BLOOD (Affinities Book 1) Chapter 2
Mr. Grease and Devil-Red
“Tray, make me some food,” Adara ordered, her voice echoing in the cathedral ceiling of the Starks’ living room. “Being arrested makes a girl hungry, you know.”
They’d been home for only ten minutes now, but Adara was already sprawled on the couch beside Seth, watching television. From her perch, she could spy Tray preparing a sandwich for himself in the adjacent kitchen, diligently layering the meats and cheeses atop the bread. Even in the sweltering August heat, he was sporting one of his preppy button-up shirts, and now, in order to spare that shirt from a horrible demise, he wore a freaking apron—his mother’s pink apron.
If the dictionary put a picture next to the word “nerd,” it would be of Tray Stark, and he would be scowling, like he was now, his blue eyes like a sea of endless displeasure. The caption would read, “Pissy nerd in his natural habitat,” and he would be surrounded by books, test tubes, and other useless objects while wearing his mom’s apron.
“I’m not making food for you, Stromer,” he replied, spreading hummus on his sandwich with patience that didn’t reflect his tone. “You’re sixteen—you should be able to cook for yourself.”
“I can cook for myself, but I don’t want to cook.”
“OH!” Seth exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. Adara watched impassively as he thrust his fists in the air. “TOUCHDOWN! Did you see that, Dar? That was awesome!”
“Turn off this dumb sport,” she complained, reaching over him once he’d sat back down to grab the remote. Before she could snatch it, he shoved her away, prompting her to push and then climb over him in an attempt to retrieve it. A few years ago, this grappling match would have been relatively even, but now that Seth was muscular and Adara was barely willing to exert enough energy to participate in gym class, he fended her off easily, not struggling in the slightest to keep her body suspended above his, just a few inches from that remote.
“Stop making out over there and turn on the news,” Tray called from the kitchen, at which Seth hastily slackened his grip. Adara floundered into his lap and then scrambled off, convincing herself that the heat rising in her cheeks was just a result of exercise—as if anyone other than her would consider thirty seconds of wrestling a work out.
Crossing her arms defensively, Adara avoided a glance in Seth’s direction as he grumbled, “We weren’t making out.”
“I don’t really care.” Tray topped his sandwich with a piece of bread and then patted his hands on the apron. “Just turn on the news. I want to hear if they’re saying anything about the Wackos.”
“But I’m watching the game!”
“No one cares about the game,” Adara droned.
“I care about the game,” Seth said, though the chime of the doorbell overpowered his words. Adara didn’t even perk up at the sound; her mind was too absorbed with processing Seth’s reaction to what his twin had said about making out while simultaneously scrambling to erase the notion that she even cared.
“Adara, get the door,” Tray commanded tonelessly, increasing her ire.
“You get the door!”
Seth stood beside her. “I’ll get the door.”
Adara swiftly kicked his legs, forcing him back onto the couch. “I’ll get it,” she muttered before waltzing over to the red front door. She expected to find girls selling cookies, who she would gladly scare away, but she instead found two grown men waiting on the porch.
“Hello,” the man in the front greeted nervously as he began to rifle through the pages on his wooden clipboard.
Instantly, Adara’s nose scrunched in disgust—not because of his squeaky tone or unpleasant odor, but because everything about him was greasy, as though he’d just jumped into a pool of oil. His dark hair was heavy and sleek, his black suit appeared to be drenched with sweat, and even his eyes shimmered with wetness. Light glared off his skin with such intensity that the acne scars from his youth were almost invisible.
“Why are you so repulsive?” she inquired as she eyed the man with distaste. Engrossed with his clipboard, he ignored her completely, but the man standing behind him acknowledged her with an amused smile. Even if he hadn’t, she would have taken a moment to scrutinize him. The second man was arguably stranger than the oily man, donning a deep, ruby-red suit that perfectly matched his ruby-red hair and ruby-red eyes.
“Are you Satan?” Adara asked him. Judging by the cordiality of his smile, however, he was far from evil.
“That’s a peculiar question,” the man began in a pensive tone.“I feel as though I’ve heard it before…”
“Who’s at the door?” Tray’s voice sounded as he stepped up beside her, untying his apron.
“Two freaks,” she informed him; based on his eyebrows creased in confusion, he’d gathered that much.
“Do…Seth and Tray Stark reside in this house?” the slimy man in the front questioned as he finally glanced up from his clipboard.
“Depends on what you want.” Adara leaned against the doorframe in a casually diplomatic manner. “If you want to take Tray Stark away forever, then yes, but if he won some sort of prize for being smart, then no.”
With an impatient sigh, Tray discarded his apron and tried to wedge her out of the doorway with his hip. “I’m Tray Stark. Ignore this rude being who, unfortunately, resides here, as well. Over there is my brother, Seth Stark. If you want money from us, I can assure you we’re poor.” The red man in the back peeked in the doorway and blinked bemused eyes at the expensive interior. Adara shot him a knowingly dubious glance. “If you want to give us money, I can assure you we’ll take it,” Tray went on in his annoyingly matter-of-fact tone. “And, if you want to congratulate me for receiving a perfect ACT score as a twelve-year-old, I can assure you I’ll accept your praise.”
“Enough with your words, Tray,” Seth interrupted from behind. When Adara craned her neck, she saw him rise from the couch and stroll over with a self-important swagger. “I’m Seth Stark, the captain of my high school’s football team as a freshman. I assume you’re here to congratulate me on my touchdown record last season.”
“Oh my God, they don’t care,” she groaned, donkey-kicking to jab him in the shin. Instead, she missed and hit Tray who, she noticed with wry delight, almost yelped. “These men probably just want to sell you something because you’re both extremely gullible. So, get on with it, Mr. Grease.”
“My name is actually Mr. Leve,” the man corrected with an air of authority that did not suit his appearance, “and behind me is my employee, Mr. Certior.”
“Employee is a misleading term,” the man in the back said, keeping his hands folded in front of him while his lips curved upward, “and please, call me Aethelred, Fraco.”
“You will call me Mr. Leve,” the shorter man snipped,“and you will refer to yourself as Mr. Certior in the presence of our pupils.”
“Will you old men stop bickering and get on with why you’re here, please?” Adara moaned as she threw her head back.
“Old men?” the man named Fraco Leve repeated, utterly appalled. “I am thirty-six, I’ll have you know, little girl.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re old.”
“Why is your hair red?” Seth questioned as he examined the man named Aethelred Certior. “And your eyes—and your eyebrows—”
“You’re a Wacko, aren’t you?” Tray asked abruptly as he took a curious but cautious step closer, appraising Aethelred like one of his science experiments.
“That’s an offensive term, boy,” Fraco snapped defensively.
Seth took in a gasping breath as his blue eyes bulged. “You’re a Wacko, too? Adara, get your boy, Mitt, on the phone.”
“He is not my boy,” she sneered, grabbing Seth’s wrist before he could retrieve his cell phone, “and I don’t want to get the cops involved, anyway. I’m interested in why these Wackos are here.”
“They probably want to recruit us into their terrorist group,” Tray said stuffily, “and we can assure them that we’re not interested.”
“Speak for yourself, bro,” Seth retorted. “If these Wackos can give me powers, I’m in.”
“Me too,” Adara agreed much too quickly. Her eyes darted briefly to Tray before she continued. “Can you give us powers, Wackos?”
Aethelred maintained a simper, even though his next words were contrary to hers. “Fraco spoke true when he said Wacko is an offensive term. The world calls us Wackos, but we with the oddly-colored hair and ‘superpowers’ are much more than a group of ravaging terrorists. We call ourselves the Affinities.”
Adara raised one eyebrow judgmentally. “Affinity? Like a natural inclination? What do you have a natural inclination for—being Wackos?”
Aethelred let out a hearty chuckle. “We should bring the girl along with us, as well, Fraco. Perhaps she has an Affinity for sarcasm.”
“Mr. Leve, Mr. Certior,” Fraco began to correct, but the twins were already speaking over him.
“Take us with you?” Tray blurted out in disbelief.
“Wait, you want us to go with you?” Seth asked at the same time, but with eagerness rather than apprehension. “Like, to your Wacko hideout, where you’ll give us powers?”
“The proper term is Affinities, boy,” Fraco cut in.
“And we don’t give you powers,” Aethelred added with a lighter tone. “Some people are born with the ability to attract a power and gain control over it. You, Mr. Stark, and you, Mr. Stark, were both found to possess that ability when your blood was drawn last May. You each have an Affinity—you each are Affinities.”
Seth’s lips were consumed by an exuberant grin, but Tray could barely blink, his face morphing with horror. That was Adara’s favorite look of Tray’s—self-righteous despair—and she was unable to contain her cynical cackle.
“We’re—we’re Wackos?” Tray confirmed with a tremor of terror.
“Ha—yes!” Adara exclaimed over the faint sound of Fraco saying, “Affinities.”
“You must be lying,” Tray said, shaking his head incessantly at Aethelred. “Seth and I are normal, typical, identical twins with absolutely no weird powers.”
“This is the best day ever,” Adara reveled with unrestrained zeal. “Tray’s worst nightmare has come true and he’s being taken away by the government!”
“We are not the government,” Fraco scoffed, hugging his clipboard with pronounced dignity. “I am an authority figure in Periculand, and my employee is an educator at Periculand Training School—”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adara said, “but if this land is some place where you take Wackos to torture them, then please take Tray. He’s dangerous.”
“Oh, shut up, Stromer,” he interjected as he backhanded her arm.
She faked a yelp, clutching her bicep dramatically. “He hit me with his super strength! Oh, someone, please take him away!”
“Tray does not have super strength,” Seth said. “I have super strength, obviously. Tray must have super smarts or something.”
“Why should we even believe these two creeps are Wackos?” Tray demanded. “Fraco’s just greasy and Aethelred could have dyed his hair to pose as a Wacko.”
“This is why we refer to each other formally,” Fraco hissed at Aethelred. “Now these hooligans think they can address us as their equals.”
“You think you’re better than me?” Adara asked as her eyebrows perked up. “I think you look like a slimy rat that just scurried out of a sewer.”
“Can we please revert back to the subject of me and Seth being Wackos?” Tray sighed. “I’d like to examine the blood samples myself—perhaps speak with the analysts, see the data—”
“I know what your power is,” Adara said suddenly, gripping his arm. “You’ve got an Affinity for being the biggest nerd in the universe.”
Wiggling out of her grasp, Tray opened his mouth to protest, but his twin spoke over him.
“We just found out we might have superpowers and you’re questioning it? Tray, this could be better than being captain of the football team!”
“Everything is better than being captain of the football team,” Adara said.
“Not true—”
“Enough, enough, enough banter!” Fraco shouted. Although it wasn’t quite loud enough to warrant an adverse reaction, Adara pointedly covered her ears just to piss him off. To her delight, it did. “Stop with the theatrics. Boys, you will come with us. Girl,” he added, pausing to swat her hands away from her ears with his clipboard, “you will stay behind and inform their family of their departure. Tell them there is no use trying to fight to get them back—the state government has decreed that all Affinities at the age of sixteen must be taken to a proper training school.”
“So you are part of the government?” was all Adara cared to ask.
“No, but we follow the laws—”
“And you want us to leave our house with you two strangers without telling our parents? How long are we going to be gone? Where are we going?” Tray asked with furious haste.
“Who cares?” Seth took a few leisurely steps out onto the porch. “This will be awesome. We’re going to have powers!”
“You likely already have an ability,” Aethelred informed them, “but because of your lack of awareness, you have been unable to harness it.”
An aggravated breath escaped Fraco’s lips. “Enough chatting. We must leave promptly.”
“What’s your power?” Seth asked Aethelred as he slouched against the doorframe beside Adara. “Fire? Blood? Uh, I dunno—Tray, what else is red?”
“The color does not always reflect the ability,” Aethelred said,“though sometimes it will,” he added, eyeing Adara with mild suspicion. She fought to maintain neutrality under his critical stare. “Did your hair always have a red tint?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Perhaps we really should bring her with us,” Aethelred suggested to Fraco. “With her hair and eyes the same hue, I believe her blood test may come up positive.”
“Seth and Tray don’t have the same hair and eye color,” Adara injected. “They’ve both got brown hair and blue eyes. What makes them Wackos?”
“The color does not begin to change until the ability manifests,” Aethelred explained. “When we arrive at the training school, we will determine what ability we believe each of you have. Once discovered, students begin to practice their Affinity, and as they progress, the new color of their hair becomes more prominent. I was born with brown hair and blue eyes, as well.”
“But what is your power?” Seth repeated. “Can you show us?”
“I don’t often like to impose my Affinity on others, but if you will allow me to touch your face—”
Seth shoved his head forward in anxious demand. “Impose away.”
A little regretfully, the man placed his fingertips to the eager Stark’s temples, and Adara nearly stumbled back into Tray when Seth jolted, his eyes blinking in bafflement. Aethelred let out a sigh as his lips curved with what appeared to be sympathy.
“Electricity,” Seth breathed, swaying slightly. “You can electrocute people.”
“No, no,” Aethelred replied with a gentle laugh, “but we do have a student who can control electricity. He has gotten quite good at it over the years. Nevertheless, I have just witnessed your entire past, Seth Stark. Everything you have seen, I have seen as well.”
“Really?” Seth blurted out, his awe reminiscent of the enthusiasm that had characterized his childhood. Tray had always scolded him for being “dumb,” but Adara secretly admired his ability to believe in anything, since she typically believed in nothing.
“He’s obviously lying, Seth,” his brother insisted stubbornly, the way he always had. “No one can know your entire past—it’s absurd. Mind reading doesn’t correlate with any science.”
“You’ll learn all about how Affinities break the barriers of science in school,” Fraco said as he readjusted his clipboard in his slippery hands. “Let’s go now, Mr. Certior.”
“With the girl?” Aethelred prompted, his words sounding more like a demand than an inquiry. Even if these guys really were terrorists, Adara couldn’t help but allow a faint smirk to surface on her lips at the thought that someone actually wanted her—that someone was willing to fight for her company.
“We don’t have room for the girl. We still have to pick up…” He paused, glancing down at his sheet. “Ackerly Terrier, Hastings Lanio, Adara Stromer—”
Tray choked violently as his twin and Adara seized each other’s hands in the same instant, their eyes protruding with glee.
“Adara Stromer?” Seth repeated fervently.
“Her?” Tray confirmed as he jabbed his thumb in her direction.
Fraco blinked his watery eyes as he stared at her. “This—this is Adara Stromer? We were told she would be found in—at a foster home—”
“I left that foster home ages ago,” she snorted, releasing Seth’s hand before he could drop hers. “They were a bunch of assholes, always telling me to do my homework, eat healthy—”
“How rude of them,” Tray said sarcastically.
“That’s why she lives with us now,” Seth told the two men, as though they really cared. “Adara and I were always good friends when we were young, you know—well, Aethelred does, anyway.”
“Mr. Certior,” Fraco corrected shrilly.
“What else do you know about me, uh…Adara, think of a cool nickname for him—quick,” Seth ordered as he repeatedly patted her upper arm.
“His nickname is Reddy, obviously,” she drawled, smirking slyly at Aethelred.
“That’s not a mean nickname,” Tray said, offended by the fact that she wasn’t being offensive. “You give everyone mean nicknames.”
“Fine. Devil-Red,” Adara concluded. “Does that please you, Nerdworm?”
“I like Reddy better,” Seth said before turning his attention back to the man in red. “So, Reddy, did you see the pissing contest Adara and I had in the woods that one time? You’d say I won, right?”
“You two are disgusting,” Tray muttered, shaking his head.
“You knew, then?” Fraco prompted as he motioned toward Adara with his oily hand. “You knew she was Adara Stromer and you said nothing?”
“Well, Tray Stark did call her Stromer only a few minutes ago. Did you not hear, Fraco? Besides, I thought you would have noticed her appearance is shockingly similar to—”
“Yes, yes, I see it, and we should not discuss it here,” the other man interrupted hastily.
“Who do I look shockingly similar to?” Adara questioned as she stood straight, her senses wildly alert. “Tell me.”
“This worked out quite well for us, three students retrieved at one house…” Fraco said as both men ignored her demands. Her mind was still reeling with the implications, but if they knew someone who looked like her, was she ready to face those truths? “Now, let’s move along,” Mr. Grease ordered. “We’ve still got two students left on the list, and Mr. Lanio is at the juvenile detention facility.”
“We’re picking up a kid from prison?” Tray said in outrage. “I don’t want to be associated with criminals, and I certainly don’t want my brother to, either. Just take Stromer—she’s already got a criminal record.”
“It is a law by the state government that all persons of sixteen years must be relocated to Periculand,” Fraco reiterated.
“Seth and I aren’t sixteen, yet,” Tray said. “We won’t be sixteen until October.”
“Yes, well, you’ll be sixteen soon,” the man said without bothering to hide his impatience. “Now, write a quick note to your parents and we’ll be off.”
“Write a quick note to our parents? You want us to just run away with two strangers without even asking our parents?”
“I think that’s exactly what he wants us to do, Tray,” his twin replied smoothly. “I’ll go write the note. What should we pack? How much money do we need? Do they have cable television in Wackoland? I do want a superpower, but I’m not sure I’m willing to sacrifice watching football—or playing football. Do you have a football team at this training school?”
“Stop talking, Jockface,” Adara groaned. “Just go write the freakin’ note so we can get the hell out of here.” He nodded compliantly before disappearing into the kitchen while Tray simply stared at her, open-mouthed.
“You want to go with these guys? None of this seems dodgy to you?”
“I’d rather see the inner workings of this terrorist group than go back to school tomorrow and watch you get harassed by Kiki Belven. I’d rather never see Kiki Belven again, actually. Maybe if we all leave, Seth will just forget about her.”
Tray’s lips twisted with unadulterated disgruntlement. “You want us to run away with the Wackos just so Seth will get over Kiki?” he whispered so his brother wouldn’t hear from the other room. “Your strategy for getting him to fall in love with you is this?This?”
She whipped around and pointed her finger angrily in his face. “That is not what I meant—”
“Wrote the note,” Seth announced as he slid between them. “Wrote it in permanent marker, too, so there’s no turning back now.”
“Wonderful,” Fraco said flatly as his clipboard nearly slipped from his hands. He readjusted before continuing. “You mustn’t bring anything with you—clothing and necessities will be provided.”
“I’m not wearing some uniform, I’ll have you know,” Adara stated, although the man went on as though she’d said nothing.
“You will not bring any electronics—definitely no cell phones.”
“What?” Seth whined as his shoulders slumped. “How will I contact Kiki?”
“Really? Not, ‘How will my parents find me if these men kidnap me?’ It’s really gotta be all about Kiki?”
“Can we bring books?” Tray asked over Adara. Part of her wanted to be grateful he had hedged her jealousy before it became obvious, but could she ever really appreciate someone as anal as Nerdworm—especially after his next statement?
“If we’re going to be absent from school tomorrow, I’ll need to catch up on missed work.”
“Really?” she repeated with the same amount of criticism she’d dealt Seth. “Wackos just showed up at our door and told us we’re Wackos and all you can think about is what precious schoolwork you might miss?”
“There is a large library at the school, Mr. Stark,” Aethelred said as the greasy man began to tap his foot restlessly. “I will warn you all now, however, that to come with us will mean leaving this home for longer than one day. Periculand will become your home.”
“So…we have a choice?” Tray clarified as his eyes slowly lit up. “So we can stay—we don’t have to go?”
“My employee’s words are misleading, Mr. Stark,” Fraco started with a nervous laugh. “You may choose to stay here, of course, but the government knows who you are. If you do not come willingly with us, they will take you by force to a place not quite as lovely as Periculand.”
“Bet there’s no books in prison, Nerdworm,” Adara teased with a malicious eyebrow jump.
“They wouldn’t bring us to prison for having some deformity in our blood that we can’t control,” he countered, although he didn’t seem thoroughly convinced by his own words.
“Let’s go, then,” Seth said as he stepped through the doorway. “I wanna see what sweet vehicle we’ll be taking to Wackoworld. I hope it’s a helicopter.”
“Did you hear a helicopter land on your front lawn?” Adara shook her head as she joined him on the porch. “Honestly, you’re an idiot…”
As the two men began their trek toward the driveway and Seth merrily followed, Adara noticed the way Tray lingered in the threshold, peeking back into the house he’d always lived in. Perhaps she was an apathetic scumbag for not feeling a hint of remorse about leaving this place—about leaving the Stark parents, who had taken her in and treated her with kindness. For all of Tray’s snootiness, he wasn’t like that and couldn’t walk out with his twin’s carefreeness—couldn’t leave without taking a moment to relish the nostalgia.
Giving him that moment to himself seemed too generous; Adara, however, hadn’t paused on the walkway to turn back and mock Tray but to make sure he actually came along. It was that realization that made her pivot on her heels and hurry after the others before he noticed. If Nerdworm knew she craved his company—no, no, she didn’t—but if he thought she did…
Thankfully, that train of thought did not have to be explored before she reached the driveway and the Wackos’ vehicle. She stared at it for a full minute, unable to form an opinion, even when Tray positioned himself beside her, his skepticism radiating.
“Let me get this straight,” she began, her critical attention focused on Fraco. “You two came here, claiming you have superpowers and we have superpowers, and you want to whisk us away in a white van?” She eyed the tinted windows and dented rear bumper and then her opinion was finalized. “This is sketchy.”
Tray spun on his heel to retreat back to the house. “I’m calling the cops.”
“No, don’t call the cops.” Adara snagged his arm and rolled her eyes. “They’re all a bunch of assholes.”
“Yeah, well, one of those A-holes is the only reason you’re not in jail right now.”
“No, he’s the reason I’ve been arrested eight times. If he wasn’t snooping up in my business all the time—”
“C’mon, let’s just go with them,” Seth urged, motioning toward the van door Fraco was struggling to open with his slippery hands. “If they turn out to be kidnappers, I’ll take them.”
“Will you?” Adara asked, all uncertainty dying with the mental image of Seth tackling this little greasy man. It seemed like an easy win, but what if all of his punches just glided across Fraco’s oily skin and inflicted no harm?
As if reading her mind, Tray said, “I don’t really think we should take that chance.”
“I think we should,” Adara opposed, rethinking her earlier conclusions, “because if it comes down to it, it’ll be hilarious to watch your skinny ass try to beat up these old men, Nerdworm.”
“We are no told men,” Fraco grunted as he continued to yank on the door handle, which slid right out of his hands each time.
“Really? Because you seem too frail to open that door to me,” she jeered.
“He is a bit thin, isn’t he?” Aethelred agreed as he watched his colleague’s fingers slip off the handle again. “I’d say his problem with the door, however, stems more from his oiliness.”
“Why are you so oily, Fraco?” Seth asked.
“Call me Mr. Leve,” he sang as he continued to wrestle with the door.
“Why aren’t we just going in the other side?” Tray muttered to Adara, who immediately dropped his arm and blinked.
“Valid point, Nerdworm,” she said before waltzing around the white van. Aethelred had already gotten into the driver’s seat, unable to stop himself from giggling outside of the car, but Adara could still hear Seth trying to wheedle information out of Fraco, his voice carrying over the van.
“Fine. Why are you so oily, Mr. Leve?”
“It’s my Affinity.”
Seth’s uncontrollable laugh boomed louder than Adara’s snort of amusement. “That’s terrible,” she said dully to Tray as she wrapped her dry fingers around the door handle. “I’d rather die than end up with a power that lame.”
“Wait, so your power is to be oily?” she heard Seth question once his chortles had ceased. Given that Fraco’s wrathful breathing was audible even to her, Jockface was about one comment away from being doused in the man’s foul body secretions.
“Get over here, Seth, before Mr. Grease murders you,” Adara called as she slid the door open. She was about to sassily ask Fraco if he wanted her to open the passenger’s side door for him, but then her eyes locked on one of the teenagers already waiting in the van. Her hand slipped from the handle as easily as Fraco’s had, and all of the hope that had swelled within her slackened, along with her jaw. “What the—”