The Fray Theory: Resonance (25 page)

They were a team of three against
an unknown many. And yet somehow they managed to overcome all the obstacles without
even knowing the rules?

No way
.

None of this is random. It can’t
be. If anything, it’s looking like everything that’s happened, good or bad, has
been instrumental to bringing the three of them to this very juncture. Almost as
though someone has intentionally kept them apart, only to reunite them when the
time is ripe.

But ripe for what?

She looks at the boys. At Dylan’s
bloody nails and Romer’s bruised knuckles. At scars, and scars-in-the-making.

At a broken duo with a mending
bond.

Immersed in this peaceful moment
of uncertainty, she just can’t bring herself to burden them with even more questions
they won’t be able to answer. So she stands by them and beholds her gleaming
city… until it’s become a spec on an endless spectrum.

The
city is awakening to a gloomy morning. To dark and empty
streets vanishing into ghostly fog. Today the sun’s rays will not penetrate the
threshold of sunken clouds. Today, all will be seen, heard, and felt through a gray
filter of uncertainty.

On the green, secluded grounds of
Mountain View Cemetery, a dark figure lurks within the silver mist. He’s a svelte
silhouette—young to the bone, but host to a weathered soul. A timeless art-piece,
marred by neglect and consequence.

Beautiful, androgynous, and
unimaginably lethal.

A chilled gust of wind tugs at his
dangling tresses, its freshness stinging his face.

He pulls up the back of his
loose-fitting charcoal sweater, reaches into the pocket of his black skinny
jeans, and retrieves his pack of smokes.

He draws the last drag, and expertly
throws it up to his mouth, catching it with his lips. And with the slightest
flicker of his lashes, his pupils constrict to a pin-prick, and the tip of his slender
cigarette ignites a passionate red.

He secures the cigarette between
his long fingers and inhales the toxic fumes. His demeanor is so calm and collected,
it demands to be seen.

His wild, piercing gaze slithers
through the trees, searching for something, but the fog is so thick that it’s
impossible to see beyond fifty feet.
So he
closes his eyes and searches with his mind’s eye, instead.

And as though he’s just heard a
whisper in his ear, he turns his head slightly, then sets off on a new path
onto the dew-laden grass.

His brown locks brush onto his
broad shoulders with each stride. And soon he finds himself standing before the
mound of a newly-filled grave.

But something feels off.

All around, rectangles of fresh
grass have recently been laid. But in contrast to this unnaturally ordered
green quilt, the tombstones in the Reaper’s vicinity are weathered. Their
surfaces are grimy, and soot is caked inside their engravings.

Something big happened here, and it
was quickly swept under the rug. And although he can’t know for certain what
this green carpet was meant to conceal, he
is
certain that it’s got
something to do with his vision of a tar-haired girl on her knees, wishing upon
a dandelion. An anonymous girl whose pink, pillowy pout parted with awe, and
whose big, brown eyes widened at the sight of him. A girl whose energy has become
embedded within this very spot. Energy so dark and so irresistibly alluring, it
seduced him from halfway across the world.

And now that his quest has brought
him here, he is that much closer to finding her.

To demystifying her powers.

If only the fog wasn’t proving so
inconvenient.

In the near distance, a street
light has painted the fog champagne-gold. With the faintest vibration, the Reaper
vanishes and reappears atop the light-post.

From where he stands, twin rows of
street lights run up the hill, punctuating the cool hues of early morning with
their warm aura.

With his sights set on the summit,
he Glitches from atop one light-post to another. He jumps from node to node all
the way up the hill, until he has emerged from the ambiguity of the fog.

Standing atop the top-most post,
he turns around and beholds a vibrant downtown slowly awakening to another
ordinary day.

At the foot of this gleaming
congestion, thick fog is laden like a blanket of snow. And in one spot, in
particular, it is enlivened by the oscillation of pink and blue hues.

The Reaper pinpoints the tower sprouting
from the colored fog, and his gaze soars all the way up to its rooftop. He
gathers his focus, and in the blink of an eye, Glitches to his intended
destination.

Six miles in a split-second.

He hops onto the rooftop ledge and
stands at the brim. He leans forward and looks all the way down to
street-level.

At his current altitude, the fog
is still impeding his vision. But it’s a nuisance he quickly dismisses when the
remnants of a dark energy reach him from down below.

Energy not unlike what he felt at
the cemetery.

He Glitches down to the heart of a
barricade, a few feet shy of a wide, shallow crater.

He looks down the street at what appear
to be a mangled vehicle, an idling tow truck, and multiple police vehicles.

Judging by the scarcity of onlookers,
it must have been quite a while since the incident occurred—an incident which
originated from the crater by his feet.

He walks down the shallow slope
and stands dead center of the pit, where the girl from his vision had stood not
too long ago.

But as he stands here, all he sees
is an aftermath. A conclusion without a story.

And he is compelled to connect A
to B.

His pupils constrict.

His irises radiate a golden gleam.

His heart starts to race, pumping an
abundance of adrenaline through his system.

And then, faster than a thought,
he’s in Sync with thousands of his Proxies, his powerful mind linked to all the
shared alternate realities.

He has become detached from time
and space.

He is no longer just standing in a
crater on a foggy morning. He is standing in gridlock during early rush hour. He
is on a wet street with cars zooming by in the pouring rain. He is surrounded
by half-a-dozen construction workers drilling into the pavement.

He is everywhere: experiencing
multiple realities simultaneously.

He is everyw
hen
: before the
incident, after, and every snapshot in-between. Snapshots he intends on stitching
into a cohesive whole.

A low, metallic groan shakes up
the air.

The SUV starts to slide backward
as though being pulled by invisible cables. In front of it, the scraped asphalt
bows back down and reunites with the earth. Inch by inch, the damage to the
road is being erased.

With his wild eyes aglow, he steps
out of the way.

The approaching SUV passes by him,
and once its front becomes flush with the crater’s center, an ear-splitting
screech devours the morning calm. The car uncrumples as the ripples in its
snout expand like an accordion. As it stretches back to its original length, the
engine and front bumper slide forward to where they used to be. Glass shards leap
off the ground and swarm the windshield, snapping together like pieces of a
glass puzzle—until the seams vanish, yielding a smooth and reflective surface.

The mended vehicle returns to its
original spot by the sidewalk. But the Reaper’s focus remains on the crater—on the
spot where the mysterious girl from his vision altered her own destiny.

He begins to circle her, taking in
the details of her face. Though her features are delicate, the conviction in her
ruby eyes is unshakable. Simply looking at her rouses in him an excitement he
has not felt in years.

He follows her line of sight
upwards—up to a man suspended in the sky. To a powerful Kinetic who—in an
attempt to save his own life—nearly took hers. To the panicked Kinetic screaming
her name.

An insidious smile creeps onto his
lips.

“Neve.”

~ End of Book 1 ~

With
Synchrony and the Reaper on their trails, Neve, Dylan and Romer must devise an
immediate survival strategy. But upon arriving at their destination, they
quickly come to understand just how extensive their enemies’ reach can be.

In an
unexpected turn of events, escape brings them to a crossroad, and they find
themselves faced with the ultimate dilemma: should they continue to evade the
most powerful syndicate in the world? Or risk becoming pawns in pursuit of
unimaginable power?

I am beyond
grateful to have had the opportunity to share my very first novel with you! If
you’ve enjoyed
The Fray Theory
, please take a few minutes to write a
review on Goodreads and Amazon. Reviews are truly the
best
way to
support a debut author, and I assure you that my Proxies and I will be forever
grateful!

Have
questions? Comments? Just want to say hello?

By going
to
www.neloukeramati.com
and subscribing
to my email list, you’ll be amongst the very first to know about special
promotions, be offered free ARCs of the upcoming books in the series, and be
able to pose your questions and post your comments!

By
subscribing, you’ll also be automatically entered into my own personal giveaways
where you can win autographed copies of
The Fray Theory
, and custom swag
like bookmarks, postcards, and much more!

So join me
on this exciting journey! And in advance, thank you so much for all your
support!

Love,

Nelou

Nelou
Keramati
was born in Shiraz,
the city of wine, poetry, art, and literature. At the age of twelve, her family
moved to Vancouver, Canada, which she has since proudly called her home.

Following six years of studies in Biology, Cognitive Neuroscience, and
Psychology, Nelou obtained her Bachelor of Arts degree in Psychology from UBC—the
University of British Columbia. Four years later, upon obtaining her Masters in
Architecture, she once again switched gears and embarked on the pursuit of
acting, art, and writing.

She has spent the last two+ years working tirelessly on her debut novel,
The Fray Theory
, and is beyond excited to finally share it with the
whole world.

Official Website:
www.neloukeramati.com

Follow
Nelou on:

Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/neloukeramati

Amazon:
www.amazon.com/author/neloukeramati

Instagram:
www.instagram.com/neloukeramati/

Twitter:
www.twitter.com/neloukeramati