Creatus c-1

by Carmen DeSousa

  “Because you were mine.” She rested her hands on his chest and gazed up at him, knowing he would never have allowed anyone to hurt her. “I didn’t want to share you with anyone. To let them convince me you didn’t exist. I wanted to believe.”

  Her husband-to-be ran his fingers across her forehead, sweeping her hair away from her face. “And do you finally believe, my love?”

  “In you? Always. Even if you disappeared tomorrow, I’d always believe you existed.”

  Derrick dipped his head and took her mouth once more, pulling away after a few seconds with a sigh. “Be careful. I love you.”

  This time Kris turned and opened the door before she could get lost in his eyes, his kiss, his arms. Everything about him. They needed to elope. That way they could spend an entire week doing nothing but filling themselves with each other. Maybe then the fire would smolder a fraction so they could carry on with life away from each other. Because even as she closed the door behind her, her heart felt as if it would shatter into a thousand pieces. Like one of those jigsaw puzzles that all the pieces were the same color and she’d never figure how to put it back together if something happened.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she stepped into the elevator, still feeling his warm arms around her. Then she remembered, she hadn’t told him she loved him too. She lifted her hand to touch the button for the next floor so she could go back up, but then smiled as she spoke aloud, “I love you too, Derrick. Always.” Thankfully, she had the elevator to herself; otherwise, her neighbor would think her insane.

  Her phone buzzed, so she pulled it out and read the text: Always and Forever! So, be careful. Yours, Derrick.

  She inhaled a deep breath and forced the stupid grin off her face as the elevator opened to the parking garage. Remembering her promise to be careful, she pulled the O.C. spray out of her purse and held it at ready. She hadn’t been attacked in years, but she had a feeling Derrick had always been close, ready to kill anyone who tried. With a click of the key fob, the Navigator’s headlights beamed across the concrete, lighting her way.

  Driving the Navigator through the narrow streets of Boston felt like maneuvering a tank through a minefield. Not that she’d ever driven a tank, but she imagined it had to be similar. Kris constantly checked her rearview mirror, side mirrors, blind spots, anywhere a compact car could hide—or a semi-truck for that matter. On her third peek over her shoulder, she noticed a car she’d seen earlier. Not that she was a car enthusiast by any means, but this vehicle stood out because of its intention not to stand out. Everything on the sedan was black with the exception of the blue Ford emblem in the center of the matte-black grill. The tinted windows were way over the legal limit, and even the windshield had some type of film, restricting her from viewing the driver.

  Already nervous after Derrick’s concerns, Kris veered for the next exit, changing lanes and jerking the car to the right at the last second. She traveled the service road for several streets until she found a cross street that took her under the overpass and into the neighborhood of her old school. Feeling ridiculous, Kris pulled into the visitor parking area. She willed her heart rate to slow as she made a slow track of the schoolyard. The parking lot was mostly empty other than a few cars parked in the teacher’s area, which had been off-limits to students. The visitor area was vacant, and she remembered how the women in the front office locked down and left almost seconds after the final bell rang too. No other cars had followed her onto the school grounds and into the student parking lot. She laughed at that, realizing she’d parked in the student section. Habit.

  Checking her surroundings before exiting the SUV, she made her way across the parking lot and into the corridor where the teachers’ lounge and dean’s office were located, knowing that’d be the only open exterior door. She inched the door open and slid through, holding it so it didn’t slam shut. She really didn’t want to run into the dean, as he’d have plenty to say to her, since they were on such friendly terms—not. She skirted the wall, ducking under the glass, and made a beeline to Beth’s classroom. It was only a few minutes after three, but other than the sounds of a basketball game going on in the gym, the students had already cleared the building.

  Walking through the corridor, Kris’ gaze fell on all the posters and announcements. The junior class was already reminding students about this year’s prom theme, encouraging teenagers to buy their tickets now. The posters weren’t fancy. Mostly just black font on white poster board with glitter and confetti pasted over top of the words to add a splash of color. Students in this neighborhood didn’t have the money to have printed posters as she’d seen in teenage movies.

  Feeling melancholy, Kris dropped her head. She’d skipped prom. Not because she hadn’t been asked, but because as much as she’d tried to play off the attack by that college kid, he had scared her. Never again had she accepted a drink from a man, or anyone for that matter. She’d switched to bottled or canned alcoholic drinks. She was especially fond of Mike’s Harder Lemonade. The regular stuff filled her up before she even felt a buzz. But the harder brand did the trick and went down smoothly. Her mouth watered thinking about it. She’d told Derrick that she’d only thought about a drink in passing, but truly, on more than one occasion in the last few days, she’d longed for it. Only because she believed it would settle her nerves. She was strong, though, she had no doubt she could abstain as long as she wanted.

  Stopping at her old English classroom, Kris peered through the rectangular window on the drab-brown door. Beth sat behind a desk in the front of the schoolroom, her head leaning over a stack of three-ring binders in every color of the rainbow. Portraits of classic authors—Shakespeare, Dickens, and Twain—lined the walls, along with posters touting motivational clichés with images of kittens and puppies. Like Kris, Beth had always been a contradiction. Probably the reason they got along so well. Kris smiled at the picture of a kitten hanging off a tree branch with the words “Never Give Up” written across the top in large, bold typeface. She was almost certain the faded and curled-at-the-edges poster had been there since her mother attended high school.

  “Hello, Ms. Witters…” Kris drew out her words in the sweetest schoolgirl voice she could mimic as she opened the door.

  Beth jumped up from her stack of folders, her reddish-blond curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Kris!” Her friend ran around the desk as if she hadn’t seen her in a year, even though it’d only been a little over a month. Beth grabbed and squeezed her, holding on a good twenty seconds before leaning back to appraise her. “Oh, my God! You look so good. Where did you disappear to, a spa retreat?”

  Kris chuckled. “No. What do you mean?”

  “You can’t tell me you don’t see it. You’re practically glowing,” she squealed. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “No, I’m not pregnant. Sheesh!” Kris smacked her friend on the shoulder. “Are you?”

  Ignoring her, Beth lifted Kris’ hand with her one hand and fanned herself with the other. Oops… she’d forgotten to remove Derrick’s ring so she wouldn’t have to explain. Beth lowered her head, but lifted her eyes with a penetrating gaze. She must have been practicing on the students, because even though Beth was an inch shorter than Kris’ five-foot-four stature, all of a sudden she felt as if she was fourteen again.

  “Really?” Beth challenged. “This is some major bling. What gives? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

  Kris licked her dry lips, not wanting to lie to her friend, but knowing she couldn’t betray her new family’s trust. “I’ve known him for years, but we met up recently, and we just… clicked. I’d always known he was the One. But since he wasn’t from here, I didn’t think we could ever make it work.” There, that was all true, she thought.

  “Where’s he from?” Beth asked, her brow still lowered. “And how come I’ve never heard about him?” She shook her head, obviously unable to make sense out of the fact that her best friend had kept something from her for years.

  “England
,” Kris announced happily. Another truth. “It’d been almost six years since I’d seen him, and then one day, he just showed up.” Inside, she cheered at her cleverness. She was good at this. It was all truth. Nothing she could get in trouble for revealing.

  Beth pressed her lips together in a straight line, clearly not buying her story, but she nodded anyway. “Got a picture?” she asked offhandedly, seemingly uninterested as she reached down and picked up Kris’ right hand. “This looks familiar, though. Didn’t you sell this ring when you were sixteen?”

  “What are you, a detective?” Kris snorted, hoping Beth would drop the interrogation bit.

  Beth planted her hands on her hips. “No… I’m your best friend.” She grabbed her purse off the desk and threw it over her shoulder, marching off without a glance backward. Kris followed, smiling, happy to know that Beth did care. In fact, she was beginning to realize more people cared about her than she had known. Heck, even a detective she’d met only once, fourteen years ago, cared. He could have filed the attempted-suicide report, but he actually wanted to see her. People—creatus included—cared if she lived or died. The thought made her want to smile as much as it made her want to cry. She’d never been alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As soon as the elevator doors closed Kristina inside, Derrick shoved through the stairwell door and bounded over the railing to the ground level. He would not get close enough to hear her, he decided; he’d just stay nearby in the event he needed to protect her. He hadn’t told her about the rogue’s words, as he hadn’t wanted to upset her, but now he wondered if he should. The rogue was obviously targeting Kristina, rather, targeting him by threatening the most important person in his life now and forever. A creatus knew the worst thing you could do to a creatus is kill the one whom they’d fallen for.

  Derrick slammed through the steel doors into the parking garage, racing toward his BMW HP4. He had arranged special parking for the motorcycle with his condo’s proprietor, so that it’d be right up front. Kristina hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t bothered to tell her it was his.

  Normally he loved the extravagant multi-color finish in metallic blue with silver and white accents, but today he wished he’d had it specially ordered in a solid black. He pulled his full-face helmet over his head quickly and backed the bike into a dark corner, waiting for Kristina to emerge from the elevator.

  He watched gratefully as Kristina surveyed her surroundings before stepping away from the doors. Then she clicked the key fob, lighting the parking area as she rushed to the Navigator’s door, locking herself inside the cab. She acted tough, but he presumed the fact that she’d been attacked twice in her life—the first time watching her mother die—had to mess with her head.

  Once she left the garage, he followed. He knew her destination, so he had no concern about losing her in traffic. He made a detour via an exit ramp then returned to the highway a few blocks later, ending up behind her again. Far enough that he could just see his truck’s medical parking pass on the rear window.

  Derrick watched a black sedan trail Kristina by three car lengths, changing lanes within a minute or so when she did. Though the car looked simple enough, Derrick knew better. It was the new police interceptor. The dead giveaway; it didn’t have the vehicle model stamped on the rear of the vehicle. He doubted the local Boston police department footed the bill for the new Taurus SHO, so this had to be a FED of some sort. His brother had been right.

  He clicked the Bluetooth on his helmet and spoke clearly, “Mike.” The line connected and his brother picked up, sounding bored with his simple, Yeah, as an answer. “I need you to run a tag,” Derrick told him.

  “Fire away,” Michael chirped in response.

  He figured that’d cheer his brother up. Derrick read off the numbers as he watched Kristina jerk the Navigator at the last second to take a different exit than she should have. The anonymous driver of the sedan stepped on the gas immediately, surging forward with the vehicle’s two turbochargers. Derrick followed the sedan; he knew where Kristina was heading.

  “Nothing,” Michael said. “A spook, I’d guess. Please tell me this guy isn’t following Kris.”

  “Okay, I won’t.”

  “Just what we need, Derrick!” His brother spewed a sentence of obscenities masquerading as adjectives and ended his tirade with a vulgar noun. “My girl told me that O’Brian was ticked because some guy with spiky blond hair had come into his office, took the disc out of his drive, and then walked out without a trace. I assumed it was another spook.”

  “The video from the Tobin Bridge?” Derrick inquired.

  “One in the same. Moron,” his brother grumbled under his breath, knowing Derrick could still hear him. “What were you thinking?”

  Derrick resisted cursing himself. Though it was impossible to change Michael’s ways, he still tried to influence his younger sibling. “I wasn’t thinking about anything but Kristina.”

  “That’s obvious. You think what I do is a joke, don’t you? Do you know how many times I’ve thwarted an investigation?” As his brother rambled on about ‘security’ and ‘I told you so’ nonsense, Derrick took the next exit, drove back in the opposite direction, and scanned the roads for the Interceptor. Nothing. The driver must have backtracked. He’d obviously discovered Kristina was staying with him somehow, so he’d probably head there and wait for her return.

  Derrick made a pass by the high school. He saw his Navigator, but no black sedan. He circled the neighborhood a couple of times, waiting for the young women to exit. After a few minutes, they came outside arm and arm. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Beth was good for Kristina, well, except for inviting her to that frat party when they were sixteen. But then again, how could she have known that her boyfriend’s suitemate would attempt to date rape a sixteen-year-old girl? She couldn’t, and for that, he couldn’t be upset with her. In fact, Beth was marrying her high school sweetheart, Jason. According to Kristina, he’d proposed to Beth her junior year of college.

  After the ladies drove off in separate vehicles, Derrick headed over to Kristina’s apartment. He wouldn’t follow her to the bridal shop. No one, even a creatus, would attempt to attack her in a public location in the middle of the day. No, they’d go to her apartment and wait, and so would he. Blood rushed through his system at the thought. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he would, without a thought, to protect Kristina.

  Derrick parked his bike behind the decrepit apartment building and busied himself with his iPhone while he waited. Thankfully, he had vacation time saved up; otherwise, his father would start to get ticked. The medical center ran well with the staff they had, but they needed him for emergencies. Even though they treated humans and creatus, the employees were only creatus. That way any records that needed forged never came under the scrutiny of human eyes. Creatus weren’t declared born until their tenth year and were schooled at private institutions. Then, they’d spend the first ten years of their adult life after college, teaching in their private schools. When they finished and were ready to enter the earthly world between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, depending on their maturity, their age would indicate they were twenty-five, which gave them years to catch up. With their smooth olive-tone skin, most humans couldn’t tell their age anyway, so they always looked younger than they were.

  After answering a few emails and texts, Derrick started to get antsy. It was past five, and he hadn’t heard his Navigator pull up. He paced the alleyway behind Kristina’s building, looking up at the red brick walls, contemplating whether he should just go up and meet her there.

  He trailed his hand along the chain-link fence and walked back to the side, under her fire escape. He poked his head around the corner of the building. Not much had changed. A few more cars, but that made sense. Neighbors returning from work.

  Deciding he’d go up to her floor the easy way, he strolled to the side of the building, surveying the area to make sure no witnesses were nearby. He’d be ready in the eve
nt anyone unexpected arrived.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kris parked in front of her apartment building and glanced around before jumping out of the Navigator. Derrick had her frazzled with all his worrying, and that black car following her hadn’t helped. The entire time the seamstress fitted them in their dresses, Kris’ mind had wandered. Beth rambled about her bachelorette party, the wedding, the reception, the honeymoon. But most of her words just hung in the air, never seeping into her brain. Thankfully, enough tidbits registered so she could utter an appropriate “Mm-hm” or “Oh” when necessary.

  She’d been right. A day with Beth cured her of ever wanting a big wedding. Beth had spent over a year and thirty thousand dollars for one night. Of course, the honeymoon sounded wonderful. A week in Bora Bora, in a hut, over crystal-blue water, with nothing to do but eat and make love all day and night. Where did she sign up? She’d have to make sure she reminded Derrick that she didn’t want the fairy-tale wedding, just the happily-ever-after honeymoon.

  Trudging up the three flights of stairs, Kris sighed. Derrick had made this so much easier. She could use a lift about now. A quiver of longing fluttered in her stomach as she wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him. The day had been torturously slow. As much as she enjoyed her girl time with Beth, her relationship was too new with Derrick. She found herself never wanting to be away from him.

  Finally making it to her door, she rustled in her purse for the keys. She’d forgotten to keep them in her hand as she’d promised Derrick. Kris scanned the hallway wondering where the police detective was. She’d expected him to be here, one of the reasons she hadn’t been concerned for her safety. She looked at her phone as she pushed the key into the deadbolt: five-fifteen. Maybe he’d left already, since she was fifteen minutes late. Oh well, she’d grab a few more things she needed and head back to Derrick’s.