Abandon: Book Three of the Forgotten Affinities Series

by Analeigh Ford

  But then my hands are roving up her soft thighs, past the outer curve of her hip. They roam beneath the cheap velvet of her costume, touching the supple yet taut skin beneath. I pull my mouth from hers and press our foreheads together. She’s struggling to catch her breath, to say something, but that only makes me more frenzied.

  “Kendall—”

  I cover her mouth with my own, smothering her voice again.

  I pull one hand out from under her skirt and reach for the softness of her breast—cupping it in my hand for the first time—when rough hands catch me by my shoulders and pull me away. I lose grip of Octavia and she stumbles to the ground, her breaths suddenly more ragged than I realized.

  “Stop it! What’s gotten into you?”

  I spin around, wiping my mouth with one hand and raising the other, preparing to fight once again. It takes me a second to realize it’s Draven and not some random passer-by. He darts by me to help Octavia to her feet—and it is only now that I realize she is in need of helping to begin with.

  Her eyes don’t meet mine, and she’s clutching at her chest out of something that isn’t the passionate breathlessness I heard a moment ago. The boiling rage in me dims as Draven grabs each of her shoulders and tilts her chin up.

  That is when I see it.

  The pressing against me, the touches, the gasps—what I thought was Octavia’s own passion matching mine, was not that at all. It isn’t lust or embarrassment or even shame on her face now—it is the relief that follows fear once the danger has passed.

  And this time, the danger was me.

  5

  Octavia

  I’m shaken, that much is for sure. That…whatever that was…it wasn’t like the soft gentle boy I grew up with. I know I should be angry, and maybe I will be once I have time to process everything, but right now all I just feel is numb.

  Draven stops me from getting up to follow after Kendall when he darts from the room—his face quickly turning to gray as he realizes what he almost did.

  Where I lack rage, Draven makes up for it.

  “What the hell has gotten into him,” he snaps as he helps me slowly back up to my feet. He’s shaking even more than I am. “First, trying to escape in broad daylight, and now…” He shakes his head.

  “Can we just not talk about this anymore?” I ask, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. For a moment I did want him, want it, but then something shifted in Kendall. He didn’t plan on stopping this time, and it had quickly turned to something more desperate—and not in a good way.

  I have to force my hands to stop shaking.

  I try to remind myself that it’s over, and I’m safe now. And then I stop. I was never not safe. Kendall wouldn’t have really taken things too far without me wanting to. Would he?

  Draven’s breaths slowly return to normal. He’s rattled as well, but I can tell he’s trying not to let it show for my sake. If any one of us has a right to be upset by my getting us here in the first place, it’s him. He’s worked for ages to keep The Underground away, and now I’ve led us straight into their yawning mouth.

  Draven catches me staring, and for a second he looks at me funny. “What are you even wearing?”

  I bristle at the words and he quickly adds, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that…situation considered…” he’s lost for words for a second, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. It’s my survival instinct. I don’t deal with my problems, I just shove them deep, deep down.

  I grip the edges of my dress and hold it out, giving it a good spin to show off all its tattered, stained, and slutty glory.

  “What?” I ask. “I finally kind of fit in with your type, right?”

  “And what is that?” It is Draven’s turn to cross his arms and lean back to get a better look at me.

  “Goth girl meets undead Ritual Mage?”

  Draven snorts, and his eyes flicker over to the doorway. “Better not let Cedric overhear that.”

  Right. I need to be more sensitive. But Cedric isn’t here so…I just wrinkle up my nose at him.

  “Let’s get you something less…that…to wear. Or more. I don’t know. Just something that actually categorizes as clothes.”

  Draven takes my hand and leads me out of the locker room. I’m not over the fact that Kendall basically just tried to force himself on me, but this isn’t the kind of place where I can just withdraw and process what happened. If I want to survive here, I have to keep fighting.

  Somehow, I think Draven understands all that.

  Rather than continue in the direction of the sleeping quarters, he leads me to the other end of the hallway and takes a left. I try to make a mental map of how this place is laid out in my head. Hopefully it isn’t as easy to get lost here as it is the academy.

  For a second, I feel a pang of homesickness. I’ve only been at the academy for a couple of months, and although someone was always trying to expel me for one reason or another—it had started to feel like home.

  I have to snap myself out of this. I focus instead on a question that’s been plaguing me ever since I saw Acacia and her boyfriend here.

  “Have you been here before too?”

  Draven shakes his head. “I always managed to avoid it, thank god.”

  We’ve arrived at another unmarked door.

  I stop him before he pushes it open to let us in. “Then you knew about Bram’s…abilities?”

  He shakes his head even harder this time, his eyes growing wide. “I meant what I said before. I really had no idea how he found us so easily last night…though now you mention it, I should have suspected it all along.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He was always turning up places he shouldn’t,” he says. “And always, somehow always, able to give the entire mage world the slip.”

  A wizened old lady sits behind a counter inside the room. She’s got a long piece of dark fabric in one hand and several sets of sewing needles working all on their own along one of the seams. It’s surprisingly dark inside, given that this looks like some kind of tailor’s office.

  “You get used to it,” she says.

  My skin crawls a bit as I realize she’s read my mind. “How did you—”

  She leans forward a little, and to my complete surprise, I see an uncanny resemblance.

  “Are you related to—”

  “Unfortunately, yes…though distantly. The only thing Dr. Fashu and I share is blood,” she says, all of her needles collapsing down at once in a flurry.

  I look over at Draven, and he raises his eyebrows. “I thought I recognized her last night, when I came in for a change of clothes,” he says. “I don’t know why I didn’t order something for you then. I’m sorry.”

  The old lady clucks her tongue in disapproval. “I wouldn’t have let you anyway. It doesn’t work like that.” Her needles start up again. They work with superhuman speed, and I wonder how she’s able to keep her concentration on them while maintaining a conversation with us. “Materials are scarce here, so we have to make each one count. Especially with all the new recruits we’ve had. I think I have you to thank for that.”

  “Me?” I turn to her in confusion, but she just keeps sewing.

  “The little trick you pulled, with the Sight.”

  Oh yeah, that thing.

  She finishes the line of stitching she’s working on and moves the fabric aside with care. “So,” she says, eyeing me more carefully through squinted lids, “I certainly hope you aren’t going to ask me to make you something like that.”

  I glance down at myself and chuckle anxiously. “Oh god, no. I was thinking something more…” I pause a second to think. “Powerful.”

  Draven full out guffaws. “Good choice.”

  I let my eyes roam over him. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but he did change. Gone are all remnants of his werewolf tuxedo, replaced by worn denim pants and a soft, long-sleeve jersey top. It’s a little tamer than what I’m used to seeing him in, but his long red hair is mes
sy enough to keep it from looking too subdued.

  The seamstress needs no other instruction. She flicks her wrist and a measuring tape shoots across the air between us and starts measuring every inch of me—and by every inch, I mean every inch. I’m blushing by the time it’s done. Which thankfully, is very short.

  She waves a hand at one of the walls and thick bolts of leather and suede fly onto the table. It’s only now that I realize the reason the room looks so small and dark is actually because every inch of the walls is mounted with folded bolts of fabric in varying shades of black.

  Her eyes glance up at me once more over the top of her spectacles, “We’re going to need to make something tough for you,” she says. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  I’ve been here less than a day, and already, I know she’s right. This is not the academy. The consequences here…they’re real. I’m not so worried about getting my powers taken away as I am ending up straight-up dead.

  6

  Octavia

  By the time we leave, I am no longer garbed in my old Halloween costume. I let the lady, who tells me to call her Grace, have the dress. Before we have even left the room, she has already magically picked all the seams and started working on re-fashioning it into some usable fabric.

  She made me a sleeveless top of suede that laces up the sides and leather pants that are so worn and soft they almost feel like a second skin. I hadn’t realized how cold The Underground complex is until she had me change, and for the first time since arriving, my skin turned from perpetual gooseflesh to normal.

  Although they don’t have any boots in my size, she promises to fix mine if I bring them back to her. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I’m not about to doubt her after I saw what she could do in so little time already. For now, I’m still left padding barefoot down the hall.

  “I wish I knew how to do that,” I say, once I am sure we are out of earshot.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way she reads minds without actually having to,” I say. “It’s uncanny. Dr. Fashu could do the same thing.”

  “Then ask her to teach you,” Draven says with a shrug.

  “I couldn’t—”

  “She’ll ask you to do some kind of favor in return. It’s how this place works,” he says. We’ve stopped in another doorway. I can hear sounds on the other side; loud voices and, unless I am mistaken, the clink of metal swords clashing.

  Draven hears it at the same time as me and a broad smile crosses his face. “Edgar’s at it again.”

  He must catch me scowling, because he adds, “It isn’t my fault Kendall decided to pick a fight with him. You know what they say…” he reaches for the door, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  He shoves the door open and strides inside. Like many of the others, this room is long and narrow. Directly in front of us, Edgar and another mage stand around a small boxing ring. Although Draven tries to get his attention, the mage who threatened to strike me earlier does not take his eyes off a massive broadsword floating in the middle of the ring.

  The other sword, short and quick, is controlled by another mage I don’t recognize on the opposite side. He looks significantly younger than the rest of us, and I can’t help but wonder if he is one of these new “recruits” everyone is talking about. If he is, I’m jealous of how quickly he’s mastered his telekinesis.

  I’ve always struggled with that particular skill for some reason.

  I step inside enough to let the door shut behind.

  A small crowd has gathered to watch the duel, but it’s sparse enough for me to figure this is probably an everyday occurrence. I keep a wary eye on Edgar as I follow Draven over to watch.

  As we do, the younger mage attempts to outmaneuver him by quickly making his sword dart to the side, but in doing so, Edgar’s broadsword propels forward—directly towards the outer line of the ring and the mage on the other side. The broadsword does not slice him from end to end, however, but instead freezes a hairs-breadth from his eyes and hangs there, hovering. His eyes grow wide and he freezes, his own sword clattering lifelessly to the ground.

  Edgar lets out an exasperated sigh and the second sword falls with a heavy thud. He turns to Draven and grunts at him in frustration. “I was going to win that one, you know.”

  “And didn’t you?”

  Draven tests the strength of the bands encircling the ring, and then hoists himself up to perch on the top one.

  Edgar catches sight of me, and his mood instantly darkens. “Hey,” he says. “Aren’t you the girl from earlier?”

  I feel more eyes fall on me, and I take a hesitant step forward.

  “You need to learn your place here. It wasn’t right to intervene this morning. That boy, Kendall was it? He needs to learn his place here too.”

  The words prick at me more than they should. I cross my arms in front of my chest and try to look more impressive than my still-bare feet should allow.

  “And you should learn to know when to respect the people you’re talking to,” I say.

  He just cocks his head at me. “And you are…?”

  I glance at the other mages around me. I didn’t want to single myself out so quickly. “I’m the girl who can do Time Magic,” I say, jutting my chin forward.

  Now his interest is peaked. His eyebrows lift a bit in surprise.

  He nods towards the training ring. “Then show us.”

  “What?”

  “Show us your…what did you call it? Time Magic?”

  I hesitate. “Well…I can’t. Not right now.”

  His interest dwindles even faster than it appeared. “What use is an affinity if you can’t use it?” He turns away, and my cheeks burn hot. I had certainly not expected it to go that way.

  A soft touch on my elbow jerks me back to reality. It’s Flynn.

  “Cedric and I are back here,” he says, leading me away from the training ring. I catch Edgar’s eyes following me in that same way they did earlier. Unless I am mistaken, there is more than dislike in how he looks at me—there’s almost jealousy. If it is because of the attention Bram gave me, I’ll gladly tell Edgar he can have it. The longer I avoid the head of The Underground, the better.

  We pass by mages practicing all kinds of magic. It’s sloppy and disorganized, but I’m impressed by how hard many of them are focusing. One thing I do not see, however, is a teacher.

  Flynn leads me to a small worktable at the end of the room where he, Cedric, Acacia, and Horatio have gathered. I glance around the room and try to see if there are any other faces I recognize, but I don’t immediately see any.

  The two other Ritual Mages still look a bit unnerved by the news this morning that they’ll no longer be allowed to return to the academy, and I feel a little guilty. I start to think that I should’ve gone looking for Kendall right away this morning to see if he was alright…and then I remember what he almost just did, and I just fiddle with the frayed hem of my top instead.

  “What’s the point of all this?” I ask, motioning to the hodgepodge of training going on. A long line of targets have been lined up along the back wall, and several people hurl objects at it using their powers. Most of them land wide, but one in particular, thrown by the same young mage boy with the short sword earlier, aims true.

  “It used to be for the rest of us to practice, but now it’s turned into a training ground for the new recruits. There’s so many of them that Bram hasn’t organized enough help yet, but his approach has always been a little more…hand’s off.”

  “You mean non-existent,” Horatio snorts. Acacia shoots him a look that clearly says to be careful, but he just continues. “We didn’t join The Underground to have to teach a bunch of children how to do Rituals. Half of them can’t even summon enough power to do a basic illusion, their powers are spread so thin.”

  His words make me pause. “Wait…are you saying that they’re unbound?”

  “In every sense of the word,” he says
.

  “But I thought mages couldn’t practice magic until they went through the affinity ritual,” I say, carefully.

  Acacia shakes her head.

  “The Sight is more than a spell to keep outsiders from seeing magic, it also keeps powers in check until they’re bound. Your little trick lifting it also gave a bunch of mediocre mages access to magic they never would have otherwise.”

  I glance over at the young mage hurling axes with surgical precision at the wall. “Not all mediocre.”

  “Speaking of,” Acacia says, “How did you ever find out you’re a mage?”

  I blush a little at the memory. I’d almost forgotten. “It’s pretty stupid, actually. My best friend, Wednesday saw how my hot chocolate never seemed to get cold. She told her mom about it…and she invited me over and had me show her how it worked. I just always thought it was the same for everyone.”

  Flynn steps closer and nods. The little motion makes him wince, and I wonder if he’s still feeling the effects of his backfiring spell with Jessica yesterday. I’d hoped being so far away, on an entirely different plane, would help.

  “Children often exhibit some small signs of magic, especially if they are particularly powerful,” he says.

  “Or absorbed their triplet siblings in utero,” I mutter.

  Flynn eyes me for a second, and I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or just concentrating on getting over the pain in his head.

  I turn back to Acacia, quick to turn the subject away from me again.

  “Does it really make a difference, then?” I ask, glancing around me with renewed interest.

  I watch as a girl close to us engages in a staring match with a pebble in front of her on the table. At first it does nothing; but then it slowly, limply, starts to roll off the edge. I’m tempted to offer her a piece of advice, but I stop myself before I do. I don’t want to look like a know-it-all, not right after my little display with Edgar. I’m still trying to get ahold of my own powers well enough as it is.