According to Derrick, creatus outnumbered many minorities. If the creatus population were ever hunted again, it’d mean annihilation—of the human race. A human army couldn’t overpower a creatus army, because humans wouldn’t know what to look for other than dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. That description was two-thirds of the planet. More than likely, a great deal of a human army would consist of creatus. And then, what were the chances that there weren’t more humans like him, with creatus blood running through their veins, but like him, they’d been told to hide it because they were afraid?
“Agent Buckley,” Branson motioned to him, and Reece stood up, “This is Special Agent Roger Wardell, Detective Casey O’Brian, and Detective David Mills.”
Reece extended his hand to Special Agent Roger Wardell. “Nice to meet you, Sir.” He then shook O’Brian’s hand and then Mills’ clammy hand. Yeah, he remembered Frank Cooper talking about this young man. He was the one who’d been feeding Frank info, hoping to get a referral to the agency. “Nice to meet you, gentlemen.”
O’Brian’s eyes were sharp. “We haven’t met, but I’ve seen you around. You were working with Frank Cooper, right? The agent who was killed? And your gunshot wound…came from his gun.”
Branson walked past them and took a seat behind his desk, so Reece followed suit and returned to his chair without answering O’Brian’s direct—almost accusatory—question.
The rest of the men sat, and Branson looked directly at O’Brian. “My agent has been working behind the scenes. Frank Cooper was the man out front. He’d received info from this gang of vigilantes, who evidently knew he was getting close. Agent Buckley was in the shadows, waiting for direction when the men showed up in their van, concealed in black, and attacked Cooper. The scene went down so quickly that Agent Buckley was unable to react before Cooper shot one of his attackers, and while attempting to shoot another assailant, shot Buckley.”
The three men eyed Reece. More than likely, they’d all heard their share of stories in their careers, and that story was a doozie to swallow. Reece was thankful that Branson either didn’t know his daughter had been involved or had chosen not to mention Meghan. No one at the agency had mentioned her while interrogating him, so Cooper must have covered his tracks well.
“Gentlemen,” Branson continued, “now that the introductions are out of the way, why don’t we stop with the pissin’ match and figure out how to stop this faction?”
Reece paused on Branson’s words. The man knew something he wasn’t letting on, he was certain.
“As I said, Agent Buckley has been working as a sleeper agent, but I want him involved.”
Special Agent Roger Wardell lifted his chin. Undoubtedly, he didn’t want to ask permission to speak, but he respected the rank of a colonel. “Exactly what jurisdiction does the National Security Council have with this case, Sir?”
“In accordance with Government Resolution B/20, the Counterterrorism Bureau, a division of the National Security Council, was founded in March of 1996. You mean to tell me you don’t think this clan of vigilantes is acting like domestic terrorists. It’s only a matter of time, son, and you’ll see there’s an agenda. Groups like this are well financed and aren’t just looking to rid the streets of a couple of thugs. They’re training.”
Wardell blanched. Whether it was from the direct address of son or the mention of domestic terrorist, Reece couldn’t be sure, but the agent recovered quickly, cocking his head a notch as if taking the punch squarely. He then squared his shoulders as though he were ready for more. “You expect my department to share information with you, then?” He glanced up at Reece. “How do I know you’ll afford me with the same courtesy? It seems Agent Buckley has a habit of showing up at opportune times, and then evidence seems to disappear.” He paused for a moment. “Detective Murphy O’Brian believed that your field agent stole evidence from his office and then from the supplier, and then O’Brian turned up dead. Agent Buckley was also led into an interview room by Agent Frank Cooper, and a couple weeks later, Agent Cooper turned up dead…with his last bullet embedded in Agent Buckley, I might add.” Wardell stood. “With due respect, Colonel Branson, I’m not inclined to work with your office unless I receive word from my superiors. Good day, Sir.”
“Sit down,” Branson commanded. “While our division might not have command over your department, it outranks your office.” Branson picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “Per our conversation earlier,” he spoke without identifying himself, then held up the phone to Wardell.
Wardell stepped to the desk and accepted the outstretched phone. “Special Agent Roger Wardell speaking.” He listened for a second. “Yes, Sir… Understood… Thank you.” He set the phone on the receiver and went back to his seat without a word, a look of resignation on his otherwise solemn face.
“As I was saying, gentlemen,” Branson started again without a hint of self-importance, “we have some terrorists to catch, so let’s not work as rivals but partners against extremism, whether it is domestic or abroad. You’re all dismissed, but I expect that you will follow Agent Buckley back to his office and form an alliance.” The men stood to leave. “Oh, and Agent Wardell…” The agent held his head high as he looked back at Branson. Branson tapped his fingers to his chin, as though toying with his prey, making him wonder if he’d escape. “Before you question me again, make sure you recall that my department answers only to the Executive Branch.”
Reece offered Branson a nod and moved to follow the other men out of the office.
“One second, Buckley,” Branson grunted in a low timbre.
Resisting a sigh, Reece turned back to Branson.
“Shut the door.”
Reece offered an apologetic nod to the other gentlemen, then closed the door. “Yes, Sir?” He didn’t bother taking his seat again. He knew this would be short and sweet. He should have checked in the minute he saw the murder, but he’d been too busy following up on Meghan’s involvement, searching anywhere he thought she might be.
“You’re dating one of the doctors you were investigating?” he asked bluntly.
No sense in denying it. Even though Branson’s voice had gone up at the end of his comment, indicating he was asking a question, Branson wasn’t actually asking if he was dating Victoria. He obviously already knew he was dating Victoria, so he was really asking, Why the hell are you dating someone you’re supposed to be investigating. Did that mean he knew his daughter was involved? If he did, why wouldn’t that have been his number one question?
“She saved my life, Sir. And I wasn’t investigating Victoria; I was investigating the hospital and Dr. Derrick Ashton. She just so happened to be the doctor on duty when everything went down that night. And we just…clicked. Is there a problem with that, Sir?” he asked innocently, as though he’d done nothing wrong.
“All I know is…I got one hell of a mess without one ounce of evidence of what’s happening.”
“I understand, Sir. I got some good leads. I’ll get these bastards, I swear.” He hated profanity, because his mother had hated it. But sometimes, swearing was the only language that military and law enforcement officials understood.
Seemingly content, Branson picked up a stack of papers. “Go make them Bureau Boys happy, but you know you aren’t really going to share any of our information, right? I only brought them in because they’d been screaming to their superiors about you, and it’ll make it easier for us to keep tabs on them.”
Reece nodded, then backed toward the door. Branson paid him no attention, just started riffling through the papers he’d picked up. Our information? Reece wondered. What did Branson know? Derrick has said that the National Security Council had been hunting creatus since WW2, but they couldn’t really know, could they? Cooper had known, though. If Cooper knew, why wouldn’t Branson? Surprisingly enough, Reece felt like a fox trapped in a henhouse—a henhouse where the hens held guns.
Passing by the three men, he directed them to his office. So much for b
eing a cell, for staying beneath the radar. What was Branson thinking? Where was he getting his orders? Reece had wondered when he’d referred to the rogues as a faction. The man had a first rate education. He didn’t just pull a word out of his head and hope it’d fit. No, somehow, he knew the rogue creatus were a smaller clique of a larger group.
As Reece unlocked his office and took a seat, he couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. What could he share? He couldn’t very well share that his daughter was involved, that he had evidence proving that she was the last person seen with Rick Williams.
Wardell sat in the seat closest to him. “The murder last night didn’t look like terrorism to me, Agent Buckley; it reeked of the occult. The scene didn’t have the same ‘C’, but my guess is that what started out as controlled killings, using the wax seal as their trademark, has morphed. Others in the group aren’t as controlled as their leader, and soon, we may have an epidemic of violent crimes, as members are anxious to prove themselves.”
As strange as that would have sounded to Reece six months ago, Wardell had pretty much hit the nail on the head. That’s what was happening. What had started out with Jonas and a few of his minions had morphed into a war, inviting any sadistic creatus to live as they wanted. Thankfully, contrary to the myths that all preternatural beings were bloodthirsty savages, creatus, for the most part, were docile. They only wanted to live in peace.
Someone high-up wanted to live in peace. Someone was still financing them, assisting them by finding a place to stay and feeding them inside information. It appeared Jonas was no longer in control, though. So what did that mean about his daughter? Reece hadn’t worried too much that Meghan was with Jonas. He’d spoken to him on more than one occasion, and Reece agreed with Victoria on one issue concerning Jonas: he wasn’t a killer. In a different situation, they probably would have been friends, since Jonas seemed to have a good sense of humor, unlike his brother, who’d been sullen from the first time he’d met him. So if Jonas wasn’t in control, how long would his daughter be safe?
“I think you’re right,” Reece said. “Something about this group is sinister, so let’s forget about trying to put a stamp on them and find them.”
Finally, all heads nodded.
Reece didn’t know what he’d do when the time came that they actually found Jonas or the group of rogue creatus. He’d worry about that bridge when he crossed it. He’d use the men’s help, but make sure he stayed one step ahead of them.
At least now, he’d be able to be with Victoria without sneaking in the shadows. They’d been together in public several times, but usually with others. They’d never really been on an actual date. Well, other than their rooftop date. He wanted to be able to take her out, show her off, to go dancing, something he hadn’t found time to do in years.
First things first, though, he needed to track down his daughter. She was in town, obviously, and he’d been right, she liked to go out. How hard could it be to find a striking blonde like his daughter, especially since she stood almost a head taller than most women. He needed to flash her pic around. He’d have to add a new colored pin to his map of Boston…for the club. If he could get a few more people to ID her, he’d work out from there. Most people didn’t travel more than three miles from their work or residence. Plus…Jonas wasn’t working alone, so wherever they were staying had to be someplace large: a fourplex, a small hotel, an office building.
It was only a matter of time. Reece had never lost his man—or girl.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Meghan buried her head deeper against Jonas’ chest, and his arms instinctively tightened around her. It felt so good to be loved and held.
Her grandmother had been wonderful, but she was old school. Yeah, she loved her, but she rarely showed her affection, and her mother—what little she remembered of her—had never shown her love. Reece had tried…he had been a good father—when he was home, but sadly, she could almost count the days she’d spent with her father in her eighteen years.
Jonas kissed the top of her head, and she stretched up to him, beckoning a real kiss. She could kiss him forever, it seemed. They’d only gotten out of bed for a snack and water, and then had returned immediately.
Instead of taking her lips, he kissed her forehead and cheeks. “I probably should brush my teeth, since I managed to sleep a few hours with you in my arms.”
“Okay. I guess I should then too.”
He hopped out of bed. “I’m first. You’re a bathroom hog, remember?”
Meghan watched as he strolled off, zero modesty. Not that he needed to be modest. He filled out his tall frame wonderfully. She’d traced every single sinewy line of muscles on his body in the last twenty-four hours, and she wasn’t near finished exploring. She waited a few minutes, but once she heard the shower turn on, she made her way.
“Don’t peek,” she said while she took care of first things first. Then she hopped up to brush her teeth. “How long you gonna be in the shower,” she called as she rinsed out her mouth.
While her head was lowered over the sink, his wet muscular arms grabbed her. “I thought we’d conserve water this morning.”
“I’m still dressed—”
He scooped her up into his arms. “I don’t think the water will hurt my white t-shirt. In fact, I think it’ll make it look better.” He carried her into the shower and set her under the flow of hot water. “I owe you a kiss.” His mouth covered hers and the water poured down between them, making the kiss hot and wet. He lifted the hem of the t-shirt and pulled it up over her upstretched arms.
“I love you, Jonas,” she couldn’t help but remind him. Not just because of the way he made her feel physically, but how just his presence seemed to heal her heart from years of heartache over her mother and father and general lack of companionship of any kind. The few friends she had always seemed to hang back, as if she might bite them or something.
“I love you too, Meghan. With all my heart…forever.”
After they were thoroughly satisfied and clean, they crawled back into bed, supposedly to get a little more sleep, since neither of them had slept much in the last couple of days.
“Jonas…” She wasn’t sure how she wanted to phrase her query, but a few hundred questions were floating around in her head.
He opened his eyes. “Yes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“I don’t want to upset you, but there’s still so much I don’t know.”
His mouth lifted just slightly. “I can imagine. Ask me whatever. You won’t upset me.”
“Okay…but if I do, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t you feel it, Meghan? There’s nothing else but you inside of me now. You are all I have—or want—forever.”
She did feel it. Her heart ached for him every second, even though they hadn’t been apart in more than twenty-four hours. Just the thought of him ever leaving without her already had her fretting. She knew they couldn’t spend every minute of the day for the rest of their lives together, and assumed that the feelings would dissipate after a while, but presently, it was hard to comprehend. She’d always been a loner, never needed anyone, but now, she felt it. She needed him, and the thought scared her. She’d managed for years without a father or mother, anyone ever showing her affection, but now she craved it.
“I do feel it, Jonas, and that’s why I’m kinda confused about something.”
“Shoot.”
She inhaled a deep breath and then let it out, “About your mother.” His arms contracted, but he nodded for her to continue, so she surged forward, hoping not to upset him, “If your mother fell for your father…”
Before she could even finish her sentence, he nodded, knowing exactly where she was going, it seemed. “I know what you’re thinking. How was she able to kill him, right?” He closed his eyes for a second. “I’d always wondered the same thing
, so I asked her and did some research. Of course, there aren’t any scientific or medical journals on creatus, other than what we learn in our own schools. From what I understand, though, and this is hypothetical, humans can fall, but, it seems they can also choose to break the spell, unlike creatus. There’s never been a record of a creatus falling out of love that I’ve ever heard of, but I only know of what my family and the Ashton family have been through. But…I also researched the animal kingdom, since we assume that the same superior being who created the heavens and the earth created us.”
She nodded, listening intently.
“Well, there are many species in the animal kingdom who mate for life, but if their partner fails to…umm…perform or dies, they have been known to part. That’s a little drastic, I know, but I think at the moment my father found out that he’d married a creatus, the spell had been broken, and he was no longer an acceptable mate for my mother. That sounds brash, I know, but it’s the only way I can wrap my head around it. And then, when he threatened to turn us over to the authorities as aliens, the only persons left in her life that she loved exclusively were her kids, so she took out the threat.” Jonas inhaled deeply. “Yes, we are superior beings, but just like humans, we’re essentially animals, and we’ll do whatever it takes to protect our own.”
“So…us…is there any chance that we could fall out of love?”
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine it. As I said, there’s never been a case of a creatus falling out of love or even falling twice.”
“But I’m mostly human.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe you could fall out of love with me, but I will never fall out of love with you.”
“Promise?”
“Oh, Meghan…what are you afraid of? I told you. Nothing.”
She nodded. “Okay…that makes sense. I was just worried, since I’ve pretty much signed over my life to you.”
“Not your life, my love, just your heart, and I promise to treasure it and you always.”
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