“It’s not your fault, Zo. I can’t remember my life, but if I had any magic at all, I think this is where I’d have wanted to be.” He shrugs a shoulder. His clothes never change from his current outfit: tight blue jeans and an equally tight t-shirt. He had an impressive body when he was among the living, and it’s not so unimpressive in monochrome. He’s always been my friend, but I’ve enjoyed admiring him too. He’s safe because he can’t hurt me, and I trust him. He’s the only one I trust.
“Now that I’m here, though?” His voice trails off and his fingers claw at his neck, trying to grasp the collar. It’s just a glittering rope of silver, brighter than the rest of him. He can’t seem to snatch hold of the ring, though, even though he has no issues scratching himself or playing with his hair. I don’t know if he actually feels the touch or if it’s simply habit. “I thought maybe I’d be able to be a student in the House of Others. But I’m technically dead. The housemaster has turned me into his personal servant. I don’t want to be anyone’s slave.”
I’m shocked. “A servant? A slave? That’s horrible, Kodi, and so wrong. They can’t do that.”
His laugh rings with bitterness as he looks around the little shack. “What about you, Zo? What are you doing here next to the library?”
He’s dodging my anger, but I let him change the subject for a moment as I lean against the wall at the head of the bed, stuffing my pillow behind me. The blankets slide down, but I barely even notice. I mean, he’s a ghost. It’s not like boobs still affect him, and mine are still modestly covered by the loaned shirt. Kind of. They’re big, and I’m sure I’m nipping out, but like I said - ghost.
“Ansel says I’m to undergo some kind of trial tomorrow, to see if the library will accept me as its next librarian.” My voice is uncertain. I take another drink of water, playing with the strands of my hair.
Kodi actually looks at me for the first time, his eyes wide, and again I catch another flash of color. But it’s blue this time instead of green, and that’s just confusing. Maybe I’m imagining things. “That’s awesome, Zo! I always knew you were special.”
I snort. “Just special enough for the short bus.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re always beating yourself up. This is awesome. If the library accepts you, do you know what that means?” When I just stare at him, he sighs loudly. “This library?” He jerks a thumb toward the wall behind him. “It’s the true treasure of the supernatural world! It’s amazingly well-guarded at the academy, but it’s been a point of contention among the OSC for so long. Some supernaturals argue that it should be moved somewhere more secure, others believe that it protects itself well enough as long as it has a head librarian. It houses every scrap of important information and history dating back hundreds of thousands of years. If the humans got their hands on it, it’s believed they’d have information in their arsenal to beat the supernaturals. They’d know all our weaknesses.”
“A point of contention, huh?” I joke. “Have you been watching documentaries again?”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“You always deflect when something makes you uncomfortable. I’m a brilliant ghost, Zo. My vocabulary is impressive when I choose to use it. Anyway, like I said, this is exciting. It’s always been guarded by a sphinx.”
“Sphinx?” I ask, raising a brow. Of course, I’ve heard of sphinxes, but only what the humans teach. They’re some kind of human-bird-lion hybrid creature that is supposedly wise and mysterious.
Kodi’s gaze studies me anew and actually snags on my breasts for a moment. When I see the tiniest flash of color in his cheeks, I narrow my eyes at him. “Just how solid are you becoming?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Not that solid,” he teases with a wink that turns the tables on me. I pull the blankets up and he laughs at me, but the mirth dies in a second. “Sometimes I feel almost alive, like my heart might actually start beating. Other times, I feel even more lost than I did when I first died and found myself confused and wandering.”
“Do you think they can make you undead?” I ask curiously, sitting forward and forgetting all about the blanket.
He shakes his head. “No. I asked. The collar is just to help me get things if I need to grab something for my ‘master.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers, and my jaw hardens. No one, alive or dead, should call anyone master unless they want to. “It makes me solid on his whim, not mine. He wants me to spy for him. I guess not every supernatural can see me.”
My brows rise. “Really? Wow, that’s uh…I thought all magicals could. Anyway, not important. What’s important is getting that fucking collar off you. You’re not a damn dog. Come here.” I gesture him toward me since he can move easier than I can. He shakes his head but scoots upward on the bed, closer to me. I lean toward him, the smell of ozone in my nose. Don’t ask me why ghosts smell like ozone. He’s still opaque, but not there. I’ve never been able to see through him, unlike all the books I’ve read about ghosts, but I’ve never been able to feel him either. His varying shades of gray flicker as I try to grasp the shining band of silver.
“Fuck,” I swear when my fingers slide by a second time. I feel like I’m brushing against static electricity when I get too close to him; the charge in the air makes the hair on my arms rise, but there’s no pressure or texture against my fingers even when it looks like I’m touching him. There’s no resistance, but I’ve never been able to reach through him either. I tried once, and he didn’t speak to me for a week. “I can’t touch it,” I sigh finally.
Kodi shrugs again. “I didn’t think you’d be able to.” He stands up, which is weird because I’m used to seeing him float everywhere. When he paces across the room, it almost appears as if he’s human except that he’s bleached of color. “Do you think you’re a sphinx?”
I shrug. “Don’t sphinxes shift? Have wings? A tail? I’ve never shifted. Also, I’m not that smart.”
“Maybe if you try to remember,” he urges, but we’ve had this conversation more than once. I shake my head, and he trails off. He’s been trying to get me to remember for years. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But you might find answers. If you’re a sphinx, you’re probably one of the last. Whoever hurt you might have done it because they don’t want you to take over guardianship of the library.”
“Then why not just kill me?” It’s the age-old question. Why would anyone go through the trouble of torturing me, maiming me, and crippling me for life, but not kill me? Before I met Kodi, I sometimes wished they had. I’ll never admit that to the egotistical ghost, though.
“Sphinxes are notoriously hard to kill,” Kodi replies with a shrug. “You might not be able to shift because of your legs, though. I’ve read that magic has pathways, and if those pathways are broken, it affects how things work.”
My face falls. “Well, that answers that. Even if I am a sphinx, which would be awesome by the way, the library won’t want me. I can’t access any magic besides some random knowledge, gut feelings, and seeing you, evidently. If I’m broken, I can’t protect the library. A cripple as a guard, anyway?” I snort again. “That’s pretty stupid.”
Kodi rolls his eyes at me. Again, I see a flash of color. “Stop whining, Princess. Just because your legs are messed up doesn’t mean you are. Besides, I know you don’t believe it. You’re just repeating what every asshole tells you.”
I wave a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over this before. Now, is there anything else or can I go back to sleep?” I pause. “Actually, how are you here?”
“My boss is sleeping. When I snuck out, I wasn’t sure how far I’d get, but I had no problem getting to you. This little building is warded, but the magic let me through after a second.”
Boss sounds better than master, but I’m still pissed at myself. “I’m so sorry, Boo.”
“It’s okay, Zo. There’s nothing we can do now.” He sits down next to me, and I scoot closer to the wall so he can fit on the bed. The bed doesn’t sink toward him, but it loo
ks like the blankets wrinkle around him. It’s the strangest thing. “Go to sleep,” he orders and rests his back against the wall. His eyes close even though he can’t sleep.
I slide back down and pull the covers around me. I’m used to the ghost being close when we sleep, maybe not this close because he could never sit on things before, but I prefer this to him hovering over me. Soon, I’m sleeping.
This time, I dream about sphinxes - majestic creatures with enormous wings, lashing tails, and soft fur. Could I be one of them? Even though it seems incredible, it also seems right. That scares me more than anything. If I am one, why haven’t I shifted before? What if I’m unable to? Does that mean I can’t become the librarian?
Chapter Five
Zosia
Kodi is gone when I wake up. I miss him but set my sights toward the day. My body is vibrating with anxiety, and I’m glad I took a shower the night before. My hands are shaking so bad, I might have poked my eye out or something. I fumble in the trunk, frowning at the clothes. They’re different than my usual comfortable, “don’t see me” clothes. There’s something supernatural about the house because the clothes look like they’ll fit perfectly. Breakfast sits on the counter; it appeared magically when I awoke. While I sip the coffee, I wish I could enjoy the rest of the food. It looks delicious, but my stomach is tied in knots.
I sit on the bed and frown at the pants I dug out of the trunk. My legs didn’t heal straight, so I never wear tight jeans. They just emphasize the wrongness of my body, and they don’t fit properly either. One of my femurs wasn’t aligned when it healed, and my left foot points inside instead of being straight. The doctors couldn’t believe that I actually healed instead of dying of infection because my calf bone had pushed through my skin when it shattered. That left my right calf crooked as well. I’ve always suspected I was more than human because I didn’t die, but my supernatural healing couldn’t fully heal me. The forearm crutches give me two extra points of balance. There are more expensive braces I could put around my legs to leave my hands and arms free, but I’ve never been able to afford them and it would take some time to learn how to walk. My gait would be jerky at best.
The skirt in the trunk would be worse. It will just tangle in the crutches and trip me. I’d put the sweatpants I wore yesterday back on, but they disappeared in the middle of the night.
“Really?” I ask the air, grimacing at the jeans again. They look too tight, but I pull them on, grunting with surprise when the cloth expands over my crooked bones. They don’t hide my shape, but they fit. I frown, recalling the sneers and stares of anyone that sees my legs without a shapeless covering. Some people can’t even handle looking. They turn away, nausea on their faces. A body isn’t supposed to look like mine, and I am acutely aware of how wrong it is. The shirt is nice, though, I have to say. It’s a pretty green shade, although it’s a little tight over my rather generous breasts. The short sleeves display my athletic biceps and forearms.
My shoes were specially made, a generous donation from the church attached to the orphanage. I’m happy to see the house didn’t swallow them as well and pull them on over soft socks that soothe the places the shoes rub uncomfortably. The library might not accept me, but the little guardhouse is taking good care of me. Maybe I can stay here. I immediately follow the thought with an amused snort. A crippled guard - how effective.
I toss my hair into a thick braid and only look in the mirror to make sure I don’t have something on my face. I’m plain. My golden-brown hair is really thick and heavy. My skin tone is naturally darker, but not dark enough to denote a different ethnicity. My golden coloring almost makes me as monochrome as Kodi.
I gulp the last of my coffee and decide my stomach can at least handle the berries on the plate. They’re too plump and fresh to ignore and taste a million times better than the gruel the orphanage served for breakfast. If I never have to eat creamed wheat again, I’ll die a happy girl.
The knock on the door revives the nerves I’d slightly settled. Bubbling anxiety makes it difficult to set my forearms into the cuffs and stomp to the door. Ansel waits outside, but he isn’t alone. I stare at the three figures behind him, straightening my back. They look important, and I force my face to stay neutral as their eyes rove over me.
“Really, Ansel?” the youngest one drawls as his eyes flicker up and down my body. They linger a moment on my cleavage, and I suppress the urge to club him in the nuts with my crutch. He could give Ansel a run for his money with how attractive he is, but it’s a cold beauty; his form screams of pompous entitlement. The middle-aged one is Fae, I think, though I’ve only ever seen Rene as an example. He has the same pale skin and slightly pointed ears. The last guy is old and silver-haired with a beard that reaches his waist. He’s the only one who manages to retain his smile.
“Gentlemen,” Ansel starts tightly, “this is Zosia Abram.”
My eyebrows rise as the Fae studies me with renewed interest. I haven’t heard my real birth name in years. The orphanage used the name Michaels because I wouldn’t tell them what my real name was when I was admitted. I couldn’t risk my tormentor finding me. That Ansel knows it doesn’t surprise me, but I narrow my eyes at him anyway. I don’t like losing my anonymity so suddenly.
“Abram?” the old man asks. His fingers stroke his long beard. “Of the Egyptian Abrams?”
“I believe so,” Ansel responds carefully. He’s lying, but it appears to be fooling his counterparts because they don’t eye him like I do. He knows whether I am or not, and I plan on getting the information out of him later. It would be nice to know I have a history, and I prefer the story of my ancestors to that of my childhood. Egyptian bloodlines would explain my darker coloring, with the addition of a whiter person several times over in the family tree.
“Welcome, Ms. Abram,” the old man greets me with a slight bow, but the young man twists his face like he smells something foul. The Fae is ignoring me again, and I return the disregard.
“Zosia, these are representatives from each of the houses. Masters Dighit, Vanna, and Tremayne.” I guess their Houses - Beast, Other, and Mage - as Ansel introduces them from youngest to oldest-looking. Master might be a common title, but I still don’t like it. “They’re here to observe the trial.”
I merely nod. The three strangers turn away, obviously expecting us to follow. The oldest man, Master Tremayne, was the only one who actually looked at my legs for longer than the disgusted second. He doesn’t move as fast as the other two and probably hears Ansel when he leans toward me.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, very.” I force myself to respond. Ansel has been nothing but pleasant to me, and I could use allies if I plan on staying. If not, well, it won’t really matter. Will I die if the library rejects me, or will I be returned to the orphanage with a mind wipe? The prospect terrifies me, making me realize how much I don’t want to go back. I’ve been avoiding being an adult, resisting actually joining life as a living, breathing person. Now that the process has started, I don’t want to backtrack.
“So…what exactly is going to happen?” I ask as Ansel leads me toward the front steps again. The pale pinkish stones glow in the bright, early morning light. The staircase is just as tall as yesterday, though still not as intimidating as the orphanage steps. I almost look forward to climbing them.
The gargoyles appear to lean closer to the ground as if they’re ready for whatever is going to happen. I stop walking to look upward. I learned a long time ago that it’s never a good idea to sightsee and try to walk at the same time. The gargoyles remain motionless, but I could have sworn I saw one move.
The old man chuckles as he watches me. “Ansel can’t tell you because he doesn’t know.” He has a pleasant voice, and I imagine he’s a good grandfather to many kids. If I’d had a grandfather, I would have wanted him to be like Tremayne.
“Does anyone know?” I ask as I rejoin them. The mage shakes his head.
“The library doesn’t share her secrets.
Her employees are selected by a secret trial.”
Great. I imagine games of life-sized chess, timed book shelving, or a complicated exam on all the literary greats. I’ve read too many books, but the literary classics always bored me, except Dickens. I could relate to his miserable characters and settings.
“Will this take all day?” the young beastmaster complains, and I resist the urge to flip him off, barely. My impulsiveness earned me lots of sessions with the paddle at the orphanage, but Mother Mary never managed to beat the troublesome nature out of me, though she tried. Nothing could compare to what I’d already dealt with, even if I couldn’t remember. My prickly nature is the best armor I can wear.
“Now, Dighit, no need to be so impatient. This is an important moment,” Tremayne chastises the younger man. I notice he doesn’t bother to add the master honorific either. What kind of name is Dighit anyway? Who wants to be named after a finger? Or maybe it’s a number? Even though it’s pronounced differently, it makes me want to sing the ‘No Diggity’ song, and I start humming it under my breath. The nuns hated 90’s music, and I loved tormenting them. I stop myself before I get too loud, but Tremayne hears me. His lips twitch with amusement.
When we’re standing before the looming staircase, we all stop. I amuse myself by imagining it’s a great trek up to the temple and we’re the Sherpas on an expedition. Well, I might be a donkey, but the others can be Sherpas. Ansel glances at me. I know what he’s thinking.
“Oh, hell no,” I object softly. “I’ll use my own damn feet.” I won’t be carried up these stairs.
I grit my teeth as I prepare myself and arrange my first step. It’s a complicated procedure, but the stairs are spaced wide enough apart that it isn’t as tricky as other staircases. Maybe I’ll never have to leave. My heart soars for just a second until I realize there might be a couple of reasons I’ll never walk down these stairs. One of those reasons isn’t ideal.
Broken Destiny Page 4
