Page 7 of Broken Destiny

“That soon, huh?” I release the words on a breath of air as anxiety spikes through me.

Ansel nods. “The academy has postponed the start of term until it finds a librarian. It’s difficult to pass classes when none of the students can research their papers.” Something tells me the academy operates around the library, not the other way around, and his explanation gives me a reason why it’s so quiet.

I force a shrug. At least I’ll be showered tomorrow, not that it matters since I’m meeting a building. I doubt it notices things like that. She, I remind myself. There is an inherently feminine presence to the building. Another gargoyle perches on this side of the building, directly above the building I’ll be staying in. Instead of seeming ominous, it feels protective. I shake aside the fanciful thoughts.

“See you in the morning, then,” I say dismissively as I push inside the building.

Ansel clears his throat, and I turn back to him. “Stay inside the building until I come for you, Zosia. I can’t protect you if you leave.”

I frown at him as he walks away. Keeping his warning in mind, I shut the door behind me and assess the room. There’s a small bed in the corner with comfortable linens, and a plate of food waits on the counter that leads into a small, serviceable kitchen. One glance into the only other room reveals a toilet and shower. All the amenities includes fruity shampoo, and I laugh when I imagine a burly guard smelling like strawberries.

Before I make use of the bathroom or dig into the food, though, I turn toward the shared wall with the library. It draws me, and I can tell that it isn’t part of the guard shack. It’s older, the stones carefully placed even though it appears its connection to the library is seamless. I don’t know about architecture, but it doesn’t seem like the most efficient construction. Still, I understand why. Power emanates from that one wall; it would attract the notice of any guard. The bed is pushed against the wall. I trail my fingers along the ancient stones. An electric tingle travels up my arm, and I quickly snatch my hand back and sit heavily on the end of the bed.

Do I actually have a chance? I remember a time in my life when I had high hopes. They were all literally smashed with a steel rod. I glare down at my legs. If my infirmity prevents me from getting this position, I’ll be pissed. All the nonsense my counselor spouted? I can accomplish anything if I put my mind to it? Not likely if I can’t get up a flight of stairs on my own. It’s difficult to believe the library will want a broken librarian. What would I do? Magic the books toward me? My imagination conjures flying books.

With a heavy sigh, I stand and head toward the short counter. Food first, then shower, then sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll face my fate. I try not to feel lonely as I perform the mundane tasks, surprised to find clothes waiting in the trunk at the end of the bed when I emerge from my shower.

Everything is surprisingly easy to navigate, even in the small space, and I’m grateful for it. I pull on a loose linen shirt to sleep in, not bothering to cover my legs. I hope there’s an outfit worthy of a centuries-old library because my worn sweatpants and stained t-shirt aren’t going to impress anyone or anything. I’m surprised Ansel could bear touching me.

As I drift to sleep, my mind is filled with thoughts of flying books, living gargoyles, and sentient libraries. And wings. For some reason, I dream of wings.

Chapter Four

Zosia

Atingle of awareness slithers along my spine, rousing me. It’s not morning yet. The shiver doesn’t foretell danger, so I awaken more slowly than usual, feeling unaccountably safe in this new space that should seem scary and unfamiliar. I’m not surprised to see Kodi perched on the side of my bed, his head hanging down.

“Boo?” The word is garbled and barely incoherent. I wipe the sleep from my eyes as I reach toward the nightstand for my glass of water. One of the tricks to being “less abled”: have everything ready and in reach before going to bed. Falling on my face because I’m too tired to walk is a horrible thing.

I’m used to seeing Kodi at night. He spent a lot of nights in my room with me. After I got past the creep factor, it felt nice knowing I wasn’t alone, although I never admitted that to him. He started staying more often when a couple older boys tried to sneak into my room one night, thinking I’d be easy prey. I’d never laughed so hard as when they peed their pants and ran away. Kodi can make himself visible to humans if he tries really hard, and I guess humans don’t like ghosts.

There’s something different tonight, though. Firstly, he’s not floating up by the ceiling, but actually sitting on my bed. Secondly, he looks sad. I rise to a sitting position, pulling my useless legs up with me by the strength of my upper arms. I hate to brag, but those arms are kind of ripped. It takes a lot of effort to navigate with the power of only half my body.

When he doesn’t speak, I clear my throat and push my hair back from my face. The benefit of having stick-straight hair? Even when I sleep on it while it’s wet, it’s not a mess. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Kodi finally glances toward me, and I wish I could hug him. It’s not the first time I’ve made this wish. It feels worse now because he’s substantial enough to sit on something but not solid enough to be hugged. I’m guessing he can still float through walls or there’s no way he would have gotten into my little shack. The sentient library must sense he’s not a threat if I correctly understand Ansel’s explanation.

“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.”

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