The Aberrants Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “All right, all right. I’m going.”

  She got up, her legs screaming in protest, and headed out. It was night, the darkness cloaking the earth like a velvet blanket, stars shining above in a number that she had never been able to see in the city.

  “It’s going to be all right,” she told herself with a deep breath. They had no idea who or what she was and they were busy with something else. She was safe.

  Feeling a bit more secure, she squared her shoulders and strode through town just like everything was normal and she had nothing to worry about.

  Her mind went back to all the decisions that had lead her here, delving her into a long road of memories. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching her until they were almost upon her.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, spinning around with her fists raised.

  “Whoa there, whoa. Didn’t mean to startle you!”

  Of course it was the ringleader of the hunters, looking just as striking in the faint streetlight that dotted either side of the small, dirt road.

  “You know what they say about sneaking up on young women in the middle of the night,” she countered, laughing just as nervously as she had in the shop. Goodness, that was a terrible stress reaction. She needed to cut that out.

  “Can’t say I’ve heard that one.”

  “Normally, I’d say that’s a good way to get pepper sprayed. But this is a small town, so I would say that it’s a good way to get shot.”

  “Noted,” he answered shooting Jaelle an easy smile. That same grin probably made dozens of women before her swoon, but she was too distracted by the faint outline of a gun just under his arm. “I’ll try to learn from your sage advice. In the meantime, I thought that perhaps I might walk you home.”

  “Oh, that’s not at all necessary.”

  “If this were typical circumstances, I would agree with you. But we’re after someone quite dangerous, so I would greatly appreciate the honor of making sure you arrived home safely. If only to fix our vehicles tomorrow.”

  “True, nothing like a good ol’ fashioned murder to slow down good mechanic-ing.” She took a deep breath and faced forward. If she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, she needed to be less jumpy. But that was much easier said than done with the fellow beside her. As if being a hunter was enough, he had to exude masculinity and power that called to the basest parts of her. When she was younger, someone like him would have driven her absolutely crazy with desire.

  At least now he’s just a goddamn distraction.

  “So, you’re not from around here, are you?”

  “What makes you say that?” She gave him a sideward glance, her eyes lingering on his sculpted chest and chiseled jaw probably a little longer than was necessary.

  “My job involves a lot of watching and reading people. You don’t exactly have that small-town vibe.”

  “Really? That’s a shame. And here I thought I fit in so well.”

  “You don’t do a half-bad job, but anyone who can spot my piece that quickly didn’t learn that skill in the middle of Podunk nowhere.”

  “You noticed that, huh?”

  “It was either that or you found me exceptionally attractive.”

  “Is that a reaction that you’ve experienced before?”

  “Once or twice.” He smirked, his smile growing even more crooked. “But I figured it was more the former than the latter, even if my ego wouldn’t mind you swooning over my rugged good looks.”

  “You know they become a lot less rugged and mysterious when you talk about them openly.”

  “Huh, and here I thought confidence was all the rage nowadays.”

  She shrugged, trying to hide her own smile. “Who knows. Braywire is always a bit behind on the trends. Last I knew, Maryanne finally ditched her pencil-thin eyebrows and just got on the bushy train.”

  “Funny, but I can’t help but notice you’ve danced around the question.”

  “I thought my sarcasm was an answer enough for a detective that makes his living reading people.” It was a gamble, so she decided to go for it. “Which means you’re talking to me because you either think I’m suspicious enough to get all analytical on, or you’re bored enough to have read that I’m an easy lay.”

  “Ouch! You’re awfully cynical for someone who lives in such an idyllic place.”

  “Like you observed, I’m not from around here.”

  The conversation died a bit and the young woman noticed that he hadn’t answered her question, even indirectly. That didn’t bode well.

  Their footsteps echoed through the quiet streets, the only other notes of noise rolling out from the one bar and grill in town. Even they would be closing soon, not staying open any later than two am, and they definitely wouldn’t be open on Sunday.

  Finally, they reached her house and it took all of her willpower not to sigh in blessed relief. Never had the walk home from work every seemed so long and stressful.

  “Well, this is my place!” she chirped overly cheerfully as she pulled out her key.

  “This?” he asked, almost managing to hide his derision from his voice.

  “Hey, it’s lovely on the inside,” she shot back. “And if you think it’s bad now, you should have seen it before I made all my improvements.”

  “Improvements, huh?” He seemed to regain him composure and rubbed the back of his head. “Guess I’m just too much of a city-slicker because I can’t imagine this being anything more than a tool shed.”

  “That’s probably because it was a tool shed.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She sent him a wan smile and slid her keys into the door. “I’m good with my hands and I have a lot of spare time in the farming off-season.”

  “You know what? I don’t have a hard time believing that at all.” He took a step closer and suddenly the tension in her doubled. Was this it? Were they about to have a showdown on her front door? “Perhaps I could come in and you can show off all of your hard work?”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  He was hitting on her.

  Suddenly all her fear evaporated and she was just left staring into his still-intense gaze, her nose full of his heady scent. Not too long ago, she would have been on top of his faster than peanut butter on jelly, but if there was one thing she had learned during her time in Braywire, it was patience.

  “I would love to, but I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate it since he’s probably inside, sleeping.”

  “Boyfriend?” the hunter repeated, sounding disappointed.

  “Yeah, he’s a farmhand on the mayor’s land. Head of animal husbandry in fact. I guess taking care of things is in his blood.”

  “Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me he takes care of you just fine?”

  She smiled softly. “You caught me.”

  “Well I appreciate such a gentle let down. Either way, it was still lovely meeting you miss…”

  “Jaelle,” she answered. “And it was lovely meeting you as well, Officer?”

  “Just Bradly is fine. Glad that I could make sure you got home safe.”

  “Thanks, it’s appreciated.” Uh, what was the appropriate way to end this awkward conversation? This was one of the many reasons she preferred solitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” he confirmed, tipping his head before turning off into the night.

  She watched him go, her own dark eyes following him through the streets until he turned a corner and disappeared. With a sigh, she headed inside and got ready for bed.

  Not that she was going to be able to sleep at all, but it was worth the effort.

  All she had to do was get through tomorrow.

  She could do that.

  She hoped.

  Chapter Three: Criss-Cross Apple Sauce

  It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.

  No matter how many times she chanted that to herself, she had the distinct
feeling that it wasn’t going to be fine.

  The feeling was so persistent that she had awoken at the crack of dawn -despite the horrible night’s sleep she had had- and headed into the shop early.

  She figured the sooner she got in, the sooner she got the hunters out, and that was all she could ask for.

  After all, she had run to Braywire to escape all the Shifter politics, and she didn’t appreciate them bleeding into her little haven.

  There were many differing legends on how the Shifters came to be, but the one thing that was unanimous among the clans was that like stayed with like. So, that meant if a person was blessed with the form, strength and tenacity of a bear, they only associated with humans and bears. If someone had the teeth, claws and utter will to survive of a wolf, they stayed in their packs. On and on it went through all the shapeShifters of the world. Panthers with panthers, cayotes with cayotes, horses with horses, on and on it went right on down the line. Dodging the detection of humans and avoiding any sort of alliance with each other.

  Naturally, such stark divisions encouraged… tensions, for the lack of a better word. And occasionally these tensions lead to terrible and violent crimes, whether they were over land, resources, prey or some sort of perceived slight. Hunters dealt with these crimes, doling out punishments and apprehending criminals that violated the tenuous peace between the clans. Nothing good every came from having a hunter around and she wanted them out. Immediately.

  She reached down to shove her keys in the rusted lock of the shop only to find that the door was already partially open.

  “That’s weird…” she remarked to herself, pushing it open with her foot.

  It swung open without any hindrance, and she took a single step in.

  “Hello?” she called, sniffing intensely. She couldn’t hear anything other than the dull rumble of the compressor in the back.

  Wait, compressor? Why was that on?

  She strode toward the back, wondering if Jimmy-Bob had come in early as well or even if Francis had decided to get his fifty-year-old rear in gear before eight a.m.. But before she could even make it to the door, she smelled the copper-heavy scent of old blood.

  Shit.

  Her heart seized for a moment. It could just be an injury, it wouldn’t be the first since her arrival, but the timing had her on edge. She nudged open the door and peaked in.

  She wasn’t prepared for what she saw. There was blood everywhere. Like someone had loaded it into a hose and decided to wash down the walls. Tools, equipment and debris were tossed everywhere, culminating in the absolutely trashed line of the hunter’s cars.

  Or… they might have once been cars. Now they were tattered messes of bent metal and broken pieces. What had happened?

  Jaelle took another cautious sniff of the air while also trying to focus her hearing. She knew she should turn tail and call the police, but that wasn’t in her nature. Especially if whoever had caused this was the dangerous criminal that the hunters were after.

  Cautiously, she stepped forward, almost sliding in the blood. But she caught my balance and kept her center of gravity as low to earth as she could without full-on squatting.

  She couldn’t quite catch anything, but that didn’t mean that she was alone. She needed to be prepared.

  “I find it peculiar that you haven’t screamed yet.”

  Her blood went cold, chilling her veins in a rush of horror. Looking up, she saw a figure sitting comfortably atop the largest of the hunter’s vehicles. Their form was human, but just barely. Their face was disfigured with different colored furs and they had several rows of pointed teeth in their mouth, making their voice distort and vibrate within their mouth. They had sharp, black claws that were coated with a thick layer of blood.

  They didn’t look like any creature that she had ever seen, which paralyzed her with a type of fear she hadn’t felt in years. She could only gape as their form rippled, taking on massive, leathery wings and elongating its snout.

  “Aberrant,” she breathed, her brain only able to think of the single phrase over and over and over again.

  “What’s this? You know what I am. You must be a Shifter then? Odd, that I couldn’t smell you. Normally, I catch the stench of the lesser shapeShifters over a mile away. It’s part of what makes being chased by these pathetic specimens so fun.” He slid down from his perch, form expanding until he was easily seven feet tall and towering over her. “You certainly look as if you’d be great fun, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to find out all about you like I would prefer. I’m sure you understand.”

  He lunged for her, jaw unhinging like a snake ready to swallow her whole, and she reacted without even thinking.

  Her form shrank instantaneously, letting out pops and cracks as she dove to the side. When the young woman righted herself, she was on four dainty legs and racing across the floor.

  “A cat?” the Aberrant cawed like it was the most hilarious thing on earth. “Of all the poor things to get caught in the room with me, it had to be a little kitty-cat?”

  But she didn’t listen, instead focusing with all her might on an open window above the shelving units in the back. If she could just make it there—

  Something thick and vine like shot past her, nearly wrapping around her furred middle as she made the last jump onto the cabinets. Quickly, she thought of something small, fast and mobile.

  Her body cracked again, sending pain shooting down her feline spine before it rapidly shifted into an avian one. Without a glance backwards, she shot out into freedom.

  Although her bird form seemed to be doing just fine as it gained altitude, her mind was in a tizzy. Any moment she expected the strange beast she had seen to take to the air after her and rip her to itty bitty little pieces. But, as several moments did pass and she was alive, she risked a glance backwards.

  Only to see that no one was after her.

  That was… strange.

  Carefully, she landed, taking on her human form and trying to put together what had just happened.

  She had met face to face with a violent Aberrant and survived. That shouldn’t have been possible, and yet here she was.

  It probably helped that she was one, as well.

  Briefly, Jaelle recalled the time that her mother had sat her down when she was seven and explained why they lived in the middle of Alaska and she wasn’t allowed to go outside.

  As much as the hundreds of clans of shapeShifters seemed to hate each other, there was a couple of things they all agreed on. One of them being that shapeShifters were blessed with a specific form and it was their duty to honor that form to the best of their ability and that form only.

  But once in a while, a mutated sort of Shifter was born, one that could take on the shape of any living creature it interacted with, mixing and matching characteristics as they pleased. It was rumored that the most powerful ones could even shapeshift into other humans, which was considered utter sacrilege.

  Naturally, this kind of unstable power was corrupting. Aberrants were a danger to themselves and others. If they survived their often-traumatic births, they would eventually go insane and kill everyone they could get their shifting hands on. They weren’t flesh-crazed, like Shifters who purposefully ate the flesh of another and were stricken with the wendigo curse, but they had an uncanny need for murder. A lust for blood that was more metaphorical than literal.

  Unfortunately for everyone, there was no way to tell if a Shifter was an Aberrant until they began showing signs sometime during puberty. This often left parents with the heartbreaking burden of delivering the child they loved to their Clan’s council to be peacefully euthanized and cremated, their ashes returned to the waters so that their soul might return in a more whole body.

  As one would imagine, for every parent who was willing to sacrifice their child for the sake of the whole, there was one who was not. They would hide their children, until eventually it was too late, and the illegal Aberrant went on their inevitable killing spree.

&nbs
p; Hence, the creation of the hunters. Sure, they tended to cross-clan criminals and soothed Shifter tensions, but their main creed was to eliminate Aberrants wherever they went.

  She took on the form of a deer, trotting to the forest as quickly as she could. She needed to get to her shack and then get out of dodge as fast as possible.

  Of course, she had been an extra special child and had started showing signs of her Aberrant tendencies at the ripe old age of five. Of course, her mother had instantly taken her away and taught her everything she could about surviving and navigating inter-clan politics. And of course, her mother had died when hunters had tracked them down in Alaska, cornering them in the frozen wastes.

  What could one expect from a fox-Shifter compared to a troupe of specially chosen hunters trained to take down anyone in their path? She had fought valiantly, keeping the men away long enough for Jaelle to hop onto a fisherman’s boat and disappear into the seas. If there was one thing that the young woman regretted more than anything else, it was that she had never gotten to hold her mother’s hand as she died. Hell, she had never even seen her mother’s actual death. Only the fight that she was obviously losing.

  Jaelle wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, it had started her on her long life of running and hiding, and it looked like she needed to do so again.

  She reached her shack at the edge of town and took a cautionary sniff. She couldn’t pick up anything at first, but she shifted into a dog to be sure.

  Her stomach churned at the action. She hadn’t shifted in ages and doing so many forms in rapid succession was wreaking havoc on her systems. She had to be careful. The last thing she wanted to do was pass out or end up stuck between bodies, a strange, unviable combination of traits and organs.

  Still nothing, so she risked taking on her human body and jogging to the door.

  God, how had she gotten so much blood on herself? From her knees down she seemed to be coated in scarlet red that was quickly drying to dirty brown. She had to hurry.

  She burst in through the door, locking it behind her. Grabbing her backpack, she ran to the safe under her bed and yanked it out.