Friction (The Frenzy Series Book 4) (24 page)

Mercedes was downstairs an hour later when Maggie fell asleep, her chest rattling with congestion. A pot of water boiled over the flames in the fireplace, alongside a large pot of soup. “Can you carry the water to her room? It seems to help her breathe easier,” she asked.

I grabbed two towels and lifted the bubbling water. Steam moistened my face as I climbed the stairs to her. There was a towel on the table beside her, a round indention in the center. I eased the pot down and watched as the vapor rose and spread throughout the room. Within minutes, Maggie’s breathing sounded a little bit better.

If it eased her pain or helped her at all, for even a second, it was worth it. Her chest relaxed and she was able to rest peacefully for a time. Mercedes whispered to me from downstairs, “Come and eat. She’ll be okay.”

I was going to remind her that I didn’t eat soup, but she added, “I have meat for you.” The fact that Maggie was sleeping and that Mercedes was helping was enough to pry me from the bedside.

In the kitchen, I watched her. Mother never let us help her cook unless she locked herself away, refusing to do anything but sleep. But Mercedes watched her from a distance. She taught herself what to do and how to do it, and she taught me a few things, too.

“You’ve been helping her?” I asked, watching Mercedes. She nodded, handing me a dish with raw beef on it. “They slaughtered a cow?”

“To welcome the refugees. The council wants to make a good impression, I guess.”

“This’ll do it.” She ladled soup into her bowl and sat it in front of her, sitting to my right at the table. The wooden surface was worn smooth, scarred from years of use, from Maggie’s hands and knives. “Thank you for helping her.”

“She means a lot to you,” she said, dipping her spoon into the hot broth and raising it to her lips, blowing ripples across its brown surface.

“She does.” I used the knife and fork she’d set out to cut into the meat. It was fresh and smelled so delicious my mouth watered for a taste. I couldn’t talk. Every time I talked I couldn’t hear Maggie’s breath. If we were quiet and still, I could hear her and know that she was alive.

Mercedes seemed to sense it. Having been a night-walker, she knew the sensitivities. She knew what it felt to be starved, crazed, and half out of your mind with primal needs, but feel like the same you inside.

Her spoon stilled above her soup. “She’s been waiting for you, I think. She didn’t want to let go until she saw you. Maggie loved you in a way Mother couldn’t allow herself to.”

I nodded, chewing rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to bleed out from me. If they carried grief as well as liquid, I would be drained dry in no time.

She patted my hand for a second. “You loved her too. She knows that.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” I blubbered, letting the dam of sadness break beneath my eyelids.

“I know. And I’m here for you. So is Tage. He’s on the porch and refuses to come inside.”

“Why?”

“He wants to be close to you, but still give you time with her. It’s really sweet.”

“Have you seen Noah?” Before everything had changed, she’d had her very own love.

Mercedes stiffened, grabbing her glass of water. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Why? What did he do?”

She sat her glass down and dabbed at her lips with a cloth. “His affections changed when I did, apparently. He is no longer interested in marrying an Infected or a night-walker.”

“You’re neither.”

“Tell
him
that. He’s terrified of me now, backed away like I was Satan himself.”

I shook my head. “Then he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Doesn’t ease the pain, but thank you.” She stilled and looked at me for a long moment. “It’s getting dark. I’ll light the candles.”

I quickly finished my meal as she set to work lighting a long wooden stick and then transferring the flame to the wicks of the candles around the room. Her soup was still steaming, but her appetite had left.

When she stilled and my bowl was empty, I stood and moved to the wash pan. She came to me. “I’ll take care of this.”

My hands shook. I was about to burst and needed to tell someone. Whispering to her, I admitted it for the first time. “I… I killed Pierce. It was me. Not those women.”

Her breath caught and she tugged the bowl from my hands and turned to look at me with steely eyes that reminded me of Mother. “Good.”

Porschia stepped out on the porch just before dawn. Her face was damp from water and not blood. For a moment, I thought everything was okay, that Maggie had just had a rough night. When her lip began to quiver, I knew I was wrong and wrapped her tightly in a hug. She squeezed me back and I felt every ounce of her pain as sobs wracked her body. I’d have done anything to take the pain away. If the bond allowed it, I would have absorbed it all so she didn’t have to feel a single second of it.

But there was nothing to heal a broken heart. Hurt like this always left a scar, some more sensitive than others. I’d been sensing danger drawing near and had focused on keeping everyone inside the house safe instead of honing in on what was happening within the walls.

“She’s gone,” Porschia hiccupped, pulling me closer.

I rubbed her back and hair and tried to make sure she knew I loved her. Because I did. I loved her so damn much it hurt. My heart hurt because hers was torn in two.

Mercedes stepped out behind her and pulled the door closed. “I’ll tell Father.”

Porschia broke down again. She was broken and I wasn’t sure I could put her back together. Maggie gave her love when her own mother wouldn’t. She took her in, gave her chance after chance and taught her more in just a few weeks than she’d learned about life in all of her years.

Mercedes’ footsteps trailed away. “Do you want to go home?” I asked softly.

“No. I want to stay with her. I just needed you.”

A millstone dropped from around my neck. I’d been drowning in my sorrows, thinking Porschia didn’t want or need me anymore. With just a few words, the rope was cut and the weight fell away.

“I need you, too. I’ll help with whatever you need.”

“I know you will,” she reassured me. “Thank you, Tage.”

“You don’t have to thank me, kitten. I love you.”

She didn’t say it back, but pulled me closer, fisting the shirt against my back. It stung a little, but I knew she would say it in her own time. That time wasn’t now.

Father came right away. He stepped onto the porch and told me he would be back in a few moments and would get a few men to help him dig the grave. Tage volunteered to help and Father stiffened but thanked him. I wasn’t sure what that was about.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Mercedes stayed with us. “Father didn’t want me to tell you, but people are still frightened of the night-walkers.”

“Of me, you mean.”

“All of you, and me because I was one of you,” she admitted.

“For a day or two,” I growled. These people were exasperating. “It’s not something you can catch.”

“They’re afraid of the rotation starting back up again. You’ll need blood.”

“We’re fine.” We were being fed. I thought of Saul in the forest and hoped he was finding food. My theory was that the animals fled from where they were being eradicated, so the women from The Manor may have unknowingly done us a favor by flushing them to us.

“I know. There’s just a lot of change and they’re frightened. It’s crazy. The people of Mountainside and The Glen think we’re liberators, while our own neighbors see us as captors.”

“It’s not as if drinking from someone hurts or like we kill them when we do it.”

She pursed her lips together. “How scared were you before the rotation?”

“Very,” I admitted. “More nervous than anything, but I understand. I see it from both sides now.”

Mercedes sat on the steps, her dark skirts fluttering in the breeze. “Why do you still wear your dress?” I asked her, leaving Tage’s side to sit next to her for a moment.

“Why do you?”

“They make me feel like me, from before.”

“Me too.” She stared blankly at the dew gathered on the grass. A light fog sat low on the ground.

When Father returned, Tim Brown was with him. He hadn’t changed. He looked at me apprehensively as he stepped onto the walk. Shorter than Father by a head, he bowed it toward us. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Mercedes and I said in unison.

“We will see that Margaret receives a proper burial. The Colony will gather after she’s laid to rest. You’re welcome to join us then.”

I stood up and Tage’s hand found the small of my back. “We can help you with her.”

“That isn’t necessary, Porschia. We know how close you were with Margaret. We can prepare her.”

“Is this about my feelings or your own? Are you frightened of me now? Tim, I’ve never hurt you or anyone else in Blackwater.”

He shifted on his feet and looked to the ground. “I understand, but some people are just apprehensive about...”

“Me,” I finished for him.

“Night-walkers in general. You know how you viewed them before joining the rotation for the first time,” he explained. “I don’t hold their opinion, just so you know – but as a member of the council, I have to do what’s best for everyone. And right now, it’s best if you let us tend to Margaret.”

Every muscle in my body drew in tight, but I knew I couldn’t do anything. The council was in charge now. Even if they were wrong, I had to abide by their rules if I wanted to stay in Blackwater. In that moment, I questioned leaving my home now more than ever.

Without a word, I walked past him and my father toward home. “Porschia,” Father said.

I turned to him, tears threatening again. “I’m sorry,” I answered. “I can’t. You take care of her, okay? You do that for me.”

He inclined his head. “I will.”

I nodded fast and started walking before I lost my composure; Mercedes walking to my left and Tage to my right. He threaded his fingers through mine and I squeezed them in thanks.

We all knew this wasn’t right, but nothing was going to change their minds. Nothing was going to show them that we weren’t going to hurt them. The divide would never be bridged as long as this much hatred and distrust existed.