Gifted Destiny (Hidden Libraries #3)

Chapter 1

Zosia

I ’ve finally accepted that my birthright has led me to become the destined librarian to a sentient, magical building that also happens to be one of the wonders of the supernatural world. Knowing this doesn’t ease my fear or overwhelming anxiety, though. My trepidation has less to do with my position and more to do with the men that I’ve gained as my companions.

Job is a bit of a misnomer. This isn’t a mundane occupation, and we aren’t wage slaves. I’m a sphinx and my supernatural abilities make me the only one capable of performing the duties of the position. My guardians and I can’t quit if we get tired of our work because we signed contracts more binding than a marriage vow. Quitting will result in death, and I doubt those deaths would be pleasant. Additionally, our boss’ physical form is the building we live and work in.

My fellow employees are the men I mentioned. My contract’s terms stipulated that I choose four guardians to protect me. While sex isn’t explicitly required, it is implied. The deeper bond created by intimacy will enhance their connection to the library, increase my strength, and make our lives easier.

Somehow, I attracted four unbelievably gorgeous guardians who have almost as much emotional baggage as I do. I like them and desire them despite the complications associated with their involvement. They are irrevocably tied to me, and one of them now faces imprisonment.

Guilt gnaws at me while I watch the strange detectives from the Bureau of Supernatural Phenomenon depart with the rest of the students when the library closes. I didn’t know about the BSP’s existence two weeks ago, but that doesn’t erase their authority. Collapsing into an ugly cry will accomplish nothing good, though. With a sigh, I dutifully concentrate on the tasks required to end my first official workday.

To say that opening day was eventful is an understatement, but the events leading up to it were just as action-packed. Last night, I bonded with my vampire guardian while my ghostly best friend watched. I was ready to lose my virginity and don’t regret a minute of it. While still bathing in the afterglow, however, my shifter guardian told me that his beast considers me his fated mate. And … while I was distracted by the implications of his confession, we learned that his brother has the ability to manipulate the weather. I knew the sweet, absent-minded mage’s brain processes the world differently from most people’s brains. I didn’t know his powers were considered illegal.

While the BSP made this point very clear, their visit might have been provoked. Jonathan Addington, the brothers’ father, harbors a powerful grudge against me and he has considerable influence in supernatural society. He has proven that he will stop at nothing to acquire the library. If the alpha succeeds, he’ll level up from villain to supervillain. In the wrong hands, the library’s power could bring about an apocalyptic catastrophe. Magicless and supernatural humans would suffer similarly, and it would be my fault.

My traumatic history proves Addington isn’t above exploiting children to acquire power. He was the one behind my childhood imprisonment in which I was tortured and nearly killed. He wanted my magic. Our current working theory is that our enemies use the magical essence they extract from unwilling donors to modify the genetics of magicless and supernatural fetuses.

Escaping Addington’s dungeon would have been impossible without help. I owe my life to my best friend. He sacrificed himself to save me, and someone else hid me among the magicless all the years after. Earlier today, I learned that the unknown ally might be someone I only recently met. He might also be my biological father. After spending nearly a decade in an orphanage, this discovery has rattled me.

Although we haven’t confirmed Ansel’s paternal status yet, we are certain that he’s dying. This is also partially my fault. He agreed to be the interim library custodian and brought me here, but my arrival meant the end of his life. Concentrating on my guilt lessens my worries, but it’s fleeting.

The library’s front doors lock after the last patrons leave, but I can’t relax yet. Ansel and his mentor, the mage Tremayne, remain as our guests. I hope they have answers.

I collapse into my wheelchair, grateful that locking it has become a habit after all these years. Avery prevents my chair from leaving the desk area by crouching in front of me. His unseeing gaze doesn’t meet mine, but I appreciate his efforts. Being eye-level with everyone’s chests is annoying.

Although our night together wasn’t accidental, I didn’t realize it would have such lasting effects. The night created a mate bond, giving us tattoos and creating a shimmering link that only we can see. It resembles a tangible thread in my magical sight and it allows us access to each other’s emotions. It also enhances his ability to communicate with the library.

“Zosia?” My vampire mate’s silver gaze conveys compassion and worry. He can’t see how close I am to falling apart, but he can feel it.

My hand trembles when I reach to grasp his, and I’m glad he’s the only one close enough to see. “I’m all right, Avery. Today was just ….” My voice trails away because I can’t put it into words. He doesn’t bother trying to finish my sentence or question me further because it’s not in his nature. He’s calm, patient, and rational, even though he was raised as an outcast. His experience didn’t make him bitter or resentful, unlike others I know.

The specific one I’m thinking of hovers several feet in the air above the circulation desk. Kodi’s handsome gray face displays a worried frown. “Are you freaking out, princess?” The ghost lacks tact, manners, and patience.

“No.” The library’s power reveals to both of my companions that my answer is a blatant lie. Sage, also known as the library, flags dishonesty between my guardians and me. Thankfully, it goes both ways.

“And I’m happily alive,” Kodi deadpans. His sarcastic tone is a perfect example of the aforementioned bitterness.

I sigh loudly. “I’m not exactly freaking out,” I whine. “Besides, the students are gone and the door is locked. I’m officially off duty, which means I’m allowed to freak out.” I tilt my chin up and glare at my best friend.

Kodi’s eyes gesture to our remaining guests without moving his head. I know him so well that a single glance can deliver a pointed statement, and he has a point. I duck my head to rub the persistent throbbing behind my eyes.

We still don’t know if we can trust them, especially after Ansel revealed the possibility of his parentage in a classic Star Wars move. Tremayne is supposedly the only professor on campus who is allied with us and not our enemies, but this is hard to prove.

I want to trust them. Ansel understands what I’m going through. He brought me here; he knows about my childhood, and he evidently knew the family I never met.

The library chose the campus of Apocrypha Academy as its location, but Addington and his minion, Walthers, have bribed or blackmailed every faculty member, according to Ansel. The shifter is on the brink of death, and we’ll have no one we can trust beyond ourselves if Tremayne doesn’t fit the bill. Sage must trust him a little if she’s allowed him to stay past closing; she’s usually fanatical about rule enforcement.

The mage, who resembles a popular fantasy book wizard, just saved our asses too. He’d helped me deflect the bureau’s questions and he’d given me clues about the organization without calling attention to my ignorance. I knew nothing about the BSP’s authority, jurisdiction, or interrogation skills. They can separate truth from lies, and they’d wanted to leave with Bren. My mage guardian might have influenced the weather, but he’d been unfairly provoked. Closing time had saved us for the moment. If they’d managed to question Bren, they would have taken him. We have a short reprieve and the night to formulate a plan. The detectives promised to return when we reopen.

Before I greet our guests, I perform a mental sweep of every interior nook and cranny. Spies are a risk we can’t take. My senses reassure me that no one is trying to evade our magical security. The gargoyles that guard the exterior of the building confirm this.

The library goblins are currently hiding because Tremayne doesn’t have a contract with Sage; they are extremely particular about who can see them. I amuse myself by pondering how the BSP would classify the strange creatures. The library itself is considered an accepted phenomenon and not under the bureau’s jurisdiction, but Bren’s volatile magic affected the atmosphere above and around the building. Even if this hadn’t caught their attention, I’m sure Addington put pressure on them to investigate. He wouldn’t have allowed the opportunity to slip past him, and I suspected that he instigated the incident in the first place.

Tears of anger and frustration fill my eyes at the reminder. “Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum are coming back. What if they take Bren away?” My words are a whisper, but they still bring Bren out of hiding. I’d sent him to the archive room. The room is hidden from the patrons’ sight by a bookcase but close enough to the circulation desk that he could hear everything.

“I won’t let them take me, little lioness,” Bren says. The library is uncertain whether he’s lying or not, and my concern increases.

Has he seen his imprisonment? Bren’s farseeing abilities are as unpredictable as his weather magic. His visions are often confusing and he’s rarely given a single, concise future. Yesterday, he’d been convinced that the future didn’t matter.

Garrett, Bren’s half-brother and Addington’s former heir, speaks up for the first time since the detectives entered the building. The visit has shaken his typical arrogance. “Addington must have sent them. They wouldn’t have named Bren otherwise. Thank the gods that we changed our last name.”

The shifter’s words echo a mantra I’d been repeating. After I’d recovered my memories and identified their father as the mastermind behind my torture and imprisonment, they’d renounced their patrimony. Altering their surname in the library’s contract book had proven as legally valid as a court decree. They’d had personal reasons for the action, too, but seeing my injuries convinced them.

“Ah,” the old mage interjects smoothly. “I had wondered how that truth was circumvented. Very wise,” Tremayne praises with apparent approval.

The professor must be ancient because supernaturals don’t actually show their age until they pass a certain threshold. His impressive beard is snow white, though, and his skin resembles aged leather. For some unknown reason, he wears voluminous robes that increase his resemblance to fantasy novel wizards. On his finger is the required ring with the symbol that represents the House of Magic. Many alumni of Apocrypha Academy wear these rings. Addington and Ansel, both shifters, wear the same ring from the House of Beasts. When I saw the ring on Ansel’s finger, it sparked a memory that encouraged my horrifying trip down memory lane.

Tremayne’s interruption is a reminder that we are not alone and we still have work to do. I square my shoulders with determination and release the brakes on my chair after making certain I won’t run over Avery’s toes. When I round the tall circulation desk, I see that Sage has provided food and drinks. I’m grateful for her consideration. My throat is sore from talking to patrons, and I’m exhausted.

“Thanks for coming when you did,” I tell Tremayne and add a nod to Ansel as I pull up to the table. I’ve tried to convince myself that the truth behind my parentage isn’t important, but I’m still nervous. Determining whether the shifter is my biological father won’t change the past or solve any immediate problems, but it might ease my mind. I’ll take what I can get.

“I was glad to be of assistance, Librarian. You appear to have settled into your position here, and this delights me more than I can say. I regret your first day was so turbulent, though. I apologize on the Academy’s behalf for the young mage who wielded the pheromone trap. I’m disgusted that she was able to smuggle the enchantment onto the campus grounds.”

Is his irritation amplified by the overall state of the Academy? Does he blame his fellow faculty members for their corruption or hate Addington and Walthers for their manipulation? Either could apply. Neither could also be true; I might be projecting my wishes for an ally into my evaluation. I decide not to address his comment right now.

“Please call me Zosia. Also, I realize Master Tremayne is your title among colleagues, but I won’t call anyone Master or Mistress.” I want to say sorry, not sorry, but it might bring too much attention to the generational gap between us.

Living among the magicless has influenced my opinion on the title, but there’s more to it. Avery was essentially a slave and forced to call his employer Master. Thankfully, that particular individual has been banned from entering the library. After I stole Avery from him, he stormed onto the premises and screamed insults at me. I’d taken pleasure in his fear when the gargoyles threatened him.

“I agree wholeheartedly, my dear. I’ve advocated for the title’s dissolution, but too many individuals take delight in subjugating others. If I am allowed to call you Zosia, I should give you my first name. You may call me Stanley or just Tremayne, as Ansel does.”

The name provokes a smile; it’s very mundane for a powerful mage. I’d expected Tremayne to be his only name. Calling him Stanley feels disrespectful, so I decide to follow Ansel’s lead. As I reach for a glass of water, I realize the two men are still standing.

“Please sit. The library has provided refreshments and I have a million questions. I don’t know how many you have time for ….”

“I am at your disposal,” Tremayne answers as he sits across from me.

Ansel immediately sinks into the chair next to his mentor. I recognize his pain because it mirrors my own. His respect for the old man is apparent despite his weakness and exhaustion. I imagine his last minutes ticking away with every minute. The shifter was one of the first adults to show me compassion and respect. His actions might have been influenced by ulterior motives and tremendous guilt, but his death will still sadden me. We might have to attend to him before we discuss Bren.

The old mage speaks again after he’s seated. “I was pleased when Ansel provided the invitation to speak to you. I’d been hoping I might further our acquaintance since our first meeting. Before you begin your questioning, may I be introduced to your guardians?”

My social ineptitude makes my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Of course! I’m not used to proper manners, and I haven’t had many opportunities for polite conversation.” The understatement is laughable. I lived in the supply closet of a magicless orphanage, and I only ever spoke to my ghostly best friend.

“You might know Avery from when he was indentured to one of your colleagues, but allow me to introduce him as a free man. Avery DuClair was the first of my guardians. Professor Dighit stormed the library when he found out, and he’s been blocked for his rudeness.”

The vampire executes a shallow bow before he chooses a chair. The distance between us confuses me until I realize that he has intentionally left the seats on either side of me for the brothers. Both accept the chairs immediately, and I realize they want to be close to me after the frightening visit from the BSP. The feeling is mutual, but I didn’t identify it until Avery’s considerate gesture. His insight into our emotions might be disconcerting if he didn’t use it to strengthen our relationships.

“Next are Garrett and Brendan Kennard.” I formally introduce the brothers with their new surname. The shifter extends his thick arm across the table for the mage to shake. He’s a mountain of muscle. His size should make the old man appear frail, but nothing about the mage suggests delicacy.

The younger brother waves in our general direction, but his gaze is focused on the far wall. I’m about to crane my neck to see what he’s looking at until I recognize the glazed look in his eyes. He’s peering inward – not outward. His body leans against my chair, and I can feel his energy vibrating around him. The woman who’d attempted to snare him with a pheromone trap had hurled malicious insults at me and my other guardians. Her ignorant cruelty provoked Bren’s volatile magic and caused a tremendous storm. The sudden atmospheric event was the excuse behind the BSP’s arrival, but my intuition suggests Addington was behind their interest. He will take advantage of any opportunity to retrieve his sons.

The mage greets each brother equally, even though Bren’s attention is elsewhere.

“And the ghost with the permanent scowl is Kodi,” I continue. “A recent discovery revealed that he’s been with me since before I entered the orphanage. He saved my life.” My fond tone softens his scowl. If he weren’t a ghost, the praise might have elicited a blush. The monochrome colors of his spectral afterlife don’t change color, though.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kodi. Truthfully, I have lived longer than you youngsters can comprehend, but I’ve never met a spirit who has managed to remain on this plane for as long as you have. Your nature fascinates my academically-minded brain, and I have many questions.” Tremayne studies Kodi, but his examination is respectful. “You were able to forge a contract with the Library?” His surprise is apparent, and it’s clear that Ansel hadn’t told him about this yet.

“He’s actually solidified a couple of times now,” I say quickly. I don’t know if I’m bragging or offering excuses, but Kodi has been my friend for longer than I can remember. I wouldn’t be me without him, and his presence is vital to my well-being. The other three men, while important, don’t have our shared history.

Tremayne’s eyes widen. He’s lived so long that I doubt much impresses him anymore. “Marvelous,” he breathes as he strokes his long beard. “I would love to meet you in the flesh, so to speak, at some point. Should I call you Kodi? Would you prefer I use a surname?” Tremayne’s mannerisms are as impeccable as Avery’s are, but it isn’t surprising. He grew up in a time when courtesy was customary.

Kodi’s scowl intensifies. “Like the brothers, I have disowned my last name and everything related to it.”

The bitterness in his tone is one I share. My best friend’s father worked for Addington. The brothers’ sire might have bought me and imprisoned me, but Shawnessy smashed my legs and made me unable to walk without assistance. They might have succeeded at stealing my magic if Kodi hadn’t intervened.

My friend sacrificed himself for me, but he still struggles with overwhelming guilt for the years he helped his father. He’d been too young to understand and coerced into cooperation, but this is small consolation. Similar to him, I can’t release my guilt over his death. We’ve recently theorized that our combined shame might prevent him from maintaining his corporeal form.

Now that the niceties have been addressed, I glance between our guests. “I don’t know where to start. Ansel asked you to accompany him for a specific reason, but a lot has happened since we spoke with him earlier. Although my mind is on the BSP’s visit, I don’t know whether either of you understands the entire situation. We’ve learned a lot in the last day or so. However …,” I breathe a sigh as my gaze slides to the older shifter. He appears slightly healthier now that he’s sitting, but he’s clearly struggling. “Ansel indicated that he has information regarding his history and the library. I understand his time may be limited.”

Tremayne directs his compassionate gaze toward his companion. “What do you think, Ansel?”

The shifter inhales deeply. “Zosia is right. My time is limited, and I have a lot to tell her. The offer to become a sentinel may be retracted after I’ve revealed my history. I also want to facilitate a trusting relationship between the two of you and ensure Bren’s safety before I … go. If Sage will allow me the time to discuss all of them, the order doesn’t matter.”

I discuss the situation silently with Sage. I suspect she knows everything Ansel might tell me, but it’s not her responsibility. “Sage will grant you until midnight tonight,” I tell the dying man. Although it’s not my decree, placing a precise time of death upon him isn’t easy. His shoulders relax, though, and I wonder if he considers the knowledge a relief.

“All right, then. Let’s begin.” I force confidence into my announcement and sip the coffee Sage has provided. I don’t usually drink caffeine after noon, but I need the fortification and the comfort it provides. I doubt this conversation is going to be pleasant.