The Frenzy Series (Book 2): Frantic (22 page)

“I won’t attack you.”

She smiled, wrinkles bursting from the outside of her eyes. “You will.”

“You aren’t worth it.”

She cackled. “Not worth it. Not worth it. Not worth it.” Mother repeated those three words with each step we took toward the river. Citizens watched us pass, peering curiously from porches or pulled-back curtains. The remaining Grant women. The crazy Grant women.

Anger crackled through my veins like lightning. She’d killed people. She killed my best friend. “Why Meg?”

Not worth it. Not worth it. Not worth…
Those two words stopped her chanting. “Because you loved her.”

“Why would you destroy everything I love?”

“Because I
hate
you and didn’t want you to have anything left to love. You took everything away from me.”

I looked at her, took her in. Her torn clothes stank like she’d worn them for three weeks. They were drenched in someone else’s blood. “I didn’t take anything from you! You had me. You had Ford. Even with Mercedes gone, you still had us and Father. You just didn’t see it!”

Mother smiled. “There she is. There’s my little girl.”

Narrowing her eyes at me, Mother took off running toward the river. I kept pace easily. “You’re just making this easier on me,” I taunted.

The snow began to pour around us in thick, wet plops. It clung to the grass, and within minutes, a thin, white blanket stretched over the earth. Mother pulled at the ropes binding her hands in front of her. She wasn’t paying attention and tripped over an exposed tree root, falling onto her chest and scraping her face over a sandy, rocky patch of earth. Dark, gritty soil stuck to her cheek and forehead. I helped her up, but she screeched, “Mercedes!”

Urging her toward the sound of the river, I knew she’d never make it across the trunk with bound hands. I’d have to carry her.

Should I carry her across? She’ll die, probably before Mercedes can even find her to Infect her. She won’t last the day.

“
You killed Meg to hurt me. You killed the others to hurt the vampires. You hurt everyone you touch, Mother.” With a simple tug, the knotted rope came undone, pooling at her feet. “You can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“
Mercedes!” she yelled, cupping her hands to amplify her voice.

Pathetic.
I laughed. “You think she’ll actually come?”

“
She will. Mercedes needs me.”

“Mercedes wants to eat you! Wake up!”

She shook her head vehemently, strands of now-damp hair clinging to her face. Her body began to tremble. “Jesus, where is your coat?” I asked impatiently.

“Don’t need it,” she said, lifting her chin.

I shrugged mine off. “Here.” I held it out to her and she eyeballed the black woolen fabric. “It belonged to Mercedes. You didn’t even want me to have it.”

“You’ve already contaminated it with your filth,” she muttered, eyes darting between the river bank and the coat. I rolled my eyes.

“Vampirism isn’t contagious, Mother. But what Mercedes has? What you’re hollering so loudly for? That will kill you....slowly.”

She snatched the coat from my outstretched hand and shrugged it on, quickly buttoning it. It was slightly too small across the chest and waist, but it would keep her warm until she… became Infected.

I helped her toward the river bank. “Step on the roots, nice and slow.”

“I know how to get down there! I’ve lived here a lot longer than you’ve even been alive!” I took a deep breath, trying to suck in some of the fresh snow. It was better than the poison that spewed from her mouth. But the thing about poison? You didn’t know you’d consumed too much until it was too late. A little bit and you got sick. A little bit too much and you died.

“You know, I asked for you to be the one to take me here. I told them you were a danger, a weapon for the night-walkers to unleash on the community. I told them you would snap. Like a twig,” she enunciated hatefully.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mother.”

She cackled, slapping her leg as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. She eased down the bank and stood at the side. The snow coated her shoulders and crowned our heads. “You never asked me,” she said with a smile.

“Asked you what? Why you asked them to let me escort you to your death?”

She stopped laughing suddenly, growing serious, and her dark eyes met mine. “You never asked me whose blood soaks my dress.”

My upper lip twitched. “Whose blood soaks your dress?” My teeth wouldn’t come apart, even though I spoke.

“Margaret Dillinger’s.”

I crouched, baring my fangs, feeling the heat flood my veins and the wrath flood every cell in my body. She smiled, a slow, steady thing full of malice, and watched me become the thing that I hated. She took pleasure in my pain. Mother truly hated me, and I hated her. I would end her. I would fucking end her. She wanted to die? Fine. Let her die by my hands.

I launched myself at her, arms outstretched, and her eyes widened when she realized that the monster she asked for was about to get her.
There she is.

The swishing of Porschia’s skirt filled my ears, along with the sound of my pulse. Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh. She was aggravated, overwhelmed, stressed, and trying to hold herself together. She had been since Saul approached her with the news that the Elders had requested her presence. Roman was able to steady her, but she was still in Frenzy and that meant she was hanging on by a thread even when she felt in control. It meant she could break, fast and hard.

She did better than I had. I killed more people than I could count before someone showed me how to ease the cravings and control the impulses. Sometimes, like now, it was still hard.

I turned to follow her.

“No one leaves this room,” said Elder Beckett. He was rubbing me wrong.

Roman flexed his biceps. He was probably thinking the same thing I was: maybe we should just eat the old men and get on with it.

“How will we know if Porschia passes your little test?”

“We have someone watching,” he retorted haughtily. Well, hadn’t they just thought of everything?

Saul’s eyes met mine grimly, and even though I hated the asshole, we both had a mutual respect for one another. Neither one of us would intentionally hurt Porschia, nor want to see her hurt. If she escorted her mother across the river, her mother would die and Porschia would hurt. If she snapped and drained her mother, Porschia would hurt and she would break. She wouldn’t come back from that.

Roman’s voice filled the space. “You have a human watching?”

“Of course,” replied Elder Brown.

Roman smiled and nudged me. “Good thing we have balance, then. I have a night-walker watching as well.”

Dara?
my eyes asked. He shook his head. Julian was there.

I was jerked backwards by my hair so hard, tears sprang to my eyes. That stung. The fist still held me tightly, but the arm it was attached to eased me around so I could see who stopped me. Mother’s loud laughter hit my ear and I lunged toward her again. However, Julian wouldn’t let me go.

“Julian.”

“Poppet.”

“Let. Me.
Go
.”

He smiled, his plump lips stretching wide. “Can’t do that.”

“Who says?”

“Roman.”

“Roman? Is he your keeper?”

His mocha eyes hardened. “For now, but,” he pulled my head to him until my ear was beside his lips, “I’m working on that.”