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Shattered Omega Murder and Mayhem
Omegaverse 1st Edition Cassie Lein
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Run, Omega, Run (Choose Me Omegaverse Book 2) 1st Edition R.A. Alyse
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law, or for the use of brief quotations in a review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and events are either used in a fictitious manner or a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book takes place in the fictional Murder and Mayhem Omegaverse world created by Cassie Lein and Bre Rose. While some terms are common to omegaverse in general, all the terms specific to the Murder and Mayhem Omegaverse world are the sole property of Cassie Lein and Bre Rose.
Editing
by Shayna Turpin
Ebook formatting by Bre Rose
Ebook Cover and Wrap by Haelah Rice
Contents
What is Omegaverse
Glossary of Terms
Author Note and Content Warnings
Dedication
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
51. Chapter 51
52. Chapter 52
53. Chapter 53
54. Chapter 54
55. Chapter 55
56. Chapter 56
57. Chapter 57
58. Chapter 58
59. Chapter 59
60. Chapter 60
61. Chapter 61
Murder and Mayhem Omegaverse World
Acknowledgements
About Bre Rose
Also By Bre Rose
About Cassie Lein
Also By Cassie Lein
What is Omegaverse
In this omegaverse world humans have a designation and hierarchy based on their biology. THEY ARE NOT SHIFTERS. You are either an alpha, beta, or omega. Your designation reveals when you turn thirteen almost like a puberty. If you reveal at thirteen as an omega you will not have your first heat until you are eighteen.
Alphas are usually aggressive and dominant. They also USUALLY have a more high profile job. Alphas have a fleshy bump that wraps around their penis that is called a knot. It allows them to lock into place when they’re having sex. While an omega is “made” to take a knot with practice another alpha or beta can take it as well. Female alphas have a lock inside their vagina that tightens around the penis and also locks them in place.
Betas are every day humans/workers. Their scent is not as strong as an alpha or omega. They’re the peacekeeper, the levelheaded of the group.
Omegas are usually soft and gentle. They don’t normally work instead stay home or hold lower ranking jobs. Their scent are super arousing to alphas and betas. Omegas who never get a pack or reject having a pack are called rogues. Nothing good or bad about it just what they're called.
Every month like a period, omegas go through a heat, they’re the most fertile and ‘horny’ during this time. They need a lot of sex and will last 7-10 days. Usually heats happen in an omega’s nest that their pack has provided for them. If they don’t have a pack or are unbonded during their heat they can ride it out alone which is super uncomfortable almost torturous, find a pack to help them out which also comes with risk that they could be ARCANE marked when they’re lost to the heat. They can go to HeatWave and ask for a heat helper (a call alpha if you will for a heat). It’s monitored by a beta at HeatWave to make sure there is no marking.
Glossary of Terms
This book is part of the Murder & Mayhem Omegaverse World. As such there are certain terms used to represent things that are exclusive to this world. Their definitions are below.
Kismet Bond: A scent match bond. It is the strongest bond and is in the shape of teeth and shimmery opal in color
Arcane Bond: A rape bite. It is illegal and immoral. Not super strong but the biter does have power over the bite. Teeth shaped
mark that is murky, veiny black
Belle Bond: A beta to beta bond. Strong. Teeth shaped bite that is mint green in color.
Luminary Bond: Chosen bond. Second in strength to Kismet.
Teeth shaped but and dull gold in color.
If you find your Kismet bond and reject them there will NOT be another.
If you have already met your Luminary bond and THEN meet your Kismet you can bond with both, but you’d have two sets of bites.
Author Note and Content Warnings
If you’re looking for a sweet omegaverse, then this isn’t the book for you.
Our book is a deliciously dark omegaverse with a Cinderella retelling. Who doesn’t love that right!
Our story takes place in the Murder and Mayhem Omegaverse World and a glossary of terms specific to our world has been provided to you along with how our world works.
Our book is full of triggers and we will try to list them all. Please note that what may be a trigger for one person may not be for another (Cassie and I have none: We must be dead inside).
If a trigger is overlooked please reach out to Cassie Lein or Bre Rose so that we may update it. That also goes for any errors in the book. We are human and even with alpha/beta/arc and Editing they can slip by. We just ask that you contact us so that we can correct without impacting the reading of our story for others.
Cassieleinauthor@gmail.com or breroseauthor@gmail.com
Also please feel free to drop into our email or send us a message on Facebook/Instagram if you want to tell us what you think about the story. We love getting feedback from our readers. It’s what tells us we’re giving you what you want.
Now without further adieu let’s get to those triggers!
Mental and physical abuse by a stepparent/stepsibling
Mention of cannibalism but not on page Body shaming
Torture
Death/Murder
Blood
Kidnapping
False Identity
Intention of Rape
Attempted forced bonding
SA
Selling of Omegas
Self Harm
Suicidal thoughts/Attempted Suicide
Rape/Sexual Violence mentioned (NOT FMC or the HAREM)
Forced Captivity
Forced Servitude
Body Mutilation
Noncon Piercing
Power Abuse
Forced Starvation
Non Consensual Filming
DVP
DP
Violence
BlackMail
Non Consensual Pornograpy
Age Gap within Harem
Parental Death off page
If all these appealed to you happy reading. If you would still like to read the story but want to know where some of these triggers occur so that you may avoid them please reach out to us.
Your health and well being are important to us. Please do not read if any of these are triggering for you. If you would like to read another one of our stories with less triggers please contact us.
Happy reading for all those who proceed!
-Cassie and Bre -
Chapter 1
Wren
Iturn up my nose at the wretched girl as she shuffles back to the kitchen to redo the household tasks after doing a half-ass job this morning. Had I known when I wed her father that he would leave me widowed and the guardian of his child, I would’ve rethought the marriage, seeking someone childless instead, so my sweet Lynnie was the center of attention as she should be.
Truth be told, I only did it to find my precious Lynnie a mate. She should’ve been an omega and mated to the strongest, wealthiest pack of alphas; instead, she inherited the beta gene. It wasn’t fair that Nadia was an omega and my Lynnie wasn’t.
While my Lynnie was the perfect blend of beauty and class, Nadia was a fat pig that wouldn’t know a prized jewel from a knockoff. She has nothing to offer a pack other than being able to breed more overweight children.
It’s the main reason we never let Nadia step foot off the property. She was an embarrassment, and I didn’t want anyone to associate my preciousdaughter with her. The fewer people who knew about her , thebetter . Shepresentedasanomegashortlybeforeherfather
The only people that know are the groundskeepers. They know to keep their mouths shut if they want to stay employed, and let’s just say, at their age, they’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else who would hire them.
If they were the only ones we had to worry about, there would be no problem. But their mouthy-ass granddaughter, who came into their care when her parents were killed by the Xanthalara virus, is an issue. The virus was deadly and wiped out a large percentage of the population before a cure was found. Nadia’s father was one of those to fall victim to it. Too bad Nadia wasn’t.
The orphaned brat became quick friends with Nadia, filling her head with wild visions of being an omega to her very own pack one day. Nadia hung on to every word and often spoke of it, rubbing it in my poor Lynnie’s face. It’s one of the reasons I’m so hard on Nadia now, keeping her hidden away from everyone. We don’t need Sasha influencing her to rebel against my control in any way.
Stepping over to the table, the gold-foiled envelope mixed with the stack of bills catches my attention, and I quickly drop the rest of the mail to the floor, holding only it. My heart races as my fingers slide over the emblem of the Skarlanthan Pack on the front of it.
I open it quickly and pull out the invitation to Skarlanthan's Annual Omega Charity Auction to benefit unmated omegas. Normally, I wouldn’t give it a second glance, charity—schmarity. No one is out there raising money for me; where were they when my mate died?
But their pack has the most eligible and desired alphas, as well as the lone beta. It’s been rumored they might actually participate in the auction themselves this year. They have yet to choose a new omega since the untimely death of their first. Maybe they’ll consider taking a female beta into their pack versus an omega.
My Lynnie would be a perfect mate for them!
I scan the list of packs participating this year, bypassing all the others listed until—BINGO, I find the Skarlanthans. A plan begins to form, and I rush to my bedroom. Opening my safe, I count all the cash I’ve stashed inside.
One thing I can say about my dearly departed alpha is that he invested his money well. It's why I’ve been able to maintain the lifestyle I grew accustomed to. His money makes the annoyance of losing him more bearable. But those funds are dwindling after all the years that have passed since his death. I swore the day he found me working the front desk of the hotel that I’d never return to a menial job again. A mating between my Lynnie and this pack will ensure that.
I relish in that vision. I’ll need to be the highest bidder, so I need to ensure I’ll have enough money and someone on the inside to help me. But I only have so much cash on hand, the rest is tied up in stocks.
Then it hits me. There’s enough jewelry, art, and rare coins in the house that would bring a tidy sum of money if I were to pawn or sell it. That would afford me the ability to bid on an alpha for a new future for me and my daughter, Lynnie.
For the next three days, I make trips to the local pawn shop, liquidating what assets I can so that I can ensure my bid for an alpha will be the highest. From the list, I see that Clay Alexander will be the alpha auctioned off, representing the Skarlanthan Pack.
The night of the auction, I make sure to wear my finest gown and safely stow the cashier’s checks in my little black purse. Stepping inside the building, I’m not surprised to see it's already crowded; they’ve got to be close to fire code capacity. It wouldn’t surprise me if the fire marshall shows up and shuts it down. It’s why I wanted to get here early. I can’t risk anything throwing a wrench into my plan —snag Lynnie a pack.
Casting my gaze around the room, I search for the man I want. I almost give up hope until I catch a glimpse of him and the rest of his pack tucked away in a darkened corner. They’re surrounded by security. Anyone attempting to approach them is turned away and dismissed.
Genius, if you ask me. Their seclusion from the guests will surely drive the bid up. Hopefully, not more than the amount I have to spend. This is my chance to get Lynnie matched with a powerful pack. For some reason, her luck with men is horrible. Why that is, is a mystery to me. She is beautiful and seductive, with sex appeal that should have alphas beating down our door, yet they aren’t. It doesn’t fare well for my plan to continue living a life of luxury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll take your seats, please, the auction is ready to begin.” A deep, commanding voice booms through the speakers.
Before I take my seat, I need to speak to Lester. He assured me he’ll aid me in my endeavor, for the right price, of course. I’m about to head toward the kitchen when I see him heading out to the floor with a tray of wine glasses.
Perfect!
Reaching into my purse, I pull out the envelope with his name on it and make a beeline for him. As soon as he's handed out all the glasses, I casually stumble into him, slipping the envelope onto the tray, helping secure my bid. He looks at me with a smirk, quickly taking it and sliding it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
I turn my attention back to the corner, but they're gone. Clay has disappeared and as I look around, I see the others in his pack have moved, now seated in the VIP area at their private table, guards surrounding them once again. I'd give anything for a scent that would pull them from their sentinel guard so I could slide in and sell my daughter to them. Skip this auction altogether and save me some money. I wouldn’t have to slum it with all the worthless hopefuls here, and it would secure my daughter a prime choice of packs.
I spend my time eavesdropping on the conversations and scoping out who is bidding for whom. I know who I want and who the others
in the crowd desire. As the bachelors and bachelorettes go up for bid, I wait for the only pack I want to step onto the stage. While all the candidates so far have been good-looking, prime choices for a mate, none of them are who I have my eyes set on. I don’t want to waste bids on a lesser pack when the wealthiest is yet to come.
I play nice all night, working the crowd to my benefit. Making chitchat and biding my time. But when Clay gets up on the stage, my gloves will come off. I’m ready to kill if need be, to ensure I win. Finally, we’re on the last one, and my game face is firmly in place. When he steps out on the stage, you can hear the whoosh as the air is sucked from the room. The power radiating from him is intoxicating.
My careful scoping earlier has me primed and ready, sitting beside the person who is my competition. As soon as the emcee calls for a bid, she jumps on it.
“Five hundred thousand!” she calls out confidently while the faces of the others around us drop in defeat.
“Six,” I counterbid, earning me a deadly glare.
“Seven.”
I see Lester, in my peripheral vision, and give him a subtle nod.
“Eight!” my competitor smugly calls out.
“Nine.”
The waiter chooses that moment to spill a bowl of hot soup on her, sending her screaming as the emcee calls out the bid again, and with no takers, she shouts, “SOLD!”
I make my way over to the cashier to pay. No way am I letting any technicality steal this from me.
“Here’s your receipt. The event will close in the next twenty minutes. At that time, the alphas will meet with their purchasers and make arrangements for the dinner. I must say, you sure are lucky, you won yourself the most eligible bachelor.” I nod in agreement; luck had nothing to do with it. I knew what I wanted and did what it took to get it. Any smart person would’ve done the same. Too bad none of the others here were as conniving as me to get what they wanted.
The wait seems to last forever, and my patience is wearing thin. What seems like an eternity later, the alphas begin to make their way out from a door off the stage. Of course, Clay would be the last to exit, flanked by the other two alphas and the beta in his pack as they move across the room in my direction.
“Alpha Skarlanthan, what a pleasure to meet you,” I coo at him as I hold out my hand as he steps up to me.
“Yes, it’s a pleasure, Mrs.…?” His voice is deep and cold, and I begin to think he would be a fine choice for me instead with his salt and pepper hair, and Lynnie could have the others. They’re younger and more her speed. We could both bond into this pack as betas.
“Wren Charming. You can call me Wren, though.”
“Wren. We are hoping to have this date done and over with as soon as we can. We’re still looking for our omega and no offense, but you’re not her.” His gaze travels up and down my body and he crinkles his nose when he sniffs.
I start to scowl but quickly place a smile back on my face. “Oh, no, I’m far too old for the likes of you. I purchased this date for my daughter. She’s mateless, and I was hoping you may be the alpha for her.”
“She’s an omega?” A look of excitement forms on each of their faces, which means they must have scouted out the omegas in attendance and knew none were up to their standards.
“Yes, she is. Her first heat is fast approaching, and even if you are not Kismet or Luminary, I thought if you hit it off, you could at least help her. My greatest fear is her having to go through it alone.” The lies just roll right off my tongue like butter.
If they bite, then I have to find a way to scent her as an omega. I wonder if I could figure out a way to medically induce a fake heat? Lynnie could give them an Arcane mark and then they’d be stuck with her. I mean, they could get the mark removed and press charges, but once they see what a looker my baby is, they’ll fall in love, so I don’t have to worry about that.
“When is her heat due?” the young beta asks. The concern etched all over his face shows me he is the sensitive one in the group and the one who will sway the others if they object.
I had a midwife out last week. Nadia had started to show signs, and I wanted to confirm for myself that it was indeed her coming into her heat. I knew it was close, but I wasn’t expecting the midwife to say it could happen anytime. Oh, I know a way to really make these men believe my Lynnie is an omega. I need to get as much of Nadia’s scent as I can on her until she reeks of it, so I need to hold them off for at least a couple of days.
“The doctor said it should happen within the week.” I force a tear to roll down my cheek as I gasp, laying it on as thick as possible.
“Arabella’s in two days, six PM sharp. She can meet us there, and if we are compatible, then we can set up aiding her in her heat even if she isn’t our Kismet match or who we want as our pack omega. We’re sorry to rush off, but we have an important call we need to make. Have a good evening,” Clay explains and they all nod before leaving me standing there alone.
Alright, Lynnie, Mommy’s done the hard part. Now it’s up to you to trap them with your feminine wiles.
Chapter 2
Lynnie
Ican’t believe Mom got me a date with the Skarlanthan Pack. To be a member of their pack and the power it will bring has my panties damp. I’ll finally be free of this home and my wretched step-sister. I should’ve been an omega, not her worthless ass. What selfrespecting alpha pack would want a fat omega like her? It would be different if she was pretty, but she isn’t.
I’m finishing the final touches of my makeup before I put on the dress my mother has had Nadia wearing since she came back from the auction. I’m dreading putting it on. It’s covered in her scent and will do the job of making anyone believe I’m an omega. But how anyone could think Nadia’s scent is appealing is a mystery. Just a hint of it has my nose crinkling as I try not to gag.
Mother wanted to be here tonight but was called away to handle an issue with one of her online clients. She always does whatever she can to ensure our lifestyle doesn’t change since her alpha died. Which means sometimes she leaves at the drop of a dime to service a lonely caller. I wish she’d let me help since she has some goodlooking clients, but she insists the job is below me and she has it handled. I think she just doesn’t want to share any of her alpha
clients with a younger, more attractive version of herself. We all know, given the choice of her or me, they’d pick me.
I walk over to the door where the dress is hanging, knowing I can’t put it off any longer, and pull it over my head—my stomach already churning from the jasmine and sandalwood scent. If everything goes well tonight, I’m going to need to get used to it, at least until I’m mated to them. An alpha who rejects his mate after completing the bond is frowned upon. Plus, no matter how short our bond is, I’ll be entitled to financial compensation.
Either way, I come out on top. I will have bonded mates and money, or I’ll have the sympathy of everyone and money.
I look in the mirror and flatten down all my flyaways before slipping on my heels. Opening the door, I take one final look in my full-length mirror. Damn, I’m a fine-ass bitch! They’d be lucky to have me. I’d make their pack look better than that old deceased omegaoftheirseverdid,anddefinitelybetterthanNadiacould.
Let’sfaceit,I'mtherealprize!
I stop in front of Nadia’s door and quietly open it. Looking in, I see her lying on her bed, rolled over so her back is to me, muffled cries filling the room. She’s probably hurting after what Mom did to her earlier. She never does anything right.
A smile creeps across my face at her tears. She fucking deserves it. I should be the omega, not her. She has nothing to offer, being so homely-looking. The only thing she’s good for is knot warming. If my mother has any say in the matter, no one will ever know she’s an omega.
Satisfied, I carefully shut the door. I don’t want her knowing I was there. I make sure to take gentle steps the rest of the way down the hallway. A prickling crosses my skin, and I stop, looking behind me, but nothing.
Hmm, guess my body is just already humming to be with my newalphas.
I’ve just stepped down the stairs when someone grabs me from behind, placing a rag over my mouth, smelling of some type of disinfectant. Pressure is applied until my mouth is forced open, and the sweet taste takes over. I try to swing my arms and kick out my
legs, but whoever has a hold of me is stronger, and the more I fight, the more I take in whatever liquid the rag has been doused with, causing me to become more and more drowsy.
“There’s no way your bitch ass is taking this chance from my girl. Those men belong to someone sweet like her, not a plague like you.” The feminine voice is full of anger, but oddly familiar. My thoughts are so hazy, I can’t figure out who it’s coming from.
My body goes limp as she drags me down the hall, stopping long enough to open a door. She pulls me inside before I feel a hand on my back shoving me forward. I’m confused when I don’t hit the floor right away. Instead, I freefall briefly before my body tumbles down the stairs, hitting every step on the way down. Pain lances through my body and when it finally hits the cold, damp ground, I look around, realizing where I am.
Thefuckingbitchtossedmedownthebasementstairs!
Cracking my eyes open, I see a figure with long hair and a leather jacket, but my vision is blurry and I can’t quite make out who it is. It smells like sweat and Nadia down here since this is where mother forces her to endure her heats. I try to sit up, but the room spins.
I hear thundering footsteps, then the rag is once again placed over my face, this time darkness takes over.
Once I find out which staff member is responsible for this, they’re going to pay for it with their life! That’s a guarantee.
Chapter 3
I’m lying in my bed, crying, like I do most nights since Daddy died. It doesn’t help either that Wren gave me a particularly brutal beating today. My back aches and I know there’s another scar for me to wear, all because I didn’t clean the baseboards to her liking. I can’t believe he left me in the care of Wren. She'd always been cross with me, but he would always say it was just us being a new family and things would get better. Then he went and died from that awful virus, leaving me with Wren and Lynnie. As much as I want to hate him for that, I can’t. He was in love with her and couldn’t see the vile person she truly was.
Life has been hell since. I presented as an omega shortly before Daddy passed. Wren was pissed, and Lynnie? Well, she used every opportunity she could to hurt me—verbally and physically. I’m now the family maid, pulled from school and forced to stay home to do all the cooking and cleaning.
My only shining light in the whole situation is Sasha, my best friend, a beta who moved in with her grandparents, our groundsman and his wife, after her parents died. She didn’t freak out or panic when I presented. Instead, she became even more protective of me,
Nadia
and when Wren pulled me out of school, she was pissed. Sasha would sneak into my room every night with her laptop, helping me get my high school diploma online—she even paid for the whole thing.
We’re counting on Sasha to find a pack and then rescue me from this prison of a home. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve never made it. There were many nights that I lay in bed praying I would catch the virus and meet the same fate as Daddy.
Speaking of Sasha, her coconut and lime scent fills my room, and I turn just as I hear my door shut.
“Oh, Nadia, babe, don’t cry. I have a surprise for you.” I sit up, leaning against my headboard as she comes to stand at the end of the bed. “Ta-da!” My eyes widen at what she’s holding; a bright yellow maxi dress.
“What’s that for, Sasha?” I look at her, confused, with my eyebrows pulled together.
“For you silly. Step-mommy is off getting railed by some beta at a car dealership he owns, and Lynnie has her date with that pack tonight. However, poor poor Lynnie had a mishap, and let’s just say she’s taking a nap in the basement. So, I guess that means you have a date with Pack Skarlanthan.”
I shake my head back and forth so hard I risk whiplash. “No, Sasha, what did you do? I can’t go. If Wren finds out, you know what will happen. You’ll be in so much trouble if they know you did something to Lynnie. Thanks, but no, take your pretty dress and go.” I can handle what the evil duo does to me, but I couldn't deal with it if they hurt my best friend.
Plus, while I’m used to their treatment of me, if I sneak out and take a date from Lynnie, I can only imagine my punishment. I’m envisioning her treating me like Rocky Balboa handled Apollo.
“No way! Get your cute ass up and get moving. This pack doesn’t want a beta, they want an omega. I’m assuming that’s why the dress Lynnie was wearing smelled so strongly of you. They’re trying to trick these alphas. If anything, you need to go and tell them the truth,” she scolds me, pulling me up from the bed and taking my shirt off over my head.
I should have known she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She never has, always pushing me to want more—fight for more. Never accepting that just because I’m an omega means I’m lesser than anyone else or only good for one thing. She’s lucky I’m straight or I would've marked her for myself. She’s the only person, minus Daddy, who's cared this much.
She slides the yellow dress down my body, and as I look in the broken mirror hanging on my wall, I suck in a sharp breath. Holy cow! It’s the perfect length—just barely touching the floor. Two slits run up to my upper thigh, showing off my perfectly tanned, golden brown skin which sets off the yellow. I guess all the hard work I had to endure in the sun this summer was good for something.
Sasha pushes me back down on the bed and quickly brushes the knots out of my dark chocolate hair before putting it in a fancy, messy bun on top of my head. She then paints my lips with a simple gloss and covers the bags under my eyes before flicking some mascara on my long lashes. “Fucking showstopper, Nadia. You can do this, be selfish for one fucking night, and see what happens. You deserve it. Now spin around and let me take a full look at you.”
I do as she asks, spinning slowly before facing her again. Sasha frowns before she holds up her finger and rushes to my closet. A minute later, she’s pulling out a shawl and placing it over my shoulders.
“What’s this for?”
“Two things. The scars on your back were visible with your hair up and the restaurant tends to be chilly. This will cover both and you won’t have any questions asked as long as you keep it on. Now if you want them to question, which I hope you do, take it off in front of them.” She gives me a knowing look, but I can’t. Wren could convince them of some lie. She’s always been good at that.
I nod and try to pull some courage up from the pit of my soul. I do deserve more than being some servant omega. Daddy wanted me to find a pack and give him lots of grandbabies. He’s probably rolling in his urn at what Wren has done to me. Steeling my nerves, I nod and give her a quick kiss before she slips me a paper and her cell phone.
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Date of publication, 2083 A.D
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Date of publication, 2083 A.D
Author: Joseph Samachson
Release date: December 24, 2023 [eBook #72497]
Language: English
Original publication: New York, NY: King-Size Publications, Inc, 1953
Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DATE OF PUBLICATION, 2083 A.D ***
date of publication 2083 A.D.
By William Morrison
Lending libraries have been known to make mistakes—but never one so potentially explosive as the time they sent Carrie the wrong volume.
Hypnotism, as anyone who has ever watched a snake charm a bird knows, is far older than homo sapiens. Yet only since the eighteenth century days of Dr. Mesmer has it emerged from priestly mumbo-jumbo into the realm of science. Even today, despite its wide medical usage, hypnotism is not wholly accepted. But in a hundred years....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe October-November 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It seemed incredible, thought Carrie Samason, that a simple postcard like that could have involved her in so much trouble. If it had been something important, like her getting a new hairdo, or rearranging the living room, or buying a new evening gown, she might have expected all sorts of perfectly amazing results to follow. But from the postcard and the fact that she had sent James instead of going herself, she expected nothing at all.
It had come, she remembered, that morning when she was so busy getting Barbara ready to go back to college. All those clothes to try on, and hems to let out and shoes to fit, and right in the middle of everything, "Dear Madam," she was informed, "The Perfect Hostess by Wilhelmina Hoskins, which you reserved, is now being held for you. Please call for it within the next 48 hours."
At first Mrs. Samason was annoyed. She had reserved the book three months before and her feeling of need for it had long since died away. Nevertheless, it occurred to her, a book which was in such demand that you had to wait three months for it must be pretty good. It wouldn't hurt to take a look at it. She spoke to James about it, but he was only eleven and there was a baseball game in which he had to pitch and he didn't have any time, and honest, Mom—
"Either you get that book for me or you don't receive your allowance for next week," she said firmly.
James got the book for her. But on the way home he stopped off to play baseball and when he finally arrived, she recalled, she hadn't asked him about it.
The next morning she remembered it just as he was leaving for school. "I put it in the parlor, Mom," said James and departed.
But she couldn't find it in the parlor and there were so many things to do, like cleaning up the mess Barbara had left in her room and fixing the rips in James' pants—she wondered if any other eleven-year-old
on earth could rip so much so often—that she forgot all about it for a while.
It was as if there had been no postcard, no book. At least that was the way it was for a time.
Two days later, when Bill came home from work, he dumped himself into an easy chair and said, "Saw a funny thing today."
"I had a letter at last from Barbara," said Carrie absently, patting her hair into place and wondering what her husband would think of her if now, at the age of forty, she dyed her hair red.
Bill always told her that as a brunette she was both young-looking and pretty. The question was, would he tell her the same thing if she were a redhead? Probably not. Men were foolishly conservative about such things.
"Barbara said school supplies are very expensive this year," she went on. "She wants more money."
"It was really funny." If she could ignore his conversation he could ignore hers right back. That was one of the unfortunate things, she realized, that marriage taught a man. "You know that vacant lot with the broken fence, where the kids play? Know who I saw playing baseball there today?"
"James, of course. But, Bill, Barbara said—"
"James was pitching. But you'll never guess who was catching."
Bill was being silly, just like the big baby he was. At his age, to think that a children's baseball game was important! But she didn't mind humoring him. She guessed, "That big puffy-faced boy from down the street, with the hair so blond it's almost invisible?"
"No." He leaned back, waiting for her to guess again.
"I'm sure I haven't any idea who it was," she said. "But does it matter? According to Barbara—"
"It was Reardon, the cop. You know, the one with the stomach."
"Reardon?" She stared at him. "Why, he's been chasing them off that lot every day. He hates kids. You must be mistaken."
"I'm not mistaken. He was catching there, acting like a kid himself, when who should come along out of a police car but Lieutenant Puffinger from the local precinct. Well, you should have heard him when he saw what Reardon was doing. I'll bet those kids learned a few words they didn't know before. It seems that Reardon hadn't made his call from the street box and the cars were scouting around trying to find out what had become of him. And here he was playing baseball!"
"Imagine that!" said Carrie. But her heart was still elsewhere. She said, "Barbara says...."
So they talked of how much money to send Barbara. And Carrie thought that nobody could tell her how to manage a husband. You pretended to listen to him and whatever he said you let go in one ear and out the other, while you kept your mind on the really important thing. But she was to remember Reardon later.
The next day there was a rumpus at the school. What happened there was even more incredible than the doings of Reardon. The local Superintendent was proud of his neatly operated educational system, and had set that date for showing around a group of distinguished visitors.
Neither the newspapers nor Carrie ever managed to get straight at exactly what point things had begun to go wrong. When they tried to trace the events of that day practically all the distinguished visitors, including two college presidents, the president of the Board of Education, a Professor of Educational Psychology and two heads of Normal Schools gave different and conflicting stories. What did come out, however, was that all six visitors had distinguished themselves in a quite unexpected way. They had run
around the school madly waving torches and yelling, "Down with school! Down with school! Burn the place down!"
The firemen had arrived in time to prevent much damage but the incendiaries had been rounded up only with great difficulty after school had been dismissed. The President of the Board of Education had beaten up the Superintendent and the two college presidents had ganged up on one of the hastily summoned policemen. Later on they could give no reason for why they had done so.
"It's a crazy world," thought Carrie wisely. "You never know what sort of lunatic you'll run into next." And then she put it out of her mind and turned to a more important problem. What could she have for dinner that night that would please Bill and not make him say, "You know I never eat spinach,"—or broccoli or her new sauce or whatever it was he was never eating that week?
All the same it didn't surprise her greatly when Bill came home the day after and said, "You'll never guess what happened at the office."
"Somebody else went crazy."
"Nobody went crazy. We all slept."
"What?"
"We all slept. At ten o'clock Mr. Elvergard came in and said, 'All right, boys and girls, we've been working too hard, all of us. Let's take a nice long rest today, shall we? Put your pretty little heads on your pretty little desks. One, two, three, snooze!'"
"You're joking!"
"Cross my heart and hope to die. We all fell asleep and we stayed asleep till four-thirty and then he woke us up and sent us home early so we wouldn't get caught in the worst of the subway rush."
Carrie looked at him and said absolutely nothing. What had happened at school had been bad enough. But this was absolutely incredible. There were times when Bill was a great kidder and she wasn't sure whether to take him seriously or not. This appeared to be one of the times when he was not to be taken seriously. Even if there were the faintest chance that he was telling the truth she
thought it best not to encourage him by pretending to believe a story like that.
It was harder, however, to take things as a joke when something just as silly happened to her. In this case she could remember almost every word exactly, without having the slightest idea of what had caused the whole conversation to take so unexpected a turn.
The usual group was in for bridge. They had been playing for about half an hour—that skinny Mrs. Cayley munching away daintily at all the richest cakes as if she thought they might put some decent flesh on her, Mrs. Munro making a great fuss about the fact that the special candies she was eating were non-nutritive and therefore nonfattening, the others just eating normally and too much as the mood struck them. Mrs. Munro was dummy, and by some shrewdly illtimed advice managed to make her partner go down three.
Her partner was furious but Mrs. Munro just giggled. "You'll never guess whom I saw with somebody else's wife," she said in her loud whisper.
"Really?" said Mrs. Cayley. "Janet's husband?"
"Not in a million years. It was my husband!"
Carrie sat up as if she had received an electric shock. This was a new sort of gossip.
"Well, at least your Bruce has good taste in women," said Mrs. Cayley generously. "Now, when my husband steps out—well, really, I'm ashamed of him. Of course, I suppose he does the best he can, poor dear."
That was the way it went the rest of that afternoon. When Carrie thought back to it later she shuddered. She had never before taken part in such a gossip session and she hoped that she never would again. Each of them had chatted, not about some absent individual but about herself and her own relations. What skeletons had popped out of the closets!
It was the morning after that Barbara's letter came. "We had the funniest basketball game last night," wrote Barbara. "Our team was
playing the girls from State College and right in the middle of the game, when it was so exciting and we were all yelling like mad, our captain, instead of shooting at the basket, suddenly stopped and said, 'This is no fun, girls. Let's aim for something big.'
"And she turned right around and threw the ball as hard as she could at Professor Hazlehurst's head, the one who teaches chemistry. You know—I've told you about him. And then all the players began to throw the ball at people in the crowd.
"You can imagine the uproar! The referees were blowing their whistles and all the girls were yelling and rushing to get out and I was afraid some of them would get hurt. But at last President Newsom managed to quiet things down and they stopped the game.
"They've called in Professor Griggs, who teaches Psychology, but she admits that she hasn't the slightest idea why it happened. Some of the girls say it was gamblers and they bribed the players but that's so silly. Nobody ever bets on our games.
"It's just one of those mysteries that it looks as if they'll never solve."
Carrie read with amazement, going back again and again to make sure that she hadn't misinterpreted Barbara's straggly script. She hadn't. Toward the end of the letter Barbara added something that surprised her almost as much as the account of the basketball game.
"You'll never guess who wrote to me—your dear son, James! It's the first time in his life he ever had anything to say to his sister. It must have been quite a sacrifice for him to spare the three cents for the stamp. But seriously, Mother, I was touched. He's really a very good kid at heart. He didn't say much but from him the very idea of writing means a lot. I've misplaced the letter now but I'll let you see it later. It was so very amusing."
She would have to say something nice to James, thought Carrie. He was, she agreed with Barbara, a most thoughtful boy. He had changed of late. Not that he behaved very differently about hanging up his coat or leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor at night but there was something about him, she couldn't tell what, that made her feel he was a treasure among sons, a joy and a comfort.
She was aware of a feeling of pride in him that night when she and Bill left him staring at the television set. He had promised faithfully to go to bed at 9:30 and as she kissed him she said, "Don't forget to have a glass of milk and some jam and bread."
"And don't forget to go to bed at nine-thirty," growled Bill.
"He won't forget," said Carrie. "He promised. Goodnight, dear."
As he closed the door behind them Bill said, "Bet he stays up till ten at least."
"You don't appreciate him," replied Carrie. "He's an extraordinary boy."
"No different from any other kid—except that he's ours."
"He's very much different. I'm afraid you're not very perceptive about these things."
Bill growled again, something unintelligible this time, and the conversation died down. The romance is out of our marriage, thought Carrie. A husband like Bill is never very polite. Except, of course, to other men's wives. He takes me for granted, just as he takes his children.
Bet he won't behave to the others tonight as casually as he behaves to me. I remember that time Mrs. Gamber was over at the Munros'. You would have thought that woman was a poor delicate fragile little flower who had to be tenderly cared for. Whereas we all know she has the strength of a horse. Looks a little like one too. What any man can see in her....
"Why, hello, Mrs. Gamber," she said as they entered the Munro house. "I was hoping so much that we'd find you and your husband here again this evening. Clara said that you were afraid you wouldn't be able to get out. How is little Elsie?"
"Much better, thank you."
So much for formal politeness. Bill, of course, was all set to treat her with his usual tenderness when Clara Munro said, "They have the most wonderful program on tonight. Let's look at it for a while."
Carrie didn't mind at all. At least looking at the screen would keep Bill from worrying too much about Mrs. Gamber. Although, goodness knows, if they had meant to watch television they might just as well have stayed home with their own son.
But Clara was right about one thing. The program was wonderful— unexpectedly wonderful.
The master of ceremonies came out and announced the famous personalities he was going to display within the next few minutes, and then there were the usual commercials and after that the first dramatic sketch. It was a love scene between the current great lover and a very famous leading lady. It would have brought tears to the most callous viewer's eyes. Only....
Only, the great lover suddenly became an exact duplicate of Bill, and the leading lady was Mrs. Gamber. Carrie rubbed her eyes but that was how they looked. Then she stared around at Bill and Mrs. Gamber then in the room with her, then at Clara Munro and the others. No one seemed to see anything strange.
She felt that she couldn't stand it. At the most tender moment her fists clenched and she found herself standing up. "Stop it!" she shouted.
The great lover, who looked like Bill, seemed to turn and look right at her. And then the telephone rang and he no longer looked like Bill at all. He wore a six-shooter and a ten-gallon hat and chaps and spurs. He answered the phone, and said, "Them diamond-backed owlhoots are raiding the Bar-B spread, pardner, down in Red-Eye Gulch. Gotta act fast to stop them, pardner."
Carrie's eyes opened wide. The tone was caressing, full of tender passion. But the words....
The leading lady had changed too. She no longer looked like Mrs. Gamber. She replied happily, "If we spur our hosses, pardner, we can ambush them galoots at Bald-eagle Pass. Shake a leg, pardner, and we'll larn them rattlers a lesson they'll never furgit."
The scene blacked out. After a second or two a perspiring master of ceremonies appeared and stammered, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to technical difficulties beyond our control we—er—cannot bring you the rest of this touching love scene. However, I know you'll just love our next attraction, a juggling act by that famous foursome, the Juggling Jugheads."
Everything that the Juggling Jugheads touched seemed to be under a curse. It dropped—dropped and shattered. Carrie had never been part of such an embarrassed audience. It was the most painful thing, outside of seeing Bill and Mrs. Gamber, that she had ever witnessed. Next came a comedy act. This was even worse. A famed star of slick sophisticated comedy told jokes and made puns of which James would have been ashamed. Carrie hid her head in her hands.
She said suddenly, "This is just too awful. Clara, please turn it off."
Clara Munro was looking dazed herself. She turned off the set and said, "What on earth happened to them? In that first scene the hero and heroine looked like you, Carrie, and Mr. Gamber."
"Like me?"
"Like you, Clara," said Mr. Munro.
Carrie said, "I think we must all be seeing things. Anyway, they're usually so good. And tonight they were terrible."
"There seems to be some sort of insanity abroad," said Bill. "And it almost looks as if it's catching."
That was it, she thought. It was catching. She wondered where it would strike next.
When they got home that night they found James peacefully asleep. The glass from which he had drunk his milk was in the kitchen sink, along with the knife he had used to spread his jam. He had been a
very obedient boy, thought Carrie, and once more her heart warmed to him.
But he had his weaknesses. She realized that the next day when she was once more reminded of the book. It happened in the afternoon, after she had read another of Barbara's letters. Barbara was writing with a frequency little short of amazing. The basketball incident in the college was still the subject of discussion and she just had to tell her mother how exciting things were. But behind that, felt Carrie, there was something else. Barbara was developing a sense of responsibility. She was growing up at last.
Why, it was just a little while ago, the thought, that Barbara was a tiny infant. And now she'll be graduating from college and getting married—and....
It was thus the most natural thing in the world for her to begin planning the details of Barbara's wedding. Maybe it would be a morning wedding, she thought. How many people should they invite? What sort of food should they serve and what arrangements should they make about a reception?
It was these questions that reminded her of the book. The Perfect Hostess would have all the answers if anything would. But where was The Perfect Hostess hiding?
She began to make another search for it. But The Perfect Hostess seemed to be a canny book. It was nowhere she looked, not in the parlor nor in the hallway nor in the bookcases, which she explored in the vain hope that some spasm of neatness had struck her son.
"The little silly must have put it in his own room," she muttered finally. She climbed the stairs to look there.
It was not on any of the shelves with his games or his other books. But when she lifted his pillow, she saw it at last. She opened the cover, and her library card stared her in the face. Then the book opened to the middle, apparently of its own accord, and a dirty thumbprint looked up at her. Obviously, James had been reading The Perfect Hostess. What on earth had got into him to do it?
At that moment she heard the front door slam, and the next moment he was bouncing up the stairs. She turned around and faced him sternly. "James, what do you mean by hiding this book? You told me you put it in the parlor."
He said hoarsely, "Look, Mother," and made a sudden motion with his right hand. Carrie felt her eyes glazing when suddenly the front door bell rang. That roused her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. For a moment she had had the queerest feeling.
James said, "Mother—please, mother," and made the same motion again.
This time it was a bellowing voice that saved her. "Vegetables!" it called. The voice's owner had grown impatient of waiting and had opened the front door. "Vegetable order!"
James was about to make the motion a third time when Carrie acted. Whatever possessed her to do such a thing she didn't know. It was as if some hidden person had given her a command and she had misunderstood it. She slapped his face as hard as she could, and James fell back on the bed. She stood there, horrified at herself, when for a third time the voice called, "Vegetables! Say, lady, I can't stand here waitin' all day!"
She ran down the stairs and said breathlessly, "Put them down. I'll pay you tomorrow. I have no time now. Please come back tomorrow. No, wait. Stay here for just another minute, and yell 'Vegetables' again after I go back upstairs."
Then she ran upstairs again, leaving him scratching his head in bewilderment.
James was picking himself off the bed, looking more frightened than angry. He made a motion with his hand once more, but uncertainly this time and Carrie did not let him finish it. She didn't even need the cry of, "Vegetables!" to save her. She leaped at him and held his hands down to his sides. Then she tried to tie him down with a pillow case. James was strong for his age and he struggled hard but she was more desperate than he and she won. "Stay there," she ordered. Then she picked up the book again.
"The Perfect Hypnotist," she read. "By William Haskins. 2083. U. S. Govt. Press."
Why—2083 was the date of publication, wasn't it? Impossible! The book had been handed out by mistake, of course, for The Perfect Hostess, but 2083—incredible. It wasn't due to be written and published for another hundred years. You just couldn't confuse a book with something so far from coming into existence.
In a trance, she turned the page. "Hypnotism is no subject for the uninitiated," she read. "It is a useful but at the same time a most dangerous weapon in the arsenal of psychological treatment. The enormous advances made in the past century, especially from 1978 on...." The past century—the more than a century yet to come, she thought.
Impossible, she told herself again. This was not published in 2083. Or rather, it wouldn't be published until 2083. Why, the important discoveries wouldn't begin to be made until 1978. Then, what was it doing here?
"This book is therefore not meant for general circulation and should be kept out of the hands of all but qualified medical men...."
It should, should it? She looked at the list of chapters. Hypnotism, General Hypnotism, Direct Hypnotism at One Remove Hypnotism at Second Remove Specifically Directed Hypnotic Acts —Generally Directed Hypnotic Conduct—Hypnotism as Therapy— Mass Hypnosis—Hypnotism via Electromagnetic Waves—Reverse Electromagnetic Effect....
The list was incredible. The book looked thin enough, but there were over a thousand pages in it. It was full of information. Too full. She still didn't understand how it had got to the library shelves but at least one thing was clear. James must have started reading it that very first day when he had got it for her. He must have realized what it was and hidden it so that he might have a chance to study it.
Hypnotism Direct—that had been Reardon. Hypnotism at Second and Third Removes—that had been Bill acting on his office, herself on her bridge group, Barbara on her college mates. The Reverse Electromagnetic Effect—that had been all those weird happenings over television.
She stared at her bound and gagged son. If it hadn't been for that postcard and if she had gone for the book herself instead of sending James, this wouldn't have happened. As it was the book had turned him into a little monster.
Her own child! And she had thought that he was becoming such a fine upstanding young man of late! Had he hypnotized her into thinking that? Probably. Just as he had tried to hypnotize her again before. Let her untie his hands and he'd snap his fingers and in a moment her eyes would glaze....
She shuddered. She couldn't let him loose. But she couldn't leave him there like that either. You can't keep a child bound and gagged for the rest of his or your natural life. You can't do it for more than a few hours. Sooner or later, even if it were only to permit him to eat, she'd have to untie him and then....
She stared down at the book in her hands. How had it got here? Had some irresponsible person in the year 2083 or so read it, just as James had done, and then gone around hypnotizing people at random? Perhaps he had hypnotized someone who could operate a time machine and the bewildered scientist had sent it backward in time.
She caught herself up short. Such speculations, to a practical woman like Carrie, were silly. The important thing was that here, before her, were a thousand pages of useful but dangerous information—how dangerous she could only guess. So far James had done little actual harm but let his resentment be aroused, let him want really to revenge himself on some one, and he'd be the most dangerous human being alive.
Her eyes ran down the list of chapters again. They seemed endless. Hypnotism by Gesture—Hypnotism by Mechanical Means—
Hypnotism by Autosuggestion Posthypnotic Suggestion—and finally a whose series on Erasure.
Erasure—that sounded interesting. What were you supposed to erase? There were different sub-headings—Erasure of Susceptibility —Erasure of Specific Directives—General Erasure.
She sat down and read with a concentration she had not shown in years.
Two hours later she thought she knew what to do. First she did what the book said was necessary to protect herself. Then she said, "James, look at me."
James looked and she began to erase. An hour later she decided he was safe and untied him.
Then she sat down and wrote Barbara a letter. She knew that after Barbara had read it through a few times, the first time in bewilderment, the second and third times with a feeling of obedience, she would follow her mother's instructions perfectly and end by burning the letter, just as she had burned the one James sent her.
Of those most directly affected that left only Bill. Reardon? He was all right, she thought. James had victimized him after reading no more than the first chapter or two. He hadn't yet read enough then to be really dangerous. But Bill....
She had a little talk with her husband directly after supper. It was short, it was simple, it was sweet. When she had ended Bill remembered nothing and felt fine. He was fine.
There was one more chapter to apply, the one on Autoerasure. That required careful planning, carefully thought-out suggestions. When she had completed all she had ordered herself to do she threw the book into the furnace and watched it burn, stirring the fragments to make sure that it was completely consumed.
All was forgotten. All was fine. Nothing had ever happened.
A few weeks later there came a postcard. "Dear Madam," it read. "The book, The Perfect Hostess, by Wilhelmina Hoskins, which is
