Page 8 of Broken Destiny

“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 looks 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.

---