Read Destiny Calling for Free Online Page B

them with the display picture still inside. The strangers smiled their fake smiles with their fake family, boasting their fake happiness, and I made up their story as I went, like mine.
    At least the people in my pictures were smiling, unlike the ones in Griffith’s library. They were all men. Unsmiling men. I raised my brows. Must run in the family.
    I straightened one hanging askew, grimacing at the filth on the frame. After wiping my hand on my jeans, I reached in my pocket to run the magazine picture between my fingers. It soothed me as I studied the photos. A few appeared to be from the better part of a century ago.
    I continued along the shelves, lingering on one section with little dust to examine the titles. Probability and statistics, geometry and a bunch of boring-looking books on data analysis. “These must be for when he can’t sleep at night.” My words echoed off the wood paneled walls.
    I slid one of the books out, and flipped through the pages. Finding the material just as mind numbing as expected. I lifted the book to replace it, then stopped and moved closer. There was a book behind this one. Hunkering down, I reached in and pulled out the concealed book. The intense feeling of evil returned full-force, like a sucker punch to the stomach. My fingers tingled and burned, and I dropped the book. It hit the ground and fell open to expose cracked, yellowed pages.
    “What the hell?” Sketches of what looked like men, but weren’t, filled the page. I’d seen them before. The first on the night Tessa died. Then again, today.
    I spun to the doorway. My conscience weighed heavy with guilt for snooping through Griffith’s books. Why shouldn’t I? It is a library. That’s what people do in a library. But this book felt wrong. Like I’d stumbled across someone’s diary.
    I cracked the door and peered out. The foyer was empty. Easing the door shut, I winced as the latch clicked. I held my breath a few seconds until satisfied Griffith hadn’t heard.
    Bending over the book, I held my hair back to get a better look at the drawings without touching the pages. The first showed the man-creature in various stages, almost as if in the process of evolving. The last sketch resembled a person. I glanced over my shoulder, listening for Griffith, and then returned my attention to the book.
    The second page had images of the man-creatures standing over people cowering and writhing on the ground below them. Handwriting covered much of the pages. The script was varied, and it didn’t appear to be written by the same person, or even the same language. A few sections of writing were faded to the point of being illegible.
    I’d never seen a book as old as this one. The spine was obviously handmade. Despite the vile feeling emanating from the book, it was beautiful. I examined the script but couldn’t understand much of it. One word popped out, though. Enchantling. The same word from Tessa’s note. She’d been dead a month by the time I’d gathered the courage to open her note. I’d left that same day. Sticking around wouldn’t help find what had murdered Tessa.
    I hunkered closer to the page where Enchantling was written on one side. A figure filled the center and on the other side the word, Oppressors . The ink looked darker on these words than the rest of the script, as if the words had been added at a later date.
    Shifting on my feet, I glanced back to ensure the door remained closed. The figure’s shape looked feminine but had three heads, none of them human. I tried to make out the faded drawing. Once I identified the snake, the horse and the dog were apparent. The same animals as the masks. The heads were drawn as one but smeared together to look as if the figure was in the process of turning its head.
    I tentatively touched the page. “Ouch.” Steam rose from the paper, and I sucked my singed fingers to ease the pain. Moving closer, I was careful not to touch the book again. The figure in the middle was