Affinity (The Guardians Book 1)

by K Fisher

  Pulling up to her apartment, Hazel took a deep breath before opening the door to her car. The anxiety had yet to release her chest, twisting it into a knot which threatened to bring on tears if she didn't get inside immediately. Pasting a cheerful grin on her face, she nodded at several neighbors making their way down the stairs with boxes and thankfully, none of them made much of an effort to engage in conversation before she was inside her apartment. The door was locked, and immediately Hazel felt relief sweep over her.

  The state she had found herself in was not one she took pride in. Growing up, Hazel had a close schoolmate whose mother had been a victim of Agoraphobia. Simply visiting her had been a chore and the emotional state that the poor woman seemed to always be in was pitiful. But alas, there Hazel was on the floor of her apartment, one hand on her chest and the other extended to her cat as if only he could help her. The creature simply peered at her from behind the pile of laundry in her hallway; the confused yellow eyes an indicator of the love she would receive.

  “Screw it, Charlie. If I wanted a mound of unloving fur, I would have picked up a hamster,” Hazel murmured, pulling herself to her feet.

  Her time on the floor had ended and she had no choice but to force herself into productivity. Any more time on the scratchy carpet and she might have succumbed to the day. The second she made her way into the kitchen, the fluffy black ball of fur who had once disliked her came alive. Following her towards the food dish, he curled around her legs and made small sounds of approval. Willing to take the love, Hazel leaned forward and scratched behind Charlie’s ears. It really was nice to have a being known to her in that apartment; something she could always blame noises on, despite the circumstances.

  Movement caught her attention and Hazel’s eyes glanced upward toward the sliding glass door that led to her balcony, the wind knocked a piece of paper with dark handwriting around frantically just outside. She was always aware of everything in her apartment, from her simple décor to the cat fur in the bathroom she needed to sweep. The presence of the piece of paper was unnerving, and every step toward it seemed weighted by a force begging her to stop.

  Charlie waited in the kitchen, completely unaware of the rising fear in his owner. Hazel knew the paper was new and the words written on it made it even more apparent it was for her.

  With shaky hands, Hazel unlocked and yanked open the sliding door. She was three floors above ground, and had once found the height to be comforting. But now? It felt like anyone could get her, no matter how high up she was.

  Grabbing onto the paper, she ripped it from the glass and ignored the tape that remained. She closed the door and locked it once more, pulling the shades as she stood motionless in the darkness of her once safe place.

  If we could find you, they can. Keep aware, all is not what it seems.

  See you soon.

  Hazel had found herself scared of a great many things in her life. Mostly those spirits and the darkness that sometimes followed them, of her father withdrawing from the world before his death, the loss of her job and assumably the loss of her sanity. So, when she was finally able to digest the note on her door, the dominant emotion was deemed to be anger.

  Someone was screwing with her, and she was going to do everything in her power to get some answers. She was a woman of action, despite the crippling power that kept her apart from others. But if this note meant someone was privy to it.

  Who were they?

  Chapter Three

  Nineteen years earlier

  Small fingers fumbled with the piano keys, each muscle weighted by the instructor’s hard gaze. The old woman hired to teach her how to play the instrument had such a dominating presence, such an unforgiving face. It was something Hazel was used to, but not from a woman.

  All the ladies she had known at the orphanage, all the women she met on her way to her adoptive home, had been kind and gentle. It was the men who seemed to turn their shoulder at her. Miss Marie, on the other hand, was not someone to trifle with.

  “All…Cows…Eat…Grass,” she repeated as Hazel slowly pressed on the appropriate piano keys.

  It seemed like the girl was finally getting it, but it had taken her much longer than Miss Marie’s other pupils. This was something she had not failed to let Hazel know during their quick sessions together.

  Hazel’s finger slipped and loudly played the wrong key. Instantly Miss Marie’s face twisted into what could only be described as disgust. She was surprised the woman didn’t pinch her nose and turn away from the piano entirely, leaving her behind to melt into a puddle of her own shame over her disgrace.

  “I think we’re done for today, I’ll be sure to let your father know we are making progress.”

  It was sweet of her, truly. Especially considering the severe lack of progress in the lessons Hazel had been forced to endure recently. Hazel’s adoptive father had scarcely acknowledged her presence since the death of his wife just over a year prior. The only time he would speak with her was at night. It was always a brief visit; a stop at her door. The light from the hallway would creep into her room and she would open her eyes and see him standing there in the threshold, eyes that were normally cold softening for a mere moment as he looked over to her on the bed.

  “Sleep well, girl.”

  Without her adoptive mother, and a father who was immersed in work and sorrow, she struggled to engage with others. Hazel, however, did not seem to have any difficulty being by herself.

  She had explored the entirety of the home she had lived in the past few years, every tree growing around the grounds and every extra room along the hallways; although she always made sure to stay away from her father’s wing while he was working. It was the only thing he had asked of her.

  The home was old, Victorian style, lush and far too much room for just the two of them. At one point, the gardens had been well taken care of. Now, the grounds were tinted yellow from the heat, lack of rain, and proper care. The paint along the side of the large house had started to crack and chip, discoloring with the surrounding foliage. They used to have gardeners hired to prevent such things from happening, but it was too much of a chore to deal with them, her father would say. Yet he hired others. Hazel wondered if it was because the gardens had been her mother’s favorite place to be. She was now gone, and it could no longer be allowed to live.

  Despite his distance from her, he always seemed to find a way to fill her days with lessons and classes. He claimed she was too young for a public school, and preferred her homeschooled. Hazel hoped the following year when she turned eleven he would reconsider, her heart yearning to meet others her age and learn beyond her home and the teachers her father hired.

  When Miss Marie left, Hazel glanced at the large grandfather clock in the hallway, relieved to see it was still before her bedtime, but too late for any more lessons. Gathering her piano books, she made her way to her favorite room in her father’s home; a large reading room consisting of books which were out of order, partially damaged, all crammed in ceiling-high bookcases along the outline of the room. She remembered it once being organized and welcoming, but no one spent time there anymore. It was the last place anyone would bother her.

  She was certain it was also either magical or cursed.

  Taking a seat on the old leather chair in the corner, Hazel leaned to the side and pressed her ear against the wall to her left. One small hand traced the designs on the wallpaper, the other braced itself on the armrest. The wallpaper was a dark red, the roses lined in black as they swirled along the borders, bumps on the edges where they protruded from the wallpaper. The door to the reading room was closed, but she knew she didn’t have too much time before she would be expected at dinner. It was a beautiful day still, not yet completely dark, and surely they would all think Hazel was playing in the gardens.

  There were several excruciating minutes of silence before she heard the melody. It was soft at first, delicate hands played her a song upon an unseen piano in her mind. Moments later it was pa
ssionate and loud like the pianists her adoptive mother and father would take her to see in the past.

  The pianist did not play something she was familiar with, but the tune relaxed her body and her mind like a warm embrace. Every time the pianist paused, Hazel felt like she was jolted into awareness and snapped out of a hypnotic state she was not aware she had been under.

  The first time she had heard the tune it was storming outside. She had encountered a lot of hardships that day, and a great many things had made her miss the presence of her mother. Running to the reading room, she had huddled in the same corner she sat in at that very moment, and rested her head against the wall. The sound of the rain had been a minor relief, but when the music had leaked through the walls and into her body, she had finally found a real sense of peace.

  The magic was such a comfort to her, one that she no longer feared or questioned, not even the oddities that followed. An eerie blue glow would sometimes appear, voices were hidden behind the music, an energy would fill her upon entry to the room. Voices were something she was used to hearing, having often seen shadows of those who had passed away and heard things others did not.

  But never at her home.

  Hazel had first thought them to be bad or someone who meant her harm, and she had not returned to the reading room for many days. It was the nightmares which had plagued her along with the comings and goings of her lonely hours that had brought her back to the safe place once again despite her fear.

  Many times, she had tried to find the other side of the wall, tried to figure out the secret behind the music. But only the grounds were seen from the small window beside the chair, no fathomable way anything could have been hidden from her sight, let alone a piano and a player.

  The sun shone brightly through the gloomy room that day, dust particles dancing where its rays spread. Still, despite the trees and sky she saw there, it sounded as though a stranger played a grand piano just on the other side of the wall. Impossible, her mind would scream… But there it was.

  Hazel relaxed there for what felt like hours before the music stopped abruptly once more. Footsteps were heard down the hallway outside and as Hazel jerked her head away from the wallpaper, a bright blue shape darted across the space under the door at the edge of her vision.

  It was something she had seen in the room before, and like she usually did, she had a hard time determining its size. Sometimes it would seem as small as a mouse, shedding light in dark corners or outside the window. Lately, it seemed to be so much larger, as if the light she had seen before was a shadow of what the thing truly was. The being was something she was wary of, but she did not fear it, for it had given her no reason to.

  Rubbing her eyes, Hazel looked to the door, but the light was no longer there.

  She got up from her position on the chair, making her way over to the entrance, feet soft on the floor and almost on a tiptoe as she attempted to make as little noise as possible. Had one of the maids made their way to that side of the house?

  Suddenly, the music started again from behind her, sounding like it came from the very same room she stood in instead of hidden behind the wall. It was playful and light, an enchanting tune which might have made her want to dance had the situation been different and the sound not surprised her. In this case, it made her whirl around and grip onto the door handle behind her back as she tried to make sense of it all and calm herself.

  As soon as Hazels body had turned, the music stopped. The books and walls were silent. She felt a weight in her chest and settled against the door to the library, sliding down against it until she hit the floor.

  “Enough,” was all she could say, as if she had some power over the magical presence which had sought refuge in her adoptive father’s home.

  But it had angered her… The fear it had brought forth in her small body. It was supposed to calm her, but it seemed to desire the opposite effect that day, otherwise it would not have scared her.

  “I'm sorry.”

  The words came from the air right in front of Hazel, a gentle and masculine voice that sent her from her position on the ground and scrambling out the door with a shriek, shivers cascading down her spine. Her small body sprinted down the hallway to the stairwell, not caring who she would run into along the way to safety. She flung herself around the corner towards her bedroom, wanting nothing more than to lock the door and grab onto her favorite stuffed animal.

  She was too old for such a toy, but for instances where she felt completely and utterly alone, it was her only companion and the perfect remedy. Thankfully, there was no one there to stop her and it didn’t take long to get behind the safety of her door, slamming it for good measure. Hazel grasped onto the black stuffed cat on her bed, moving to put her back against the wall. The simplicity of the grounding measure did wonders for her.

  She took a deep breath, clutching the old toy to her chest as she closed her eyes. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She started at her head, focusing on her breathing as she scanned down her body. Within a few moments, Hazel had calmed herself to the point of breathing normally. It was a trick her adoptive mother had taught her long ago.

  “Good job, Charlie,” she whispered to the stuffed animal, leaving it abandoned on the floor with a soft pat to the top of its head as she stood.

  Now that her body was calm, she was able to process the thoughts more. Coming to some conclusion, the small girl headed towards her door, only to stop and pause, returning to look at Charlie.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She knew she didn’t have too much time before someone came searching for her. It was getting later and later, though, the weather and time of year bringing darker nights at earlier times and enough of a disguise for her escape down the dimly-lit hallways. Without another word to her comrade, she left her room.

  Hazel wasn’t quite able to place the time, glancing up at the darkening sky as she stepped off the front porch of her home. The small girl made her way down the front steps and hung a left, hopping from stone to stone through the plants, weeds, and wildflowers along the pathway.

  She was on a mission to find the mystery room and was certain there would be something there she was missing; a way to shed light on the music she had come to find both comforting and haunting. Somehow, some way, Hazel knew she would feel better if she could understand what she was experiencing.

  She stood outside the home, head cranked up to gaze at the windows before her. There were four in her line of sight. A guest room facing out to the driveway, the window below looked into the dining area, a room which looked into the hallway, and in the middle, the reading room.

  There was no room for another there, no answer to her curiosity. Walking until she was a mere foot away from the home, she extended one hand and touched the dark brown brick that ran around the bottom of the home. She had always loved the design. It made her feel like she was living in an old castle.

  What other secrets did this place hide from her?

  “Where are you?” She inquired to no one in particular, her light brown eyes lifting to the window of the reading room once more. But again, there was no extra room there, no space to keep the piano that she could fathom.

  Suddenly, something shifted near the window, a shadow was thrown. Hazel ran backwards a few steps to get a better look and saw him for the first time. Her eyes widened, fixating on the shape in the window which had not been there a moment before. The man was too young to be her father, and not someone she had ever seen in her home before.

  Hazel could barely make out the dark hair, and what looked like a suit jacket with a tie, but what she could see clear as day were those crystal blue eyes. They seemed to shine through the dusk and the dark of the window, lingering on her as the softest of smiles crossed his face, marred by the shining of the window against the new shining of the moon.

  She wanted to run, wanted to get out of there as fast as possible and find her father, let him know what was going on right under his nose. This was an intrud
er and he had been there many times before. What harm did he mean them if he did not come out of the shadows and introduce himself to her father? Was he there to steal from them both?

  It didn’t matter she hadn’t seen the blue energy that taunted her, she could tell it was him. The blue hue of his eyes was the flash that she had seen in the room several times before. It was what she believed to be magic or a curse.

  Would he even be there by the time she fetched her father? She had tried several times before when the oddities had begun, but by the end of the first few times, her adoptive father had made it perfectly clear she wasn’t to bother him anymore to play this little game. He would be sure to spend time with her soon, only if she were patient and focused on her work.

  She had seen it in his eyes, he didn’t believe a word of what she was telling him, and if she continued to bother him, she would have to deal with the repercussions.

  Hazel wasn’t going to push her luck, but she wasn’t going to run and hide again either. She planted her foot and despite the chills running down her spine and the fear gripping at her chest, she stared down the blue eyes of the unknown man.

  The small girl did not move when the raindrops started sprinkling the ground. He averted his gaze, lifting his chin to look upward at the sky, then back down to her. She could have sworn his eyebrows were furrowed. He did not move an inch as he watched the rain hit her.

  Hazel was getting frustrated with the situation, though she had no idea what she needed to get from it. Understanding? An explanation, perhaps? It felt like this man was playing tricks on her. Did he think it was funny to scare her to such an extreme? To play music and then hide it somehow? Who was he, what was he? Was he an angel? He didn’t look like what she would expect one to look like, which made her next decision even more appropriate in her mind.