Absorb: Book One of the Forgotten Affinities Series

by Analeigh Ford

She grabs another flower and crushes it too. “See,” she says, “This isn’t really anything special. Any first year could do this.”

  I want to explain to her the complexity of the ritual we just performed; make her understand the surge of magic that flows between all of us joined together. This ritual is more than she will ever be able to do on her own. I want to spit the words at her, hurl them like venom.

  I feel Kendall and Flynn squeeze my hand, as if to remind me that the demonstration is not over yet...that Whitney’s words don’t matter. But they do. They cheapen the importance of what we’ve just done.

  I am furious. All this hard work, all my hope...it will be for nothing.

  So I hurl something at her. But it isn’t words like I intend.

  Instead, it is Time.

  33

  Octavia

  I feel the crescendo inside me before it explodes out. The rushing, the humming, and then a gathering of power. The tree stops flowering. The illusion of the forest vanishes. In its wake, I feel the power of the other four rushing into me and then, inexplicably, rushing out.

  For a moment, I swear time stops.

  I stare into Whitney’s eyes and watch them shift so slowly from smug triumph, to disbelief, to horror.

  The tree in front of us begins to shrivel and die. The flowers wilt first, dropping like rotting fruit to the ground in soft mounds of reddish brown. Then the leaves turn golden, orange, and finally shrivel up into black knots that tumble after the flowers.

  The bark peels back to reveal rotting, insect-scored wood beneath. The branches twist and gnarl.

  All around us I hear murmurs. I see someone look down at the scone half in their mouth and choke, spewing maggot-filled crumbs. The once intoxicating scent turns rancid.

  But that is not the worst that happens.

  Before I am able to reign myself in, Whitney begins to transform.

  Her perfectly manicured nails sprout and grow into long, claw-like curls. Dark roots sprout from the top of her head, growing longer and matting her hair into a veritable bird’s nest of tangles that nothing other than scissors is going to solve.

  Her dress turns stained and tattered. The straps of her shoes break, leaving her long toenails to scratch like rat claws on the tile floor.

  And then finally, one of the boys grabs me by the shoulder and starts shouting my name. I can’t look away from Whitney to see who it is. All the rage and fury inside of me slowly fades into horror as well.

  I turn to look into the crowd, at the board, with blank, unseeing eyes.

  Just as whatever was in that drink finally hits me and my concentration is fully broken.

  I lose track of the rest of the boys in the chaos that ensues.

  The great tree we grew in the middle of the room is now nothing more than the ash that it came from—completely destroyed and wizened with time. Its sweet perfume is overwhelmed instead with the stench of decay.

  Whitney stands frozen in the middle of the room. Her chest heaves, one hand still outstretched from where it plucked the flower and crushed it in her hands. Terror, pure terror leaves her gasping for breath she cannot find.

  I have aged her, and much of the surrounding room, several months.

  And I have no idea how I did it.

  My vision blurs a moment. I think someone grabs my shoulder again, but when I spin around, there is no one there. Or maybe everyone is there.

  I take a step and stumble. The buzzing that filled my head earlier still remains in full force. I feel both drained and dizzy. Something isn’t right with my vision.

  The people all around me are screaming and scrabbling to get ahold of themselves.

  I finally hear one voice I recognize. Draven comes barreling out of the crowd and drags me towards the elevators. A couple people are already huddled there, smashing the buttons as fast as they can press them to get away.

  He swears and takes me to the staircase instead. I slump to the ground, and he throws my backpack to the ground beside me. We used it to carry in the components for our ritual, but since everything is still scattered out on the floor in the banquet hall, it is basically empty. The spinning world makes it impossible for me to stand. “We have to get you out of here.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask. The world is moving in odd shapes all around me. I can’t look at Draven straight, and he is right in front of me. I think.

  “Salamander Brandy.” He swears again.

  “Wait...your Salamander Brandy?”

  “I should have been suspicious when they asked me to brew so much.”

  “But, it didn’t taste like it.”

  “I told you, I am very good at what I do.”

  There is a crashing sound and more shouting. Draven tells me to stay put and darts back out, leaving me alone.

  I wait for what seems like an eternity. Someone opens the door, but it is not Draven. They shriek and slam it shut.

  I can’t stay here. Not after what I just did.

  I stumble down the stairs until there are no more stairs left to stumble down. I still can’t see straight, but by some miracle the building here leads straight down into the subway.

  I take a moment to gather my senses. I can barely see two feet in front of me, but at least I am safe. I’m sure the board won’t let me keep all of my powers now, not after a display like that...but I can’t think about that.

  My stomach churns and I almost vomit it’s entire contents. Kendall’s carefully pinned flower disappeared in the chaos, leaving my hair plastered limply around my face. When did I become so sweaty?

  I look around me at the empty subway station.

  Maybe Wednesday is the lucky one for not coming.

  I stumble over to the automatic ticket scanner and I climb right over it. Anywhere has to be better than here right now. I climb aboard the first train that stops. I vaguely feel like this might not be a good idea, but then I remember the look on each of their faces when it happened.

  Kendall. Cedric. Flynn. Even Draven. More than shock, it was horror and even...unless I was mistaken...fear.

  I terrify them.

  I slump into the first plastic seat. God, I really made a mess of this.

  The cars jostle forward. It feels like only seconds before they are screeching to a stop. There is a moment where I feel like it is both speeding up and slowing down at the same time. And then it passes, and I don’t look up until it seems like the car has been sitting at this stop for an abnormally long time. My sight is so bad, I can’t even read the name of the station.

  Wait. My Sight.

  I unzip the front pocket of my backpack and take out the glasses Wednesday lent me on my first day. I never did give them back to her. I put them on and immediately, I can see it all.

  We are stopped at another abandoned subway platform. I get unsteadily to my feet, but the Salamander-Brandy-induced vertigo I had before is mostly gone thanks to my regained Sight. I take them off for a moment, just to be sure, and the nausea rushes back in. I shove them back on as fast as I can without putting out my own eye.

  A normal train never would have stopped at this station. There is only one way I got here, and that is because someone wanted me to.

  “Hello Octavia.”

  I turn to see a familiar person standing in the doorway. Seems my sudden ability to mess with time is now the very least of my problems.

  34

  Octavia

  The short, white bob cut so blunt it could bludgeon somebody, horn-rimmed glasses, triumphant smile; I recognize her alright. It is Amelia Hemmings.

  “Hi Amelia,” I say as slowly and steadily as I can manage. I get to my feet using one of the metal poles for support.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get you out of here,” she says. She takes a tentative step onto the train and holds out a hand, as if she is here to rescue me. I don’t take it. Instead, I step back and eye her suspiciously.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “We got wind of the plan to poiso
n the event. I had a hunch that whoever was doing it was after you, so I came to find you.”

  Yeah, very likely. My brain might still be confused because of the magic and the hallucinatory drugs...but it is not yet completely addled.

  The subway car makes a beeping sound warning me to get off. I wonder if I am able to stall her long enough, if the doors will shut automatically and take us to the next stop. Maybe I can stall long enough to get out of here.

  Amelia sees what I am thinking and huffs, letting her outstretched hand fall back to her side. “Alright, fine. I didn’t want to have to do this but...” she sticks a hand in her pocket and for a second I tense up, thinking she may be about to pull out some kind of weapon. Instead, she pulls out her phone and it is much, much worse.

  “Octavia?”

  I hear weeping through the phone line. The voice says my name again, and there is no mistaking it.

  “Wednesday!” I shout. Amelia clicks the phone to end the call, and calmly puts it back in her jacket pocket. I make the connection; Wednesday’s refusal to talk to Camilla after our confrontation, and then how she never even showed up at the dance. That isn’t like her at all. I should have known.

  “You kidnapped her?”

  “We would have happily wiped her memory and returned her to her bed if you had come without questions. But now, it’s a little too late for that,” Amelia says.

  “What are you going to do with her?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” I say. The subway beeps again overhead. It’s starting to get more than a little obnoxious.

  “On what you do.”

  Amelia steps to the side, her arm sweeping outward to invite me off the train. This is everything I was warned about. I shouldn’t go with her. Whatever is waiting for me off this subway car is far worse than whatever I just left behind. But I can’t leave Wednesday like this. Not when this is all my fault.

  I shoulder my backpack and step off the train. The door slides shut behind me and the train shoots off, leaving me alone with Amelia Hemmings on some random, unmarked subway platform probably miles away from anyone who might be able to find us.

  “So, what do you want from me?”

  Amelia struts towards the wall and pauses in front of it. There are no exits from this platform other than the black subway tracks stretching in either direction. She holds out her hand to the wall and a portion of the tiles peel back like the squares of a Rubik’s cube until there is a hole large enough for me to step through. So I do. It isn’t as if there is anywhere else to go, not until I find out what they’ve done with my best friend.

  The wall seals up as soon as she steps in after me.

  A massive ritual circle is drawn on the ground in the middle of the room—far larger and even more complex than the one I just performed with the boys. I had expected to find a small army of minions, but Amelia and I are alone in the room. Or at least I think I am until I open my mouth to speak, and it is not my voice that breaks the silence.

  “Octavia!” I pivot around and look for the source of the voice.

  Wednesday stands at the opposite end of the room. She’s been chained medieval-style to hooks on the wall. Her wrists and ankles are red and bloodied from an obvious attempt at escape.

  I take a step toward her, raising one arm, ready to use whatever magic is left at my disposal to loosen her chains—but I am stopped by a hand grappling my wrist.

  “Now now,” Amelia says, “That’s not how this works.”

  I shake her off and run towards Wednesday, but as soon as I do, she begins screaming and writhing in pain. Nothing touches her, but I can see her face contort. I skid to a halt and slip down to my knees. Hot tears burn in my eyes and bile rises in my throat. This time I am not able to stop myself from vomiting at the sight of my best friend being literally tortured.

  This is my fault. This is all my fault.

  I turn to Amelia and glare at her with all the hatred I can muster. “What are you doing to her?”

  “Just a little mind game,” she says. She tries to look apologetic, but it has no effect on me. “After you do what we want, I promise we will let her go.”

  “And why would you do that?” I wipe my mouth and get unsteadily back to my feet.

  Amelia rolls her eyes like somehow, I am the one being irrational here. “We just want to end all the secrecy and lies, Octavia. It is time that the whole world knows the truth about mages. It will be difficult at first, but it will turn out for the best.”

  “We? I only see you,” I say. “What’s to stop me from overpowering you and rescuing her myself?”

  “You are amusing. You could never overpower me. Still, I am not actually alone.” And just like that, at least a dozen other mages peel back portions of the wall and step inside.

  Several of them I recognize. Cedric’s housekeeper. Another guest from the dinner table. And, most surprisingly of all, Camilla. She is still dressed in her gown from dinner. I see her glance nervously at Wednesday, and it is clear she didn’t realize, until now, the lengths to which this organization was willing to go to make me do what they want.

  But if she and Amelia both are here, maybe there is a chance they were followed.

  I have to stall.

  Amelia sees my gaze linger on my classmate, and she claps her hands together once. “Oh yes,” she says, “Camilla was very helpful.”

  Camilla steps forward. “We wouldn’t have had to do all this if you weren’t so selfish!” At first I have no idea what she is saying, and then she continues. “I tried to get you to leave the dance to go find Wednesday, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  Wait, so that was what that was? The only thing more absurd than what she trying to insinuate is that I genuinely think she believes it.

  “How long were you planning this?” I want to punch Camilla for what she’s done. Or worse. Maybe I can make her wither up and die like that tree earlier. But I can’t waste my powers right now. Anything I have left, I have to use to escape.

  My eyes travel around the outsides of the room. I don’t see any exits. Any that might have existed here once have long since been tiled over.

  “Since before we even met.”

  “What did you do, threaten to hurt me if she didn’t come with you?”

  “Funny how the same threat worked for both of you. But now, enough dawdling.”

  Wednesday has collapsed against the wall in a fit of whimpers. I try to block them out, but they just keep ringing in my ears like an accusation. My fault. My fault.

  “But—”

  She cuts me off and hurls another lash of magic at Wednesday. She gasps for breath, and from the sound of it, she isn’t going to be able to take much more. There is still no sign of rescue. No exits. No more chance of escape.

  “Fine,” I say. I straighten myself up as best as I can. “What do you need me to do?”

  Amelia reaches into her handbag and pulls out a book. It is the one that was stolen from me in the subway, the one that Flynn left for me.

  That’s when it clicked. It was Camilla who stole it. I just assumed my assailant was a man, but now that I think back on it, she is just the right size. She must have followed us to that bagel shop and overheard me and Wednesday.

  Amelia turns to a page near the back, then turns it for me to view.

  My eyes scan the pages. I can only read a the words that are translated to modern English, but from the looks of it, the ritual is almost complete. The only missing component is a mage that can cast all three kinds of magic.

  All that is missing is me.

  “This...this is way too complicated,” I say. Even though I can’t understand all the runes, I can understand that much at least. “There is no way I can cast this.”

  “You must. You are the closest we have gotten in decades.”

  “What does it even do?” I ask.

  “It will lift The Sight. All the world will see us for who we are.”

  “But—”

  She
stops me from stalling further. “Besides, if you don’t, we will kill your friend Wednesday here. And I will personally ensure it is a very slow, very painful death.”

  “Don’t do it!” Wednesday’s voice rattles the very chains that shackle her. She straightens herself up as much as she can and shouts at me again. “Don’t listen to her. It will put us all in danger!”

  Just as quickly, her eyes roll back and she collapses in convulsions. I can see her muscles spasm...but she does not scream this time. She’s gone unconscious.

  “Stop! Just stop! I’ll do whatever you want.”

  I snatch the book from her and look at it more closely. I am barely able to see through the tears of fear and rage that cloud my vision. There is no way I can cast this ritual myself. Not after the energy I just expended. I may be new to this whole magic thing, but I know that much at least. I think back to the ritual with the frog during the dance. That was on such a small scale too. What if this time, I am the frog?

  But I take one more glance at Wednesday, and I know I have to do it. All I can do is try to at least get her out of here alive. I don’t have hope for the both of us.

  I step carefully into the center of the circle, making sure not to disturb anything. There is a lot more blood involved in this ritual than any I have seen before, and I don’t want to know where they got it.

  As soon as I stand in the very middle, I begin to hear the same humming sound as before. It is almost like it is daring me, goading me on to attempt a ritual far beyond my own abilities. I stretch out my fingers and feel for any magic that is at my disposal. What is left of it is still bolstered by the remains of the earlier ritual. Still, I know, not enough to properly perform this one.

  I hesitate only a moment, and in that moment I let myself feel all the emotions I have been holding in for so long.

  I let them intermix and meld and intertwine. Disappointment at ruining the affinity ritual. Confusion about my feelings for the boys. Attraction. Desire. Lust even, at times. Anger and frustration. That little creeping sensation that is not quite love, but getting close. I was so close. So close.