Blood: An Affinities Novel (The Affinities Book 1) Page 2

  “I can walk myself home, thanks, Rich,” she retorted, scowling at him as she crossed her arms.

  Tray’s mother pursed her lips, studying the girl who stood between her two sons. “We know what you did, Adara. Officer Telum told us everything—”

  “Yeah, well, Mitt must have lied about it in his report because I’m not in prison, am I?”

  “Arson is no joke, Adara. You’ve caused the Belvens enough inconvenience—you don’t need to burn their house to the ground!”

  “It was you who started the fire in Kiki’s house?” Seth blurted out, gaping at her. Tray felt a vindictive burst of glee at the fact that he’d been right—at the fact that Adara was as conniving as he thought she was. “I thought you hated fire.”

  “I do hate fire,” she cut in harshly, “which is why you’re all complete idiots for believing I did it.”

  “Adara,” the twins’ father scolded.

  Their mother’s eyes were soft, but her tone was stern. “Even if you didn’t start a fire, you did steal a necklace, and for that you are grounded…until the New Year.”

  “Wow, a four-month-long grounding,” the girl mused as she began to stroll leisurely down the sidewalk. “That’ll last, Linda, I’m sure. See you back at the house, where I’ll be for four months.”

  Seth shot his parents an apologetic look as they hesitantly entered their car, and Tray sped after Adara, his strides edged with rage.

  “You have no respect for our parents,” he fumed, stomping angrily by her side as she sauntered along. The green trees that lined the path shaded the concrete with a shadowy canopy, blocking the heat of the blazing sun. Still, beads of sweat formed on Tray’s brow, which he pushed up into his neat, brown hair, giving it a slick appearance.

  “Your parents,” she corrected carelessly, her droll eyes pitying him as he continued to sweat. She was wearing jeans and a dark sweatshirt and somehow there wasn’t even a blush to her cheeks.

  “They have given you a home and food and—and love for the past three years,” Tray ranted, “and all you can do for them is give sass and break the law and—and be hateful.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, nodding. “Valid points, Nerdworm. Are you aspiring to be a lawyer now?”

  “I always thought he’d be a good lawyer,” Seth put in as he popped up on the other side of her. He wasn’t sweating, either, his twin noted grudgingly, and his hair was tousled to a perfect degree atop his head. While Tray wore a polo shirt and Seth wore a sports jersey, their attire wasn’t the only external symbol of their internal differences. Although both twins were the same height, Seth had accumulated more muscle over the years while Tray had remained fairly scrawny with mental exercise as his preference.

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer, but if I did, I’d also accuse you of having a thing with that cop.” He now pointed his finger in her face. “He lied for you—he could lose his job—and you call him by his first name.”

  “I use everyone’s first name,” Adara reminded him. “Do you think I have a thing with your father, as well?”

  Tray let out a groan, seething through his teeth as he clenched his fists. “I will see you go to jail one day, and it’ll be the best day of my life.”

  Adara rolled her eyes before sending an amused grin in Seth’s direction. Judging by the glimmer in his bright blue eyes and the curve of his lips, Tray’s twin seemed to find this quarrel entertaining.

  “You know, Tray, I did it for you, too.” His antipathy relaxed slightly as he eyed her with skepticism. “I saw Kiki and her friends knock your books over in school on Friday. It really is a miracle that you managed to not be bullied until the third day of school this year. Last year, that junior shoved your face in the toilet on the first day, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he mumbled.

  “Well, I’ve never exactly stuck up for you verbally, so I figured this year I’d make it up to you by robbing Kiki’s house. You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t need you to commit crimes for me or stick up for me,” Tray snapped, avoiding her gaze. “It’s going to be different this year. Maybe Seth will actually tell his girlfriend to leave me alone.”

  Seth snorted out a loud laugh, shaking his head until he realized the other two were both staring at him with raised eyebrows.

  “What? C’mon, you know I love you guys, but I have a reputation to maintain at school. I’m cool and you guys aren’t. Not my fault.”

  “You’re not cool; you’re an ass,” Adara countered as she punched him in the arm. Seth grunted, but playful smirks rose on both of their faces. Tray then proceeded to complain about Kiki while Seth lamely defended her to the best of his ability and Adara mocked every word each twin said. Everything was normal.

  2

  Mr. Grease and Devil-Red

  “Tray, make me some food,” Adara ordered, her voice echoing in the cathedral ceiling of the Starks’ living room. “Being arrested makes a girl hungry, you know.”

  They’d been home for only ten minutes now, but Adara was already sprawled on the couch beside Seth, watching television. From her perch, she could spy Tray preparing a sandwich for himself in the adjacent kitchen, diligently layering the meats and cheeses atop the bread. Even in the sweltering August heat, he was sporting one of his preppy button-up shirts, and now, in order to spare that shirt from a horrible demise, he wore a freaking apron—his mother’s pink apron.

  If the dictionary put a picture next to the word “nerd,” it would be of Tray Stark, and he would be scowling, like he was now, his blue eyes like a sea of endless displeasure. The caption would read, “Pissy nerd in his natural habitat,” and he would be surrounded by books, test tubes, and other useless objects while wearing his mom’s apron.

  “I’m not making food for you, Stromer,” he replied, spreading hummus on his sandwich with patience that didn’t reflect his tone. “You’re sixteen—you should be able to cook for yourself.”

  “I can cook for myself, but I don’t want to cook.”

  “OH!” Seth exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. Adara watched impassively as he thrust his fists in the air. “TOUCHDOWN! Did you see that, Dar? That was awesome!”

  “Turn off this dumb sport,” she complained, reaching over him once he’d sat back down to grab the remote. Before she could snatch it, he shoved her away, prompting her to push and then climb over him in an attempt to retrieve it. A few years ago, this grappling match would have been relatively even, but now that Seth was muscular and Adara was barely willing to exert enough energy to participate in gym class, he fended her off easily, not struggling in the slightest to keep her body suspended above his, just a few inches from that remote.

  “Stop making out over there and turn on the news,” Tray called from the kitchen, at which Seth hastily slackened his grip. Adara floundered into his lap and then scrambled off, convincing herself that the heat rising in her cheeks was just a result of exercise—as if anyone other than her would consider thirty seconds of wrestling a work out.

  Crossing her arms defensively, Adara avoided a glance in Seth’s direction as he grumbled, “We weren’t making out.”

  “I don’t really care.” Tray topped his sandwich with a piece of bread and then patted his hands on the apron. “Just turn on the news. I want to hear if they’re saying anything about the Wackos.”

  “But I’m watching the game!”

  “No one cares about the game,” Adara droned.

  “I care about the game,” Seth said, though the chime of the doorbell overpowered his words. Adara didn’t even perk up at the sound; her mind was too absorbed with processing Seth’s reaction to what his twin had said about making out while simultaneously scrambling to erase the notion that she even cared.

  “Adara, get the door,” Tray commanded tonelessly, increasing her ire.

  “You get the door!”

  Seth stood beside her. “I’ll get the door.”

  Adara swiftly kicked his legs, forcing him back onto the couch. “I’ll ge
t it,” she muttered before waltzing over to the red front door. She expected to find girls selling cookies, who she would gladly scare away, but she instead found two grown men waiting on the porch.

  “Hello,” the man in the front greeted nervously as he began to rifle through the pages on his wooden clipboard.

  Instantly, Adara’s nose scrunched in disgust—not because of his squeaky tone or unpleasant odor, but because everything about him was greasy, as though he’d just jumped into a pool of oil. His dark hair was heavy and sleek, his black suit appeared to be drenched with sweat, and even his eyes shimmered with wetness. Light glared off his skin with such intensity that the acne scars from his youth were almost invisible.

  “Why are you so repulsive?” she inquired as she eyed the man with distaste. Engrossed with his clipboard, he ignored her completely, but the man standing behind him acknowledged her with an amused smile. Even if he hadn’t, she would have taken a moment to scrutinize him. The second man was arguably stranger than the oily man, donning a deep, ruby-red suit that perfectly matched his ruby-red hair and ruby-red eyes.

  “Are you Satan?” Adara asked him. Judging by the cordiality of his smile, however, he was far from evil.

  “That’s a peculiar question,” the man began in a pensive tone. “I feel as though I’ve heard it before…”

  “Who’s at the door?” Tray’s voice sounded as he stepped up beside her, untying his apron.

  “Two freaks,” she informed him; based on his eyebrows creased in confusion, he’d gathered that much.

  “Do…Seth and Tray Stark reside in this house?” the slimy man in the front questioned as he finally glanced up from his clipboard.

  “Depends on what you want.” Adara leaned against the doorframe in a casually diplomatic manner. “If you want to take Tray Stark away forever, then yes, but if he won some sort of prize for being smart, then no.”

  With an impatient sigh, Tray discarded his apron and tried to wedge her out of the doorway with his hip. “I’m Tray Stark. Ignore this rude being who, unfortunately, resides here, as well. Over there is my brother, Seth Stark. If you want money from us, I can assure you we’re poor.” The red man in the back peeked in the doorway and blinked bemused eyes at the expensive interior. Adara shot him a knowingly dubious glance. “If you want to give us money, I can assure you we’ll take it,” Tray went on in his annoyingly matter-of-fact tone. “And, if you want to congratulate me for receiving a perfect ACT score as a twelve-year-old, I can assure you I’ll accept your praise.”

  “Enough with your words, Tray,” Seth interrupted from behind. When Adara craned her neck, she saw him rise from the couch and stroll over with a self-important swagger. “I’m Seth Stark, the captain of my high school’s football team as a freshman. I assume you’re here to congratulate me on my touchdown record last season.”

  “Oh my God, they don’t care,” she groaned, donkey-kicking to jab him in the shin. Instead, she missed and hit Tray who, she noticed with wry delight, almost yelped. “These men probably just want to sell you something because you’re both extremely gullible. So, get on with it, Mr. Grease.”

  “My name is actually Mr. Leve,” the man corrected with an air of authority that did not suit his appearance, “and behind me is my employee, Mr. Certior.”

  “Employee is a misleading term,” the man in the back said, keeping his hands folded in front of him while his lips curved upward, “and please, call me Aethelred, Fraco.”

  “You will call me Mr. Leve,” the shorter man snipped, “and you will refer to yourself as Mr. Certior in the presence of our pupils.”

  “Will you old men stop bickering and get on with why you’re here, please?” Adara moaned as she threw her head back.

  “Old men?” the man named Fraco Leve repeated, utterly appalled. “I am thirty-six, I’ll have you know, little girl.”

  Her lips twitched. “You’re old.”

  “Why is your hair red?” Seth questioned as he examined the man named Aethelred Certior. “And your eyes—and your eyebrows—”

  “You’re a Wacko, aren’t you?” Tray asked abruptly as he took a curious but cautious step closer, appraising Aethelred like one of his science experiments.

  “That’s an offensive term, boy,” Fraco snapped defensively.

  Seth took in a gasping breath as his blue eyes bulged. “You’re a Wacko, too? Adara, get your boy, Mitt, on the phone.”

  “He is not my boy,” she sneered, grabbing Seth’s wrist before he could retrieve his cell phone, “and I don’t want to get the cops involved, anyway. I’m interested in why these Wackos are here.”

  “They probably want to recruit us into their terrorist group,” Tray said stuffily, “and we can assure them that we’re not interested.”

  “Speak for yourself, bro,” Seth retorted. “If these Wackos can give me powers, I’m in.”

  “Me too,” Adara agreed much too quickly. Her eyes darted briefly to Tray before she continued. “Can you give us powers, Wackos?”

  Aethelred maintained a simper, even though his next words were contrary to hers. “Fraco spoke true when he said Wacko is an offensive term. The world calls us Wackos, but we with the oddly-colored hair and ‘superpowers’ are much more than a group of ravaging terrorists. We call ourselves the Affinities.”

  Adara raised one eyebrow judgmentally. “Affinity? Like a natural inclination? What do you have a natural inclination for—being Wackos?”

  Aethelred let out a hearty chuckle. “We should bring the girl along with us, as well, Fraco. Perhaps she has an Affinity for sarcasm.”

  “Mr. Leve, Mr. Certior,” Fraco began to correct, but the twins were already speaking over him.

  “Take us with you?” Tray blurted out in disbelief.

  “Wait, you want us to go with you?” Seth asked at the same time, but with eagerness rather than apprehension. “Like, to your Wacko hideout, where you’ll give us powers?”

  “The proper term is Affinities, boy,” Fraco cut in.

  “And we don’t give you powers,” Aethelred added with a lighter tone. “Some people are born with the ability to attract a power and gain control over it. You, Mr. Stark, and you, Mr. Stark, were both found to possess that ability when your blood was drawn last May. You each have an Affinity—you each are Affinities.”

  Seth’s lips were consumed by an exuberant grin, but Tray could barely blink, his face morphing with horror. That was Adara’s favorite look of Tray’s—self-righteous despair—and she was unable to contain her cynical cackle.

  “We’re—we’re Wackos?” Tray confirmed with a tremor of terror.

  “Ha—yes!” Adara exclaimed over the faint sound of Fraco saying, “Affinities.”

  “You must be lying,” Tray said, shaking his head incessantly at Aethelred. “Seth and I are normal, typical, identical twins with absolutely no weird powers.”

  “This is the best day ever,” Adara reveled with unrestrained zeal. “Tray’s worst nightmare has come true and he’s being taken away by the government!”

  “We are not the government,” Fraco scoffed, hugging his clipboard with pronounced dignity. “I am an authority figure in Periculand, and my employee is an educator at Periculand Training School—”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adara said, “but if this land is some place where you take Wackos to torture them, then please take Tray. He’s dangerous.”

  “Oh, shut up, Stromer,” he interjected as he backhanded her arm.

  She faked a yelp, clutching her bicep dramatically. “He hit me with his super strength! Oh, someone, please take him away!”

  “Tray does not have super strength,” Seth said. “I have super strength, obviously. Tray must have super smarts or something.”

  “Why should we even believe these two creeps are Wackos?” Tray demanded. “Fraco’s just greasy and Aethelred could have dyed his hair to pose as a Wacko.”

  “This is why we refer to each other formally,” Fraco hissed at Aethelre
d. “Now these hooligans think they can address us as their equals.”

  “You think you’re better than me?” Adara asked as her eyebrows perked up. “I think you look like a slimy rat that just scurried out of a sewer.”

  “Can we please revert back to the subject of me and Seth being Wackos?” Tray sighed. “I’d like to examine the blood samples myself—perhaps speak with the analysts, see the data—”

  “I know what your power is,” Adara said suddenly, gripping his arm. “You’ve got an Affinity for being the biggest nerd in the universe.”

  Wiggling out of her grasp, Tray opened his mouth to protest, but his twin spoke over him.

  “We just found out we might have superpowers and you’re questioning it? Tray, this could be better than being captain of the football team!”

  “Everything is better than being captain of the football team,” Adara said.

  “Not true—”

  “Enough, enough, enough banter!” Fraco shouted. Although it wasn’t quite loud enough to warrant an adverse reaction, Adara pointedly covered her ears just to piss him off. To her delight, it did. “Stop with the theatrics. Boys, you will come with us. Girl,” he added, pausing to swat her hands away from her ears with his clipboard, “you will stay behind and inform their family of their departure. Tell them there is no use trying to fight to get them back—the state government has decreed that all Affinities at the age of sixteen must be taken to a proper training school.”

  “So you are part of the government?” was all Adara cared to ask.

  “No, but we follow the laws—”

  “And you want us to leave our house with you two strangers without telling our parents? How long are we going to be gone? Where are we going?” Tray asked with furious haste.

  “Who cares?” Seth took a few leisurely steps out onto the porch. “This will be awesome. We’re going to have powers!”

  “You likely already have an ability,” Aethelred informed them, “but because of your lack of awareness, you have been unable to harness it.”