The Aberrants Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Sarah J. Stone

  So when he opened the door, a cautious expression on his face, Jaelle couldn’t help but smile just a bit. For once, she had the upper-hand. And she had every intention of keeping it.

  “Hello there,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him in a coy wave.

  “Why are you here?”

  She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. It was strange. It had been so long since she had to flirt for survival, she had thought she might be a bit rusty. But it was all coming back to her in waves, helping her to slide into the coquettish mindset just as she had when she was younger.

  She supposed it wouldn’t work so well if she didn’t have such a youthful face and short stature. But as far as she could tell, Creed looked surprised, but not put off by her friendly posture and wave.

  “What’s the matter? Am I not welcome here?”

  “Last time we met, you spit in my face. And that was after you led men who want to kill me and every other one of us right to our door. You are a blood traitor. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t rip you to pieces right now?”

  Ouch. Well, he certainly wasn’t pulling any punches. She put on her best apologetic tone and leaned forward in what she hoped was a contrite position. “Look. I know I haven’t been easy to deal with—”

  “You have tried to kill or capture me multiple times.”

  “You locked me in a torture chamber and froze me nearly to the point of blindness.”

  “Touché.” He finally closed the door behind him, crossing to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the interrogation table. “Continue.”

  “Thanks.” She picked her words carefully. This conversation was the equivalent of defusing a bomb. If she did well, she saved the day. But one wrong move and boom, she was dead. “This is going to sound shitty no matter how I say it, but I’ve been on the run my whole life. You know that. I couldn’t have survived this long if I took chances. So, when you told me about your grand plan and offered me a spot at your side, that was just too big of a chance for me to take. I went with the Hunters because, statistically speaking, they were my best chance of living to see another day.”

  His face softened. “I understand you’ve had a… difficult life. I understand such compunctions are difficult to shirk off. But if I believe this, what changed your mind?”

  “The prison, actually. Once I found out what you had done, and what you had planned for this place, I suddenly realized that you weren’t some impossible chance that would get me killed. I mean, sure, you might get me killed, but I couldn’t keep living with only my survival in mind.

  “I’m almost thirty. I need a purpose, more than anything else in my life. I can’t just stand by, hiding, while the rest of my kind are wiped out little by little.” She leaned forward even more, clenching the edge of the table and forcing her eyes to water. “I know I haven’t exactly been trustworthy, so lock me up if you need to. I don’t care. I just knew I couldn’t stand another minute with those Hunters. I had to come find you.”

  He looked skeptical, but not entirely disbelieving. “You know that it would be moronic of me to trust you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I…” A myriad of conflicted emotions crossed his face and it was so easy to forget that he was a cold-blooded killer. “I need to think about this.”

  She nodded, returning to her original position. “I understand. I’m just asking for a chance once I’ve earned it.”

  He stood, turning to the door, and Jaelle thought that was that until he stopped suddenly and looked back to her. “I’ll have the guards put you in a cell. One with… more hospitable conditions than your last accommodations.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate this. I know you have every right to kill me on the spot.”

  “I do,” he murmured. “But what’s the use of building a kingdom on the bones of my own kind?”

  His words stabbed through her much more than she thought they would, and she smiled weakly at him. “Yeah. Murdering each other would be a real shame.”

  If he caught the hitch in her tone, he didn’t let on. Instead, he just turned right back to the door and exited, slamming it behind him.

  Jaelle waited until he was well out of earshot before sighing and sagging in her chair. In the blink of an eye, part two of her plan had come and gone without any slit throats or rabid animals attacking each other. While Creed certainly hadn’t bought her change of heart hook, line, and sinker, he hadn’t been totally unconvinced. If she worked this next part right, she could have him wrapped around her little finger.

  Leaning against the table, she waited for the guards to come retrieve her. This time, it was a different set of four who strode in and beckoned for her to stand in the center of them. They also didn’t fool about with the useless cuff, instead just leading her down the hall and outside, until they were at another building.

  Now, this was a prison building.

  The walls loomed above her, imposing in their concrete and steel. There were no windows to speak of, which seemed like it might be a human rights violation, but then again, there certainly weren’t any humans here. They were approaching a thick set of double doors, and she could see another set of double doors beyond that as the first set opened.

  There was plenty of card swiping, and code punching, and shuffling forward until finally she was in a fairly standard-looking max prison. Well, as standard-looking as a prison could be. Oddly enough, it was the smell of it that hit her first. Although she could only hear a few heartbeats—she guessed survivors of the original guard who had been kept for some reason probably having to do with getting useful information from them—there was still a distinct smell to the place as if it was full.

  Desperation, longing, frustration, the ketones hung in the air like an undeniable incense. It stung at her nostrils and had dread coiling in her belly.

  It wasn’t too much longer before they stopped in front of one of the open cells. True to Creed’s word, it was much nicer than the freezing cell. There was a thick looking cot, a shelf for personal belongings, a mini-toilet and a spare set of blankets and sheets.

  “Swanky,” she muttered before the guards stepped aside to let her walk in. “What, you’re not going to shove me like a no good prisoner?”

  “Orders are not to touch you unless necessary,” one of the men growled. Jaelle took the time to look him over. He was of standard height, with what looked like shaggy black hair peeking out from under his helmet. His eyes were nearly orange in color, which would have been uncanny if not for the slightly pronounced fangs pressing against his lips. Strange for him to be in some sort of vague half-shift while just standing there, but she had heard of the mad or particularly violent taking on attributes of the animals within them as they slowly lost their humanity. “So this is us not touching you,” he finished, never losing eye contact as he swung the cell shut.

  She heard an electronic buzz as soon as the door was fully closed, confirming that it was locked, but the sound was not nearly as intense as it should have been. Wolfsbane again, she guessed, probably mixed into the floor and the bars of her cell. Given long enough, and her senses would dwindle down to human level once again.

  “Have a nice day,” she said to the men, giving them a little wave before walking to her cot and making herself comfortable.

  She listened as the guards cleared off, no doubt going to report to their leader, and once they were truly gone, she allowed herself a long sigh. She had made it through the gates, but there was a very long race ahead of her.

  Chapter Five: Playing the Long Con

  For supposedly being on the precipice of overthrowing the Shifter government, Creed certainly seemed to have a lot of time to kill. Jaelle had a full night’s—or day’s, rather—sleep and then some. When she awoke, there was no one to greet her, nor were there anyone walking the halls. In fact, there was almost a deathly sort of silence that filled the corridor.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected. More moaning, perhaps? The original guards asking her who she was an
d why she was there. Anything, really. But instead, there was nothing.

  It was at least a day before someone came to her with her first meal. By then, her lips were dry and her stomach was rumbling like no tomorrow.

  She wasn’t too upset by the discomfort, however, as it gave her something to focus on. Something to fight. It kept her mind from dwelling on what Bradley was doing, and how he was feeling. Was he still stinging with her abandonment? Did he have an inkling of what she had intended to do? It was hard to say. So that was why she would rather concentrate on the hunger.

  But not so much that she was going to refuse the tray that was slid through the bottom. It looked like a standard sandwich, some sort of boiled vegetable and a hunk of bread. To be honest, she had expected something of a more gruel-like consistency, so she was more than pleased.

  She dug in without reservations, trying her hardest not to scarf down the food like some sort of starving miscreant. Despite her efforts to take it easy, she still finished the meal far too quickly and found herself twiddling her thumbs once again.

  Funny, when she had imagined this whole thing panning out, there had been a whole lot more secrecy, double talk and innuendo. She had never thought that her grand showdown with Creed could be so…boring.

  Was it possible that he had seen through her ruse and was now the one playing her? It would be quite the easy way to get rid of her—pretend to go along with her sudden change of heart and get her willingly into a cage so she was out of the way for the final battle.

  And what if the final battle was already happening? She had been in her cell for at least one day. What if she had had the bad luck of arriving right before the big shindig? The world could be crumbling outside and that’s why it was so silent in her block.

  Thoughts like that plagued her, going round and round without respite. She was sure she was whipping herself up into a needless emotional frenzy, but she needed to do something with all the energy spinning through her.

  Her mind churned constantly as the hours passed, and the more she stewed in her own conspiracy theories, the more certain she was that her plan was utter shit and she had ruined anything. It was right when she was in one of these desperate, negative whirlpools of misery when she heard footsteps down the hall.

  She didn’t need enhanced Shifter senses to know who they belonged to. Wiping her face and straightening up, she tried to make herself look presentable before Creed appeared within view of her cell.

  “I’ve been told that you’ve been behaving yourself,” he said, his face impassive.

  She stood and offered him a sheepish sort of shrug. “Like I said, I’m tired of playing the game. No more using people and only caring about myself. I need to be a part of something bigger, and I can’t think of anything bigger than keeping my species from mass, mandatory murder.”

  “I think I’m beginning to believe you, but that might just be because I want to.”

  She smiled crookedly at him. “Yeah, I can get that. But I’m afraid anything I say might seem like I’m trying to manipulate you.”

  “That is the crux of the matter, isn’t it?”

  “So, what do we do then?” she asked, eyeing him with what she hoped was a mournful expression. “Just stare at each other with suspicion until one of us is dead or worse?”

  “I… I don’t want that,” he answered after a beat. “I’d like to talk to you. For real. In a… different environment, I guess.”

  “What, you want to go for a long walk in the woods or something?” she teased, her heart thundering in her chest. That wasn’t any good. She knew he could hear it and she didn’t want him growing suspicious of her motives. Perhaps he would think it was just her nerves about whether he would believe her or not.

  “Not quite,” he answered with a wry smirk. He handed her a bag that she hadn’t noticed handing by his side. “Try this on. I’ll be back in an hour or so and then we will discuss things further.”

  She took it dubiously, shooting him a curious look. “This isn’t one of those weird movie tropes where you have me dress up and we have dinner over candlelight just before the climatic final battle?” While she had been mostly teasing, she couldn’t help but notice his pupils dilate and the mildest hint of panic cross his face.

  “And if it were?” he asked with an impressive amount of control.

  Crap. She needed to reel this back. She didn’t want him feeling self-conscious. Nervous people had a tendency to observe everything around them with hyper-vigilance while their mind tried to find comfort from the adrenaline.

  “I’d say I was no leading lady.”

  With that, he genuinely smiled and relief rushed through her. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. Be ready by when I return, please. We are on a very tight schedule.”

  She nodded and watched as he walked away. If it weren’t for her seeing the results of his actions directly, she never would have thought he was anything other than a romantic young man with too big of a dream. His charisma was a bit terrifying, but she supposed that was how it often played out with psychopaths.

  She waited until he was completely gone before setting the bag on her cot and unzipping it. Sure enough, as soon as the closure parted, she could see fine fabric inside. She reached in, almost unbelieving of what was in front of her, and pulled out an evening gown that looked like it had been ripped from some action romance or another.

  The violet fabric was soft and smooth to the touch, but still able to hold its structure. The garment clung tightly to her curves, starting with a sweetheart neckline and continuing on to three-quarter length sleeves. The bottom was the only part that flared out, somewhere below her knees in the most beautiful mermaid style.

  She looked over it curiously, but the bag still wasn’t empty. She reached in, and pulled out a pair of eggplant shoes to match. Well… almost match. It was clear that Creed’s color coordination was not nearly as incredible as his scheming. But there was still more.

  Next came a simple gold necklace, little more than a chain with a diamond moon hanging from it. Then there was a brush, perfume, and lotion. It looked like he had really given her the works to beautify herself.

  Well, she certainly didn’t want to disappoint. Grabbing the brush, she took it to her curls and prayed that she could make the thick mess somewhat presentable. In all her time, she never thought her ability to save her kind would rely on her physical appearance.

  *

  Creed returned right on the dot, surprising no one. Jaelle found herself running her hands over her hips, smoothing down the fabric. She could hear him rapidly approaching, his footsteps much more assured than they were last time.

  When he appeared again within her field of view, she noted that he was gussied up, as well. Jaelle’s mouth fell open before she could help herself, and she quickly snapped it shut.

  The young man she had always thought to be rather generic and nondescript certainly looked sharp in a dress shirt and slacks. His hair was slicked back, and his face had been freshly washed. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might have even plucked his eyebrows for her.

  What an honor.

  “You look lovely,” he murmured, making no effort to hide his own appreciative gaze.

  It made her skin crawl, but she did her best to drown out that reaction with faux-confidence. “I do my best,” she answered, walking to the door. “So, are you going to let me out, or are we going to have this discussion with bars between us?”

  “The smart thing to do would be to keep you in there and never let you out.”

  She tilted her head to the side, looking at him through her thick lashes. “And you’re a pretty smart guy, aren’t you Creed?”

  “I used to think so.” Suddenly he had a key in his hand and he was turning it in the lock. She heard a dull, electronic sound, and then it unlocked, allowing him to slide it open. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Well, this is war,” she offered. “Sometimes we have to take risks that we never would otherwise.
”

  “Are you saying you’re a risk?” he countered, taking a step closer to the open door and the barrier of wolfbane.

  “Are you saying you’re not?” she asked without missing a beat, mirroring his step.

  They were just a breath away from each other and it took everything she had to keep her skin from physically crawling away from her. It was such a false show of intimacy, and the closest they had ever been that wasn’t some sort of fight.

  “Lead on,” she managed to whisper without her voice cracking.

  He stepped back, out of the cell, an offered her a hand. She took it, and allowed him to take her out into the hall.

  He said nothing, and they began to walk down the corridor, back the way she had come over a day and a half ago. She wondered if she should be wheedling some sort of honeyed tale, but no words came to mind. Instead, she just listened to anything he might have to say.

  …which was nothing.

  She almost started the conversation several times, but faltered at each try. What could she possibly say? She much preferred playfully retorting to whatever he said than risking starting a new query.

  So, they strolled in silence, out of the prison building and back into the administrative one. She noticed that Creed never needed to open a door himself. There was always a guard to do that for him.

  Curious, for being such a freedom fighter, he certainly was enjoying the high life. It was easy to imagine him taking the road of a tyrant, before some of these murderers and serial killers eventually teamed up to try to take him down. Maybe they would succeed, maybe they wouldn’t. In the end, the world would be in shambles and she supposed it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  Finally, they reached their destination—what looked like a cozy office that had been converted for a fancy date. All the furniture had been removed, and a small, round table had been placed in the center and draped with an off-white tablecloth. Two chairs stood on either side of it, and they didn’t look like anything else she had seen on her short tour of the area. Had… had Creed special ordered something just for this occasion? That was so over the top it seemed absurd, but then again, over the top was Creed’s style.