Creatus (Creatus Series) (13 page)

Chapter Twenty

Rogue.
Was that the best name they could come up with? The world had no idea what this
rogue
was capable of. There was a time when creatus were gods, superheroes, idols.

They’d been on the earth almost as long as humans and still they had to slither in the shadows, not allowing anyone to see their strength and power.

Creatus weren’t anomalies; they were superior in every way. Even the fact that they’d landed on this planet some four thousand years ago proved their superiority. Too bad their ancestors had destroyed all evidence of their supremacy.

The only way to become great again would be to start a war, to hint to the humans of their existence. Once the humans knew that creatus existed, they’d have to protect themselves, which would start a battle between their species. And when the creatus banded together—around the world, in every nation, in every government office—the world would once again worship and fear them, as they should.

Derrick was just one of many leaders who didn’t understand this. And since New England was one of the largest and most powerful sects, and Derrick was one of the strongest creatus, he had to be dealt with first.

Until then, the name
rogue
would have to suffice. Tonight, a calling card on the woman would elicit a notable name from the media anyway. The wax seal wouldn’t prompt the correct name, but it would hint at an ancient myth. Even if humans didn’t believe the fairy tales and horror stories, they’d know something was different about these killings. They’d never figure out why every victim suffered a different death, but was found in the same condition, as that wasn’t standard serial killer MO. Their textbook investigations will fail, and then the media will scream for justice.

Every superhero had a name, and so did the superhero’s archenemy.
The press could make up any name they wanted. But they’d probably come up with something ridiculous like ‘Count’. Maybe leaking ‘creatus’ to the press would be the way to go. Creatus would know with certainty after this attack, and they’d be angry. The seal meant unity, but also anonymity, and now humans would once again question the existence of beings who were smarter and stronger, and they’d be afraid, as they should be.

After tonight
,
Rogue
would work well within the family, as it was the one crime the family wouldn’t tolerate. The name was starting to sound tolerable.
A mischievously playful person, one who lives apart from the rest of the group—naughty.
The depiction was sounding better all the time.
Uncontrolled
, though… never!

The human woman walked down to the river a while ago and had been just looking out as if in a daze. Her hair was fair, as was her skin. Weak, pathetic, hardly even worth the effort, but it was fun when they knew a predator was stalking them. Like watching a rabbit attempt to evade a cougar, only a rabbit had more skills than a human did.

Just when the prey thought they might escape was the time for the real attack. The lightning strike they didn’t see coming, when their breath whooshed out of their body at the suddenness. How they tried to comprehend that their feet were on the ground and now they were on the rooftop, the predator staring down at them.

That
was the best part.

Even better, the attack would enrage Derrick.

Chapter Twenty-one

Kris stares at the calm water of the harbor. It is so peaceful that she wonders how she can feel fear. But she does, wondering why Derrick left her, who he went to see. She remembers the detective’s eyes, cold and dark, lifeless, staring up at her. Death is always near, taunting her. The rogue is coming, she knows. His breaths are louder as he approaches. To finish what the thief attempted when she was eight. She screams Derrick’s name, but he doesn’t answer.
Why?
she wonders. He said he’d protect her, but now she’s running for her life. Not knowing who or
what
is chasing her, wondering if she can trust anyone, she tries to find her assailant. She hears a crack and whips her head around, seeing nothing.

Arms latch around her, restraining her. She screams as her feet leave the grassy knoll below, knowing he has her, but she can’t see him.

“It’s okay. I have you. It’s Derrick.” His words
broke through her nightmare.

“The rogue…” Her voice sounded ragged even to her. “He
… he… had me. He pulled me off the ground… He—”

“I won’t let anyone touch you, Kristina,” he promised, pulling her closer. He ran his fingers over her forehead attempting to soothe her.

Kris let out another breath and rested her head on Derrick’s chest. It felt so good, but the dream had been so real. She’d felt the attack, saw the solid earth disappear from beneath her as her body had been ripped from the ground.

Derrick’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He turned to it and looked at the number. “It’s Michael. If he’s calling at
two a.m., there has to be a reason. Maybe he caught the rogue.”

Kris
nodded at the hopeful look in his eyes. She’d never been so scared. Even after her mother’s attack and the nightly bad dreams, a part of her assumed it wouldn’t happen twice, but this
thing
was marking her for death. As a payback for something Derrick had done as overseer, he’d explained when they came home after the police station. He’d wanted to move away, but she had refused. They couldn’t leave permanently, and if the rogue wanted her, he’d track them down, she was certain. And who knows how many innocent people he’d kill while they hid somewhere. How could Derrick expect her to sit around while innocent people were slaughtered? No, she’d told him. She agreed with Michael; she’d become bait.

Derrick answered the phone and then sat up quickly. “Where?” He listened for a second and then hung up. Derrick turned to her, his eyes grave.

Kris shook her head, knowing it was something awful. News that would hurt her again based on his expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

He picked up her hands and held them. “Beth is in the hospital.”

She gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth, tears seeping down her cheeks as if someone had turned on a spigot. “The rogue?” Kris pushed out the words, praying they weren’t true. But if Beth had been hurt any other way, they wouldn’t be receiving the news from Derrick’s brother. If Beth had been in a car accident, her mother would have called her—eventually. Beth’s mother had never liked Kris, so she wouldn’t be first on the list, she knew.

Derrick nodded, pulling her into his embrace. “Michael thinks so. The police a
ren’t releasing any information, but his source gave him enough to go on.”

“But
… she’s alive?” she mumbled against his chest.

“Yes, but she’s in ICU. I doubt they’ll let you see her. But as a doctor, I can get to her. Her parents won’t know I’m not just another doctor checking on her. The nursing staff won’t question me; I’ve visited patients there.” Derrick peered down at her. “Do you want to come with me? Or, I could get my parents to come and stay with you.”

Kris’ eyes darted up at him in response. “Of course! Even if they won’t let me see Beth, I want to be there.”

He pulled her off the bed and to her feet. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop it!” she shrieked. “This has nothing to do with us.” She shook her head as she walked into his walk-in closet to grab clothes. “This is…
that rogue
, as you call
that
thing
.
That animal
.” Kris pulled her hands to her head and released more sobs. “Beth’s so little. So sweet.” Derrick wrapped his arms around her without a word, comforting her with just his touch. She leaned against him. “How could anyone hurt Beth?”

“I don’t know,” he said, turning her in his arms. “But we’ll find out. This stops now. I swear to you—” He sucked in a breath. “I won’t let this continue. And whoever’s responsible
… will pay.”

When Kris entered the doors of the emergency room, only a few people sat in the black vinyl chairs in the waiting area. As predicted, they wouldn’t let her see Beth, since she wasn’t family. Derrick had dropped her off at the ER entrance so she could walk in by herself, and he’d taken the rear entrance, keeping in touch with her via text messages.

Now, she sat anxiously, awaiting any word. The room was surprisingly quiet other than a few moans and groans here and there, reminders to the nurses and receptionists that the people were in pain
, she imagined, since no one seemed to be in a hurry to attend to the new arrivals.

A few minutes after she sat down, the locked double doors to the ER opened, and Derrick, wearing a white jacket over his khakis and oxford
, leaned his head through the doorway. “Ms. Heskin?” he called without making eye contact with her.

Truly surprised, since he hadn’t texted her he was coming to get her, Kris jumped up. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t warned her. “That’s me!” She tossed a glimpse at the receptionist’s desk, but they didn’t seem to question the fact that a doctor was calling her to the se
cured area. Kris ran across the gleaming-white floor of the emergency room toward Derrick while he held the door.

“Right this way, Ms. Heskin.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her
along the corridor, stopping before he turned to walk them into a room. He lowered his head to speak, without looking as if he knew her. “She’s going to be okay, I swear. But she looks really bad. Are you sure you want to see her?”

Kris gulped,
restraining her tears. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay
… but try not to upset her. If she wakes up and sees you crying, it will only make it worse for her.”

She bobbed her head. That made sense. She didn’t know how she could retain the tears, but she would. For Beth, she’d be strong.

Kris walked inside the room quietly, doing her best to hold her audible tears as she took in her surroundings. Where were Beth’s parents? Jason? Why weren’t they here holding her hand? Speaking to her, telling her she’d be all right. Kris stepped to the hospital bed, looking up at the monitors to the left of Beth and the IV fluids to her right.
Was that a normal beep?
she wondered.
Would she know if she was in danger?
Derrick slid up beside Kris as she placed her hand over Beth’s, and she remembered that as a doctor he would know if anything wasn’t normal. But would he tell her? He’d sworn that she’d be okay, so Kris had to have faith that he wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. He just wouldn’t have said anything.

She retained the
audible cries that threatened to burst from her throat, but she couldn’t impede the stream of tears sliding down her cheek. Beth had looked so lovely in her dress today. Her strawberry-blond curls had bounced beautifully around her shoulders, and Kris had told her she should allow plenty of tendrils on her wedding day. Beth had looked like a princess and had even tried on some tiaras, but in the end decided to go with a stunning white and lace headdress with rhinestones that didn’t look as if she was pretending to be royalty.

Now Beth’s
light peach-colored skin was red with splotches of yellow and blue forming around her eyes and cheeks.  Kris choked back the tears, imagining what that beast had done to her.

“It was a message, Kristina,” Derrick whispered in her ear. “He could have killed her, but he wanted us to see her.”

Kris turned to him. “How do you know it was the rogue? Maybe it was a mugger.”

Derrick shook his head. “The 911 call came from her cell phone. There were no words, just the call. The police triangulated the position of the call. She was on a rooftop.
But worse… He used our kind’s insignia. Before phones, when creatus needed to meet, they’d use a courier to deliver a note card with a red wax seal on the front. Nothing else, but it told family members that there was an emergency. The meeting had always been held in the same place at the same time, so creatus knew to show up that night. Obviously, we don’t need to resort to those methods nowadays, but it’s always something we’ve kept from our heritage, reminding us how we used to have to hide, and that our anonymity was our greatest strength.” Derrick dropped his head and sighed. “Since he wasn’t eliciting a response from the media, I guess he’s decided to leave a calling card. Sick S.O.B. This isn’t about food or a thrill; he’s trying to let humans know we exist.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Reece Buckley leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he examined the video feed from the hospital. Catching a glimpse of his own image on the monitor, he flinched; he still hadn’t adapted to the short spiky cut. But,
high and tight
, they’d said, just like when he was a SEAL. He’d been UC for so long in Miami, he’d gotten used to wearing it long. But that’s why the government wanted him, he imagined. He cleaned up well. He could go undercover as a druggie or infiltrate the Russian mafia if need be. With his nonspecific features and medium skin tone, he’d been able to pass for almost any nationality, and it didn’t hurt that as an army brat he was able to speak several languages. The government agency had solicited him; he’d been content traveling back and forth from Miami to South America. DEA had sent him south numerous times to bust a newbie drug cartel before they got out of control like their counterparts.

This was Reece’s first classified investigation, which he was certain they’d sent him on because he was a rookie in their eyes. A simple Google search by a homicide detective had attracted his office’s attention, but now Murphy O’Brian was dead. The scene on the disc was interesting enough to keep Reece investigating, but certainly not worthy of the detective’s execution. The detective hadn’t done anything but mouth off to a few other detectives that some agent had walked in and taken his evidence. But as always, Reece’s orders were to do his job, so he didn’t question his superiors’ motives. From now on, though, Reece decided he’d keep all the information he gathered on his person and to himself before forwarding it to his boss. He wanted more time to interview a potential witness before they needed silencing.

When Reece had been parked outside Kristina Heskin’s apartment earlier, waiting for her to come home, her boyfriend had looked in his direction. The film on the government-issue vehicle’s windshield was similar to the advertisements on busses; only, the outside image was clear instead of having a print on it. Reece loved the anonymity it gave him. But for some reason, he would swear that the man had looked him dead in the eyes. The same man who’d jumped off a hundred and thirty-five foot bridge and pulled up the girl who’d jumped.

Reece
examined the image on his phone. Just a red wax seal with a ‘C’ stamped into the middle, but it meant something. Why use a relic as a calling card? When his boss indicated that the stories might be connected, Reece didn’t see it, but then the same man he’d been tracking had shown up.

“Who are you Derrick Ashton? Or
rather
, what are you?”