Friction (The Frenzy Series Book 4) (6 page)

I knelt next to Roman. The cloth on his head was damp and warm, having absorbed the warmth from his body, but it wasn’t doing enough because the skin of his forehead was still hot to the touch. I remembered a time that Ford had a fever when he was small that was worse than all the other occasional ones he picked up here and there. He and Mercedes were always the social butterflies of our family, whereas I stayed home, had few friends other than Meg, and even then, she did most of the work in keeping our friendship going. I didn’t want to hear the whispers about Mother and was too embarrassed to leave the house and yard except for when it was required.

But I left home for help when Ford got sick and Mother decided to lock herself in her bedroom. Father told me to ask Mrs. Bracker, who lived three streets over, if she had anything that would help him. And though I didn’t know her well then, he also sent me to Mrs. Maggie Dillinger’s. Both of the women arrived at our home minutes later and rushed to Ford’s side. At their instruction, Father and I brought buckets of water in and Father laid my brother in the cool water. It was the only thing that saved him.

There must be a water source somewhere...

Roman groaned, his eyes blinking open. “Are you here to kill me?”

I shook my head, making sure he could see my face. “No.”

“You will,” he said. His voice was weak but his tone was adamant.

“I won’t. I’m trying to help you.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. I did a lot of things that were wrong, even to your Mother. I’m no better than Saul, if you think about it.”

I didn’t want to think about it and I didn’t know why. Maybe because right now I didn’t want to think about Saul or Mother. “I’ll be back. You need to cool down. You’re way too hot, Roman.”

“That’s what all the ladies tell me.”

“Still an arrogant ass, though.”

“They say that, too.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll stay here and guard the place.”

“Brilliant idea.” I looked him over. Garreth said people didn’t die from the flu very often; however, if we couldn’t get his fever to break, Roman might be one of the rare few who succumbed to the ravages of this virus. If he died from the flu, it would be a huge blow to his ego. Someone had to do something and I was the only one around. I eased the door closed behind me and started down the pathway, meeting a woman who held the hand of her small, toddling son. “Hello, could you point me in the direction of your water source?”

She pulled the child close to her legs, where his chubby hands fisted the fabric of her overalls. “What does a night-walker need water for?” the woman asked crossly.

Looking into her eyes, I told her simply, “I need water.”

She looked down the hill. “There is a well at the base of the mountain. Follow this path.” She pointed to one path that led away from the others, the dusty trail wide and well worn. “There’s also a creek in the forest to the south.”

“Thank you,” I said, passing her by. She blinked and woke up from whatever daze I’d put her in and hurried the child along, away from me.

“She doesn’t look dangerous, Momma,” the boy said, looking over his shoulder at me.

“All night-walkers are dangerous to humans, most especially the females. Never forget that,” she whispered harshly.

Most especially the females?

Two women at the well scattered when I approached. Backing away but keeping me in their sights, one went left and the other right. They couldn’t see my fangs. They were tiny. So how did they know? Constructed of a cobblestone base with a small wooden roof covered in moss, the well smelled fresh and clean. I had nothing to carry the water in, though. Looking around, I saw an old metal bucket with a rusted crack running down one side. It would have to do.

Easing the rope and pail down into the dark hole, I could see the water’s surface far below; dark as ebony and placid until the pail’s bottom disturbed it. A crow cawed close overhead, making me jump and lose my grip on the rope. I caught it before the end went into the well, but only barely.

The rope’s coarse fibers sliced into my fingers, burning them. I gasped. “Are you okay?” A young woman rushed over. Her hair was a deep brown and was as beautiful as her skin and toffee-colored eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

“Night-walker,” she whispered, stopping quickly and then stepping backward. Her eyes flicked between my face and the tiny droplets of blood pooling in the swirls of my fingertips.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“How do I know what?”

“That I’m a night-walker?”

“Your skin. And when you spoke, I could see the tips of your fangs.”

“My skin?” I looked at my forearms. They weren’t different. Were they?

“They’re so pale they nearly glow,” she supplied. “Why do you need water?”

“For a friend—a human friend.”

“I didn’t know night-walkers befriended humans.” She smiled slightly, looking at the broken bucket I was ready to fill.

“Perhaps you should leave Mountainside more often,” I teased.

“We aren’t allowed,” she whispered, her eyes darting up and down the enormous hill above. “Here. Use mine.”

She proffered her wooden bucket but I shook my head. “I can’t accept it. You need it.”

“Then borrow it. Leave it outside your door and I’ll fetch it later. Help your human
friend.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome...” she paused, fishing for my name.

“Porschia. Porschia Grant.”

She smiled. “I’m Amelia Lane.”

“Nice to meet you, Amelia. I’ll leave your bucket outside my door. Thank you again.”

Amelia nodded and retraced her steps up the path and away from me, less frightened than before, but still watchful. I poured the pail of water into her bucket and sped up the hill. Since people already knew there was a new night-walker in town there was no further reason to hide it, and Roman needed to cool off.

Hunting at night when most animals were also prowling was easier than finding them in the daylight hours, but to feed people who haven’t been fed in months, it would help if we could find something to bring back with us in addition to firewood. Something was ‘off’ here. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the people were skittish. Something or someone made them that way.

After skirting yet another side of one of the seemingly infinite mountains in the region, I finally picked up a scent. Saul jogged to keep up. “What is it?” he asked between labored breaths.

“I smell puppies.”

“Ahh,” he groaned. “You aren’t gonna kill puppies, are you?”

“Says the man who took two dozen human lives.” His stare hardened and he stood up straighter. What the hell did he think he was going to do? Fight me? I’d eat him. Literally. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Not puppy dogs, dumbass. Coyotes.”

He nodded, sweat beading on his brow. “How far?”

“Having trouble keeping up?”

“Yes,” he panted, hands on his knees.

I grinned. “Good.”

And then, like the asshole I was, I ran as fast as I could to the den I scented in a rocky outcropping across the hillside. I drained all eight of the ‘puppies’ before Saul reached me. Some were feistier than others, yipping and clawing and snapping, but nothing I couldn’t handle. When he finally caught up, Saul’s eyes were wide. “What?” I asked innocently. “I told you they were coyotes.”

“You killed them all!”

“Yeah.”

“You killed them so fast.”

I stood up from where I crouched over the last mutt’s body and wiped the blood from my chin. Clapping him on the shoulder, I grinned, feeling the slimy coating of blood over my teeth. “Remember that. Mess with Porschia and I’ll kill you before you even know I’m near.”

Gathering all but two of the mutts by their tails, I ticked my head back toward Mountainside. “Let’s get back.”

“You feel it, too?” Saul asked quietly. “Something’s weird about that place.”

“Yeah. It is.” I just couldn’t figure out what
it
was.

Grabbing the pair of coyotes by their tails, I hefted them up, one in each hand. They were big and heavy, easily sixty pounds each. From my house and during my nights in the rotation, I’d heard their howls when they hunted, but never came this close to one. The musk of their hide hit my nose. How the pack didn’t tear Tage apart was beyond me.
Too bad.

He could threaten all he wanted; he didn’t scare me. Porschia wouldn’t let him kill me. No matter how much she tried to pretend I didn’t exist or that she hated me, part of her never would. Part of her would remember me forever. You couldn’t fake those kind of feelings, and what she and I shared was something special, even if only for a short time. Even if I ruined it all.

I didn’t realize how I’d hurt her. The scent. Tage said she was able to smell her mother, and then smell her mother burning to death. When I lit the fire I thought I was doing right, but looking back, maybe I wasn’t.

Her mother – who hated her own daughter and murdered several of our neighbors, including Porschia’s best friend – could never hurt her again, and because of that I still couldn’t rationalize feeling too much guilt over what I did. The others in the building? So many of those in the “freak show” were so far gone mentally that they couldn’t recover despite the cure. Their brains were deteriorated too badly. Besides that, how could she hate me and still look Roman in the face? He performed experiments on her and her mother, all for his brother Pierce. Weren’t his actions as damning as mine?

I didn’t bother trying to keep up with Tage, but this time, I didn’t have to worry about it. He hung back with me, casually striding like he was taking a pleasure stroll through the woods. Meanwhile, I had to keep adjusting my grip. Coyotes were heavy bastards. They got heavier with each step and harder to keep ahold of as my hands began to sweat.

Tage carried six of them and had yet to break a sweat.

It was times like these that I wished I were a night-walker.

The guards at Mountainside were eager to open the gates after Tage held up the canines and announced that dinner was served. One yelled for someone to come with a wheelbarrow, and fast. Wheelbarrow guy skirted the wall and happily accepted the animals, rushing away with them with a smile on his face. How long had it been since they had meat? Did they never go outside the wall?