Affinity
Author: Mary E. Merrell
ISBN:
978-0-9882973-1-9
Release Date: October 24th 2012
Release Date: October 24th 2012
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
Summary
The crows followed Talon around.
Everywhere. When he graduated from high school, Talon moved to Sacramento to
work with his Uncle Nate. The birds were there. He recognized the same
straggly-tailed old crow that had followed him since junior high. Iris Yorita,
who lived in his mother's neighborhood called their ability an AFFINITY,
claimed it was a gift from God, and they should use it to help people. Iris'
animal was the snake. Talon thought she was out of her mind. How could a bunch
of mangy crows or slimy snakes help anyone?
When a thief targeted the people in his
uncle's neighborhood, Talon became the main suspect. It was time to put Iris'
theory to the test. Find out who was robbing their neighbors and clear his
name. As Talon learned to communicate with his crows, it became clear that
something more sinister than mere robbery was going on. It would take Talon,
Iris, and their new friend Chloe, who communicated with raccoons, to discover
what really was happening in Talon's new neighborhood.
Talon would discover how strong his
ability was and how complete communicating with his chosen animal made him
feel. He would meet more people with an affinity like him, each with a chosen
animal of their own. By the time the mystery was solved, Talon would forge new
friendships, learn not all was what it seemed and risk his life to save his
friends.
Excerpt
Talon took his usual seat on the couch. The television was on but the sound muted. When his uncle returned, he held an old, jacked-up photo album, the cover propped open by yellowed papers. He stopped in front of Talon.
“Uncle Nate. Listen.” Talon stood up and met his uncle’s blue gaze and braced himself to be made fun of, for his uncle to laugh his ass off. “I can communicate with crows.” Okay. There. He had said it. First time ever.
“I know.”
“What?” Talon dropped back onto the couch, sinking into the cushion as he cradled Scraggy close to his chest.
“Well, I didn’t exactly know you’ve been talking with them, but I’ve known you’ve got some kind of weird relationship with them. I’ve been waiting for you to spill it, kid. I’ve seen those black buzzards following you around like they was waiting for you to croak or something.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Talon felt...disappointed. As if everyone knew except him. Like he was a big joke or something.
“Don’t get all butt-hurt. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
Uncle Nate plopped down next to Talon like nothing bizarre was happening. “Look at this.” He put the photo album on his knees, opened the worn cover and carefully put the papers and news clippings on the end table. Sticky paper held old black and white photographs in place as Uncle Nate flipped the pages.
“Do you know what our last name means?” he asked.
When Talon didn’t answer, Uncle Nate put the book on Talon’s legs, keeping far from the crow’s sharp beak and pointed to an old picture. He tapped his finger on the man standing there. Behind the man was a big, black bird perched on a fence.
“Our last name means crow or raven. It’s the genus for large black birds.”
Talon swallowed and took back all the crappy things he had just thought about his uncle.
“Your great-grandfather claimed he could talk to these birds. Everyone thought he was nuts. Our grandmother, your great-grandmother told us the family secret when we were in grade school. Your father and I. Of course, we were warned if we ever said anything the crows would come and peck our eyeballs right out of our heads.” He widened his eyes at Talon, took on a spooky voice and waggled both his hands next to his head. “Or you’d be driven crazy by the birds, oouuuuweee aaahhh.”
Scraggy cawed and struggled a little.
When Talon didn’t laugh or smile at his joke, he continued, “Your father and I used to imagine what it was like if we could control the birds,” he said in a soft voice.
“You don’t really control them.” Talon ran his finger across the picture of his great-grandfather. “It’s more like a connection with them.” He let his mind touch briefly with Scraggy, sending comforting thoughts. The bird quieted down.
“Right on. When did it start?”
“In middle-school.” Talon turned the page, looking for more pictures with a strange black bird.
“You won’t find anymore pictures of the bird. Believe me. We searched through this many-a-time.
But you might be interested in this.” He handed Talon a small black leather-bound book. “Your great-grandfather’s journal. It sounded like a lot of rambling to me, but maybe you’d understand. With your ability and all.”
Excerpt
Talon took his usual seat on the couch. The television was on but the sound muted. When his uncle returned, he held an old, jacked-up photo album, the cover propped open by yellowed papers. He stopped in front of Talon.
“Uncle Nate. Listen.” Talon stood up and met his uncle’s blue gaze and braced himself to be made fun of, for his uncle to laugh his ass off. “I can communicate with crows.” Okay. There. He had said it. First time ever.
“I know.”
“What?” Talon dropped back onto the couch, sinking into the cushion as he cradled Scraggy close to his chest.
“Well, I didn’t exactly know you’ve been talking with them, but I’ve known you’ve got some kind of weird relationship with them. I’ve been waiting for you to spill it, kid. I’ve seen those black buzzards following you around like they was waiting for you to croak or something.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Talon felt...disappointed. As if everyone knew except him. Like he was a big joke or something.
“Don’t get all butt-hurt. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
Uncle Nate plopped down next to Talon like nothing bizarre was happening. “Look at this.” He put the photo album on his knees, opened the worn cover and carefully put the papers and news clippings on the end table. Sticky paper held old black and white photographs in place as Uncle Nate flipped the pages.
“Do you know what our last name means?” he asked.
When Talon didn’t answer, Uncle Nate put the book on Talon’s legs, keeping far from the crow’s sharp beak and pointed to an old picture. He tapped his finger on the man standing there. Behind the man was a big, black bird perched on a fence.
“Our last name means crow or raven. It’s the genus for large black birds.”
Talon swallowed and took back all the crappy things he had just thought about his uncle.
“Your great-grandfather claimed he could talk to these birds. Everyone thought he was nuts. Our grandmother, your great-grandmother told us the family secret when we were in grade school. Your father and I. Of course, we were warned if we ever said anything the crows would come and peck our eyeballs right out of our heads.” He widened his eyes at Talon, took on a spooky voice and waggled both his hands next to his head. “Or you’d be driven crazy by the birds, oouuuuweee aaahhh.”
Scraggy cawed and struggled a little.
When Talon didn’t laugh or smile at his joke, he continued, “Your father and I used to imagine what it was like if we could control the birds,” he said in a soft voice.
“You don’t really control them.” Talon ran his finger across the picture of his great-grandfather. “It’s more like a connection with them.” He let his mind touch briefly with Scraggy, sending comforting thoughts. The bird quieted down.
“Right on. When did it start?”
“In middle-school.” Talon turned the page, looking for more pictures with a strange black bird.
“You won’t find anymore pictures of the bird. Believe me. We searched through this many-a-time.
But you might be interested in this.” He handed Talon a small black leather-bound book. “Your great-grandfather’s journal. It sounded like a lot of rambling to me, but maybe you’d understand. With your ability and all.”
About
the Author
Mary E. Merrell lives in the Central
Valley of California with her husband, two dogs and four cats. She has two
grown sons, Everette Merrell and Richard Mickelson who is married to a great
girl, Brooke. Mary has worked at various jobs, selling furniture, a meat
company and a manufacturing company. It wasn’t until she started selling real
estate that her Real Estate Paranormal Mystery Series came to life in that old,
vacant home. She enjoys reading all types of genres and writes Paranormal
Mysteries and YA Urban Fantasies. When she’s not writing, she’s working on her
decorative planter business LivingCreations with her husband, gardening and
playing soccer. Please visit her website to see what she’s working on next.
www.maryemerrell.com, or contact her through Facebook and Twitter.
Sarah, Thanks for hosting me your blog. I appreciate it. Mary Merrell
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