Scheming Women Seek Revenge, page 1
part #2 of Tales of the Undead & Depraved Series
SCHEMING WOMEN SEEK REVENGE
TALES OF THE UNDEAD & DEPRAVED
ADRIAN J. SMITH
Copyright © 2023 by Adrian J. Smith
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Coverart by MiblArt
CHAPTER 1
Jerry stood on her rock, pushing the tips of her toes into the cold surface. A ship approached on the horizon. Her heart raced. She almost couldn’t believe it. A few ships had flown by, but none had stopped. This one wouldn’t either. Her heart sank. She stood calmly, sure she was right.
It came closer, the blurry lines forming into something solid. Dropping her hand from her forehead, she saw the sleek white lines of a medical vessel come into view. Well, if they were going to be picked up from being marooned, that would be the ship to do it. Still, it didn’t come directly toward them, skirting to the north before veering south.
Are they coming back around?
A blast from the beach shook her in surprise. Jerry clenched her fist and glanced away from the oncoming vessel toward the edge of their little island, trying to see what the noise was. The foliage and trees were too thick to make anything out. Another blast reached her ears.
The ship turned again. Jerry twisted on her toes and followed the flight path as it circled. Every nerve in her body told her this was it. This was their rescue. But they’d been fooled before. And five weeks on an island with no one but her crewmates and a rotting corpse she kept eating to survive, Jerry didn’t want to hope.
“Did you see it?” Sacha panted as she raced up to the rock.
Jerry frowned and faced the young girl. She had aged drastically in their time on the island, her clothes hanging off her form as they struggled to find food enough to survive. Her pale skin was now a leathered tan, and her eyes baggy from lack of proper sleep and care. But they had all perked up when Jerry had killed Damon.
Instead of answering verbally, Jerry just stared at her. Jerry had been oddly cold and calm since she’d killed Damon. Sacha had been the one to form that connection with him in Potelia, and Jerry had struggled not to blame Sacha for Damon’s betrayal that landed them marooned, shipless, and without the drugs that would allow them to survive.
But if this vessel didn’t stop and rescue them, it was very likely Sacha would be next on the menu. Jerry clenched her jaw and raised her chin up again to see the vessel pull hard to starboard. They were still at least a thousand meters off from the island, if not more, but they did seem to be circling.
Skeptical as always, Jerry waited it out. Sacha stepped in close, moving her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as Jerry did. Weren’t they the pair? Jerry stayed still, nearly motionless, as she waited to see what would happen next. The ship maneuvered, circling the island one more time. There wasn’t a third blast, and Jerry was sure Azar had managed to rig something and had run out of materials. It was as good a sign for help as they could manage with zero resources.
The ship slowed. Jerry pursed her lips and rolled her shoulders, attempting to figure out what they were doing. They were certainly acting oddly. She’d never seen a ship circle around like this and not either stop or just move on. Eventually, Yafe climbed her way up to the rock.
“Do you think they’ll stop?” Yafe asked, a tremor in her voice, but those dark eyes that matched her skin didn’t turn on their leader.
Again, Jerry didn’t want to answer. She was tired of being the person who had to dash hopes, the person who had to make decisions, and the person everyone relied on. She needed a break. Five weeks stuck on an island because of a decision she made based on information she was given was enough punishment. Wasn’t it?
She could only hope this vessel rescuing them didn’t contain members of the authorities, who would only wrap their arms in ropes and march them straight to Joab. Swallowing hard, Jerry looked on as the ship slowed and moved straight toward them.
“They’re coming,” Yafe whispered.
Sacha let out a whoop before she jumped off the top part of the rock and climbed her way down as fast as possible. Yafe threw her arms around Jerry’s shoulders and pulled her in tight for a hug. Except Jerry didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want anyone to touch her. She remained stiff, but Yafe didn’t seem to notice.
Stepping back, Yafe skittered down the side of the rock, too. Jerry stayed put, watching the sleek curved lines of the ship as it flew in closer to their little island, the one Jerry had known she wouldn’t get off. And hope fluttered in the center of her chest. She had to stop it. Even with a ship coming directly for them, it could still mean certain death.
She stayed there until the ship settled, hovering over the waters with her port side pulled up to the beach. Below, the others shouted their excitement. Still, she couldn’t make herself move. Frozen to her spot, Jerry waited to see who would die first, which one of her team she would have to eat next.
Time became lost to her, and the voice behind her was startling.
“Yafe said I could find you here.”
That voice—it was so pure, so perfect. But usually it was something in Jerry’s imagination. She wasn’t sure she wanted to turn around and find once again that the voice was an apparition instead of the woman.
“Jer.” She breathed Jerry’s name as though it were a prayer. “Are you all right?”
Jerry still didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to face what had happened, who she was now, what she had done—not just what she’d done in Potelia, that was nothing—but what she’d done to Damon.
The hand on her shoulder was gentle but also persistent. Unlike when Yafe had hugged her, this touch was hesitant. They weren’t supposed to touch without express permission. That was one of the rules of their planet, something created by the aristocrats to protect women. Jerry’s lips twitched at the thought. Yafe rarely asked for permission anymore and certainly not since they’d been stranded there. But this woman, she wasn’t like the others.
Finally, Jerry turned slowly. Her gaze started at the rock, at the pointed black boots peeking out from the bustle of skirts Jerry abhorred to wear but loved on this woman. A lump caught in her throat as she followed the lines of the fabric, the rustles, the embroidery that formed stories in gold thread of mermaids and women that Jerry had never taken the time to notice before.
The corset was tight, and no doubt suffocating in the heat of the day on their little island. If she’d known this woman were real and not her imagination, Jerry would strip it from her in seconds, ease that discomfort, all the while touching every inch of skin reverently. She would press kisses so delicately that she wouldn’t leave a mark except raised goosebumps.
“Jer,” her voice was lower, firmer this time. “You’re worrying me.”
She should be worried. Jerry had been without her for far too long, and the last five weeks had been so trying that she was imagining ships and her standing right in front of her. Hands on Jerry’s cheeks raised her gaze to the face staring intently at her, to the plump lower lip and thin upper lip, to the age lines around her eyes and mouth, those steel-blue eyes that were typically full of passion and energy. Now all Jerry found in them was deep concern. Well, she should be concerned. Jerry was hallucinating.
Her curls trailed over her shoulders, the wild mass of them unconfined for the first time ever since Jerry had met her. Lifting her hand, Jerry pushed them over her shoulder and followed the move with her gaze.
“Jeraldine Adelric.”
That snapped Jerry to attention. She looked directly into those eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why are you here?” Jerry asked, letting her hand fall onto her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here to bring you home.”
“Impossible.”
“No, Jerry. I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”
A hand cupped Jerry’s cheek, bringing them closer. In one breath, their lips touched. Clenching her eyes shut tight, Jerry held on to the sensation of being pressed so close together. She gripped the woman’s hands, breathed her scent, and finally her brain caught up with her heart.
“Arloa,” she breathed out, closing her eyes and bending to press their foreheads together. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“This is exactly where I’m meant to be.”
Arloa carefully led Jerry off the rock. Jerry stepped around the far side, following the more traveled path toward the beach where she’d seen the ship set down. By walking that way, they avoided what was left of Damon’s body, shoved against the part of the island that was shaded the most throughout the day, the part where his flesh wouldn’t rot as quickly.
Their fingers were curled together as they walked out of the brush and onto the sandy beach—a beach that Jerry wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forget. The ship hovered off the island, the door open to allow them in. A rope ladder hung from the edge of the cargo door, the only way to climb up since there was no dock or place for the ship to set down.
“I’ve got a healer on board,” Arloa murmured as she grasped the end of the rope ladder.
“Maisie?”
Arloa smiled, as though she were happy that Jerry remembered the healer she’d paid to fix Jerry up one night. “Yes. I’m surprised you remember her.”
“She
That had been the burning question on her mind for five weeks. She had wondered and dreamed of her vessel, wanting to know how mistreated she was at the hands of Captain Blaise Lotchski.
“We’ll figure that out as soon as we can. First we need to get you well.”
“Well?” Frowning, Jerry helped Arloa up the first two rungs of the rope ladder, making sure it was steady as she climbed by putting her boot over the bottom rung so it sat firmly in the sand. “I’m not unwell, Arloa.”
“We’ll let Maisie determine that.”
“I’m not,” Jerry argued.
Arloa stopped her ascent and glanced over her shoulder and down at Jerry. “Like I said, we’ll let Maisie decide.”
Frowning, Jerry held the ladder firmly as Arloa climbed to the ship. She put her foot on the second rung, about to climb, when the stupid thought occurred to her that she didn’t have to leave if she didn’t want to. She could very well choose to remain there. But when she looked up into Arloa’s steel-blue eyes, Jerry knew exactly which decision she would make. Because truthfully, she didn’t have one. Anything Arloa wanted her to do, she would.
They were already flying away by the time Jerry managed to get belowdecks. The ice-cold air from the ventilation system hit her skin like a knife. It hurt her to stay there, but she gritted her teeth through it because she knew she had to. Arloa led her down three decks to a large room filled with what were clearly Arloa’s things.
“Sit on the bed,” Arloa commanded her.
Jerry did as she was told. Arloa got onto her knees and pulled at the leather laces to Jerry’s boots. Jerry wasn’t sure she wanted Arloa to see her naked, not in this form, but she also wasn’t sure she was going to have a choice. Sand fell from everywhere, landing on the floor, the bed, Arloa’s perfectly embroidered dress.
“You should let me do that,” Jerry interrupted, her voice low. “Why do I have to change anyway?”
“You stink,” Arloa stated simply. “You need a bath.”
The way she said it was so insulting. But Jerry couldn’t fault her. It wasn’t like they had a proper washroom on the island.
“I’ll have Maisie come in here first.”
Jerry undid the ties on her tunic so the fabric was loose at her chest. She didn’t miss the second glance Arloa gave her, but she couldn’t tell if it was out of concern or curiosity or arousal. Pushing the pieces to the side, Jerry stripped naked. Arloa handed over a nightdress and Jerry donned it, albeit reluctantly. She stayed seated on the edge of the cot while Arloa took Jerry’s clothes and left the room, the door shutting with a quiet snick.
She hadn’t seen anyone from her crew since she’d come aboard, but she expected they were getting the same treatment she was, stripping down and being cared for by the healer, not that there was much to heal. They hadn’t been harmed when they were left on the island, and it wasn’t like they’d been injured much during their exile. Jerry was probably the worst, since she’d gotten into a scuffle with Damon.
The cold air hadn’t eased up yet. Jerry’s nipples were hard little points, and she bent forward slightly to get the fabric of the nightdress off them so it would hurt less—hopefully.
Arloa returned, sitting next to Jerry and not quite touching her. “What happened?”
“You mean how were we marooned on an island without my ship?” Jerry’s tone was sharp, an air of sarcasm in it.
“Well, yes,” Arloa murmured softly. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever find you, not to mention find you alive.”
Jerry sighed. “The pirate was pirated. My heist was heisted. Someone turned on me—I’m not entirely sure who or if there was more than one person, but when we left Potelia, we were tracked and boarded and left here to die.”
Arloa frowned. “Why wouldn’t he just kill you?”
“Because he’s a sadistic fucker,” Jerry flippantly answered. “I don’t know. I don’t understand him. I’d never met him before he boarded us.”
“You don’t think there’s something else going on?”
“Pirates live and breathe these seas, Arloa. I know you don’t experience that from your hilltop, but I do. It’s not uncommon to be boarded and to have your livelihood stolen from you. I will get Yarrow back. I promise you that.”
Sighing, Arloa reached out and touched Jerry’s hand. She nearly jumped at the contact, but managed to hold it in so Arloa didn’t notice.
“I do appreciate your coming to find us, and I will repay you.”
“I sent you out there,” Arloa hissed. “I sent you on this quest.”
“And we found what we were looking for.” Jerry’s eyes widened as she made eye contact. “We found it. We had it. It wasn’t as good as vestigen, but it was there, and I will find it again because the alternative…” Jerry trailed off.
Arloa sent her a confused look.
“Forget it. Where’s that healer?”
“Jer, what were you going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jerry pressed her lips hard together, not wanting to confess what they had all done to survive while they were stranded. Arloa would think of her differently, and there would be no rectifying that.
Arloa’s palm on her thigh stilled her. When Jerry faced her, those steel-blue eyes were full of compassion. Jerry was about to confess everything when there was a knock on the door to the cabin. Releasing a breath of tension, Jerry kept her gaze on Arloa as she stood to answer.
“That’ll be Maisie,” Arloa stated firmly as she walked swiftly.
Jerry wasn’t sure she’d ever been on a vessel as rich as this one. The linens under her were clean and pressed, tucked neatly into the cot. In Yarrow they didn’t even have linens. They slept on wooden cots. Her heart raced as Maisie stepped into the cabin, the door shutting behind her. Maisie had healed Jerry once before, taking a heavy sum of credits from Arloa to do it. She couldn’t imagine what Arloa was paying her this time around.
“Do you mind?” Maisie asked, indicating the cot.
Jerry shook her head as her only answer. Having lived in relative silence for the last five weeks, being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. All she wanted was to curl up on the cot and listen to the wind as they moved across the sea.
“You have a bite wound that’s infected.”
Snapping her gaze to Arloa’s eyes, Jerry ground her molars. She had forgotten about that. Damon had bit her before she’d killed him, ripping her skin in his blood-crazed state. Maisie put one hand delicately on Jerry’s neck, warmth seeping from the touch and into Jerry’s body as her magic worked. Healers were rare on Penum, and rarer still was finding a healer who was willing to work on unsightly creatures like Jerry.
Maisie went through the rest of Jerry’s body, healing small scratches here and there, the broken ribs that weren’t fully mended yet, the strain on her muscles. The healing was precise, quick, and more than Jerry had ever expected when being rescued.
As Maisie left, Arloa shut the cabin door and leaned against it. “Would you like me to stay?”
“No,” Jerry muttered, staring at the deck just in front of Arloa’s feet. “Leave me.”
“I’ll have clothes brought to you and your crew so you have something to wear.”
“Thank you.” Jerry appreciated the gesture even if it seemed slightly empty. She said nothing else as she let silence fill the cabin and Arloa finally left. Cast into the quiet, Jerry did the only thing she could think of. She stumbled to the washroom to clean herself.
CHAPTER 2
At midday Jerry made her way topside. The medical vessel didn’t move as swiftly as Yarrow, which was unsurprising considering it wasn’t built for speed. She leaned over the railing with her hands folded in front of her and closed her eyes as her chin dipped down.
Arloa hadn’t come to find her again. Even though it had been an entire day since their rescue, Jerry still struggled to believe that they were no longer on the island, that they weren’t going to die there. Yafe stepped up next to her, mimicking her position and letting out a long sigh.
