Broken Destiny

by Serena Lindahl

  I’m sweating when we reach the top, and I shake out the slight tremor in my legs as Ansel unlocks the massive door. He holds it open, but everyone seems to be waiting for me to enter first. I take five steps into the front foyer and stop. The entryway is closed off from the rest of the library. It’s a rectangular space with marble flooring and towering pillars separating massive planks of wood that surround a carved door. The door is beautiful. I sense the magic it hides. Although we’re not even in the library yet, the room fills me with the same sense of comfort and rightness that I experienced sleeping next to its wall last night.

  “Is this it?” I ask slowly, anxious to get through that door. None of the other men move.

  “This isn’t the entirety of the library,” Ansel explains calmly while the beastmaster rolls his eyes at my blatant ignorance. “We can’t go further until you’re accepted. Only the library’s chosen and her employees can enter when she decides to close.”

  My brow rises. “So there are workers besides the librarian?”

  Ansel nods. He appears nervous, and I frown at him. “Is something supposed to happen?”

  The old man laughs. “The last potential we brought in here didn’t make it farther than that very spot you’re standing in.”

  I look down and notice that the floor is patterned strangely; the specks and lines in the fancy marble make shapes. A five-pointed star is positioned a step in front of me. It seems to glow. My body urges me to place my feet onto the star, but Tremayne’s observation stops me.

  “And what happened to this potential?” I ask, swallowing loudly as a lump forms in my throat.

  “She died,” the beastmaster responds as if he’s talking about the weather. “Burst into flames before she could even step onto the star. The smell was horrid.” He studies his fingernails as he relates the story, and I stare at him with my jaw dropped.

  And Ansel had said that other positions were available for the losers…had he simply been trying to keep me from escaping into the night? I wouldn’t have gotten very far.

  “Seriously, Dighit, that isn’t necessary,” Ansel scolds the younger man, and a snarl curls the asshole’s perfect lips. I’m glad Ansel doesn’t need to bow to this douche, but I’m also irritated with him for not telling me the details.

  “She should know what she’s up against,” Dighit responds as if he actually has my best interests in mind.

  If he wants to scare me off, daring me isn’t the way to go about it. I shrug. “Might as well get this over with. Tell Kodi I’m sorry.” I direct my words toward Ansel, and I hope he gets the message I won’t dare say out loud. If I die, I want him to try and free the ghost. I don’t know if I manage to relay all that through a single look, but I try.

  With a bracing breath, I step forward and position myself on the star, crutches and all. Nothing happens. I glance back at the four men. “Um…” I start to say, but then my vision blurs, and I’m no longer in the foyer. I look around the new space, my eyes wide and my mouth catching figurative flies.

  It’s a plain room, but it glows with magic. It almost looks like a cave, with smooth stone walls and no discernible light source, even though it’s dimly lit. The sensation that fills me is more than magic. I’ve come home.

  Something moves in the shadows of the corner. Fear chokes me momentarily. My overactive imagination tells me there’s something scary waiting to jump out at me. I’m so worked up, I almost fall on my butt when a little creature creeps from the darkness.

  I stare at him unabashedly, and he returns the regard. He’s no taller than my hips and has a pointed hat like a gnome, but that’s where the resemblance stops. His skin is weathered brown like a tree and his eyes are hard and black like raisins - inhuman. He has no hair on his body that I can see, and his features are poorly created, almost like someone formed him out of clay and smashed the statue on the ground before it fully dried. His bulbous nose is bent to the side, his brow is prominent, and his lips are almost perfectly formed. The strange mishmash of beauty and ugliness is oddly enchanting.

  Despite his appearance, he doesn’t scare me. I don’t sense any animosity from him. I can’t say how I guess his gender, but his body, although smaller, is vaguely shaped like a male human except for his wings. They’re folded against his back at the moment, but the pointed tips peek over his shoulders. They’re golden brown, brighter than his skin, and softly feathered, but the feathers almost look like leaves.

  “Um, hi?” I say after a moment. “I suppose I’m here for some sort of trial?”

  He steps forward, his flawless lips frowning. “Who broke your hindlegs?” he asks gruffly, staring at my lower body with a look closer to anger than disgust.

  “My legs?” I correct him. I almost feel like I have to answer him, and I grit my teeth against the memories that suddenly shove themselves to the forefront of my mind. He looks up past the protruding brow, eyes drawing together as he studies my face. The memories continue to flash in my brain, little snippets that make me want to cry out. My breath comes faster as I shove them away one at a time before they can fully form. I don’t want to remember.

  I barely notice when the little creature waves his hand, but the assault on my brain stops abruptly. I suck in relieved breaths.

  “You’ll have to face your past at some point, child,” he declares with a deeper frown. His voice is almost musical, a smooth tenor.

  “Not yet,” I gasp. The words seem to leave my mouth without permission like they were pulled from me, similar to my memories bubbling to the fore. “Who are you?” I manage finally.

  “Who are you?” he counters. The little room should echo, but it doesn’t. And even though I’ve walked and climbed stairs and am now standing on my own, I don’t feel any pain. It’s a welcome change.

  “My name is Zosia…Abram.” I force out the last name. It’s no longer necessary to keep it secret if Ansel is going to spread it around. More than that, I don’t think I could lie in this room even if I chose to.

  “And why are you here?” he continues, ignoring my request for his name.

  I shrug. “Someone brought me here from the orphanage. Said I might be the next librarian or something.”

  “And do you know what you are?”

  “A little snarky, a lot irreverent, intelligent, if I do say so myself, and…well…not normal?” I look down at my legs.

  The little creature snorts a laugh; the humanity of it surprises me. “You’re not normal, but it has nothing to do with your bones,” he responds, and it sounds like the gospel truth coming from his mouth. “You’re just altered from your normal form. Can you shift?”

  “Shift? I never have.” A vague memory of a sphinx pops into my head. It’s difficult to reconcile the image with the picture I have of myself, but I can’t deny the truth in that room. I was a sphinx at some point.

  He nods and makes a slow circle around me. I want to turn with him, but I’ll just end up falling on my ass, so my head twists instead. He stops behind me, staring at my back. “Your wings weren’t injured.”

  “I have wings?” I gasp with surprise, my heart beating faster. Remembering a sphinx and imagining myself as one are two entirely different things.

  “You will if you can learn to access them. Whoever injured your hindlegs endeavored to steal the source of your power and prevent you from shifting, but I don’t believe they succeeded. You’ll be able to shift if you work hard to overcome your memories.”

  I open my mouth to make a snarky comment. Hard work and I don’t exactly get along, but if it means I can shift… “Would my legs still be broken if I…” My voice catches.

  “Yes,” the little guy says. His voice echoes with sadness. “Unfortunately, yes. But four legs are better than two and your forelegs aren’t injured. You’ll also be able to fly. It’s almost necessary for your position here.”

  I’d almost forgotten this was a job interview. “Why do wings matter for a job?”

  The creature returns to his position in fron
t of me, far enough away that he doesn’t have to tilt his head too much. He waves his hand, and I almost fall forward when something bumps into the back of my legs. Instead, I lose my balance and stumble into the chair that suddenly materializes behind me. I position the crutches to either side of me, pretending like I didn’t just fall on my ass.

  “The wings aren’t really the important part, but they’re handy when you’re trying to get books off the top shelf or when you need to get to the top floor in a hurry.” His own wings flutter a little, and I wonder what mine look like. If the pictures of sphinxes are accurate, I’ll have actual feathers. “My name is Duggar, and I am one of the library’s goblins.” I nod, deciding my mental response to that bit of information isn’t really necessary to speak aloud. “You are a sphinx, child. The monster who broke your body did not take your power. Your ancestors guarded this library before their line was believed to be extinct. The last two librarians were sufficient, but the supernatural world grows more volatile, and the library is pleased to have a proper Abram again.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t really think… As much as I’d love to be the librarian here, I don’t think I’d be much help. I can’t move around well, and I can’t guard anything. I can’t even shift.”

  “You should stop thinking if those are your thoughts. You have potential you’re not even aware of. It won’t be easy for you, especially in this political climate. The supernatural community faces threats from within and without, but you’re the best candidate for the job.”

  “Until someone else comes along?” I ask hesitantly. His words are ominous, but I’m a little more concerned about my immediate future at the moment.

  “Unless you betray the library, the position of librarian is for life.” He looks at me sharply, his dark eyes flashing. A spark of fear prods me.

  “I don’t intend on betraying the library,” I respond quickly as terror slides down my spine. Just the thought makes me want to bludgeon myself with my crutch, and I’m no longer a suicidal pre-teen. I don’t know what prompts the fierce loyalty, but I’d rather die than betray the library, whatever that entails.

  Duggar smiles. “I know. It’s in your blood. It’s why we want you.”

  “You want me?” I squeak. “Wait. This seems too easy. I thought there was a trial or something?”

  The goblin’s face doesn’t change expressions as he motions around the chamber. “The trial started the moment you entered the building. The library knows who walks upon its floors. Here, in her heart, nothing can hide from her.”

  I look around the unassuming room. I’m sure he means heart in a very metaphorical sense, but I sense warmth in the small space, like it might be more than that. But I still can’t believe they want me. I can’t even shift and can’t imagine being able to. I’ve been told for years that no one will ever want me like I am. Although I try really hard to maintain some confidence, it gets stomped on again and again. It’s become second nature to speak of myself as others speak of me. “Really? That’s it?”

  “Well, if you insist, the physical obstacle is next. You’ll have to balance on a tightrope over a lake of fire.” My heart skips a beat in fear. The goblin’s strange face doesn’t change, but up until this moment, he’s had mostly human expressions. Is he capable of sarcasm? Is there really a physical test?

  “Really?” I repeat.

  The little creature rolls his eyes. “For an intelligent woman, you can’t seem to accept a simple answer. It’s done. The library has chosen you. There are, of course, a couple of conditions.”

  Ah, there it is: the catch, the trap. I swallow my excitement and nod as I wait for a more detailed explanation. “Conditions?”

  “Yes. You must work to better yourself, to increase your self-worth, to control your shift, and to combat your memories before they drag you under. The library needs you to be strong, in mind and body, and don’t say a thing about your crutches. Just because you don’t walk like others doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. There will be other requirements, but I think those will be the most difficult. Do you agree?”

  I honestly consider the offer. Do I want to be a part of this magical place, a building that fills me with peace and wonder? Do I want to learn how to shift to my beast form? Can I fight my insecurities and memories? Is it worth it?

  Finally, I nod. “Yes. I would like to be needed here.” And that’s the crux of it, the truth pulled from me by either the library’s or the goblin’s magic. I want to be needed. I want to be useful. I don’t want to be considered useless just because of my body. Whether I ever shift or not, I’d like to know that I’m worthy in this form as well.

  Duggar nods in satisfaction. A slight pop assaults my ears and a book abruptly appears, sitting heavy on my lap. It’s open to a page that resembles a contract, but the print is so tiny, my eyes blur. I squint, but every time I try to read it, my eyes cross and I lose my place.

  “This is your contract. Sign, please.”

  I frown at the book. “Is my signature a promise for the exchange of my firstborn, or does it require that I take no lands or husbands? I mean, what’s the catch?”

  Duggar sighs, but I think I sense a hint of amusement. “You belong to the library. This will be your home until you die. If you choose to have a family, they may stay here with you and your quarters will shift to provide for you and them. Your kids may be asked to carry on in your stead, but that is a very long time away. Your responsibility and loyalty will be towards the library always: before politics, before supernaturals, before humans, before lovers, before any other obligations. The rest is all legal jargon.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him but decide it doesn’t really matter. This is where I want to be. He produces a pen, but it doesn’t look like any pen I’ve ever seen. “Ew. Do I have to sign in blood?” I examine the sharp point.

  The goblin huffs a small laugh. “You’ve lived in the human world too long, Sphinx. Yes, you have to sign in blood. Just poke your finger and sign on the line.”

  I shrug and do as he says. The sharp pain is nothing compared to the deep ache I struggle with daily. I sign my full name, Zosia Aviram Abram, with a flourish, and my red blood sinks into the paper. The moment I finish the last m, the book and pen both disappear. Duggar bows, his hat managing to stay firmly attached to his head.

  “Welcome to your destiny, Zosia Abram.”

  Chapter Six

  Zosia

  While I’m trying not to laugh at the corny statement, the room slowly fades around me. I’m back in the towering foyer, but it’s changed. There’s now a door on each end of the room. Not only that, but the entire building seems to breathe around me. Why would a building need to breathe? Even Kodi doesn’t need to breathe. I’m silent as I study the sensation more closely. It’s not breathing, per se, more like the pulse of magic.

  Duggar is nowhere to be seen, but the four men remain. Tremayne’s eyes glitter and Ansel smiles as they bow toward me. The insolent beastmaster hides his disgust as he executes a shallower bow while the representative from the House of Others continues to show little emotion as he mimics the gesture.

  “Congratulations, Librarian,” Tremayne says smoothly. His tone is pleased. “Ansel can finish your induction here, but welcome to Apocrypha, the Hidden Academy.”

  I can’t help the surge of pleasure that courses through my blood. I belong. Maybe not at this strange academy and perhaps not outside these walls. But within these walls, I belong. I have a purpose.

  Tremayne and the others walk out the front doors where the morning light filters in wanly, leaving Ansel and me in the echoing front room.

  Ansel smiles. “I’ve always known you would be next.”

  “Always?” I ask carefully.

  Ansel frowns, perhaps realizing what he said. My fear spikes again as I remember the symbol on his finger. He isn’t my tormentor, but he might be acquainted with the man. He motions toward the wide doors carved with runes. “Let’s enter the building so you can sit. I’ll tell you w
hat I know and what you can expect.”

  He steps in front of me, but he needn’t have bothered. The doors swing open before he touches them, revealing the room. My breath stalls in my chest as excitement pours through me. Finally, I get to see the fabled library in all its glory. Although I just learned about it, it seems like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. Maybe Duggar is right and it’s in my blood. Ansel waits at the door, and I get the feeling that he wants me to enter first. I crutch forward, thinking I’ll have to bring in my chair in so I can get around more easily.

  I step through the door, take a deep breath, and look around me. My chest deflates. It looks utterly…normal. There’s a massive counter to the side where I imagine I’ll sit. A door behind the desk might lead to a bathroom or an office. The bookshelves stretch from wall to wall, but the interior seems smaller than it appeared from the outside. The shelves themselves are sleek, dark mahogany, not the typical metal bookcases of the city library. The ceiling is gorgeous, painted with the constellations of the skies, and there are a few cozy sitting areas situated among the stacks. The physics and dimensions of the room shouldn’t allow me to see down each row and into each corner, but I can if I shift a little in each direction. It’s better than any other library I’ve been in, but I expected…more.

  “This is it?” I try to keep the disappointment from my voice.

  Ansel coughs, but it sounds like he’s hiding a laugh. I look sharply at him in question. “Look again, Librarian, with more than the human eyes you’ve been using for so long.”

  I resist the urge to roll those very human eyes at him. It’s what I have in my head. How else am I supposed to see? But I close my eyes, connect to the strange presence I felt in the heart of the library, and reopen them slowly. My breath stalls in my chest. It’s majestic. The ceiling isn’t actually there. It’s an illusion. Instead, the library rises for stories, far taller than I guessed. Curling wooden balustrades surround the internal courtyard space that leads upward to a glass-covered dome. The morning light filters rays into the building, not quite reaching the corners of the book heaven. On each floor, more shelves wait like silent sentries. There are more books than I could ever count, far more than I could hope to read. And how in the hell am I supposed to get up there? Now I understand why Duggar suggested I attempt to grow my wings. I’ll need them.