Stranger Series Box Set

by Heather C. Myers

  The sun was starting to set as Jane made her way to the Ignis Dorm. It was quiet with everyone being gone for the holidays, and she could hear the grass rub against each other in the soft breeze. It was almost … eerie. The fields usually had handfuls of students, talking, reading, studying, or participating in some form of physical activity.

  Suddenly, the hairs on her neck stood up at attention. Something felt off, something felt wrong. And she wished she hadn’t left the safety of Depogare’s flat quite so fast. She didn’t feel safe and she couldn’t explain why.

  Before she could blink, before she could breathe, a high-pitched roar pierced the night and she was shoved with such force, she fell forward. She didn’t remember screaming, but she must have. Her face smashed in the grass, and dirt stained her clothes and crept into her mouth. Something was holding her down, something was on her back holding her down. Alive, heavy, something with claws. It tore through her clothes, down her back, ripping her skin wide open so she bled freely and fast.

  The monster, the thing, whatever it was suddenly leapt off of her and dashed away. Jane could hear the footsteps in the grass.

  The last thought she had before the pain caused her to fall into unconsciousness was that she hoped she had screamed. She hoped somebody knew something had happened to her.

  7

  It was a dreary, overcast morning when Sophie woke up, perfectly reflecting her current mood. Everything that she said, everything that Will said, everything they had done played in her mind as she lay in her bed, not yet ready to get up but too awake to fall back asleep. She wanted more than anything to be with Will, regardless of Jason, regardless of what was wrong or right. Will made her feel something no other person had ever made her feel before: safe. He made her feel safe. Jason was fun and sweet and caring. She knew she could count on him and that he sincerely cared about her. But no matter how she tried, no matter the fact that it would be much easier being with him than with Will, she couldn't force herself to feel something she couldn't.

  A knock on her door—a gentle tap, really, to see if she was even awake rather than to come into her room—caused her thoughts to quiet.

  "Yeah?" she croaked, her voice still laced with sleep.

  Her eyes glanced to her window. It was dark out, but that didn't mean it was still night. She wondered what time it was for Will to knock on her door. She wondered if he was having trouble sleeping as well.

  "Kid, just because it's Christmas break doesn't mean we stop training," he told her, his voice more gravelly than normal due to just how early it was. He was probably as tired as she was. "Come on, I'll make breakfast and we can go running. I'll take you to my favorite trail for a run."

  She groaned, and she could swear she heard him chuckle as his big motorcycle boots clomped away to the kitchen. Rolling her sapphire eyes, she stretched and proceeded to get out of bed and ready for the day. She hated running more than anything, even though she was getting faster and her stamina was improving. However, maybe it would be different out here in Washington. At least there'd be some scenery to distract herself with, especially if Will wore those dark grey sweatpants that made his butt look scrumptious.

  By the time she emerged from her room in yoga pants and a boyfriend shirt, Will had two bowls of steaming hot oatmeal on his small kitchen table ready for them. She plopped down in her chair, not even bothering to conceal a big yawn, and started piling raisins, brown sugar, and half-and-half in her bowl.

  "You keep filling up on garbage like that, you're going to puke five minutes in,” Will commented through a bite of his food.

  "You think we'll be running for more than five minutes?" she asked him, though her tone indicated that she knew better.

  "Like you could run for five minutes," Will said, in a droll tone. The snark was not becoming, in her opinion, however true it might be.

  She shot him a look but chose not to comment. Instead, she ate the hot meal Will cooked for her slowly. It was more delicious than she was willing to let on, and instead of eating it in under five minutes like she normally would when it came to good food, she forced herself to eat it slow. She had thrown up while running before, and it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat anytime soon.

  When she finished, she attempted to throw her hair up in its usual messy ponytail, but Will caught her wrist, preventing her. Sophie was about to argue, but the expression on his face silenced her and she swallowed the words she had instantly forgotten. Instead, her sapphire eyes focused on Will as he stepped behind her and started to pull her hair up himself. Her whole body stood erect, and she was afraid to move lest it shatter the moment between the two of them.

  Since she wasn't in his line of vision anymore, she closed her eyes and simply felt him. His hands were so big and he tugged on the delicate red strands harder than he realized. Sophie winced once or twice as he tied the elastic around her hair, but the thought of him doing something so intimate, so romantic, caused her to pause. It warmed her heart, truth be told, and she couldn't stop a small smile from curving her lips upward.

  When he finished, he rested his hands on her shoulders. She could feel how tense he was, and though he tried to mask it with a firm grip, she knew it was still there, could feel it in his fingers. Then, before she even realized it, he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the skin where her neck met her shoulder, and she gasped, not only in surprise but in pleasure. His lips were soft with just enough texture to be considered masculine, and the flick of his tongue was both teasing and territorial. Her cheeks flushed suddenly at the numerous feelings he was giving her, and she had to clear her throat to shatter the moment. Perhaps she would unload the contents of her breakfast right here on the wooden floor of Will's cabin instead of running. Maybe it would get her out of running.

  Or not. Will would probably make her run anyway.

  "Let's go." His voice came out in a growl, but she could swear she detected a slight tremor in his voice.

  "Yes, sir," she muttered, more to herself than to him. That, and she needed to get more comfortable in the moment, needed to blanket herself in sarcasm in order to remind herself that she was technically still with Jason, and that she was the reason she and Will weren't together.

  By the time they left the cabin, dawn was peeking through the tall trees. It was too cold for Sophie's liking, and she was forced into a sprint of she wanted to warm up. Will laughed to himself and she flipped him off.

  It was quiet except for the patter of their tennis shoes hitting the gravel. Not even the animals were awake. The silence was deafening and made Sophie's thoughts come out in a tumble of shouts and yells. Her heartbeat echoed in her ear and she zeroed her eyes in on Will in order to keep her focus. There was pure, white snow dispersed on the tips of the mountains, but though it was late December, it wasn't quite cold enough for snow. The lake was nearly frozen, however, and the mist was thick. Tourists were only here for the skiing and snowboarding. Other than that, they were tucked safely in their warm beds. Her eyes narrowed on Will at the thought. It was almost Christmas and he was making her run.

  Bastard.

  "So tell me about you, kid."

  His voice was the first sound the dawn heard, and it echoed off the mountains, coming out like a shout rather than the subtle growl it really was.

  "Well, there's nothing much to say," Sophie murmured, trying to keep her voice low so she wouldn't have to hear it so loudly. "I'm from Southern California but ended up here."

  "And how did that happen?"

  "Walked, mostly."

  Will shot her a look over his shoulder and Sophie laughed.

  "Okay, okay.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed. She didn't like talking about herself much. "I'm originally from Southern California, a place called Tustin. I ended up in Tahoe, which is where you and Ethan found me."

  "Kid, I'd really appreciate it if you could cut the crap for about, oh, two seconds. I'm being serious. I want to know about you." He eased himself into a walk and Sophie
followed suit. "We can even walk the rest of the way so you can catch your breath while you talk. I know how hard it is for you to multitask." He gave her a grin and she couldn't help but smile in return.

  "Why do you …" She stopped herself from finishing, her body tense at the prospect of sharing her past with someone, especially Will.

  "Hey," he placed his hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her, "I care about you. I want to know about you."

  She felt herself flush at his honesty, and she nodded, trying to find the right words to tell him about her.

  "Okay." She took a breath. "My name is Sophie Harper. I'm named after my maternal grandmother, who died the day I was born. Even though I never met her and my mom barely ever talked about her, I feel this weird bond with her." She paused. "Although, if I'm being honest, I haven't thought about her that much lately."

  Will raised a brow. "Why?" The word wasn't accusing or judgmental. It simply indicated that he was interested in her and genuinely wanted to know why.

  "I ..." She blinked. "I don't know. I used to think of her a lot when I still lived with my parents and when I was on my own. I guess once I found a home, I didn't need to constantly remind myself that someone on this planet cared about me because, well ... I belonged. Despite the fact that I was nervous as hell and didn't know anybody and worried that Ethan would change his mind about having me and kick me out of the academy, it was the one place I could call home and mean it." Her eyes flashed to Will's, and she didn't have to say what she was thinking: A lot of that has to do with you and the way you make me feel.

  "You're parents ..."

  Even she could detect how cautious he was being, tiptoeing around her like he might on a sheet of ice covering a lake. It wasn't like him and it pulled her guard back up. This was why she didn't like talking about herself. This was why nobody really knew her. They treated her differently, like she was some delicate porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. A fragile thing that needed protection from the world.

  But that wasn't the case at all.

  Her parents made her into the person, the woman, she was today. As much as she wanted to pity herself—and on her bad days, she did—she knew life wouldn't be the same if they behaved differently in that moment. She would never really know what she was. She wouldn't be at an amazing school, wouldn't have close friends, wouldn't be walking next to Will, the first guy she was close to falling head over heels for. She was grateful for what her parents did, though at the time, they broke her heart into a million pieces, letting her go like a paper bag flying on the wind.

  "They didn't understand." She didn't realize she had been tearing up until she heard herself speak. Her voice was softer than usual. Serious. "What I was, I mean."

  She hastily tried to wipe her eyes, but couldn't do it fast enough. Will stopped walking beside her, but when he noticed what Sophie was doing, the look on his face didn't change. He still had that stoic stare, the one she couldn't decipher. The one she couldn't see through. If anything, she was glad. She needed the frustrating Will she knew more than one who would feel sorry for her. She needed normalcy right now, more than anything.

  "I lifted a car to get a Barbie on my driveway," Sophie continued. She stopped walking when Will had, so they remained in the middle of the empty street, watching a cold sunrise and talking about the past. It might have been romantic in a different context. "I was in broad daylight, in our suburban neighborhood. Kids were playing and riding bikes, dads were mowing lawns while moms gossiped over picket fences. There was a teenage girl who walked everyone's dog around the neighborhood for ten bucks each; she was there, too. I remember the dogs wagging their tails ..."

  It was odd how clear the memory was, straight out of a movie she watched every day.

  "I couldn't have been older than five. I don't remember that part. But I remember the creak of the station wagon as I raised it, and then, it was quiet. Even the birds stopped tweeting to see. Everyone stared. One woman—an overly dramatic housewife who lived vicariously through reality television—fainted. I didn't even realize everyone was staring at me until my mom yanked me inside. Nearly caused me to crush myself with the car.

  "See, the thing is, I didn't even realize I had done anything wrong. I didn't register the fact that I wasn't supposed to be able to lift up a car, that something like that was impossible. The movement came so naturally, I thought it was more of a talent, like singing or dancing. That's what hurt me the most. How could something I was born with, something I physically can't change about myself, make me unlovable? How could they have given up on me? I was only a kid."

  And just like that, the tears came. It wasn't anything she could stop, even if she wanted to. It crept up on her like a shadow in the sunlight, and it wasn't until the tears fell down her face once more that she realized she was crying again.

  This time, Will did hold her. Wrapped up in his strong arms, Sophie felt warm and safe. It made her cry even harder, as if she were both herself and that scared four-year-old girl.

  "It's okay," he murmured in her hair. "You're okay now."

  She felt herself nod, and then the tears subsided until ...

  She took a step back, looked up at him, and tilted her head up. Her lips brushed his, as soft as a snowflake landing on snow.

  It wasn't much. But it was enough.

  8

  He couldn't explain how he heard her scream, but he did. It was as though Daryl was honed in on Jane, like two opposite charges holding on to the same magnetic field. He couldn't separate himself from her if he tried. Truth be told, he didn't want to. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he, like she, was a quis. They could both read thoughts and move things with their minds. It was a rarity in the world, and yet, the Academy for Peculiars housed three of them at one time.

  A miracle, if there was such a thing.

  Daryl pressed his lips together as he ran out of his flat, down the five-floor staircase and into the night. Maybe she was allowing her emotions to get the best of her, and she had fainted because she couldn't handle it. He had no idea what it would be like if she fainted twice in one day; certainly not good. It had never happened before, at least not to him, and he would have no idea what to do.

  Daryl didn't like not knowing what to do.

  But it couldn't be that. She wouldn't be able to scream, if that were the case. When she fainted, she fainted, and that was all there was to it. No sound. Not even a squeak. Jane Cabot was the daintiest fainter he knew, though not the most graceful, and he was certain she would not like to hear that about herself.

  For her to scream, it must mean something bad had happened. To her.

  It only pushed him harder, out in the field. He had heard it somewhere out here ...

  And then, he saw her. Well, he saw her crumpled body fifty yards in front of him, and he hurried over to her.

  The smell of her blood penetrating the air almost stopped him in his tracks. It was so rich, he could taste the metallic vibrations in his mouth. Daryl was not one to get sick, but the sight of her, mangled, skin ripped open in one fluid manner, he nearly heaved up his early dinner. Not because of the sight. Not because of the smell. But because of her.

  "Jane." His voice was raw, throaty. It always sounded more Southern than it really was when he spoke like this. "Jane." He dropped to his knees, trying to compose himself, but it was so hard when she looked so ...

  He couldn't even put a word to it. She appeared still, as still as his heart was right now. Pursing his lips together, he tried to think. He needed to think! This wasn't like him. Normally, he was in control. Normally, he knew exactly what needed to be done and could execute it without letting emotions get involved. There was a reason why collectors came to him instead of his brother after their parents died; he was reliable, direct, and strong. Now, however, he didn't even remember how to speak.

  When it was clear he wasn't going to get a response by calling her name, he made the decision to take her to Gregory Kessler. The only problem
was, he didn't think he should move her. His midnight blue eyes descended on her once more, and he physically winced. She must have suffered so much pain that in order to protect herself, her body slipped into unconsciousness. From what he could see, he noticed three distinct marks moving vertically down her back, like some large beast scratched her from behind. Her back was ripped open, blood seeping everywhere. Daryl needed to act or she'd bleed to death—if she hadn't already.

  Maybe he couldn't pick her up and transport her, but he could move her. Without a second thought, he focused on Jane with the back of his mind and picked her up with sheer force alone. Her figure didn't move as it was lifted off the floor. He could swear he saw a flutter of a pulse, but besides that, it was as though she was a marble statue in a Roman museum, lifelike but still.

  It didn't take him long to reach the doctor. He didn't even think twice when he noticed one of his Aqua students, Brielle, with Kessler after hours. Daryl knew she was getting volunteer hours for her upcoming graduation, and at the moment, he didn't care how she received those hours or with whom just as long as she was able to help.

  "Get alcohol, gauze, and a clean wash cloth," Kessler barked the moment he noticed Daryl and Jane's floating body walk through the medical room.

  Brielle snapped at attention. She must have been used to his brusque tone or else she might have taken it personally. Kessler was known for two things: his prickly attitude and his medical prowess. Daryl didn't particularly care if his bedside manner was lacking just as long as he fixed her. He had to fix her.

  "Set her on the exam room table." The paper was already in place, though Daryl was certain the cushioned exam table would have to be replaced once he finished with Jane. "Did you touch her?"