Adapt: Book Two of the Forgotten Affinities Series

by Analeigh Ford

  “I just thought it would be a good opportunity to get out and, I don’t know, lose ourselves for once.”

  The accuracy in those words makes me flinch. Too close.

  “Is that really a wise idea?” he asks. He comes to sit beside me, and I see now that his look is not so much one of anger or frustration, but more concern. Unless I am mistaken…he’s worried he’s going to hurt my feelings.

  I hate to do it, but I know I’m going to have to play along with that if I’m going to convince Cedric to go along.

  I slump my shoulders and avert my gaze purposefully.

  “It’s one of the most dangerous nights of the year for mages,” Cedric reminds me. “Because other people are looking for us more than usual. And with The Underground activities going on lately, we shouldn’t risk it.”

  “I thought you said it was getting better?” I say, but Cedric nods his head aging.

  “Not enough to justify anything so reckless.”

  I guess I have to turn it up a notch. I put my head in my hands and wait a second before letting out a long, long sigh. I feel Cedric stiffen next to me and imagine he hasn’t had much experience with girls giving in so easily…after all, neither I nor his ex Whitney are usually the type to just lay down and take it.

  But this time, I do. After a second, a very stiff and awkward hand pats me on the shoulder.

  “I had no idea this meant so much to you.” His voice is halfway between a question and confusion.

  “I just…” I flounder a little, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other night. We’ve all been so consumed with studying for my trial and all your exams, I feel like we sometimes forget to live, like really live, you know?”

  I let my words sit heavy in the air for a moment before I continue.

  “There’s no guarantee any of us has time,” I say. “If The Underground really is planning something big, who knows how it could change our lives, and not for the better.”

  Cedric’s hand finally softens on my back. I was afraid for a second that I’d gone too far. Calling back to the conversation about his mother’s death was low, and I know it, but I am desperate. I really don’t know if I will get another chance like this.

  “Fine.” I feel a tension leaving my own shoulders as he says the words.

  I look up from where I’ve had my face buried in my hands. Cedric runs his fingers under the hollows of his eyes, and for the first time, I realize how tired he looks.

  Being the principal’s son comes with extra duties, ones that he has never felt the need to share with me, and I am both a little frustrated and grateful. I’d like to know more about Cedric. There is always another layer to him, another depth. Whatever it is he is working on, I know he is doing it for the good of the rest of us.

  I just hope what I am about to do is something of the same.

  30

  Octavia

  For the rest of the week, I focus on keeping my mind sane through Dr. Fashu’s “tests” and my body rested in preparation for Halloween itself. I have Wednesday order our costumes online since it isn’t exactly like we can go out and try them on, and after all, it doesn’t really matter what I look like. It only matters how Wednesday and I look together.

  I know that Flynn has done his part, because during my Thursday session with Dr. Fashu, Jessica is in an unusually good mood. I only know this because she is brash enough to pinch me several times as she passes by the table to give us more kratom tea and deliver more of those tiny boxes to Dr. Fashu for him to determine what demon test he is going to use on me today.

  He finally settles on telekinesis, which I know is one of my weak points. I’ve no trouble keeping other mages out of my own mind, but something about having to keep such perfect concentration on one thing for long enough to move it from one place to another is hard for me.

  I keep getting distracted by the little things, a change in light, a photograph in the background, the bang of the door when Jessica re-enters the room, and each time I drop the fragile glass ball he’s given me, and it shatters on the floor into countless tiny fragments.

  What is it with this man and his obsession with giving me things I am inevitably going to break.

  And each time, he makes me put it back together.

  More than once, the pieces lodge themselves into the small patches of exposed skin on my wrists and ankles. I watch as in the midst of my concentration trying to get them all to gather back together in one place, I catch little slivers of them emerge smeared with red from my own body. I didn’t see them go in, but when they leave, they mark my skin with tiny pricks of pain and dots of blood.

  Dr. Fashu generously allows me to use Earth Magic to mold the glass back together.

  “If you worked the Earth Magic better, you could harden the glass so that it did not break the next time you drop it,” he reminds me after the sixth time the marble shatters.

  I grit my teeth and continue rolling the solely softening glass between my thumb and forefinger. “And if I knew how to do that, I already would have.”

  “Again.”

  If Cedric hadn’t already worked with me on it earlier in the week, I probably would have been too tired to participate in the rest of the ritual Friday morning for class. But as it is, I may or may not have pretended to be worse at telekinesis than I actually am in order to keep Dr. Fashu from trying to make me do anything worse. It worked though, and I feel neither guilt nor shame for it.

  The Dragon’s Blood resin has finally dried for our ritual by the time Friday class comes around. While I was preoccupied with my other classes on Monday and Wednesday, Draven finished making the rest of the components. The rest of the roots, after they had been scraped of their life-giving sap, were dried, mixed with the bark of the camphor tree, and burned to create a very strong-scented ash.

  Draven explained the processes to me exactly, and to be honest, I am disappointed that I was not there to participate. Unlike the Psychic or Earth classes that I miss, it is particularly difficult to keep up with the Ritual classes. I’d never tell this to the principal or Dr. Fashu, but I know that the others can see it—particularly Draven.

  We haven’t had the chance to practice even one ritual from start to finish in preparation for the tribunal, and that is entirely because we are always trying to just catch up on the ones I’ve missed.

  So today, deep down in the dark and slightly damp Ritual classrooms, I try to focus as hard as possible on making sure this one, at least, goes perfect.

  If all goes well, it might actually help us tonight.

  “This particular ritual is a powerful protection spell. Given that these are especially restless times, there really cannot be enough protection, for all of us,” the teacher says.

  This is the first ritual I’ve performed that does not involve some kind of summoning circle. Instead, we take the ash that they made on Wednesday and mix it into melted beeswax and use it to make candles. Rather than string for the wick, we carefully shave a long thin piece of the red-stained heart of the same Dragon’s Blood tree as we made the resin from.

  Before inserting it into the cooling ash-mixed wax, we’re given a short Arabic incantation to speak over it.

  Draven shows me how to hold the sliver between my fingers, and to sweep my hands across the length of the wood as I carefully repeat the words he says to me. I am careful in my pronunciation, but I’ve never heard words like these used before.

  Even as I say them, the words foreign and confusing on my tongue, the surface of the wood beneath my hand changes. It becomes smoother, shinier, and coated in oil.

  “What is this?” I turn it over in my hands a second before Draven quickly plucks it from me and inserts it into the center of the wax. He stands there, ever so still while it cools.

  “The natural oils from your hands,” he says while we wait. “Some spells, like this one, draw it out to coat the object you are holding with them. In this case, it will give the wick a better burn.”

 
“Or, if spoken improperly, will make the candle go out,” the teacher says as she walks by. She leans in to closely inspect our work. It isn’t particularly pretty, but it will do.

  We don’t perform the final part of the ritual during class. Instead, the teacher sends us off early with our candles, and the tiny brick of resin we managed to make through all our efforts extracting the Dragon’s Blood. She doesn’t elaborate on what kind of protection it was supposed to offer, but right now, anything will do.

  Before we part ways for the evening, I stop and catch Draven by the sleeve. “Just know,” I say, “To find me, you have to lose me.”

  I leave Draven with a confused look on his face, but it will have to do. I’ve no idea how much influence the principal really has over him right now, or if, even at the last second, he might be called in and his mind pried open. I can’t risk the only opportunity I might get to slip away from Dr. Fashu’s careful watch.

  31

  Octavia

  The night hasn’t even begun, and already I am being met with all sorts of surprises.

  Wednesday left my costume on my bed, so as soon as I get back from Ritual class I hurry up to my room to change. Before I do, I text a quick reminder to everyone to be ready to meet up downstairs at eight o’clock. I wanted to go earlier, but in order for my plan to work, it needs to be dark.

  The costume she ordered is certainly on the skimpier side. It’s little more than a short black dress that doesn’t even cover my entire backside and fishnet stockings. I guess I’m just going to have to be careful of any bending over tonight.

  When I knock on Wednesday’s door to ask her to help me with my makeup, it isn’t my best friend who greets me in an identical costume. It is Mathilda, though I don’t immediately recognize her underneath all the makeup.

  Wednesday scrambles to her feet from where she was sitting cross-legged in the corner touching up her own black lipstick.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she says, her voice low so Mathilda doesn’t overhear. “I know I should have asked, but I didn’t even know if she would agree…and then I didn’t want to tell you because you seemed so busy…”

  I have to wave my arms to stop Wednesday from babbling on. To be quite honest, I didn’t know why Wednesday ordered these particular costumes in the first place until I glance from her to Mathilda in the back, who is also struggling to pull the dress down over her butt to no success. I am both a little impressed and upset that Wednesday has never shared this side of herself before.

  “You have no idea…” I start, and then have to begin again. “I am so happy she is coming along. Really. This is going to be…perfect.”

  By the time the three of us emerge from the elevator downstairs, even my four boys would have a difficult time telling the three of us apart at first glance. The pointy witch hats do a good job of concealing our slight height differences, and it turns out that Mathilda is an absolute magician when it comes to makeup, so by the time she is finished with our contour, we look almost identical in the face too.

  It’s uncanny, really.

  I know it is a success when Draven, Kendall, and Cedric all have to do a double take when they spot us. We aren’t the only ones going out tonight. A couple other students loiter on the steps in some variety of costume, whether it be a onesie or a full-blown enchanted spider costume with working animatronic arms.

  My boys each went for something a little more subtle, thankfully.

  Draven wears the same tux from Homecoming, but the shirt underneath it is torn to shreds with what looks like very convincing FX werewolf scratches. Cedric must have gotten some help, because his zombie costume is absolutely terrifying. His eyes are darkened and hollow, and every time the light from the streetlamps catches on his skin, I can see a hint of sickly green.

  Kendall, on the other end of the spectrum, did not put on a costume at all.

  “I wish I’d realized you were all dressing up, he says,” scratching at the back of his neck.

  Wednesday clucks her tongue at him, but I announce that I have a solution.

  “Before we go, I have one last addition.”

  It’s a little clunky, but I make everyone follow me over to a corner where I can light the little incense burner. The flames sputter a moment until Mathilda leans over, and with a snap of her fingers, it springs to life.

  “Not outside of school!” Wednesday says, unable to restrain herself.

  But Mathilda just shrugs innocently and says, “We still technically are, aren’t we?”

  I don’t think the sidewalks count, but the very last thing I am going to do is complain so long as we aren’t caught.

  The Dragon’s Blood resin begins to soften and pool almost instantly—turning from a dark muddy red to a brilliant crimson. I dip the tip of my finger inside, and begin to smear streaks of it from the corner of my mouth.

  Wednesday and Mathilda do the same, completing the bloody witch look and anointing themselves with a fresh protection spell at the same time. I make each of the boys do it as well. It’s a shame that Flynn isn’t here, but with any luck, he won’t need any extra protection. Not where he’s going.

  I take the extra that is left over and smear it across the palms of my hands and make a path of bloody handprints from Kendall’s neck down his now once-white tee shirt. It might not make for much of a costume, but it does at least mean he’ll have what little protection Draven and I can offer.

  Wednesday sniffs at her hands, where the last of the Dragon’s Blood potion has stained the tips of her fingers red. “Remind me again, why we couldn’t just use the blood capsules?”

  “I told you,” I say, shoving the burner into my bag and extinguishing the candle. “This will last longer. Besides this won’t come off, even if we’re drinking.”

  And with any luck, they’ll be doing a lot of that.

  Or, at least, I think as soon as we delve into the even darker stairway down into a jazz club in the packing district and have to immediately snatch a drink out of Draven’s hands, some of us will be.

  He shoots me a look, but I can’t explain now, and it’s too dark to tell what he’s thinking. We all took the subway since, with there being so many of us, it’s unlikely anyone would try to bother us even if we were recognized. Even the mages of The Underground know that while we aren’t supposed to do magic outside of school, not one of us is going to hesitate if we think we’re in trouble.

  The music in the club is so loud that the moment the bouncer gives me back one of the fake IDs that Draven procured for us, I can barely hear my own thoughts. No, not barely, I can’t at all.

  Wednesday catches me by the lacy black sleeve of my costume at the bottom of the steps. She shouts something about Flynn, but I don’t catch the rest of it the first time around. She shouts it again, and then just has to resort to miming something that I think is her asking me if I am sure Flynn is going to meet us here.

  I nod and she drags Mathilda off towards the bar.

  Of course Flynn will not be meeting us here. The last I heard from him, his part of the plan was set up perfectly. Right now I imagine Jessica is feeling like she’s finally won. She may hate Flynn, but I am pretty sure she hates me more.

  We move inside and away from the live band around the corner. The walls down here are painted black and decorated with glowing graffiti and posters of old-time jazz bands. It’s an odd juxtaposition hanging above a booth full of undead nurses with what I am not sure isn’t actual heroin needles sticking out of their arms.

  Kendall grabs my own arm and drags me a couple steps farther away. He nods in the direction Wednesday disappeared. I think I see her or Mathilda’s pointy witch’s hat poking above the mob at the back.

  “I thought Wednesday didn’t drink?”

  I nod, and watch as my best friend orders a round of something sure to give her the liquid courage she’s going to need very soon. I think I catch sight of Mathilda’s arm reaching around her waist to give it a squeeze, and somehow I feel like I just sa
w something intimate that wasn’t meant for me.

  Kendall just sees the giant man dressed as a…I hate to admit very well-done…slutty Bob Ross that keeps leaning uncomfortably close to her. While he darts off to deal with that situation before it actually becomes a situation, Draven and Cedric just move closer to me.

  Draven’s eyes follow the rim of whoever’s drink is closest to him, but he doesn’t give in. He sticks close, even if I can tell he doesn’t like it.

  Cedric’s head swivels back and forth, keeping an altogether too sober eye out.

  I nudge him, but he doesn’t notice it in the sway of bodies around us. I nudge him again, and when again he doesn’t respond, Draven reaches across me and shakes his shoulder until he realizes I’ve been trying to get his attention.

  I point in the direction where Kendall just disappeared.

  “This witch wants a brew!”

  “What?” Cedric leans in closer.

  “Get me a drink!” I shout the second time, over trying to be clever.

  Cedric nods and follows in the direction of my friend and her pair. I smile and wave when Wednesday glances back our way, but as soon as her back is to us I pull Draven back even further away from the music. I pull his ear close to my mouth. “I need you to make sure that everyone sees it when it happens.”

  “What—”

  “Make sure Wednesday and Mathilda are both close to me if you get it first. In the end, don’t get confused by the matching costumes.”

  Draven looks at me, puzzled, but there is no more time to explain.

  Cedric somehow makes it back with three glasses of whiskey before Wednesday and Mathilda are even next to be served. I’m sure a certain amount of money changing hands made that happen.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t get drunk, but I can use a little liquid courage myself tonight. It’s not like I’ll be practicing much, if any, magic anyway. Not if all goes according to plan and Jessica is too distracted to notice Draven and I have gone off on our own. The others might worry, but we’ll be back before the end of the night and deal with them later.