About the Book
Author: Su Halfwerk
Robert Williamson, esteemed judge, adoring husband, and doting father, has his flawless life snatched away, leaving him damaged beyond repair—damaged by a witch whose taunting presence spells his destruction.
Before exacting his revenge, Robert is hell-bent on digging out explanations.
His demands are wild, his interrogation method peculiar, and what he seeks most might well cost him what remains of his sanity—and he knows it.
Despite horrible odds, Robert refuses to give in.
Aberrancy is a gripping dark tale of lives lost…to a different kind of evil.
Su Halfwerk writes in the horror and paranormal romance genres. From a tender age, the written word left a strong impression on her, later on terrifying, blood-chilling books became the object of her interest. Su’s style in horror combines shuddery terror with elements of surprise; some would even call it an enigmatic twist. In the world of paranormal romance, she transforms the desire to scare into a quest to seduce and tantalize.
When not writing, Su is designing book trailers for herself and other authors.
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Excerpt #1Her arms were secured to the wooden chair’s arms with six coils of duct tape. The same was done to her feet and the chair’s legs. Another set of layers—twelve to be exact—secured her midsection to its back.
“I don’t have much,” she said. “Take whatever jewelry I have. Take my bank card and pin code, just let me go.”
He slammed his hand on the table, the solitary candle shook without toppling to the ground. The bottle of fizz did though, and was smashed on the floor. “I don’t want your money.”
“Then what do you want?” Liquid leaked out of her eyes, presumably tears.
Her glistening eyes shifted sideways. “What?”
“You heard me. Proper and reasonable answers will be your salvation.”
“Answers to what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know you.” Under her breath, she muttered to herself, “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”
“You thought I wouldn’t find you.” He smirked.
She inhaled sharply. “My name is Delia Kane. I’m a—”
“—high school history teacher,” he mocked. “A small town spinster who hasn’t taken a single step out of her little town except to relocate here to teach.” He paused. “Isn’t this the spiel nowadays to connect with your abductor? To humanize yourself by spilling a summary of your bio no matter how fake it is?”
She blinked sweat out of her eyes. “That’s my life you’re talking about. Hold on a second…how come you know so much about me?” She squinted at him, studying his face. “Who are you?”
The night was humid. His borrowed orderly shirt was sticking to his back. “Who am I?” He backhanded her hard enough to hurt his hand. “Stop playing tricks. You might not know how I found you this time but you know damn well who I am.”
She sniffled; mucus ran out of her crooked nose. “I swear to God, I don’t know you. There must be a mistake.”
Surely she could make out his face in the dim light. Then again, maybe she’d lost her memory from the last accident she had. Or, as per her habit, she was lying.
He glanced at the microwave’s clock. Twelve o’clock. It had taken her over four hours to awaken from the drug he’d injected her with, longer than he’d anticipated going by his wake-up record. Unlike him, her body wasn’t used to it.
“Maybe I should tell you a story. You know, to help you remember.” They had time. No one would stop by at this late hour on a school night.
And if anyone showed up, he would introduce their guts to her butcher knife.
The traffic stretched in a long line before them. Red lights flashed on and off as some vehicles inched forward. Robert winced at the long wait ahead of them thanks to Deputy Sloan, the worst when it came to situations involving a display of power and control. He would delay the whole thing, basking in the opportunity to flex his authoritative muscles.
“What’s the truck’s load?”
Mathew shrugged. “Don’t know. I was on my way to find out more.”
Sandra pulled on Robert’s hand, he glanced down. “Balcony seat, Papa?”
He chuckled and went down on one knee. Using one of his thighs for support, she settled on his shoulders and faced the front line. “You see anything, kiddo?”
Despite not being able to see her face, he heard a rare smile in her voice. “Yes, a small fire. Sooo yellow.” She sounded wistful.
“Are there any fire trucks?” Mathew asked.
Robert looked up toward Sandra who had a higher vantage point than them.
She glanced down, her blue gaze drilled into his friend’s. One word. “No.” She then went back to watching.
They strolled unhurriedly. If a big boom was expected, a fire engine would have been there already.
“I heard you left early today. How come?”
Robert opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a loud explosion that shook the ground under his feet. He grasped one of Mathew’s arms to maintain his balance and not topple Sandra off. Screams and yells of panic drifted to him. Above his head, Sandra lifted a hand to the sky and said, “Wheeeeee.”
He glanced up as a yellow tube shot through the sky, arched, and rocketed down toward them. Sandra’s hand followed its progress.
As the tube drew nearer, Robert corrected himself. It was a yellow, medium size, thin cylinder. He wondered for a brief moment about its contents.
It arched toward the cars behind them.