As she pushed the door open, she remembered the pepper spray. She positioned her foot between the doorjamb and the door, propping it open. Kris fiddled inside her purse, untangling her earphones from around the metal ring at the top of the can. How the dang things ended up so twisted was beyond her. No matter how carefully she stored her headphones, she swore tiny gremlins tied them in knots.
Pepper spray finally in hand, she pushed open the door the rest of the way and stepped inside her frigid apartment. Somehow, it didn’t feel like coming home anymore.
Cold and dark eyes stared blankly up at her, causing a shriek to escape her throat.
Derrick bolted over the man’s body, lifted her off the floor, and carried her into her kitchenette. He set her down after darting his eyes around the tiny room and assessing there was no threat.
“What—” she tried, but he placed his fingers over her lips, hushing her. And in a flash, he was gone. Kris heard doors open and close throughout the apartment, and then he was in front of her again, eyes wild.
He grabbed her hand and drew her through the apartment to her bedroom. “Get whatever you need; you’re not coming back. I’ll have my family move the rest.”
“But… that guy… he’s dead?” she asked, stuttering.
Derrick nodded as he helped her shove clothes into a gym bag she’d had stored under the bed. “That guy is detective O’Brian, and his neck has been snapped,” he said point-blank.
She gasped in understanding, but then wondered again. Had Derrick—she shook the thoughts from her head. “Why are you here, Derrick?”
“I was here to make sure you were okay, and I’m glad I was. The rogue was probably waiting for you in the other room, but went out the bedroom window when he heard me.”
“But you were inside…” she trailed off, her voice nearly nonexistent.
“No,” he said in a calm tone. “I heard you scream and I came in through the open window.”
“But you were there… immediate. I didn’t leave a window open.”
Derrick stopped shoving clothes in the bag and glared at her. “What are you insinuating, Kristina? You think I snapped a man’s neck. You think I’m capable of that? Obviously the rogue came in through the window and left it open.”
Kris ran her hands through her hair, tears filling her eyes. “No, no, of course not. I’m just confused. Why would anyone kill him? He seemed so nice.” She sniffed back the tears. “When he’d arrived at my mother’s death, he was so kind to me. I remember him asking me what happened, but he never pressed me for details. He’d handed me a tissue and told me he had a daughter too, but she was grown.” The tears poured freely now as Derrick walked around the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “That was fourteen years ago, so he’s probably a grandfather,” she continued babbling. Unable to stop crying, she burrowed her face against his chest.
Derrick ran his hand through her hair. “We have to go, Kristina. We have to inform the police, but we have to get you out of here first. We’ll go in person.”
Kris lifted her head and stared at him. “Why do the people around me always have to die?”
He just shook his head. “I don’t know, love. Sometimes it just happens that way.” He picked up her bag and pulled her against his side. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll have everything packed up tonight.”
Unable to do anything but cry—for herself, for others, for all that had gone wrong in her life—Kris rested her head against Derrick’s chest, wondering again why anyone would kill the innocent detective. Had he known something he shouldn’t have?
Chapter Nineteen
Derrick directed Kristina to the passenger side of the Navigator, helping her up. Hearing the whine of fuel injectors as a key turned in an ignition to “alt” mode, he flashed a look without lifting his head in the direction of the sound. Parked six spaces away was the Ford Interceptor from earlier. A man with spiky blond hair, as his brother had described, sat behind the wheel. A film on the windshield diminished the view for a human, but he could see the man clearly. He didn’t look like a creatus, but he could never be sure. Some of them dyed their hair to look more human than their raven coloring, typical of their kind, but he also had a strong jawline and olive features. Derrick whispered, the detective is dead, but saw no reaction. So he decided to try another, knowing if it was the rogue, he’d want to taunt Derrick. You’ll never touch Kristina, he growled in a low breath only one of his kind could decipher.
Nothing, which meant that he wasn’t as bold as he had claimed the other evening, afraid that Derrick might attack him right now, or somehow, a FED of some sort had gotten wind of them again. No normal agency would care about an attempted suicide or even a homicide for that matter, unlike Detective O’Brian who wanted to know what was going on and how it affected Kristina.
No, if he was an agent, he had to be under the National Security Council. There were so many initials and different agencies they never knew where to look, but there was always one division tracking paranormal activity. Agents searched key words in police reports such as, angel, guardian, vigilante, superhero, alien, and any other words indicating that something supernatural had protected a citizen. Contrary to popular belief, according to Michael, they didn’t seem to bite on UFO sightings; they left that for the military branches. They were more interested in anything involving superhuman strength, always searching for the next weapon. His brother had someone working in every branch in the government and would always stay one-step ahead of them for creatus everywhere. Any family, whether across the nation or overseas, would call Michael if they thought an official was investigating them. And if Michael found any evidence, the entire family would disappear in a matter of days or weeks, depending on the severity of the examination.
Locking Kristina inside, Derrick trotted off to get his bike, sprinting once he was around the side of the apartment building. When he returned to his vehicle, he acted as if it was a struggle to lift the almost-four-hundred-pound bike and load it into the rear cargo area of his SUV.
He clicked the key fob to lower the lift gate then climbed onto the driver’s seat. He turned to Kristina. Her eyes were bloodshot, her normal contented expression cast downward. He lifted her hand and it was ice cold, as if she might be in shock. “We need to go to the police station, and not that you or I have anything to hide about the detective’s murder, but we need to get our stories straight.” He lowered his head to hold her eye contact. “So they don’t look at me too closely. We don’t allow authorities to retain or arrest creatus; we take care of our own. Okay?”
Kristina choked on a breath, but nodded.
“I have to make one quick call first, though.” Derrick pressed the SYNC button on the steering wheel and listened to the female voice ask for a command. “Call Mike,” he spoke, squeezing Kristina’s hand.
His brother answered, and Derrick spoke fast and low enough that Kristina could probably only catch a few words. He didn’t want her to worry.
The drum of his brother tapping on his keypad resounded through the phone before he spoke. “Take me off speaker,” Michael said before commenting on the situation. “I just texted Matt. He’ll be at the Somerville police station within the half hour. Be cool, brother. We’ll find this guy. But you know, he actually did us a favor.”
Derrick huffed out a breath in disgust instead of commenting on his brother’s callous remark.
Michael sighed through the phone. “I know how you feel about humans, but it’s true, Derrick. Sometimes I think you forget what our ancestors went through. They should have killed the lot of them before they almost murdered our kind to extinction.”
“That’s enough! Sometimes I think you forget our mother is human,” Derrick seethed, though swiftly and quietly so Kristina couldn’t understand. “Where are you, Michael?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” his brother spat in response.
“I asked you a question. I want to know where you, Vic, and Ryan are. For that matter, I w
ant to know where every one of the family is when I get back from the police station. Do you hear me? Unless you ran off your mouth, no one else knew about the detective but you and Vic. And if someone is trying to fill your role as cleaner, I suggest you find the culprit before I assume it’s you.” Derrick stopped and pulled in a breath. “No one is to act without my authority. Do you understand me? Not even you.”
The connection was silent for a moment. “Yes,” Michael spewed. “Loud and clear, sir.”
Derrick clicked “end”, and, feeling Kristina’s gaze, turned to her. She’d evidently heard enough to understand the gist of the conversation. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
A sheen of water glassed over her eyes, obviously understanding that he was referring to their relationship. Too many factors to consider. Too dangerous for her. Maybe they could just go away. Being the overseer of his family didn’t make it easy. If Michael was in charge… No. He couldn’t do it. Not yet. His brother was too immature, hated humans too much. If he left, he could only imagine his brother massing an army and taking on humankind.
Derrick brushed a tear off Kristina’s cheek. “No… I can’t let you go,” he said to her as much as himself. He pulled the vehicle to a stop and parallel parked outside the station. It would take Matt a while to get here anyway. He pressed his palm against her face. “Kristina, I didn’t murder him, I swear.” She nodded, and he could see she believed him, so it was his other comment. “I’ll never leave you. Please don’t worry. You’ll never be alone again.” She blinked, and he understood that was it. She loved him, he knew she did, but she was terrified of being alone again.
Derrick turned her face so she was looking at him fully. “Listen, you are going to go in there and tell the entire truth with one exception.” She nodded as if listening to whatever he had to say. “Tell them everything that happened. The only difference is when you saw his body, you came downstairs, and I showed up at the same time, since I was going to meet you and the detective at your apartment. Okay?”
Kristina nodded again, but Derrick needed to hear her voice, make sure she wouldn’t break down inside the station.
He picked up her hands and rubbed them between his, attempting to get her circulation flowing, so she could think. Not only were her hands cold, now they were shaking. “Kristina, they won’t understand that I came through the window three stories up when I heard you scream, and there are no phone records to corroborate that you called me to come get you. So, I have to have shown up right after you ran for safety. Okay? You were scared and you ran, and then I met you on the street. Understand?”
“Yes…” she choked out. “I understand…” She bobbed her head, her breathing almost returning to normal. “I was scared when I saw him on the floor, afraid whoever killed him could still be in my apartment, so I ran downstairs. Right before I got to the car, you showed up.”
“Very good, love. It’s almost exactly what happened. They wouldn’t understand anything else.”
She gave him a weak smile, but then tears began to flow again. “I need a drink, Derrick. To calm down. I can do this if I could have just one drink to calm my nerves.”
Derrick shook his head. “You’re strong, baby. You don’t need a drink. I’m right here. You can do this.”
She gasped, attempting to hold back tears. “I’m so tired of death. His eyes…”
“I know.” Derrick pulled her closer, caressing her hair. “I’ll take you away. We’ll go away until they find out who did this.”
Kristina peered up at him through glassy eyes. “You can’t just leave.”
“I already told you; I can do anything I want.”
Her mouth turned up, but she couldn’t force a smile.
Derrick’s phone buzzed at the same time Matt’s name and number lit up on his radio’s screen. He answered on his phone instead of the SYNC system. “I’m here. She’s ready.” He hung up and jumped out of the vehicle, making his way around the vehicle to Kristina. Opening her door, he helped her down and pulled her to his side. “Matthew Ashton is my uncle. He doesn’t come to family gatherings; he prefers to stay out of the loop of most things. He only comes when we need an attorney.”
Matt stood next to the first set of red brick steps leading to the small station, his briefcase resting on the squat concrete wall. “You’re lucky, Derrick. I was heading home from a meeting in Boston when Mike texted me.” His uncle stepped forward and hugged him. “This must be Kristina? I’ve heard a lot about you, young lady.”
Kristina glanced up, but squeezed onto Derrick, as a child would hang on to her mother.
“She found him, Matt. As if she hasn’t been through enough.” He lowered his voice. “It had to be one of us, his neck had been snapped, but there were no signs of a struggle or defensive wounds. It was clean and swift, a planned attacked. Somehow, the rogue knew the detective would be there. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to set me up.”
Kristina leaned back, her eyes wide, as if that hadn’t occurred to her, but clearly revealing that it had worked. She obviously had thought for a second that he might have murdered the detective.
Matt stepped closer. “But this isn’t how the other murders—”
“Exactly,” Derrick interrupted. He looked down at Kristina. He didn’t want her to hear his next words, but he also didn’t want her to think he was keeping anything from her. “He—the rogue—spoke to me the other night. Heck, it could have been a ‘she’ for all I know. The voice was low and garbled, but he said he was coming for Kristina, and he called me by name.”
Kristina threw her hand over her mouth and stumbled backward as though she would be sick again.
Derrick held his hand out to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry.”
She shook her head, more tears falling, and Derrick felt as though his heart would break. How much more could she take? How could he expect her to live like this?
Matt pulled in a breath, nodding. “So it’s someone we banished, but they’re blaming you,” he speculated. “Is Mike tracking down everyone we’ve exiled in the last ten to twenty years?”
Derrick shrugged, thinking that would have been a good start, but he doubted it. As Michael had suggested, they’d taken to the streets, assuming it was a psychotic rogue, not a vengeful creatus. But what if they weren’t actually eating humans, only wanted it to look as if they were.
“Call him and tell him to get started,” Matt continued. “I’ll go in and start the ball rolling.” He looked at Kristina. “You think you can talk if they request? You don’t have to, of course.”
“As soon as I saw the man, I ran out the door in fear. When I came downstairs, Derrick had just pulled up,” Kristina babbled off, just as he’d told her with only minor variances.
“And why was Derrick there?” Matt asked.
“He’s my fiancé; I’d asked him to meet me there when I spoke with the detective.”
“Good. Nothing else is any of their business. Not why you jumped off the bridge or whether Derrick followed you. Nothing. Do you understand? The only question you answer is that the detective had some questions.” He lowered his head and looked at her. “You don’t know what his questions were. It would only be speculation. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He offered her a smile. “You saw, you left, Derrick was waiting on the street. Anything else they ask I will object to as not relevant. Understand?”
“Yes.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “I understand.”
Kristina had reached her max, and evidently, Matt had realized it too, as he raised his hands in surrender. “Derrick will not be talking to them, as he was never in the apartment,” he added for good measure then turned and walked away.
Derrick pulled Kristina to a stop when she started to follow. “You okay?”
“No!” she said, a frustrated huff escaping her throat. “But, yes. I’ll survive. I always survive!” She pulled her hand loose and stomped off.
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.
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