Chapter 7
Zosia
I can’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.
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” I grumble petulantly. It’s not exactly true. We’d escaped to the roof to protect the books, and the rain had soaked us within seconds.
At the time, I hadn’t been certain that Bren’s magic caused the sudden tempest, but I remember comparing his magic to the spark of static electricity in the air. The roiling clouds had also felt just above our heads instead of their usual altitude.
Science had never been my favorite subject in school, and I hadn’t lied when I’d professed ignorance about the storm’s catalyst. I might have access to all the data in the library, but it’s easier to maintain my ignorance if I avoid this fact.
Tremayne politely avoids my childlike whine of protest. “The storm affected the entire three-hundred-acre campus, and this building was the epicenter. As I mentioned, no one was hurt. However, Apocrypha’s campus borders property owned by a group of magicless who bear a centuries-old grudge against the academy. They delight in reporting the slightest anomalies. While Addington or Walthers might have spoken Bren’s name, they probably weren’t the only ones who contacted the BSP. The bureau and other organizations are under pressure right now because anti-supernatural groups are encouraging the magicless to report everything.”
The headache that has been building all day throbs at the base of my skull. My sudden initiation into the supernatural world has been full of surprises. I didn’t pay attention to the divide between the supernatural and magicless communities before I arrived at Apocrypha.
Everything has changed. The library is required to send a representative to the OSC, also known as the Supernatural Council. The seat has been vacant since my grandmother died, and the world desperately needs her input. I have to pay attention to these alarming politics whether I’m interested or not. We’ve decided that Garrett will attend the meetings on our behalf, but we should agree on our course of action as a group.
A connection I hadn’t previously considered prompts a question before I have time to process it. “Is it possible that Addington or his allies are behind the dissent? If a group is acting similarly to a terrorist cell, scared supernaturals might encourage drastic measures against the magicless.”
Tremayne tugs at his beard. “It’s not out of the question, but the magicless who participate don’t need much encouragement. Perhaps you haven’t heard the latest news?” The old mage’s voice grows somber, and his eyes flicker above my head – to Avery. The vampire has been quiet throughout most of our conversation. His steady stillness contrasts with Bren’s and Kodi’s restless activities and Garrett’s vibrating tension.
“We haven’t heard anything,” I confirm nervously. I’d almost forgotten the world outside the library existed. Sometimes, I wished that were true.
“Two days ago in Alaska, a particular hive of vampires was attacked. The assault was brutal. Several members were chained up outside in the snow. When the sun rose, they were unable to escape. Several of the clan’s members were employed as enforcers and apprehended supernaturals who bend the law to their liking. While a magicless sect claimed responsibility for the horrific attack, it couldn’t have been carried out without inside information or supernatural abilities. The vampires were too powerful to be overpowered by a group of magicless. Evidence tampering has stalled the investigation and created issues. The sect that claimed responsibility can’t be found, so their accomplices remain a mystery.”
The savage attack should horrify me, but my past has numbed me. If a man can experiment on helpless children and forcefully impregnate adolescent females, why would he balk at burning vampires alive?
“The attack coincides with an ongoing argument at the OSC regarding magicless who perpetrate crimes against supernaturals. Currently, violent crimes enacted against the magicless by supernaturals require a collaborative approach, and supernaturals generally receive a harsher punishment. However, the opposite is rarely seen.”
Tremayne pauses as he determines our comprehension, and I can imagine him as a professor. He’d be patient and understanding, but he wouldn’t allow students to take advantage of his compassion. A pang of sadness reminds me of what my life could have been like if I’d grown up in a relatively normal situation.
“A combined judicial system operates successfully in other industrialized nations, but our country thrives on individualism. The nation lacks a collective conscience. If an event doesn’t directly affect a citizen, they typically choose to ignore the situation. Governing bodies have been aware of supernaturals for nearly a century, but many supernaturals chose to hide their presence because they feared retribution. Public integration has been scattered and incomplete for most of my life. Even in fully consolidated populations, however, hate groups appear. This is true regardless of the factor separating them – be it race, sex, magical ability, or wealth.”
I’ve seen evidence of this in my short and relatively isolated life. When supernaturals decided to publicize their existence and global communication became available to nearly everyone, many of the nation’s struggles were blamed on the newly outed race. No side can shoulder all of the blame. Alongside the magicless that demand total segregation are supernaturals that seek supremacy.
Silence envelops the table for several moments. Although Avery likely never met the vampires who were killed, it still affects him. His sadness shivers along the thread connecting us. Supernaturals are separated among themselves, and the different factions don’t always play nicely together. Shifters and vampires are often at odds and both consider mages nothing more than magicless humans with skills.
“It’s a mess,” Kodi mutters. “It’s always been a mess, but now people are dying.”
My head whips toward the ghost. My best friend is actually paying attention, and he sounds worried about matters that don’t immediately concern him. It’s so unusual that I half expect to see him fully materialized. He’s somewhere in between. I notice hints of color and a little more substance, but it isn’t complete.
Noting my attention, he looks downward with a panicked expression. “What? Am I fading?”
“Actually, it’s the opposite; you’re almost in color. I’m just …, I’m surprised ....” My words stutter to a stop as my cheeks flush with heat.
Kodi snickers and winks at me in a way that makes my heart flutter. “Ash, it seems I can get hard for more than just you, little minx.”
“Kodi,” I hiss in mortification. I’m certain my cheeks currently resemble ripe tomatoes. Beside me, Bren chuckles and presents his raised fist. Kodi floats over Avery’s vacated chair and mimics the gesture, although they stop short of contact and a proper fist bump.
Garrett’s expression doesn’t change. “Kids,” he grumbles with a dramatic eye-roll. I can’t read his emotions or intent as easily as I can with Avery, but his irritation is exaggerated. Our immaturity irks him, but he’s equally pleased to see his brother laugh.
Avery’s response is a mix of amusement and embarrassment on my behalf. Ansel’s lips quirk the tiniest bit, but he doesn’t have the energy to do more than this.
“Absolutely fascinating,” Tremayne breathes. His enthrallment with Kodi’s flickering transparency overrides his reaction to our antics.
“Anyway …,” I say and clear my throat loudly to recapture everyone’s attention. “While I’m grateful for the context, we can’t solve the division between the races overnight. Let’s move on to the idea you mentioned, Tremayne. Can we do anything about Bren’s magic? The library might have given Ansel until midnight, but I doubt my energy will last that long.”
The caffeine’s effects are already fading. The man who might be my father has deftly avoided agreeing to become a gargoyle. My desire for his acceptance is selfish. If he dies, I will lose his memories of my mother and grandmother. Tremayne might be able to offer more information about my grandmother, but Ansel knew my mother best.
“Forgive me,” the mage replies. “This old brain has a tendency to get sidetracked.”
“Join the club,” Kodi mumbles. We ignore him.
“My long-winded explanation can be summarized. The storm did not only affect the library. Because of this, the BSP possesses the authority to investigate and incarcerate if necessary. If you need the library’s exemption as an excuse, you’ll need to provide proof that his absence would be detrimental to the library’s purpose. This might be difficult considering the relative newness of your relationship. There is a theory that suggests an atmospheric mage’s powers can be controlled.” Tremayne speaks the last word gingerly. He’s wise to do so because my guardians and I bristle. Each one of us has been controlled in different ways throughout our lives.
Garrett is the first one to voice his suspicion. “Controlled how?” His tone is as stiff as his body. While I was imprisoned, Garrett and his brother were being groomed under Addington’s control.
“Mind you, my ideas are theoretical. I have no firsthand experience with this form of magic. Several experts postulate that an atmospheric mage’s power can be subdued or siphoned.” Tremayne’s hesitancy reveals his discomfort with the idea, and his description makes me recoil.
“Like a tether?” My disgust makes Kodi flinch. Since flickering into solidity, he’s started to react more naturally and shown a wider range of emotions. The departure from his usual aloofness is promising.
“No, no,” Tremayne says quickly. “Tethers are crude and don’t require consent. I don’t condone their use and have long maintained that they should be as illegal as the pheromone trap you encountered this morning.” His vehemence soothes some of my irritation, but I remain suspicious.
“Most mages have refined abilities. Their magic is trained via spells, gestures, or the manipulation of the natural world, but atmospheric mages have raw power. Because the magic exists in a purer form, it might be possible to channel it into something or someone. Ideally, this would happen before it explodes into an eruption like the storm this morning.”
Tremayne speaks mostly to Bren. Although my guardian appears to be more interested in the tower he’s creating out of the round snack crackers, I know he’s listening to every word.
“All mages are like rechargeable batteries. Their power levels fluctuate depending on how much they use, and their magic renews with time. Atmospheric mages are different because they have the ability to exceed their capacity. You convert the atmosphere’s ambient energy into more magic. When that magic isn’t used or discharged, it can leak out of you and have dire consequences.”
I gape at Bren, and I think I’m the only one surprised. Kodi and Avery appear unfazed, Garrett is upset by the information, and Ansel is too weak to react. Bren’s expression doesn’t change, but the tower of crackers starts to sway. The library snatches them before they can make a crumby mess on the table. They disappear, and the snack tray is replenished, although most of us aren’t interested.
“A battery might simply leak into its container, but Bren’s magic seeks to return to its original state. When it retreats into the atmosphere, the interaction can be volatile.”
Bren’s grip on my hand tightens to the point of pain. I lean toward him and he does the same. When our arms are pressed together, his hold loosens. Tremayne’s explanation fascinates me, but I’m also angry. If Addington had provided him with this knowledge, Bren could have learned how to control it.
“The idea I mentioned involves releasing some of his power before he overflows. He can channel it into an object, but the item will absorb his magic. Several historical relics powered by atmospheric mages have caused as much, or more, destruction as the mages that filled them.” Tremayne pauses, stroking his fingers down the length of his impressive beard. “Less reliable sources suggest that atmospheric mages have attempted to funnel their power into another person instead of an object,” the old mage adds in a more hesitant tone.
“And what happened?” Garrett growls.
“The research is inconclusive,” Tremayne responds with a shrug. “Humans aren’t capable of receiving direct doses of raw magic. The more powerful they are, the more difficult it is because of the capacity I mentioned earlier.” The mage’s bright blue eyes flicker in my direction, and the words die on the tip of my tongue. How did he know I would volunteer?
“I am also not specifically speaking about mage power, either.” Tremayne glances at Garrett and Avery after me, making the accusation fairer. “This isn’t limited to mages. Shifters and vampires are as powerful; their magic simply presents differently.”
My shoulders droop as the old man crushes each of my ideas. “But an object might be possible? If Bren places magic into something and that something is stored in the library, we could protect it. The library will safeguard it against falling into the wrong hands.”
Tremayne opens his mouth to answer, but he doesn’t get a chance.
“What about me? I don’t have any power and I’m already dead. It’s not as if the process would hurt me.” Kodi’s unexpected words draw the attention of everyone gathered. Even Ansel’s eyebrows manage to rise.
“It’s a clever solution,” the mage replies. Kodi’s chest puffs with praise, but Tremayne isn’t finished. “However, I’m afraid it would be an exercise in futility if you can’t absorb or hold onto that energy. Can you achieve a corporeal form on demand?”
“Almost,” the ghost boasts.
“Then it might work,” Tremayne murmurs in a more hopeful tone. “I believe you have more options than the historical mages I have studied. The library might even know a solution that I haven’t considered.”
“This is only possible if my brother agrees to the discharge of his magic,” Garrett growls.
“Of course!” I huff as I turn my gaze to the older brother. “I’d never propose anything like that without Bren’s consent.”
Garrett’s dark eyes hold mine as he assesses the honesty of my statement. After a second, he nods. “This isn’t the first time I’ve considered doing this,” Bren says.
I break the intense hold the shifter has placed on me and swivel to my other side. Bren’s pale green eyes, fringed with long, thick lashes, reassure me before settling on his brother.
“Remember when I was around seven or eight? Addington gave me a rock and told me it was a worry stone. He told me I would focus better if I poured all my magic into it. I refused. I knew by then that his so-called help usually hid dark motives. I also thought he was stupid for thinking a rock could absorb my magic. He’s known all along that he could use my power if he could just get it out of me.”
Instead of betrayal or anger, Bren’s tone conveys indifference and thoughtfulness. At first, I’d worried they would grow to resent me for the loss of a connection to their sire. It soon became clear, however, that they’d emotionally disowned him long before they met me.
Garrett nods stiffly. “I remember. Even before that, though, he’d tried to be the vessel.”
Tremayne grunts, drawing our attention. “The alpha shifter’s vanity would have been his undoing,” he explains. “My mage affinity includes assessing the potency and nature of a supernatural’s magic. It’s best that you didn’t comply, Bren. Addington’s magic is not complementary to yours. He wouldn’t have survived. No child should bear the burden of murder, even unintentional.”
I nod in agreement as my gaze shifts automatically toward Kodi. His memories were fractured, but he remembers killing his father before the man could kill me – or him. He was certain he’d killed before then, however, and the guilt haunts his afterlife. Addington might have deserved death, but the act might have broken Bren’s gentle soul.
“I agree,” Garrett replies as he rubs his hand over his short hair. “Especially since Bren was younger at the time. This power had just manifested, which would have made him about five years old. How did Addington know about channeling the power, though? Shouldn’t information like that be protected from those that might abuse it?”
“Let me check something,” I tell my companions, flipping through the catalog of books newly harbored within my mind. Accessing the records would overwhelm me, so I focus on a specific keyword search. “OH,” I hum while I examine the results.
“A man named Phineas Walthers garnered the trust of the library and Atanea. Several years before Bren was born, he’d researched atmospheric and elemental mages. He might not have been able to remove the books from the upper floor, but he could have memorized the information and recorded it himself. I doubt the name is coincidental.”
“It’s not,” Tremayne confirms in a weary tone. “That was Jerome Walthers’ father and a good friend of mine. Phineas had good intentions, but he’d confessed that he feared his son was making dangerous friends. He wouldn’t have willingly given the information to Jerome or Addington, but he died in a house fire. His vast stores of knowledge were thought to have perished alongside him.” Sorrow and suspicion shadow Tremayne’s words. He doesn’t believe the fire was accidental.
“So Jerome got the information and gave it to Addington,” Garrett grumbles. The shifter doesn’t just say words; they are always grunted or growled. The rumbling quality of his voice sends a pleasant shiver across my skin. When his dark eyes search my face, a second shiver follows. “How far back can you see?”
I shrug. “I don’t know that it’s limited, but there’s too much data. I need specifics, or my brain might fry.” My attempt at a joke falls flat because it’s a distinct possibility.
“Did Addington spend a lot of time in the library when he was younger? What books was he interested in?”
I’m uncertain that the alpha’s reading habits will provide us with new insight, but Garrett’s curiosity appears stronger than a fleeting whim. I close my eyes as I sift through the information. “Addington is an alumnus,” I tell everyone without opening my eyes as the results start trickling in. My mind’s visual creation skills present the data like a computer’s search engine. “He spent a lot of time here during his enrollment. He occasionally requested information from the top floor but wasn’t allowed access. He was especially interested in methods of channeling and preserving mage power.”
I flick through the titles, surprised that Sage allowed him to read several of them. She hadn’t been denying him but she hadn’t ignored his unique requests either. “During his senior year, his privileges were limited to the specific texts that his professors indicated. We don’t carry a book titled How to Steal Supernatural Power and Create an Army of Obedient Supernaturals . After graduation, he was officially banned from the premises.” I frown. The reason for the prohibition isn’t clear, and Sage doesn’t offer any details.
Kodi scoffs. “He could probably write that book now. Why wasn’t he reported to the authorities?”
“No one can be punished for seeking knowledge,” I proclaim when I open my eyes. The words tumble off my tongue as if they were a company’s tagline I’d heard a million times. The two older men at the table nod with me. “The knowledge a patron seeks isn’t what is important; it’s what they do with it.”
My best friend crosses his arms over his chest and prepares to argue. He died a petulant teenager, and his stubborn nature is equal to mine. “That’s ridiculous. If someone waltzes into a magicless library and requests several books on pedophilia, they should be arrested immediately.”
“On what grounds?” I retort. “What if they’re a psychology student and they’re writing a paper about abnormal sexual obsessions? Or perhaps they’re already employed, and their focus is healing sexual assault in children? What if they were abused as a child and seeking answers?” I argue my case firmly. “I agree with the library on this one, Kodi. Knowledge is powerful, but the real danger lies in what someone does with that knowledge.”
Kodi’s lower lip juts out, but he doesn’t continue arguing, which means I have technically won. After years of friendly debates and general disagreements, we understand each other’s cues and behaviors.
Bren’s voice is soft after my vehement defense. “I don’t fear losing my atmospheric magic.” His words return me to the original conversation. “It’s brought me nothing but fear and annoyance because I can’t control it and Addington wanted it. I consider my farseeing abilities my only magic. While Addington was interested in my visions, he simultaneously belittled them. When they didn’t favor his plans, he would claim that a powerful man makes his own destiny.”
Bren inhales deeply and his gaze meets mine. The pale green of his eyes is somehow deep and emotional. Every time I look at him, I marvel anew at his beauty. It steals my breath away.
“This is my consent,” the man beside me continues. “If releasing the magic is required to stay at the library with you and the others, I’ll gladly do it.” The library doesn’t need to reveal his honesty because the earnestness in his voice is sufficient.
A flush of emotion makes my face feel hot. The idea that he wants to stay with me shouldn’t affect me so powerfully, but my emotional maturity is stunted from years of being unwanted or wanted for all the wrong reasons.
I haven’t earned Bren’s loyalty, and I’m scared of disappointing him – and my other guardians. I still don’t believe I’m worthy of this devotion, but the contracts have been signed. The only way out is through, but I might be too frightened to take the first step.