Friction (The Frenzy Series Book 4)

  Table of Contents

  Friction

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Friction

  Copyright © 2016 by Casey L. Bond. All rights reserved.

  First Edition.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior express permission of the author except as provided by USA Copyright Law. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  This book is a work of fiction and does not represent any individual, living or dead. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible,

  King James Version, Cambridge, 1769. All rights reserved.

  Book cover designed by Marisa Shor of Cover Me, Darling.

  Cover Model: Daniel Wells

  Cover Photography by Pink Ink Designs

  Professionally Edited by Stacy Sanford, Girl with the Red Pen

  Paperback and E-book formatted by Allyson Gottlieb and Marisa Shor of Cover Me, Darling.

  Published in the United States of America.

  ISBN-13: 978-1535590891

  ISBN-10: 1535590890

  More than my family, my few friends, Blackwater, or home, I missed her. I missed her voice in my head. I missed sharing a frequency that only she and I had. I missed her strength and the softness of her body. She had the fortitude of steel and a heart as beautiful and delicate as a spider web covered in dew, and just as easily broken lately. I wish I’d made time to know her sooner.

  From afar, I’d seen her from time to time; she and her sister, Mercedes. Mercedes and her beau Noah were well known around the Colony. Both were outgoing and full of life individually, but together they shone. The entire Colony was present at funerals, farewells, weddings, and the occasional gathering that the Elders mandated, but Porschia would sit in the corner alone or stand on the fringe, sometimes flanked by Ford. When she went, her mother would stick close to her father and neither paid their children any attention at all. If one of the three was the favorite, it was definitely Mercedes. Porschia was hated and Ford forgotten.

  She was convinced that what we had wasn’t love, and for the briefest of moments I convinced myself of the same thing. She didn’t love me; she merely needed me, and I was a convenient way out of her hellish home life. The friendship we had was only that. Maybe a hint of something more, but certainly not love.

  Love was something too strong to break. Love was without condition; a foundation and a shelter. And we took shelter in one another, calling it love… calling it something it couldn’t have been in such a short amount of time.

  That was what I told myself.

  Every day.

  Over and over.

  As if saying it often enough, forcefully enough, would make it true and would make my heart believe the logic of my mind.

  Our minds were tethered, despite all I’d done and the cowardly way I refused to drink from my ring, assuming it was all over for me and selfishly giving up all hope. The fire itself. Killing her mother.

  I still couldn’t stop watching her, making sure she was okay, making sure she fed and was well. Hiding in the trees and thickets to get one glance of her wasn’t enough. My heart missed her. It ached for her above all else, even as she hated me and her hatred grew stronger every time I came near. I wasn’t bonded to her like Tage was, but I felt hate radiate from her like heat waves rising from the hot, crumbling asphalt that bisected Blackwater. However, my feelings for her—even if it wasn’t called love—weren’t gone. They didn’t disappear.

  Despite repeated attempts to reconnect and in spite of her open disgust for me, I still watched. But watching wouldn’t make her feel the same way about me. I erased any chance for a future with Porschia Grant the moment I lit the flame that torched that building. It was why I decided to approach Mercedes. It was why I had to leave Blackwater.

  Befriending someone who could help me achieve that goal, even if that someone was Porschia’s sister, was step one. Fortunately, Mercedes was fast to forgive, fast to offer food, and open to helping in any way she could, in her own words.

  I would ask her for that help very soon.

  I climbed the oak as high as its branches would support me, bracing my back against its trunk, my feet stretching out along the strong wood. I waited for night to fall over me like a thick, dark shroud. Porschia was the collection of tiny lights that peeked through the tightly-woven fabric. Sometimes her light was missing, and soon it would be too far away for me to see. So every opportunity, every night, I waited for her.

  Certain moments are bigger than others. They hold more weight, more importance somehow. I remembered the first time I took a step onto the log that crossed the river, the step that took me out of the confines of the Colony and led me into the forest and into the unknown. Over time and with each hunt, the forest became less of a mystery. I learned her valleys and hills, her streams and rocks. Memorizing her paths with my feet, we became quick friends. She was simply a place covered with beautiful trees, providing life to the animals who lived there and food to those who hunted them. The forest saw everything, even the most feral parts of humanity. Because in the end, parts of every creature, Infected and night-walker alike, were human. And though I was neither and both at the same time, I was human too, beneath it all.

  Venturing beyond the river and into the forest was a huge step. Traveling beyond the forest to tell other survivors about the cures? That would be an enormous leap, one taken in both fear and faith, but it was one that just might save the world and all the people left in it.

  Mercedes burst through my front door, yelling my name. I looked up from the backpack I was stuffing. “Porschia?” she screamed again, her voice panicked and trembling.

  I ran to her, the wind from my speed making her hair blow back away from her face. “Hey,” she said, startled and blinking. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

  In the last few weeks, I’d found the balance of nutrition that seemed ideal for me: one part blood and three parts raw animal meat. With that ratio I was faster than I’d ever been, and stronger and more in control than I’d been since changing. I felt an intense power flow beneath my flesh, like tiny forked rivers of lightning sparking beneath the surface of me.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. Things had changed
between me and Mercedes, perhaps permanently, and I knew small talk wasn’t going to happen now. It was pointless. She had a choice and chose to stand beside Saul instead of with me. I also had a choice, and it was to keep her at a distance.

  She glanced up at me. “Roman is very sick.”

  “Sick? What kind of sick?” ‘Sick’ could mean a great many things. It could mean nothing more than a cold or it could mean death would follow.

  She shook her head. “I need you to come and see him, and there’s no way he can travel, despite his stubborn argument.” She crossed her arms angrily.

  Mercedes had been spending a lot of time at Roman’s for the past two days and now I knew why. I noticed her coming and going, and at first I thought he’d worked his charm on her. He had no power of compulsion now, but I’d learned that his personality was still pretty charismatic. He didn’t need to wield compulsion; he only needed to smirk and wink. Mercedes had visited Saul recently as well. I could smell his scent lingering in her hair. He was living in an abandoned home situated deep in the woods, far from the Elders and any other human being. I’d passed by it during the hunt one night and though he wasn’t inside, his scent was strong there. So strong, I nearly lost my balance and fell to the forest floor. The familiarity and comfort that were once associated with the scent of his pine soap and skin now haunted me.

  As far as my sister, I imagined that guilt fueled her steps to him. After all, she was the one who bit him, passing the infection knowingly, and made him a monster. Part of me still blamed her for the fire, even though his hands were the ones to set it and his conscience failed to tell him that such an act was wrong.

  I knew it wasn’t her. It was him. He may have chosen his own path, but blame didn’t make sense. It simply was.

  I’d seen Saul twice, staring from the forest as I passed through, hunting meat for the colonists and for us. Between the former Infected, the current night-walkers, and the humans who’d always been only that, there was still a distinct divide, possibly a deeper and more severe chasm than before the cures were discovered. From the cover of foliage, he stared but never spoke. Each time, a small slice of my heart hardened into something solid and impenetrable. I didn’t tell Tage he was lurking for two reasons. One, he knew but didn’t talk about it. If I could smell his scent, Tage certainly could. Two, Tage would tear his head off.

  Between the infection and the vampirism, there had been enough victims, enough death. At some point it had to end. Perhaps we could spread peace via the cure instead of spreading more hatred and disdain.

  Father and Ford stopped by early that morning with a basket of smoked meat, cans of food, and bread for Mercedes and Roman. Their horse was ready and we were supposed to leave within the hour, but now I hear that Roman is sick.

  “I’ll go check on him.”

  “Thank you,” my sister said, awkward silence enveloping both of us. I left her behind and ran toward Roman’s, where I found him upstairs in his bed. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, but his scent was different, medicinal. What did Mercedes give him?

  I approached his bed. “Roman?”

  He stirred slightly, his eyelashes fluttering. “Roman,” I said more forcefully. This time, his eyes opened and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What are you doing here?” he said weakly.

  “My sister sent me. You’re ill?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s just a cold.”

  His skin was flushed and he shook slightly, though he tried to mask it from me. It was definitely more than a cold. “Flu?”

  “Maybe it is. I’m okay to ride, though.”

  “Did Mercedes give you something for the fever?” I could sense the heat rolling off his forehead and body.

  “Yes. I think it made me drowsy.”

  He needed to stay home. “You aren’t well enough to go.”

  “You won’t survive without me.” I stared at his dark, brown-black eyes. “You won’t. Some places are safe, but others aren’t. In those places, people will be mistrusting of you. God help you if they find out what you are.”

  Shivers ran up and down my spine. “They’d only see the fangs, but... Why would they care?”

  “Because they’ll either fear you or be fascinated by you, and neither option bodes well for Porschia Grant.”

  “And you’ll keep them from knowing? Save me from all the bad in the world?”

  He shook his head with a smile. “I’m only human.”

  I smiled. Roman was enjoying being human again, despite the fact that his brother had disappeared from the forest. He worried for him.

  “But some of them knew me as a vampire. They’ll see irrefutable proof of the cure.”

  Snorting, I scoffed. “They’ll see that now you’re a human and you feel like you’re dying. I’m sure they’ll all stand in line to be just like you.”

  His expression fell, growing serious as his brows folded together. “You already know some won’t want to change. Well, all Infected will, but some vamps will be reluctant.”

  “I realize that, and I know we can’t make them change; we can only give them the information. What they choose to do with it is their choice.”

  “If anything happens, do not approach The Manor without me.” The only thing Roman would say in detail about The Manor was that it was a vampire stronghold. There were no Infected, but the vamps there didn’t bow to humans. The human population feared them, and for good reason. Roman didn’t give me details, but my imagination ran wild with that assertion.

  It was my turn to frown. “We’re only going to tell them about the cure…we don’t go inside the walls. Right?”

  He shook his head. “There aren’t walls. There’s a moat, but you don’t cross it and no one goes inside the front door. If you take one step inside the building, you’re not likely to leave.”

  “If your fever isn’t gone by the time—”

  “I’m going, Porschia. It’s only a day’s ride to Mountainside and it’s safe there. I can rest for a day or so before we move on.”

  I gritted my teeth, a bad feeling in my gut telling me he shouldn’t go, that he was too sick. Mercedes was right about that, but Roman was the only one who knew the way. He was also the only proof that might help persuade people of the cure easily, rather than demonstrating that it was real.

  Familiar arms wrapped around my waist and a slow smile spread across my lips. “What’s wrong?” Tage asked, warm breath fanning my hair. “I like this dress,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  Roman groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes and burrowing further back into his pillows. His hearing wasn’t as acute anymore, but he was still a guy. He knew what Tage said and how he felt.

  “Roman’s sick.”

  Tage snorted. “Poor baby.”

  “No, look at him.”

  It took a few seconds, but Tage found the same thing that I did. Roman was too ill to travel. “He can’t go. Not like this.”

  “I have to.” Roman pushed himself up onto his pile of pillows.

  I offered an alternative. “We could postpone it.”

  “We’ve postponed it twice already because of the spring storms,” Roman argued. “Look – Mountainside is another haven, a lot like Blackwater, only...mountainous. They’ll let us stay for a few days and I can recuperate there.”

  “What if they aren’t as accommodating as they’ve been in the past?”

  Roman winced, sitting up straighter. “They will be.”

  When we planned our first journey, Roman told us about the three places we would travel. The first, Mountainside, had no treaty but welcomed night-walkers as long as the vampires provided meat from game in the forest that they resided in. It was a poor system, Roman argued, secluding themselves on one mountain, securing it around the bottom with a tall, thick stone fence that kept the Infected out of their safe haven. A poor system, because even safe havens could become cages. Much like Blackwater, the people of Mountainside’s separation became a weakness as much as
a strength. They depended upon the night-walkers for food that they couldn’t grow themselves on stepped gardens that striped the sides of the mountain. Their dwellings were basically caves, hand-hewn into the rocky hillside. They lived primitively, he said. But didn’t we all to some degree?

  Tage stepped back. “If Roman says he can make it, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Jerk. He was just thinking that if Roman died along the way, that would be one less thorn in his side. Tage’s eyes twinkled, knowing I caught on to his game.

  Roman groaned again. “Would you two go home for a little while? You’re making me nauseous.”

  I ran across the log, my feet slipping. The soles of my shoes were worn slick and nearly all the way through the soles in spots. Normally, Tage or Porschia would ease the bridge that the carpenters made across the river when we needed to cross, but I didn’t want them to know who I was meeting. Across the bank and over the hill, he waited. “Hey,” I said, out of breath.

  “Are they still traveling today?” Saul asked.

  “I think so. Roman is too sick to go, but he’s too stubborn to stay.”

  “You have the fabric?”

  I patted my pocket where lumps of fabric were piled together. “I do. I’ll leave a trail for you.”

  Saul craned his head toward the Colony. “No one knows you’ve been coming?”

  “They haven’t said anything, so I don’t think they know.”

  “Porschia knows,” he said. My body tensed. She couldn’t know. She would be furious. She would snap.

  “I don’t think she—”

  Saul smiled sympathetically and then said, “She’s stronger than ever. She can probably smell me from here. She can probably smell you, too.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. We were so far away. I handed him a bag of bread and cheese. Ford had brought extra for him, but only because I promised Saul would be led away from Blackwater and wouldn’t return. Ford harbored mixed feelings but would be glad to see him go. So would Porschia, though I knew she warred with herself over residual feelings. Emotions that strong couldn’t be erased by a single act, but her stubbornness ran deep. She could be judgmental of others without giving them the benefit of the doubt. It would take time, possibly a lifetime, before Porschia’s forgiveness would even begin to show its head, unless a miracle or tragedy happened. Both were strong enough to spark change; catalysts of life-altering changes of perspective, as we’d all learned lately.