Creatus Series Boxed Set

by Carmen DeSousa

  He turned her head and pointed. “Them. The demands. The whimper. It’s always the same. Normal people don’t talk that way.”

  She nodded, then looked back at him again. “What do we do?”

  “What do you think we should do?” Jonas asked.

  “He’s gonna rape her, isn’t he?”

  Jonas nodded. He saw it almost weekly. A woman would get too drunk, follow a man outside, and before she knew what was happening, the man would rape her right in the alley. Sometimes other humans would walk by and wouldn’t do anything. “Stay here. Just watch me.”

  Without another word, Jonas pulled his hoodie tight around his face and dropped off the building, landing with a soft thud behind the loser. He didn’t wait for the scumbag to turn around. He shoved his hands under the man’s arms and soared to the building opposite where Meghan waited.

  Jonas turned the man toward him, but punched him so quickly the dirtbag barely had time to blink, let alone take a mental image. He landed a hit to his other eye. Now he wouldn’t be able to see for a few seconds, but he could hear. “This is my town. Do you hear me? If I ever see you again, I’ll drop you off the side of a building, just like I did to that other scumbag a few weeks ago. You hear about that?” He hadn’t really dropped that man off a building, his brother had, but this perp didn’t know that.

  The man released a whimper, nodding in compliance.

  “Tell your friends,” Jonas continued, “there’s a new sheriff in town. Tell them you got busted up, and the same will happen to them.” Jonas reached into the man’s back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He dumped the contents, but kept his license. “You got that, Paul?”

  “Uhh…I—”

  Jonas dragged the man to the edge of the building and lifted him by his throat with one hand. “You were saying?”

  “Yes,” the man croaked through his constricted throat. “I got it.”

  Jonas set him down. “If you try to rape a woman again, it better be on a different planet. Even then, I assure you, I’d find you.” With that, Jonas jumped off the top of the building, making sure the man knew he hadn’t imagined what had just happened. He landed in front of the half-naked woman. “Why are you still here?”

  The woman ran off, screaming, and Jonas smiled up at the man whom he’d known would be looking over the side, trying to make out his image through his swollen eyes. He soared back up to Meghan’s building, knowing the man wouldn’t be able to see clearly due to the darkness anyway. He had learned the exact force needed to take out a human without killing them.

  “Why didn’t you kill him?” she whispered.

  “Because he’s worth more to me alive than dead. I’ve been going about this all wrong. I thought that I could scare humans into believing something was stalking them. But my brother was right. We should protect the innocent humans…get them on our side. Until…”

  “Until?” she asked, a furrow creasing her flawless skin.

  “Until I decide not to protect them anymore.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Reece started with his daughter’s Facebook page. Nothing. Not one post since the night Frank Cooper had kidnapped her.

  He dug through her dresser, her closet, beneath her bed, pulling out anything that would help him understand her. Everything she owned that had a brand name, author, or a name of a band listed, he saved as an image on his phone. People didn’t change. Whatever they liked, they’d search it out wherever they went. Whether it was a type of food, clothing, or music, his daughter would want to feel at home, even if she hated home. He’d tracked down many a wanted criminal in his day based on their passions and addictions.

  He hated to invade Meghan’s privacy, but he needed to know everything about her if he was going to track her. Jonas was a lot of things, but he wasn’t keeping her chained up in a basement somewhere. No, he’d recruited her, Reece was sure of it.

  Just like Frank Cooper had recruited him: with knowledge. Reece had so badly wanted to know what he was, where he’d come from, that he didn’t stop to think that maybe Cooper had ulterior motives. Never for a second had Reece thought that Frank had known what he was. He’d always been good at hiding his strength, but evidently, his pride had gotten in the way. He’d never lost a suspect. If he served a warrant, he brought in his man. Every time. If he made a bust and the perp tried to bolt, he ran him down. Every time.

  The door cracked open and Betty Roberts peeked in. “Find anything, Bucky?”

  “No, Gran, but I will.”

  She wobbled through the door in her housecoat, as she always called it, and sunk down in the white wicker chair by the door.

  Meghan’s room, though wall-to-wall with black and white posters of bands and a blanket draped over the window frame to keep it dark, had the same white wicker furniture he’d bought for her when she was in grade school. He’d helped her pick out the cheery rose-colored sheets and comforter that matched the window treatments. The set was frilly and pretty, perfect for the princess that she was. Before she’d slipped into her shell—because of him. Because he’d been out trying to save the world, as Victoria had so delicately put it.

  Is that what he’d been trying to do? Be a superhero? He’d never thought of himself as a protector. But since he couldn’t shelter his grade-school sweetheart from drugs, he’d tried to save as many people as he could from the predators on the streets peddling their wares as if they were just another product. Not the poisons they were that destroyed families, careers…lives.

  Accepting the position within the National Security Council had been for a selfish reason, he realized. He’d wanted to discover who he was, but he’d also wanted to live a normal life for once, one where he could finally be with his daughter. When he’d seen her heading down the same path as her mother, he had to make a change. While he’d been trying to save strangers’ lives, he’d risked his child’s life. The idea of ever finding her in one of those places—he curbed the image. He couldn’t think about the day he’d found her mother.

  Gran pulled out her bandana and dabbed at her eyes. “So, now you think she ran away, Bucky? Why wouldn’t she call me? What if she’s hurt?”

  “She’s fine, Gran. I swear to you. She called me. She’s just spreading her wings.”

  “Just like her mother—” She broke off in another whimper.

  Reece stooped down in front of the woman who’d been like a grandmother to him his entire life. “Meghan is not like Julie. She doesn’t do drugs. I’d know, believe me.”

  The old woman rested her head on his shoulder, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll find her. I promise.”

  Reece spent the next few hours driving around the town of his birth. The little more than a dot on a map of South Carolina was so scarcely populated that it didn’t even have a stoplight. Downtown consisted of the intersection of South Main Street and East Main Street. One block to the west was the United States Post office and the volunteer fire department. To say it was probably the least populated town in South Carolina wouldn’t be an exaggeration. What it lacked in population and nightlife, though, it made up for in serenity and privacy. He could drive for miles without passing another car, and if he wanted to speak with Betty’s neighbors, they were more than a leisurely stroll away.

  Reece wound the nondescript Ford he’d rented in Charlotte, North Carolina through the shaded two-lane highways. Charlotte was the closest airport to fly in and out of, and since it was a fifty-minute drive, it’d always given him time to think whenever he returned home or left home…something he did on a regular basis for the last thirty-some years. He never stayed home, not since he’d turned eighteen and enlisted.

  He made his way to the closest city bigger than a breadbox. Driving through the back roads with the windows lowered, he appreciated the old southern architecture with sprawling whitewashed front porches. He shook his head at the multitude of informative brown signs that’d pop up out of nowhere, identifying a plot of land as a historical site. The South
loved their history.

  As he ventured through the largest neighboring city, a town with less than eight thousand residents, he wondered how his daughter had grown up to be goth. Where did teenagers learn that stuff? At least she hadn’t done as her mother had and turned to drugs to escape her boredom. Sad that even in these quaint country towns, juveniles were able to get their hands on, or—because of the Internet—even make drugs in their own homes.

  Realizing that he wasn’t going to find out where other kids like his daughter hung out, he just headed toward Charlotte. Unless she’d suddenly changed her tastes overnight, Meghan would be looking to satisfy her preference in music and clothes, and Boston would be like a playground for her. If Jonas didn’t want her to appear as a captive, he’d have to let her venture into the city. Reece just had to figure out where she’d go before she did.

  Reece kicked back in one of the white slatted wood rocking chairs at the Charlotte-Douglas airport. Filled with foliage and a glass atrium overhead, the waiting area gave off an inviting front-porch feel that he loved. He never minded a layover or coming early for a flight. Just rocking reminded him of growing up, sitting on the front porch of his house, sipping a glass of iced sweet tea that his mother would bring him. Waitresses in Boston looked at him as if he were half-mad when he asked for sweet tea. One waitress even yelled at him that the sugar was right in front of him, and how would she know how much sugar to put in the tea to make everyone happy.

  He sighed at the memory. If you knew the secret to great sweet tea, it made all southern boys happy. No such thing as too sweet or not too sweet, it was either good or it weren’t good. He laughed as he realized he was even thinking in a southern drawl.

  He snapped his thoughts back to the present and searched on his iPhone for the bands he’d found in his daughter’s room, hoping one of them would be making an appearance in Boston. He didn’t recognize any of the names, but he found a perfect venue. He cringed as he read some of the reviews that mentioned nightly fights where even the lead singer had to request security over the mic.

  This was the place, though. This is where his daughter would be if she chose to venture out for an evening.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Meghan stared down at Jonas as he leaned back in his chair, ignoring her request. His eyes hadn’t strayed from studying a chart Tag had given him. Tag, stupid name for a stupid guy. She’d hated him from the first time they’d met.

  “It’s less than half an hour away,” she insisted, hating that her voice had sounded whiny; she never whined. “You know what? Never mind.” She turned away, sauntering off toward the door. “I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. You’re not my guardian. I’ll walk. It’d be faster than driving through that deluge out there anyway. I don’t know how y’all stand it.”

  Jonas was between her in the door faster than she could blink. “Ahh…I love that sweet southern drawl of yours, especially when you’re worked up. I miss having a feisty southern woman around.” She scowled at his reference, but he ignored her frustration and took her hand in his, leading her back to his desk. “I’ll drive you. I just don’t understand why you can’t shop on Newbury Street—or better yet, online. If anyone sees you out and about—”

  “Newbury Street,” she scoffed, snatching her hand from his. “That’s where Victoria shops, huh?”

  He dropped his chin and stared at her, a smile tugging at the one side of his mouth. “As a matter of fact, yes. She’s always been the height of fashion.” He touched the frayed edges on her long-sleeved black shirt. “I gave you five hundred dollars to buy clothes, and all you bought were a few pairs of jeans and long-sleeved black shirts. Are you gonna buy something nice this time, or are you going back to that secondhand shop again? What was it called…Aristotle?”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Plato’s. And I happen to like consignment shops. I find things that you can’t find at the Mall—gross—or on Boston’s version of Rodeo Drive.”

  “Nothing wrong with looking nice.”

  She took in his outfit. He always dressed sharp, but it was easy for men. Men could find a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, and they’d look good. Women had to find the perfect pair of jeans, and Plato’s always had rows of them, not just one brand, from one store.

  Jonas walked back to his chair as her eyes were still drinking in the sight of him. He really did look good. He’d said he was too old for her, but he looked like every other college kid she’d seen. He was also tall. It wasn’t easy for her to find guys who she could wear heels around. Even when she and her friends went on group outings, she’d noticed the guys never stood beside her.

  But Jonas was the same height as her father, about six-four, she guessed, and damn, she didn’t care if he was forty-something, he was hot. Her fingers had ached to touch his dark as roasted coffee hair with its slight wave. And his eyes…his eyes constantly seemed to change with his mood. Although they were a deep brown, sometimes the flecks of gold in them made them look hazel. When the light caught them just right, they literally appeared to sparkle.

  She shook her head to clear it.

  “You don’t agree with me?” he asked, breaking her out of her daze.

  “Agree with what?” she asked, confused.

  “I said there’s nothing wrong with looking nice.”

  Oh, right, like his beloved Victoria. “Why should I care about how I look? There’s no one here interested in me.” With that, she strutted off again.

  Jonas sighed, but picked up his keys and followed her this time.

  The two of them walked to the parking garage without a word, and then she allowed him to open the door for her. She’d gotten used to him doing it every time, even though she didn’t see the need. She was quite capable of opening a car door. Why would a woman ever have needed a man to open a door? Were doors heavier back in the olden days? It just didn’t make sense, but her father had always done the same thing. For her…and her grandmother, so he hadn’t just been putting on airs, it was the way he was. And she had run off with probably the only other southern boy in Boston. Figures.

  Jonas pushed the radio button, turning off the station she’d pre-programmed. “Meghan, it’s not that—”

  She sighed, cutting off his words. “Jonas,” she said boldly, suddenly realizing something, “how old do I look?”

  He turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  “Answer me. Do I look like a woman, or do I look like a child?”

  A burst of laughter shot out of his mouth. “With those forceful questions, it’s no wonder you’ve never dated. You probably scared off all the boys. What kind of question is that anyway?”

  “I’m serious. Do I look like I’m fourteen?”

  He shook his head, releasing a breathy chuckle. “Not even close.” His eyes never left the road, as though he didn’t have to take a second look at her to know what she looked like. So he had noticed.

  “That’s what I thought. I look my age, or at least close to it, don’t I?”

  “Yes…” he trailed off, his eyes flicking to her.

  “Think about that. I might be strong, but I’m not aging that differently than most humans. I might live longer…I might be one of those old ladies who lives until she’s a hundred and twenty, but you can’t deny, I look my age. But you…you look twenty-something. You have fifty percent creatus blood in you, and you’re stronger than the average creatus, so more than likely you’ll live another hundred years. Probably longer than I will.”

  Jonas released a long breath. “Oh, well, maybe. There’s no way to really know, is there? Not unless more half-breeds start fessing up. I think there are a lot more out there than we know, but they’re afraid to mention it. My family had never told anyone. My mother had insisted. She’d run to Boston, because of a man she’d met abroad, who’d always loved her, even though she married a human. He protected us, kept our secret. Until Ry blabbed to Victoria.” He shook his head. “He liked her too, you know. He had some crazy idea that she�
�d been attracted to Derrick because everyone thought he was the strongest. Ry was the strongest. I know. I sparred both of them on several occasions. So, Ry told Victoria about us—about our father. Maybe thinking she’d notice him, I guess. I don’t know.”

  “Wow…she must be some woman for Ry to have trusted her, and for so many of you to be in love with her. All of you, except the one she wanted, of course.” She huffed out a laugh. “Love is strange. What’s so special about her anyway?”

  He shrugged. “She’s beautiful, intelligent, and has the heart of a warrior. But it wasn’t just that. She’s…quiet… reserved. I could always sense her vulnerability. Or maybe it’s just because I knew I could never have her.”

  Meghan shook her head. She knew he was supposed to be on the wrong side of the law—creatus law—but she just didn’t see it. He wanted freedom. And if he was willing to use his strength to protect humans in order to bring balance, what was wrong with that?

  Isn’t that what Reece did? Just because he carried a badge, did it make what he was doing any better? Her father had killed people to protect people, but no one questioned it. Jonas hadn’t killed anyone, not purposely anyway. He’d told her about the one guide who’d charged him and had gone over a platform more than fifteen stories high. Not that kidnapping that woman wasn’t wrong, it was, but again, he hadn’t hurt her. He’d wanted to, he confessed, hoping to get her husband out of the picture, but when it came down to it, he hadn’t been able to kill her.

  Out of nowhere, Jonas reached for her hand, sending a shiver up her arm. Not because his hand was cold. In fact, his large, slightly calloused palm was warm, but the tingling sensation seemed to flow through her entire body as his fingers traced her fingertips. “You’re a beautiful woman, Meghan. I’m sorry I keep talking about her.”

  About her. She smiled. Now Victoria was simply her. Cool. “It’s okay.”