeping me in place is Zosia’s soft hand in mine. Half distracted, I study the calluses on her palms and fingers that were created from years of using the braces or propelling her wheelchair. I adore the physical evidence of her strength.

“They might be interested, but they won’t forego their initial purpose. Atmospheric mages are very rare. Their superiors will pressure them to investigate.”

I feel Tremayne’s gaze on me, but I don’t look up. I already know what he’s going to say.

“Powerful weather mages are referred to as weapons of mass destruction. They’re considered a threat if they don’t display exemplary control over their magic. Unfortunately, this particular area is heavily populated, and the detectives might be under orders to prevent possible casualties. The elite student body we mentioned is comprised of the progeny of the most influential supernaturals. If there’s any danger to them ….” The mage’s words trail away.

My dread grows, but I appreciate the old man’s honesty. One power is a threat, and the other is useless. What’s the point of my visions if they can’t warn me of danger? Zosia clings to me, and her anguish makes me feel worse.

“I might have an idea.” Tremayne dangles the words like bait, and we greedily swim toward the hook. My leg stops shaking, Zosia sits up straighter, and Garrett leans forward. My brother’s inner turmoil matches the sphinx’s. He has always protected me – whether I asked for it or not – but he can’t protect me from myself.

What would I be willing to do to stay here – where I belong?

The library’s power is older than time and possesses a mysticism humans can’t begin to comprehend. The library is a deity, a goddess, in my opinion. I crave her boundless acceptance. Leaving her and Zosia would be similar to death.

Without trying, the sphinx draws me closer every second I’m around her. I’ve been enamored with her since my visions offered my first glimpse. Others might see her limited mobility as a weakness or a deterrent, but I don’t.

Zosia’s authenticity is a drug. Everything about her is genuine and compelling. I am drawn to the sparks of gold in her blue irises, the burnished gold of her hair, the power of hersphinx, and her blunt manner of speaking. There is nothing fake about my little lioness.

Bonding with Zosia will bring me closer to her and the library. If it’s required, I would willingly surrender every spark of my magic.

Chapter 7

Zosia

Ican’t lose Bren.

The frustrated agitation churning in my gut is too similar to when Kodi was taken from me. I don’t know Bren as well as I know Kodi, but I want to. He feels integral to our group. Without him, I think we would fall apart.

I’ve just started imagining a future. When I lived at the orphanage, I was uncertain whether I'd have one. Fear was my constant companion regardless of my lost memories, and I dreaded relying on someone else. My disability doesn’t require a constant caretaker, but I didn’t have the proper documents or the means to support myself.

With a little magical assistance, I’ve achieved independence at the library. I’ve regained my memories without losing myself in the pain they bring. I have friends. Most of all, I have a purpose. Losing any of my tentative gains might break me.

When Tremayne dangles a sliver of hope, I cling to it desperately. It’s my lifeboat in treacherous waters. He doesn’t immediately drag the boat back to the dock, however. It taunts me by staying afloat until I boil over with questions.

“What is it? Please, if there’s anything ….”

My pleas draw the mage from his thoughts, and he meets my gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to offer false hope. I do have an idea, but it is risky, and it might pose more problems.”

I lean forward, fully aware that I am strangling both Garrett’s and Bren’s hands. Garrett hasn’t crushed my fingers with his strength, but I can’t offer him the same care. Words catch in my throat, but Tremayne continues without further prompting.

“At its inception, the BSP offered an exemption to the libraries. The governing powers at that time were aware of the libraries’ influence on our existence as supernaturals. The decree stated that the safety and secrecy of the libraries was vital.” Tremayne pauses. His unspoken caveat dangles in the brief silence, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

“This morning’s atmospheric phenomenon was not contained within the library. A tree in the nearby woods was struck by lightning. It might have started a forest fire if the rain hadn’t doused the flames. The rain came out of nowhere and resembled a torrential downpour. No casualties were recorded, but the storm wasn’t forecasted. No one was prepared. Additionally, the library ejected its patrons into the storm instead of offering shelter.”

I flinch backward. Tremayne’s intention is to inform rather than scold, but I feel guilty nonetheless. Garrett curses under his breath and Bren releases my hand as he lowers his head to the table. I don’t overthink my response; I gently stroke the weather mage’s back. Touching someone doesn’t come naturally, but I can’t resist the temptation. Although his muscles are rigid beneath my attempts to comfort him, I feel his tension ease slightly.

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