Beyond The Mask (The Beyond Book 1)

by Hunter, Aubrianna

Next he located a wide roll of clear packaging tape and carefully measured and cut two strips. Before using the tape to seal the two seams in the envelope, he carefully plucked two of his own hairs from his head and lay them across each seam. If anyone cut the tape with a razor, Ted would certainly notice the severed hairs. Thrice protected, Derek addressed the envelope with a Sharpie marker, sure each letter was perfect and could not be mistaken for another. He would give the post office no excuses to lose his package. Then to assure there would be no delay, he added double the postage that should be necessary to mail it.

  Flipping the package over in his hands several times, he inspected it for a few moments before he was certain it was perfect. Though most correspondences like this were handled electronically these days, Derek knew it was an unsafe practice. He never, ever, emailed any of his work. Ever. Everything was done as it had been decades ago, through the mail. This, too, was not a particularly safe practice, but he took as many precautions as he was able. Derek knew far fewer people handled the mail than were looking to steal from cyberspace. Download that, fuckin’ pirates.

  The package completed, he carefully placed it on his small writing table and pulled the lid to his laptop closed before rising from his chair. Before him, beyond his machine, was a note folded so that it stood upright of its own accord. Derek grinned slightly, picking it up. Reading the message his grin turned into a proper smile, if not an evil one, and he mentally altered the list of tasks he needed to complete for the day.

  Taking his turn at the closet, Derek stood before the small storage space, already knowing precisely what he intended to wear. He had a good bit of walking to do this day and a handful of public places to visit. Within moments he donned a pair of loose-fitting jeans accompanied by his favorite high tops. Into his jeans he tucked a grey muscle shirt before pulling an oversized hoodie over his head. Grabbing his keys and wallet from the bedside stand, he returned to his writing table to retrieve both the package and flash drive.

  Several minutes and fourteen flights of stairs later, pushing the oversized door to his building open, Derek emerged onto the streets. Veering left he clung to the deepest shadows, following the hundred-year-old brick building he lived in to the alley, only to make another left. Derek knew all the alleys and planned to take the most direct route to his destination. Pulling his hood low over his face, he put his eyes to the ground and picked up the pace. To complete his tasks in time he would have to walk quickly.

  It was after rush hour, and in this neighborhood the streets were not heavily traveled at any other times of day. Being old and run down, on the edge of the abandoned industrial section of the inner city, it was perhaps not the most desirable place to live, but it was affordable most of the time and usually quiet. Better than that, down here, people didn’t ask too many questions.

  Fortunately, some years back, a revival had been attempted just a few streets to the north to a moderate level of success. There were businesses here that now thrived, whereas before they had not existed. Derek planned to visit two of those very businesses as well as the post office. With a firm grasp upon the package he carried, Derek walked swiftly, regularly looking over his shoulder and checking his pocket to assure the flash drive remained. Sticking to the alleys, as much as was possible, Derek strode four blocks up, two over, then up two more, slowing his pace to inspect his surroundings before proceeding.

  In the parking lot of the small post office were two cars, but neither looked threatening or suspicious to him. He paused a moment outside the building and crouched beside a newspaper vending machine. Holding his package up before the front page of today’s paper he pulled out his prepaid cell and snapped a picture before sending it via text message to Ted.

  Now he had proof of the day he sent the package. Cautiously Derek rose and entered the post office through its glass doors, walking directly to the outgoing boxes with his head down. Pushing the package halfway into the slot marked local, Derek snapped another picture before allowing the package to slide down the chute behind the small portal. This picture he sent as well, proof he had indeed sent the package, at least, the best proof he was able to get without providing a return address.

  Truth was, Ted lived only a few miles away in an upscale neighborhood that was in moderately easy walking distance, or only a few minutes by car or bus. Ted did not know where Derek lived though, and that made him feel more secure. It was not that he felt Ted could not be trusted, in fact they met out in public from time to time to discuss future projects or just have drinks. Derek liked Ted, he didn’t say too much, didn’t ask too many questions.

  However, if Ted knew his address, at times like this when his deadline had passed, he might feel inclined to just stop by. He might even pass the information onto the publisher who might add it to his contact information where anyone could find it. No, that just could not happen. Derek dared not imagine what the consequences might be if people knew where he lived. A chill ran up his spine.

  Back through the glass doors and onto the street in a hurry, Derek turned, escaping the confinement of the post office, and began up the road. Two blocks until his next stop, and slowing to peek through the windows in the deepening gloom before entering, Derek looked into the café cautiously. It appeared vacant.

  The wood and glass door stood propped open by a small brick that had been hand painted to resemble an American flag. For most the sight would have been inviting, but Derek questioned leaving a door open to the street where anyone could walk in. He supposed, however, that that was the proprietor’s intent.

  Entering the small building, he glanced around at the multitude of darkly stained round tables that sat scattered across the room. They appeared to be mahogany, and each had a pair of high backed chairs and a small round table cloth that appeared to be made of a lacelike material. Each sat empty. Derek sighed in relief and turned to the only darkened corner in the room where the only two public computers were located. These the owner provided for customers, and though the place was called an Internet café, as far as Derek could tell they sold stupidly named coffee based drinks at insane prices and just so happened to have a pair of computers.

  Derek hit his first snag.

  Seated before each of the computers was a teenage boy, both of whom he assumed to be around fourteen, perhaps fifteen. Their backs to the room, they had not seen him enter, nor did they see him approach. Time was limited and Derek needed a computer. He dared not wait or his next stop would not be possible.

  Standing between the two boys and slightly behind them, Derek watched as one grinned stupidly as a young woman on his screen masturbated with a bowling pin. Turning his gaze slightly he observed as the other teen intently controlled a tiger-human hybrid across a digital landscape casting spells at little goblin-like creatures. Derek shook his head and attempted to formulate a logical path to handling the situation, but none came.

  “Move,” Derek growled, startling both teens, unable to think of anything else to say.

  Though he had obviously scared them, the one who had been guiding an avatar through cyber space turned to him as if to respond. Looking into the eyes of Derek’s imposing face, the kid’s lips moved but no words escaped his teeth, clad entirely in braces. Derek grabbed him and pulled him bodily from his chair, extracting him before assuming the previously occupied seat.

  The other teen, seemingly less brave than his pal, simply closed out his browser and retreated, his cheeks burning red at having been caught watching the filth. Derek waited a moment, listening to the sounds of the boys’ retreating steps, before looking over his shoulder to assure he was alone.

  He had not meant to be a dick. It was not that he was angry or even offended by the boys. Truth was, he held no ill will toward anyone; he just sucked with people. They made him uncomfortable, their eyes and words prodded him, seeking answers he didn’t have. Groups were worse, and crowds even scarier. At least until Jade.

  She made it tolerable, sometimes even enjoyable to go places. He could sp
eak to her without fear of how she would read different meanings between his words. Even that had taken a little time, but now, when he was with her, he felt he could do anything or go anywhere. Jade was his cure.

  Isolated, Derek opened the browser on the PC and typed in the address for his e-mail server. A moment later a login screen appeared. He glanced around the room once more, covering the keyboard with one hand, and typed with the other in case they had a camera somewhere in the room. Another few seconds passed and his email inbox appeared on the screen with 438 unread e-mails. Alarmingly, 431 of those were from contacts. The only two contacts Derek had were Ted and the publisher. He clicked “select all” and then “delete” and watched as every message vanished into another dimension, each of them going unread.

  Opening a new message to Ted, Derek quickly plugged in his flash drive and transferred the message he had already completed before pressing “send.” He removed the flash drive and turned his gaze to the small clock in the lower right corner of the screen, waiting for a change in the number of minutes past the hour. One minute passed and then two and Derek watched seemingly unblinking.

  Seventeen changes in the number of minutes occurred before the reply he awaited appeared on his screen. Derek opened the message.

  “Where the hell have you been? For Christ’s sake, man, I thought

  you were dead or something. I actually called all the hospitals

  in town. You can’t just disappear like that. The publisher won’t

  put up with it. Jesus, at least you’re alive. Anyhow, it’s about

  time you got this to me, but had you replied to any of the e-mails,

  texts, or voicemails I had left, you would already know the answer

  to your question, Derek. They won’t be sending any more money

  until the book is complete. Stop missing deadlines, they think

  you are unreliable. Sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.

  -Ted

  Derek cringed at the response as his gut began to twist within him. His mind raced, trying to work out what to do next. He clicked “Reply” and quickly wrote a response.

  “Ted, I need the money…Bad

  Make them send it.”

  “Send,” and it was gone. Again, Derek looked down to the clock, his vision blurring slightly from the strain. He could feel his pulse. Cold sweat began to form on his brow. Two minutes and then three passed and without warning yet another response appeared.

  “Derek, it is your own doing. I am sorry,

  but my hands are tied.”

  -Ted

  The room shrank instantly and Derek could feel his face getting hot. He had to have the money. He needed it. They needed it. Soon rent would be due, the utilities were already late. They would need food. Jade’s income was not enough to sustain them and this very night he planned to buy something for her, but now that was not possible. His hopes were crushed. She deserved a gift.

  Derek pressed “logout” and closed the browser. Usually he would clear the browsing history and delete the cookies just to be safe, but there wasn’t time. The room began to collapse in around him, the corners of his vision going dark. Knocking over his chair as he left, Derek nearly ran through the door to re-enter the relative openness of the street once more.

  Gasping for breath he turned and began walking, panic and fear welling up inside him. He bent his neck, lowering his head towards the pavement, and began walking, fighting that which threatened to swallow him. He could not out-run it, and it closed in on him, the world growing ever smaller with each step. Blocks passed and the buildings around him loomed above him, leaning in threateningly, each of them showing him how small and insignificant he was.

  Derek rushed without a care for where he went, allowing his feet to lead the way. The streets grew dark and chill, narrowing as the sounds upon them grew to frightening levels. Derek began to panic, knowing time was growing short. Soon he would drown in the darkness.

  Rounding a corner into a darkened alley, Derek paused a moment atop a narrow stairway that disappeared down into the pavement. Below, where the steps ended, an imposing man stood, his shoulders broad, the scowl leaving his face as recognition lit his eyes.

  “Hey, Derek, is that you, man?” The man questioned. “How’s the book comin’?”

  Derek could not formulate a response; the darkness was suffocating him. He ignored the man and began his descent, each step vanishing behind him, swallowed by the world, never to return. Derek raced down the steps and without so much as a pause he shoved his way through the heavy door into the room beyond.

  Breaching the building, immediately his eyes sought her amongst the inhabitants of the luxuriously decorated club. Being that it was early, the place was sparsely populated and Derek found her behind the bar.

  There she stood smiling, speaking to a well-dressed man, twisting her fingers within her necklace. She laughed and touched the man’s hand lightly without so much as noticing that Derek had entered.

  The room convulsed as something snapped in him, and overcome by the torrent of emotions flowing within him, he stormed across the room and rounded the bar.

  Growling at the man who dared flirt with her, he grasped a fist full of fabric from her shirt and dragged her bodily from behind the bar toward the back, through the doors marked “Employees Only.”

  Forcefully he yanked the massive steel door to the cooler open and, plunging through the dangling vinyl slats, he dragged her with him. The door swung closed behind them with a thump. A forceful yank and she spun to face him, their eyes meeting, rage dripping from his face as she stood like a deer in the headlights.

  Angered beyond thought, he shoved her backwards amongst the piles of cases of liquor.

  * * * * *

  Jade was startled, not only at seeing Derek at the bar tonight, but even more so by his behavior, particularly in public. He was not prone to overt displays of emotion, ever, let alone in public.

  As he dragged her back toward the walk-in refrigerator, she tried to sort through the possible outcomes of the current scenario, along with the motivation behind his odd behavior.

  When her body was pulled into motion, thrown backwards against the liquor cases, the air was forced from her lungs, leaving her at a distinct disadvantage when his lips met hers.

  The kiss wasn't romantic, nor even passionate --impossible with the underlying fury emanating from every pore of his body.

  Despite his anger, or maybe because of it, she felt her own response beginning to simmer in her blood. Just as she began to give in to the drugging effect of his energy, he pulled his head away, continuing to glare down at her while she sucked in air as fast as her lungs would allow.

  "Why the fuck were you flirting with that asshat at the bar?"

  Utterly confused, Jade wasn't sure she was in the mood to play games with him just now.

  As she opened her mouth to voice that very thought, it occurred to her that maybe this was exactly that... a game. Or rather, a fantasy. The fantasy she had asked him to come up with.

  With a grin she hoped came across as a little wicked, she tried to play the role he might be expecting.

  "Was I flirting?"

  He simply continued to glare, refusing to rise to the bait.

  With a one shouldered shrug, she continued, "He was attractive. Don't you think?"

  His eyes closed down into little slits, looking almost black in the limited light within the cooler. His jaw clenched and released, only to clench again as he gritted his teeth. His hands, which had been merely resting against her hips, squeezed tighter, his fingers guaranteed to leave bruises.

  Her breathing became shallow. Were they going to fight? They'd never really had a fight before.

  Was it wrong that she was becoming aroused by that prospect? She was certain a shrink would have a field day with that. Acknowledging the thought, she decided she would simply go with it. Live in the moment.

  Releasing her hips, his hands moved quickly, yanki
ng down her suspenders and tugging her shirt up above her breasts before she really even knew what he was planning.

  The cold air against her nipples caused the already sensitive flesh to tighten almost painfully. The scrape of lace over the hard little nubs brought a gasp as he yanked her bra upward freeing her breasts for his eyes, his lips, his teeth.

  Derek bent forward, suckling her breasts sweetly, only to bite down hard on one while pinching the other between his finger and thumbnail. At the onslaught of unexpected pain, Jade brought her knee up, missing his groin but landing with a thud against his stomach.

  Derek stood up, gasping a little as he rubbed his stomach. Though he was smiling, it somehow brought her no comfort.

  Chapter Four

  Something had gone amiss. She had misinterpreted his actions, and her response to his anger, or lack of response rather, somehow stripped it away, leaving the rage behind to eat at him. He needed to release it.

  Deciding that he was done with foreplay, Derek spun Jade around until she was facing the metal shelves inside the cooler. He pulled her shirt higher, up over her arms, until he reached her wrists. When she tried to pull her hands out of the sleeves, he gripped her wrists, squeezing them together with enough force he knew it must be bruising her. When she finally gave up and quit fighting his movements, he used her shirt to bind her wrists together and tether her to the shelving unit.

  He heard her little gasp, wondered briefly if it was from cold, shock, or arousal.

  He didn't really care right now. Couldn't.

  Reaching in front of her to grip her breasts, he squeezed tightly, pinching the tips between his fingers. "You see these? These are mine. You like to run around flashing them at strangers, but at the end of the day no one else touches them. Do you understand me?"