Captive: a Paranormal Romance

by Marisol Logan

  Here. Three houses down, near the cul-de-sac.

  I watched the house like an eagle, waiting for him to emerge, my eyes flicking rapidly to any sign of movement—the bushes and trees wavering in the light breeze, leaves skittering across the sidewalk, silhouetted bats flapping through the air against the silvery clouds.

  Minutes passed, each one doubling my agitation and anxiety. Was it over? Did he get caught by Rex? Had Ruby come home earlier than expected? I continually checked my phone for a response, but there was none.

  A light in the upstairs flicked off...Carly's room? I wondered, mentally trying to create a floor plan of the house in my head. Then, as I watched, the window slid up, and a shadow came prowling nimbly out onto the roof. It crouched and slinked down the slope until it reached the edge, then jumped straight down, a good ten foot fall. I gasped—what was he thinking jumping off the roof like that?— and wanted to get out of the car and go check on him, but I knew I shouldn't.

  My concern was almost immediately invalidated as Casey emerged from the bushes that lined the front of the house and dashed toward my car carrying a duffel bag. He jumped into the passenger seat and threw his bag in the back, then grabbed my face on either side with his smooth hands and leaned in for an excited, passionate kiss.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I snapped, when he pulled away, licking his lips satisfactorily. “How did you not break your freaking ankle or something, Casey?!”

  “I'm in really good shape, babe,” he shrugged. “Alright, let's go. This is the hard part.”

  My heart fluttered thinking about what I was going to have to do next...

  Remove the chip.

  As we drove to the dentist office, it still felt weird seeing Casey out of the house. Even knowing the whole story, knowing he was technically fine, I had only seen it two other times in the five years I'd known him, so it was strange to me. It felt wrong.

  As he fiddled with the radio and stared out the window at all the shop fronts and streetlights, my mind wandered to the most recent time I had seen him out of the house—when he had come to fight off Ted. I had been so concerned that he was okay, and then so caught up in the emotional roller coaster with Casey that followed, that so many questions had gone unanswered about that night.

  If he could be out of the house just fine, and the 'condition' was a lie, then why had he run away like he was going to die after he had handily and impressively beat up Ted? He had collapsed, he had been in pain, he had been convulsing violently, and wheezing and clutching his chest like he couldn't breathe. I remembered it vividly—the scene had shaken me so much it was burned into my brain.

  What was that about if he didn't have a 'condition'? I wondered. I looked over at him, still staring out the window, his steel-colored eyes wide as they took in the sights he had never seen in person.

  How had he known I was in trouble? How had he known where I was? My car was sort of recognizable in our area of town, as it was an older Land Rover with an uncommon dark olive green paint color, but still...it was in a parking lot with a lot of other cars, and in a part of town I don't always go to. I had gone to The Fire House a handful of times, sure, but he didn't know that. He had no reason to think I'd be there, and there would be no reason for him to know I'd get attacked by Ted, let alone the exact time and location.

  Had he chipped my phone or something? I wondered. With all his hacking and tech knowledge? He had obviously found the time when I spent the night the prior week to install his app and set me up with an account without my noticing. But even if he had hacked my phone for my location, or bugged it, or put a tracker on it, or whatever...that still didn't explain the pain and the convulsing and the wheezing, I thought.

  We pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office and my stomach churned nervously as we jumped out of the car and ran to the door. I pulled out my key and opened the door and we went inside the pitch black office. I turned on the lights and we made our way back to the nearest procedure room, and I flipped on the lights for that room, as well.

  Casey took a deep breath and looked at me.

  “Are you ready?” he asked with a grimace.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head fervently. “But I've got to do it anyway.”

  He pulled off his t-shirt, revealing his sculpted torso, with its many sharply cut lines and rigid hills of muscles, and laid face down on the exam chair. As I snapped on a pair of gloves, I thought I might vomit, or cry. I had never sliced open somebody's skin before. I wasn't a surgeon, let alone a dentist. Sure, I had seen a lot of blood, and I had helped with my fair share of tooth extractions, but this...this was different. This was someone I knew, and cared about, and I had to cut their shoulder open and dig around for a tiny locator chip. I was sure I was going to screw it up.

  “Alright,” he said with a sigh as he twisted his shirt into a tight roll in his hands. “Once you make the cut, you'll have to move quickly, okay?” he craned his neck to look back at me and I nodded. “Okay. Let's get this over with.” He shoved the tightly-rolled shirt into his mouth and bit down hard.

  I grabbed the dental scalpel off the prepped tray of sterilized tools we always left in each room and breathed as steadily as I could to keep my hands from shaking. I ran my fingers along the outside of his right shoulder blade, feeling in the meaty muscle for the bump of the chip.

  He nodded when my finger hit the spot to make the cut. I was trembling uncontrollably now.

  “Don't you want Novocaine?” I asked, my voice shaking as much as the rest of me.

  He pulled the shirt out of his mouth. “There's no time. It takes too long to kick in. I promise you, I'll be fine. I deal with pain all the time.” He shoved the shirt back in and bit down hard again.

  What did he mean? Why did he deal with pain all the time? I asked myself as I stared down at his rippling, solid back. And, why did I have to move fast once I made the cut?

  I didn’t have time. Ruby would get home soon and sound the alarm. I took a sharp inhale and put the scalpel down to his skin and pressed it into the spot he had indicated.

  His entire body went tense and rigid against the pain and he growled into the shirt, his jaw protruding and turning red as he bit down as hard as he could. Shining crimson blood pooled under the scalpel, then dispersed into three streams that trickled across his body in different directions. I grabbed a wad of gauze and wiped it away, then, as soon as I had visibility, stuck my finger into the incision and felt for the chip. He howled in agony through his clenched jaw and the wad of fabric. As soon as I found the tiny plastic piece with my finger, I grabbed the dental forceps off the tray with my other hand, removed my finger and shoved the forceps in to grab it. Casey turned into a solid plank as he tensed even more against the pain, grunting and roaring in his throat as I fished for the chip with the forceps and freed the chip from its nest against the inner layer of his skin.

  My heart was pounding as I stood and rushed to the sink, dousing the chip in water, then letting it drop down the drain. I grabbed a handful of gauze from a jar near the sink and whipped back around to him to wipe the blood I was sure was dripping freely.

  But he was sitting up and putting his shirt back on.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “You have an open wound! I need to put pressure on it—you need gauze, or a bandage—”

  “It's fine,” he interrupted.

  I rushed around to his back and yanked the shirt up. He struggled against me, but I had caught him off guard and was too quick.

  “Alex!” he snapped, standing and starting to walk away, but I had seen it already...or not seen it.

  The incision was gone. A faint vermilion smear of blood tinged his skin, but there was no sign I had made an incision.

  It was completely healed.

  “What the hell is going on, Casey?” I snapped.

  “It's better if you don't know,” he said as he walked out of the procedure room. I yanked the gloves off and tossed them in the trash before rush
ing after him.

  “What does that mean?” I interrogated.

  “It means,” he said as he flung open the front door of the office, “thank you for your help, but I'm on my own for this part.” He kept walking toward my car as I followed him, never looking back at me once.

  “What?!” I shrieked.

  He opened the back passenger door of the Land Rover and grabbed his duffel bag out, which gave me enough time to grab his arm.

  “Casey, please—look at me!” I demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  “It's too dangerous,” he stated plainly, still refusing to look at me as he threw the car door shut. “Go back in and clean up, then drive to a nice hotel and stay for a few days. I'll meet up with you soon.” He pulled a wad of hundreds out of the outside pocket of his duffel bag and shoved it at me. “That's enough for a week at a Marriott, with some room service. Maybe a massage,”

  “This wasn't the plan!” I barked as he turned to walk away from me again.

  “This was my plan the entire time,” Casey muttered. “I couldn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't agree. But I promise you, this is how it has to be.”

  “Why!?” I yelled at him. “You haven't told me why?!”

  “Yes, I did,” he rebutted. “Because it's too dangerous,” he said sternly.

  “Why is it too dangerous, Casey?!” I pressed.

  He stopped abruptly and turned on me, and I practically ran into him I was following so closely. He grabbed me by my shoulders.

  “It's better if you don't know,” he growled, his eyes grave and serious.

  “You already said that,” I murmured. “You're keeping me in the dark, Casey. I thought we were a team!”

  “I'm keeping you safe,” he said. “Now let me go.”

  “What's going on?” I asked, voice trembling. “This has something to do with...with why you ran off after the thing with Ted?”

  “Alex...” he warned, shaking his head and turning away from me, starting back down the sidewalk. I followed at his heels again, which required more steps from my shorter legs.

  “You were shaking and in pain, and then you ran off,” I continued. “And how did you know where I was? Or that I was being attacked?”

  “Just stop, Alex!” he barked without looking at me.

  “How did your back heal so fast?” I kept interrogating. “Casey, please, you have to tell me what's going on! Something is going on and I'm worried—”

  “You don't need to worry about me,” he grumbled.

  “Okay, well don't I at least get to know what I'm getting into?” I snapped.

  He stopped dead again, and turned slowly toward me. “Does it matter?” he asked.

  I stared at his face for a moment, noticing his fear, and his sorrow—he didn't want to leave me, but he was afraid of not doing it...

  “No, I guess not,” I said softly.

  “Then why do you need to know?” he asked.

  “Because I...I want to help,” I answered. “I want to be here for you—we're better together, Casey. Hasn't the last few weeks taught you that?”

  His face dropped from its tight, rigid facade as my words hit him. The lines went soft, and his eyes filled with affection as they connected with mine.

  “You're right,” he said, finally, after a deep breath. “Alright.”

  “Alright?” I asked.

  “Alright. We stay together. And I will tell you everything.”

  My stomach churned, realizing that 'everything' was bound to be even crazier than what I already knew and was dealing with...

  “But we need to get somewhere safe. Fast. Ruby will be back soon,” he said, looking at his watch. “How fast can you clean up in there?” he jerked his head back to the office a hundred yards or so behind us.

  “Three minutes,” I answered. “But...we took the chip out,” I muttered in confusion. “Why does it matter? She can't track your location now.”

  Casey shook his head. “No, she can't. But what she can do is much, much worse.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Casey checking his watch frequently, his feet twitching in nervous agitation as we drove in silence down the highway out of Highdale Park toward Kansas City.

  “We need to get inside somewhere,” he stated anxiously. “Soon. As soon as possible.”

  I didn't ask questions, just scanned the horizon ahead for any sign of lodging, which would surely be available soon as we were approaching one of the large business parks on the south side of the city. At the next exit, I saw a sign for a motel with neon-red lights indicating vacancy, and pulled off the highway. It was just off the road, and we were in the parking lot in a matter of minutes.

  I pulled a hundred off the roll of cash that Casey had shoved at me earlier and went inside to get us a room—a quick ordeal, especially when paying with cash—and came back out with the key to our room, which, conveniently was right near where I had parked the Land Rover, on the second floor.

  Casey grabbed his duffel and mine out of the trunk as I unlocked the door, and we both entered the lackluster room. For the price, at forty-nine dollars a night, it wasn't awful, though. The bed, sporting an orange and brown striped comforter, was at the far end of the room near a window trimmed with cream-colored curtains. A smallish flat screen television sat on a basic oak desk, and a mini fridge sat underneath it. The carpet was flat, a burgundy color that didn't seem to match the bedding, or the brown high-back chair that sat in the corner near the bathroom on the left side of the room.

  Casey threw the bags down against the wall next to the bed with a sigh, then checked his watch again.

  “Casey,” I whispered as I shut the door behind us and locked its multiple locks, “what is going to happen when Ruby gets home?”

  “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the bed. I crossed the room and sat down, and he sat next to me. “I haven't been honest with you,” he said softly.

  “I kind of got that feeling,” I replied.

  “I...uh...well, I guess I'll start at the beginning,” he sighed. “My name, my birth name, is Kazamir Cernik, and I was born in the Czech Republic. When I was five years old, I was camping in the forest with my mother and father, and we were attacked in the middle of the night...by wolves.”

  “Oh my god,” I gasped.

  “They didn't survive, but I was found by some backpackers, who took me to the nearest hospital, where I completely healed. But, I was having seizures, and night terrors, and constant pain, so, on top of not having anywhere to send me besides an orphanage, the nurses kept me under observation at the hospital.

  “One day, an American couple came to the hospital I was at. They said they were conducting research for a study on the differences in neurological health conditions in young children between the United States and Europe. The nurses bought it, of course. They were well dressed, intelligent, professional. They also knew exactly what they were looking for. They spoke Czech—I heard them ask if there were any children in the pediatric wing that had seizures or constant pain. Seemed like a normal question...then they asked if any children had been victims of recent animal attacks.

  “Obviously, the nurses didn't think much of it, and led the couple right to me. Then they asked if I was an orphan. Yes, the nurses told them, his parents died in the attack. The couple asked if they could do a workup on me, take some data. As soon as the nurses were gone, the woman asked me, 'noční můra'? 'Nightmares'? I said yes.

  “Then she asked me 'svůdník'? 'Wolf'? I nodded. Yes. Then she asked me 'jste svůdník'? 'You are a wolf'? I said yes.”

  My heart pounded and my head buzzed. What on earth was he talking about?

  “Then she grabbed my hand and said one word: vlkodlak. I knew what it meant, I had been in school and we played it on the playground sometimes. My parents had let me watch Scooby-Doo cartoons and there was an episode about a vlkodlak. I cried and cried, and she hugged me. She was telling me what I was now. A werewolf.”

&
nbsp; The word set off alarms in my head—mostly just because there was no way it could be true...

  “Casey,” I said slowly, the disbelief apparent in my voice.

  “I know,” he said, looking at me and placing a hand on my knee, “It's not an easy thing to believe, but I guarantee you will witness it with your own eyes if you stay here.”

  “What, is it a full moon?” I asked with a sarcastic chuckle.

  “No,” Casey replied seriously, shaking his head, “they can make me change. Ruby will make me change. As soon as she realizes I'm gone.”

  “I...I don't understand,” I muttered. “What do you mean?”

  “Ruby and Rex were the doctors who found me in the Czech Republic, as I'm sure you already figured out. They told me they'd adopt me, take care of me, take me to America, and I agreed, of course. What was my other option? An orphanage? I was only five but I knew that wasn't a good deal. So, I went with them. They brought me here, changed my name, taught me English. And started doing tests on me...for a cure, they said. They told me they had been given money to find a cure for lycanthropy.

  “So, they needed to draw blood, and monitor me, and so on. Things were pretty normal until I hit puberty, which is when the werewolf genes become much more apparent,” Casey explained, and his face pulled into a grimace. “Then the tests involved them trying to trigger me to change. It's a very physically exhausting and sometimes painful experience, and they were trying to get me to do it three, four, five times a day. Every day. They tried sound waves, light waves, various herbs and chemical concoctions, stress tests—everything.”

  I shivered as his words sunk in. All this detail...he was telling the truth. The realization made my head spin. How could this actually be real? I thought.

  “Finally,” he said with a heavy sigh, “when I was about sixteen, they, uh...they started monitoring my brain activity when I shifted. They pretty quickly pinpointed the areas of my brain responsible for the shifting. So they put electrodes, wired to this tiny computer chip, on that area of the brain so they could stimulate it remotely and force me to change whenever they wanted.”