Abandon: Book Three of the Forgotten Affinities Series

by Analeigh Ford

  I tell them everything I know. It’s a relief not to keep secrets from them. I know it might have been better not to tell Cedric everything, just for the sake of his own peace of mind, but I’m done with keeping things from my boyfriends.

  My boyfriends. I still haven’t had time to get used to that. It would certainly help if we had the chance to go on more than one date without getting interrupted by evil mages and sadistic therapists.

  Draven seems even more wary as well. “He’s supposed to be keeping you safe from the academy, not sending you straight back in.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I say, my attention still turned to Cedric to see how he’s taking the news that I am about to sneak back into the school; his school.

  He’s started picking at the last of the food on his plate. It was a turkey leg, I think, and some kind of canned vegetable that came out a little overdone. Certainly not up to snuff with the cooking he’s used to.

  After a couple of seconds, he looks up and seems surprised that I’m not the only one waiting to hear what he says. Even Flynn looks a little apprehensive, and he isn’t usually the best at picking up on social cues.

  “What?” he asks, “I just wanted to know.”

  “And you aren’t…I don’t know…mad?” I say.

  Cedric gives up on his fork, picks up the rest of the turkey leg with the very tips of his fingers, and takes a bite. This little motion is so unlike the Cedric I’ve come to know, it makes something uneasy settle in the pit of my stomach, even as he tries to reassure us.

  He finishes chewing, and I nearly have a stroke when, rather than wiping his hands on one of the napkins, he just cleans them off on the front of his pants.

  “Why would I be mad?” He says, getting up slowly from the table. “The academy is my father’s, and as far as he is concerned, anything that his hands touch can go to hell.”

  9

  Octavia

  The heist is going to take place some time in the next two days. Bram wants to strike before Dr. Fashu and the rest of the tribunal have any opportunity to increase the fortifications around the school any further than he is sure they already have.

  I’m guessing we’ve got around a day and a half to prepare, though to be honest, I don’t even know what time it is. Shortly after Flynn discovered that our phones no longer have service, there is also no way to tell time.

  Our cell phones show some weird wonky symbols instead of numbers, and Cedric’s watch just keeps slowly spinning.

  With no real way of telling what time it actually is, it explains the weird sort of limbo in which everything just sort of runs into each other here.

  I keep meaning to ask Acacia and Horatio about it when I see them next, but they aren’t anywhere near the training room when I pass by it in the afternoon. Draven stays behind while I take Cedric and Flynn back to the seamstress to have new clothes fitted for them as well.

  This time, I make sure to bring my boots and watch in fascination as Grace reshapes the heel of the boots into something more sensible. Her work with the material is fascinating to watch. Though she’s a bound Psychic Mage, she’s still able to manipulate the plastic and polyester like putty in her hands. I’ve much to learn from her if given the chance.

  When it comes time to be measured and dressed, Cedric is a natural. I know it comes from years of being fitted by a tailor, since I’ve had the honor of being fitted by that same one as well.

  Though Grace does work with magical speed, her precision is not as fine as what Cedric is used to, and I catch a smidgeon of disappointment on his face when he changes into the new clothes. I’m still not used to this more easily-read Cedric, and to be quite honest, I’m not sure I like it.

  I send him and Flynn away ahead of me, hoping for a bit of privacy. As soon as I do, I’m left trying to think of how best to ask Grace for her help with my Psychic skills. My hesitation is for nothing, however, because of course she knows what I am going to ask before I get the chance.

  “Yes,” Grace says, without looking up from her work.

  I start a little and take one step back into the room. “You mean you’ll show me how you do it? The mind-reading thing?”

  She hums a sort of acknowledgement, but I don’t leave yet. I squint my eyes up at her. “At what price?”

  Now she does look up, and a sly grin spreads across her face. “You’re learning fast,” she says, going straight back into her work. “But for now, we’ll just consider it a favor owed. Those can come in handy.”

  I don’t like the sound of it, but it’s too good a skill to pass up. If I ever want to be able to stand against Dr. Fashu, I need to know what it is I am actually dealing with. I shake my head as I head out the door. No wonder he was always one step ahead of us. If I could read all minds like that, without anyone even knowing, I would never be taken by surprise again either.

  The hallway is eerily empty when I step outside.

  I hadn’t expected the boys to completely walk off, but now that they’re gone, I have no idea how to find them. I could just wait here until they realize I’m still missing, or I can take a gamble and just take off down the hall and hope it’s in the right direction.

  But after several long moments without even a single echoing footstep, I decide to take that chance.

  Maybe it is just me, or maybe it is that same quiet excitement that has been growing inside me, but I get a little thrill of excitement as I take off down the corridor on my own.

  I turn another corner and stop. The path does not branch off here, one hallway leading to the sleeping quarters and the other to the training room, but instead comes to a dead stop. This is certainly not the way I meant to come.

  I decide to turn back, the thrill of exploring the hallways alone quickly draining way, when scuffling footsteps signal I’ve not been as alone as I thought. I spin around so fast that my vision briefly blurs, and my feet almost slide out from underneath me. I’d wondered why my boots were so quiet. I think Grace attached velvet or something to the bottom to quiet my footfalls. It’s also made me prone to slipping, apparently.

  At first, I see no one. But then I catch a tiny stray wisp of blonde hair peeking out from around the corner, and some mixture of relief followed by apprehension floods through me.

  “Kendall?”

  He doesn’t immediately respond. I take another step forward, and though he is trying to be silent, I still catch the faintest whisper of his breath. These hallways make it near impossible to hide. He realizes this just as I do, and he takes his own hesitating step out.

  I’ve never seen him so disheveled. It’s more than the fact that he is now the last one of us still wearing his torn Halloween costume. His face is still gray, the pallor so colorless that if I didn’t know it is guilt driving it, I might think he’d contracted a virus.

  “Are you following me?” I step to the side further from the door and Kendall and fold my arms in front of me instinctively. A lump has risen unbidden in my throat, and try as I might, I can’t swallow it down.

  “I just,” he steps forward again and ducks his head, rubbing that spot on the back of his neck, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Of course I’m not okay.” My voice breaks, even as I surprise myself for admitting it. I step away again, but there is no more space for me to put between us.

  Kendall sees my glance and a shadow crosses his face. He does not step back, however, but instead takes two quick steps forward and grabs one of my hands from where it clutches my side. “Octavia, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t touch me!” I snarl, once again surprising myself as my voice comes out much louder than intended. I yank my hand back and press myself up against the wall, the panic rising up in my chest as the feeling of being trapped heightens.

  The inner corners of Kendall’s mouth turn down, but the muscle in his jaw still works in frustration. He steps back and shoves his hands so far down in his pockets that they threaten to make permanent imprints in the fabric.

&nbs
p; “You shouldn’t be going back to the academy without all of us with you.”

  The space between us allows me to find my voice again. I step away from the wall and closer to the corridor, and at the end of it, escape. Then I pause.

  “Wait, did you seriously come down here just to try and get to Wednesday?”

  Kendall freezes. “She’s my twin, Octavia. I have to—”

  “No. No way.” I throw up my arms as if to create a barrier between us and start backing away. “After everything this morning, you finally come around to apologize to me you do it because you need something from me?”

  His eyes grow wide, but I’m too angry to care. “No—Octavia, I didn’t mean—”

  I echo Cedric’s sentiments for the man who betrayed him.

  “Go to hell, Kendall.”

  I turn and stalk off. I want to run, but I force my gate to be steady any when all I really want to do is cry angry, hot tears.

  After all, it’s a lot easier to run away from him than admit that despite it all, I don’t really hate him. I just need time. I need space. I need the two things he cannot give me. If Kendall can’t even tell what I want any more, then this place really is already twisting all of us into people I no longer know.

  10

  Octavia

  “Where were you?”

  Flynn’s voice interrupts my storm of thoughts halfway down the hall on the way to the dorms. I don’t remember walking here. I’ve been such a tempest of dark emotions the last few minutes that I’m lucky I didn’t get well and truly lost this time.

  It takes me a moment to re-orient myself to reality.

  All three of the rest of them, Flynn, Cedric, and Draven, stand anxiously in the doorway. The same dim light and messy row of beds draws to me from the other side. Something about this place, it’s always exhausting.

  “I was only gone a moment, what could possibly happen?”

  I catch a look from Draven in particular, but I ignore it.

  “It isn’t that, though…” Cedric looks briefly like his old self, “We should have a talk about you going off on your own.”

  “I—”

  “We’re leaving now,” Flynn says, cutting me off again as another person comes to join us, looking even more annoyed than the rest of them. Edgar shoves a black leather satchel hard into my chest, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  “About time. C’mon.”

  He strides down the hall so quickly, I don’t have time to wait for them to wish us good luck. It takes me a second to orient myself. I thought I had more time. I wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere until tomorrow at the earliest. Or so I thought.

  Flynn grabs me by my arm and marches after Edgar with the same determination he usually reserves for rushing off to the library. I’m glad to see he’s found a way to channel his passions even here, but I wish it wasn’t so hard on my upper arm.

  Rather than lead us back to the now non-existent main entrance, Edgar leads Flynn and I past the main hall and into the opposite side of the complex that I have yet to explore. The same bustle that I’ve come to see as customary for the rest of the complex does not extend into this portion.

  I see no recruits hurrying past towards an early dinner, their faces red with excitement and the exertion of practicing magic for the first time.

  The few people who we do pass are much older and as a general rule, they avoid eye contact with us. I am guessing that in order to fit in with an organization like this, it’s probably best to avoid getting involved with too many other people. After all, though some of them are adults well into their thirties, the only mages I’ve seen that are significantly older are Bram and Grace.

  Crime is a young man’s game.

  Whatever magic Bram uses to keep this place secret is, I am increasingly sure of, much more dangerous than the ease with which he uses it makes it seem.

  I know we’ve reached the exit because Bram is waiting for us.

  This door is not as grand as the front entrance with its massive stone blocks. It is small and nondescript, so nondescript and small, in fact, that even I will have to duck in order to go through it. I doubt many mages here even know it exists.

  Up until the moment before we turned the corner, it may not have.

  His briefing is short. He’s already told me everything, but he repeats it for Flynn and Edgar’s sake. I have to keep my mind from wandering in the meantime.

  Edgar will lead us through the in-between until we arrive at the academy. From there, he has already created a tear between the planes where Flynn and I will be able to pass through, retrieve the artifacts, and return before anyone is made any the wiser.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Flynn says, interrupting Bram before he can tell us the rest, “If it’s so easy as you say…why not just retrieve them yourself?”

  Edgar stiffens at our side and looks like he could strike Flynn for the interruption and subsequent, even I have to admit, stupid question. For such a smart guy, sometimes he can be so absolutely thick-headed.

  “Because this is not a charity, Flynn,” Bram says. Rather than anger, his voice betrays boredom. “If I simply did everything for everyone, where would that leave me?”

  I step forward a bit and rest one arm on Flynn’s before he can say something else that might make Bram reconsider letting him come with me in the first place. “As I mentioned before, the artifacts are sure to be guarded by magical defenses. Otherwise,” I glance at Edgar and his overly-eager twitching fingers and imagine the slight-of-hand Draven has displayed on multiple occasions, “I imagine they would have been stolen long ago.”

  “That is why you and Flynn have to be the ones to do it,” Bram says. He wastes no more time and reaches to open the door for us. Edgar ducks out first and then, crouching slightly on the other side in the gray haze beyond, beckons us to follow.

  It feels odd leaving so shortly after we arrive. All I want already is to find a way to keep my powers and somehow get back to the real world, but I’m sure Bram knows that no matter how desperately I want it, I would never leave Cedric, Draven, and even Kendall behind. Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I don’t still care for him.

  That’s what it always boils down to, I guess.

  But this was also not in the agreement. When Bram offered me protection, he made no mention of tasks to prove loyalty. Now that he’s got us, he’s going to use us.

  As soon as the door is shut behind us, the in-between begin to press into me in that odd way that it does. The long concrete walls of the complex stretch behind and above us, but otherwise, there is only mist.

  Edgar plunges out into the darkness, and we have to follow close behind in order not to lose him.

  “The satchel is enchanted to lighten the load,” he says, his eyes scanning the shapeless space around us until he sees something I obviously don’t and leads us trudging in that direction. “Those artifacts are not only enchanted, but very heavy. It’ll take the both of you just to take them off the pedestals.”

  “Have you been there before?” I ask, picking up my pace just a bit in order to come up by his side.

  “The Ritual Chamber? Sure,” he says, “Loads of times. Bram likes to watch the new class come in.”

  A little prickling tingles at the back of my neck. I wonder how often they looked in from the other side without any of us knowing it.

  Flynn steps up on my other side. The mist clings to his glasses so he has to keep taking them off and wiping them on the inside of his new shirt. He nudges them back up on the bridge of his nose. The skin there has turned red from the repetitive motion.

  “What exactly are the enchantments on the artifacts?” Flynn asks. “I’ve done some research…” He reaches a hand into the satchel and takes out a book he somehow managed to sneak in there without my knowing.

  Edgar sees it too, and I swear he rolls his eyes.

  “If we knew exactly, Bram would’ve been able to send two much more experienced mages to do it, wouldn’t he?”


  I guess he’s just hoping our general magical resistance is enough to get us out of there with them alive. Up until today, I hadn’t thought much about the kinds of protections mages might put on their things.

  From the look on Flynn’s face, maybe it’s a good thing I don’t know what we might be in for. Our particular…skill sets…allow us to withstand more powerful magical spells than others, but it doesn’t mean we’re invincible.

  My past experiences with rituals-gone-wrong has proven that.

  Fortunately, aside from describing how any other mage, including himself, would probably meet an untimely death by touching the artifacts without permission, Edgar is not otherwise particularly talkative. Something about this space makes it hard for me to think, let alone form words.

  Up until now, the veil between the planes was particularly thick. Occasionally we might get a glimpse of some high, towering object, or almost imagine the brush of a figure walking past—but nothing concrete.

  But after a while, I begin to see the noticeable thinning of the mist until shapes begin to once again form on the other side. The darkness recedes into a translucent wall, and then slowly, thins even further.

  I know we’re close when I begin to recognize things myself.

  First, I spot one of the factories I misled us to that first day when we were late to our initiation. Then I see the bagel shop where I once told Wednesday about the book Flynn gave me just minutes before Camilla stole it from us in the subway. That same subway entrance appears next, at the end of the street.

  As we near, the veil thins again until it is that single sheet separating our worlds.

  Flynn is already back to asking more questions. Good for him, I think, since I certainly don’t have the balls to do it.

  “Why is the veil thinner in some places than others?”

  Edgar shoots him a side glance again. “You’re a chatty one.” He sighs, and we cross the street. A car shoots by so close I gasp and catch Flynn to stop him from being hit—but the car just shoots right through Edgar. Right. We can’t be touched here.