Blood: An Affinities Novel (The Affinities Book 1)

by Kirsten Krueger

  BLOOD: An Affinities Novel

  ISBN: 978-1-7329014-0-7 paperback

  ISBN: 978-1-7329014-1-4 ebook

  Copyright © 2018 by Kirsten Krueger

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author, with the exception of short quotations in book reviews.

  Editing by: Mikaela Pederson, A Step Up Editing

  Cover by: Damonza.com

  Formatting by: Damonza.com

  Interior Art by: Ilona Parttimaa

  To my sister Courtney, because I always told her my first book would be dedicated to her

  Contents

  Map

  1: The Guilty Thief

  2: Mr. Grease and Devil-Red

  3: The Sketchy White Van

  4: Little Lavisa

  5: Wackoland

  6: Different Breeds of Bullies

  7: Reunions

  8: Shadows of the Past

  9 Chromosome 24

  10: Increased Attractiveness

  11: The Pixie Prince

  12: Said and Unsaid

  13: Corrupt Candidates

  14: Super Strength Showdown

  15: Unanticipated Affinities

  16: Stark Romance

  17: Shady Allegiances

  18: Peace For All

  19: The Guilty Assailant

  20: Perspective

  21: Teams

  22: Wacko Attacko

  23: Captives

  24: Hearts

  25: Collapse of Composure

  26: Unfathomable Pasts

  27: Weapons

  28: Remembering

  29: Forgive, Don’t Forget

  30: Pawns

  31: Manipulation and Control

  32: The Guilty Arsonist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  1

  The Guilty Thief

  “You don’t have to arrest me—”

  “I do have to arrest you,” Mitt Telum said, exasperated, as he shoved the teenage thief against his car and clasped the handcuffs around her wrists.

  He wasn’t sure how many times he’d been in this exact position, arresting this girl for theft, and he wasn’t sure how many more times he would be in it again. He couldn’t comprehend how she had thought this was a smart move—how this girl not even ten years younger than him could repeatedly think she was slick enough to evade the law’s notice.

  His vehicle’s red and blue lights flashed across her dark eyes as she turned to glare at him. “You don’t. You know me—”

  “The only reason I know you is because I’ve had to arrest you so many times,” Mitt interrupted, allowing a sigh to escape his lips. It wasn’t completely a lie—they’d grown up in the same suburban town, but her existence would have been irrelevant to him if she hadn’t become such a chronic pain in his ass. “You were dumb to come here again—do you know that? I’ve been assigned to patrol this neighborhood because you steal from this house so often. You do know there are plenty of other rich people in this town, don’t you?”

  “I’m not in it for the money,” she sneered, spinning around to face him. As a police officer, he’d seen crazies before; though he wouldn’t venture as far as calling this girl insane, there was something manic in her eyes. “I steal from Kiki because I hate Kiki…and she doesn’t deserve anything.”

  “Really?” Mitt mused, a mild smirk twitching on his lips as he pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. Within was the silver, heart-shaped necklace this girl had tried to steal. “She doesn’t even deserve this necklace engraved with, ‘Kiki, you deserve everything. Love, Seth’?”

  “No…” she grumbled, staring down at the pavement of the street as she shuffled uncomfortably. She kicked a few pebbles with her black Converse, but the sound of them dancing across the street was drowned out by a new wave of sirens. The girl’s head popped up as she stared at Mitt with wide eyes. “You called in reinforcements? What, you can’t handle a little girl in handcuffs? What do you think I’m going to do to you right now? Kick you? I might, honestly.”

  “That is the sound of a fire truck, Stromer. They’ve come because of the little fire you started in the Belvens’ house.”

  “Fire?” she repeated with a flicker of fear as she glanced back at the mansion she’d just infiltrated. “What fire? I didn’t start a fire in Kiki’s house—”

  “I put it out, of course,” Mitt went on, as though she hadn’t said a word, “but the fire department wanted to come by and ensure it didn’t start up again. You know, it won’t be so easy for your family to bail you out of jail when you’ve been caught for arson—”

  “I might have stolen that jewelry, but I did not set anything on fire,” she insisted, emphasizing each word. “And I don’t have a family, which you clearly know.”

  “Well, then,” he began as he stepped around her and opened the back door to his car, “who are those people who always come to your aid after you rob this home?”

  “People—they’re just people,” she retorted as he grabbed her arm and pushed her into the back seat. Reluctantly, she complied, avoiding his eyes as she stared at the Belvens’ grandiose house, which the fire trucks were now stationed in front of.

  “I knew your brother, Adara,” Mitt said in a voice that was barely loud enough to be heard over the blaring sirens. He’d poked his head into the car to speak, but she kept her hostile gaze focused far away from him. “I stuck up for him in elementary school when all of the other kids mocked him for being poor—”

  “I don’t care about my brother,” she interjected sharply, whipping her head around to glower at him. Wisps of her dark auburn hair covered her face, and there was a hint of red in her deep brown eyes, a color that was rather unsettling for Mitt to look at as she continued. “And there’s no one to stick up for me when Kiki mocks me for being poor. I don’t need you to tell me what justice is. I’ve done what is just—and you’ve stopped me.”

  A wave of sympathy washed through Mitt as he stared down at the girl in the car. The fire trucks’ sirens still blared and the lights of his car still flashed, but he didn’t hear or see anything as he slammed the back door and resumed his seat in the front. The only image that would form in his brain as he drove through the rich neighborhood was the face of young Avner Stromer, the boy whose gratitude so many years ago had inspired him to help people—all people, even the teenage thief and arsonist, Adara Stromer.

  “Typical. Truly typical,” Tray Stark fumed as he slammed the door to his father’s car and stalked toward the police station’s entrance. The late August air was thick and muggy, but his irritation over the current situation burned hotter than the pavement. This was the third time this summer that Adara had been caught breaking into Kiki’s house, and these bailouts were becoming tedious. Tray could have been studying right now, completing the mounds of homework that awaited him at home, but he was here instead, saving the ungrateful girl who’d been a plague on his academics since kindergarten.

  Behind him, his father marched with stiffness while his mother strode with worry. They always dreaded the phone calls from the police station. Tray’s twin, however, who was already at the building’s front door, reveled in Adara’s mischief, eager to see what she’d stolen this time.

  “You two should just let her rot in jail,” Tray continued to grumble to his parents as his twin disappeared through the door. “You have no reason to save her. She’s not your child, and she’s barely shown you any appreciation for anything you’ve done for her—”

  “Sh
e’s practically your sister, Tray,” his mother reminded him as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve known her for ages—”

  “Yes, and I know her well enough to know she’s a churlish brat,” he snapped with pent-up aggravation. Still, even through his rage, he caught the look that passed between his parents—the one that solidified their opinion of his indignation as ridiculous. It was difficult to cool his simmering blood, and as they entered, they found his brother, Seth, already seated in one of the lobby’s chairs beside Adara Stromer, his expression enthusiastic despite the fact that her hands were cuffed in her lap.

  “I feel as if we’ve been here before,” Tray drawled, dramatically sweeping his gaze around the room. When his eyes landed on her burgundy hair, olive skin, and pursed lips, his tone soured. “Oh wait, that’s right—”

  “Officer Telum,” his mother greeted, drowning out Tray’s sarcasm as she shook the officer’s hand. Although he hated being here, Tray did have to respect Telum for putting up with Adara’s nonsense. Most of the older officers probably wouldn’t have, but Telum was only twenty-five—young enough to have been in grade school at the same time as Adara’s brother. They hadn’t been close as boys, though, and Tray didn’t see it as an excuse to be lenient with Adara.

  “Mrs. Stark, Mr. Stark,” the officer greeted, nodding. Without his cap on, his stubbly black hair was visible, just a few shades darker than his eyes and skin. “It’s been a few weeks.”

  “What’s she done now?” Tray’s father asked grimly, his hazel eyes peering in Adara’s direction. She barely raised her eyebrows in response.

  “She broke into Kiki’s house, obviously,” Tray grunted as he crossed his arms and glared at her. “Doesn’t that bother you, Seth—that she’s constantly stealing from your girlfriend?”

  Seth’s nonchalant shrug peeved his twin, but Tray didn’t have the opportunity to reprimand him before the officer spoke.

  “It was a simple misunderstanding, really. Miss Stromer just happened to be walking past the Belvens’ house as a fire started. She alerted the fire department—but, given her history with the Belvens, I was forced to bring her in for questioning.”

  “What a coincidence,” Tray sneered, his eyes narrowing at Adara. Her face was without emotion as she stared back. “You just happened to see a fire starting in Kiki’s house—”

  “Adara hates fire,” Seth said. “She’d never do that and you know it.”

  “I don’t see why you’d be so bothered by it, even if I had started the fire,” Adara chimed in coolly. “You hate Kiki nearly as much as I do.”

  “Thank you for your services, Officer Telum,” the twins’ mother said over the bickering. “We really do appreciate that you look after Adara, as she often finds a way to get into trouble.” Adara fidgeted in her seat when those stern blue eyes fell upon her. “Is she free to go, then?”

  “Yes,” Telum replied slowly, his gaze lingering in Adara’s direction as he spoke. “I’ll just need you to sign a few papers. Would you join me in the other room for a moment?”

  “Certainly,” Tray’s mother said before following the officer through a nearby door. His father trudged along after them, eyeing Adara with suspicion the whole time.

  Tray was too furious to sit, but he did stomp over to his peers to engage in a quieter argument. “I don’t believe you’d call the police, even if you did only see the fire,” he hissed, glancing warily at the receptionist seated across the room. “You paid the officer to lie for you, didn’t you?”

  “With what money?” Adara countered, her eyebrows perking up with a challenge.

  “Adara wouldn’t start a fire, Tray—”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she agreed with Seth, “but I would steal from Kiki, and I did steal from Kiki. Why Mitt’s lying for me is beyond my knowledge.”

  “You—so you did steal! You should be in jail—”

  “What’d you steal?” Seth asked.

  “That necklace you left for her. I doubt she’s even seen it yet.” The way her shoulders shrugged so carelessly made Tray’s eye twitch. “Mitt gave it back to me instead of keeping it as evidence—said I should tell you to give it to her in person, like a real man would.”

  “He said that?”

  She snorted at Seth’s question. “No, but I said it. ‘Kiki, you deserve everything,’” she cooed before glancing at Seth with a smirk. “Honestly, it’s all pathetic.”

  “Why don’t you care?” Tray groaned as he began to pace around the room. “This witch just stole a necklace you gave your girlfriend and you don’t even care—”

  “Well, technically, Kiki’s not my girlfriend at the moment,” Seth clarified. “We broke up the other day, and that necklace was supposed to be my way of getting back together with her. Now that Adara’s stolen it, though, the whole thing does seem a bit pathetic.”

  “Told you,” she sang as she stared up at the television in the corner, which was tuned in to the national news. The volume was muted, but the words on the screen were clear: “WACKOS” BLOW UP BRIDGE IN CLEVELAND.

  “God, more of these freak terrorists blowing stuff up,” she muttered as the image flickered with the flames of a burning bridge. “And you think I’m dangerous… What do you think of the Wackos, huh?”

  “They’re nothing new.” Tray studied the television like the other two. The chaos felt distant, even though the city was only an hour drive away. “The Wackos have been doing stuff like this for years. It’s only a matter of time before they start detaining all Wackos, good or bad.”

  “They could be anyone, though,” Seth said seriously. “You know that girl, Lana—year above us? I think she was a Wacko. She was nice, sure, but her hair started turning blue and then she suddenly disappeared last year. No one knows what happened to her—not even her neighbors—and her family won’t talk. The government must have taken her—they must be doing it everywhere, just taking kids when their hair starts to change.”

  “If all it takes is the change of hair color, I hope you’ll be next, Stromer,” Tray said, his eyes cold slivers. “Your hair used to be black and now it’s not—now it’s got this cherry tint to it.”

  “Just because my hair’s got a different tint doesn’t mean I’m a Wacko. Lana’s hair was blonde and it turned blue. Besides, we all knew there was something off about her. She fell from a five-story building as a child and didn’t die—she was barely hurt! I bet she can fly.”

  “No one can fly,” Tray sneered with an eye roll. “All this talk of superpowers is just a way to get the public to fear these Wackos even more. They’re all just a bunch of freaks who change their hair—they probably dye it. Or maybe they’re some weird mutants and they’re angry with the world because of it—I don’t know.”

  Adara shook her head. “You do know—I’m sure you know all about it. You know it has something to do with DNA or science or whatever it is you like learning about. You know why the school insisted on testing everyone’s blood last year: they want to know who’s a Wacko and who’s not.”

  Tray sighed as he finally slumped into the empty seat next to her. “If you must know, I have been doing some research.”

  “And?” Seth prompted, leaning forward to look at his brother.

  “And I think being a Wacko does have to do with biology and genetics,” he admitted uncomfortably. “I do think it could be possible for some mutation in a person’s DNA to give them a special ability, but some of the things the Wackos claim they can do are just out of the realm of science. Flying? It’s impossible. Super strength, maybe, but mind reading or whatever else they claim is just ridiculous.”

  Adara smirked crookedly as she shook her head. “You’re the biggest nerd, Nerdworm. You and your science… What do you think my power is, then, if you think I’m a Wacko?”

  “Thievery, maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Thievery is not a power. It’d be more like stealth or something.”

  “I bet I have super strength or agility,” Seth boasted, his
chest puffing with dignity. “That’s why I was captain of the football team last year as a freshman.”

  Adara rolled her eyes as she elbowed him in the gut. “Or maybe it’s because you were a tall, cocky freshman and we live in a town where everyone sucks at sports, Jockface.”

  Seth shrugged, unfazed. “Even so, I’m probably the only teenager in history who will be captain of the varsity football team all four years of high school.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Maybe one of the new freshmen this year will step up and take your place,” Tray retorted bitterly, his attention still focused on the footage of the bridge attack on the television.

  “That could never happen,” Seth began to say, but he paused when the door to one of the inner rooms opened and their parents stepped out with Officer Telum at their side.

  “Thank you, Officer,” their mother was saying as she gave the young man a friendly pat on the shoulder. “We do hope we won’t be needing your services again. Adara will be spending quite some time in her bedroom for the next few weeks, I can assure you.”

  Adara simply rolled her eyes at the corresponding authoritative glance. Tray felt a surge of protectiveness for his mother, but no defense could be made before the officer spoke again.

  “Would you like if I just left the handcuffs on her?” he joked lightly as he strolled over to the delinquent girl. She glared up at him from where she sat with suppressed amusement as he unlocked the cuffs.

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful,” Tray mumbled, glaring at her wrists as she rubbed them.

  While Seth guided her out of the building, Tray noticed her glance back at Officer Telum—not with conspiracy but with confusion, as if she couldn’t quite understand what had possessed the man to lie about what she’d done at the Belvens’ house. She said nothing, though, and his face remained unreadable as the five of them exited the building and converged on the sidewalk.

  “Your mother and I have a few errands to run,” Tray’s father announced once they’d reached his car. “Do you two want to be responsible for walking Adara home?”