Creatus Series Boxed Set

by Carmen DeSousa

  She lined her eyes with dark eyeliner and shadow then added a light sparkly color at the tips and just above her eyes, the way she’d seen the models in the magazines she perused at the library make up their eyes. Lastly, she slipped into the sexiest dress she owned. She’d bought the sheer, low-cut, backless black dress for prom when she had cash in her pocket after selling her mother’s jewelry. She’d never worn it to prom, of course, but she’d reserved it for special occasions.

  Tonight wasn’t a special occasion; it was the anniversary of the worst night of her life. To celebrate, she planned to get so drunk that she wouldn’t even remember her own name, let alone what she’d lost.

  Kris didn’t come to this nightclub often; it was too large. She preferred a quaint pub, where she stood out among the mostly male patrons. But she wanted to dance tonight, and the dance floor here was massive. She stared up at the majestic staircase that led to the second-story balcony where girls were practically hanging over the edge. The club was like a grand ballroom from the old days, but with a contemporary venue. Its classic splendor and modern tenet made for a unique nightlife experience, and she planned to enjoy every second of it.

  She didn’t go to the bar; she knew how to do this. And she didn’t wait for someone to ask her to dance either. She found a spot right below the DJ’s booth and let herself go. The dance mix pounded out of the speakers, and she moved to the beat. Lifting her arms, she moved her hips and got lost in the sounds, forgetting that she was supposed to find herself a date. It felt so good.

  It took only a few minutes and a looker approached, smiling. He was ultra-hot, but she turned, acting as though he were obviously smiling at someone else. She continued to dance to her own rhythm, but felt him approach behind her. It wasn’t unusual to feel another body knock up against you on the crowded dance floor, but two large hands on her hips was another story.

  If she were anywhere else, she would have already turned around and shoved him off her. She turned beneath his hands, making sure it was the blond hottie, though. It was.

  He smiled. “Want company?” he shouted above the din.

  She narrowed her eyes as though she couldn’t hear him.

  He lowered his head to repeat his words in her ear, allowing her to inhale his cologne. Good. She didn’t want to end up hanging out with someone who didn’t smell good and take care of himself. Even his breath hinted of mint. “Would you like company?” he repeated. “Or would you rather dance alone?”

  She smiled. So he’d come across the women who came here and wiggled their ass, but then got upset when a man dared to approach them. She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a tease. She enjoyed a good time as much as any man did. That didn’t necessarily mean sex, but she wasn’t afraid to have some fun. “Sure. Although, I’m kinda hot.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She flashed him a seductive smile. “Sure.”

  He took her hand and led her off the dance floor toward the bar. “What do you like?”

  “Coors Light, in the bottle, would be great.”

  “Bottle of Coors Light and a Heineken,” he told the bartender. He looked back at her. “Want a glass?”

  “If it doesn’t bother you, I prefer the bottle.”

  He smiled as he nudged her closer to the bar, away from the swarming bodies. He seemed nice, gentle even. Of course, so had Greg. “Why would it bother me?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “One guy said it looked unladylike. It just always seems easier when I’m out.”

  “I can’t imagine you doing anything unladylike.”

  “Nice comeback,” she said, offering him another smile.

  He tipped his head as he handed her the bottle. “I try.” He paid the bartender, then led her to a table away from the throng of people waiting for drinks and then even held out the counter-height stool for her to climb up. He took his own seat and then held up his bottle to hers. “By the way, I’m Kyle.”

  She clicked her bottle with his. “Kris.”

  “You come here often, Kris?”

  “Ooh…and you were doing so well.” She laughed

  “Sorry…lame, huh?”

  “Yes, definitely lame, but no, it’s a little loud for me. But I wanted to dance.”

  “Me too.” He downed his beer, then motioned the waitress over for another one. “Want a shot?”

  “Sure.” As long as the server brought it, she didn’t care. One rule she never broke anymore, though, she never accepted an open drink from a guy.

  “Two more beers and two shots of tequila, please,” Kyle requested.

  After a few more shots and beers, Kyle led her back to the dance floor, this time for a slow dance. He rested his hands on her hips again, and then just moved them in a small circle. He dipped his head to her neck and inhaled. “You smell great, Kris.”

  She leaned back to look at him. “So do you.”

  He moved his hands up her back, pulling her closer.

  Kris cringed. This, she didn’t want. She just wanted to get drunk, which he’d done a good job of providing her so far. Every time she reached for her purse, he’d pushed away her hands. The last thing she wanted was to take comfort in a man’s arms, even as cute as he was. Somehow, it felt wrong. As strange as it seemed, drinking seemed to be an acceptable way to mourn her mother.

  Kyle dipped his head again. “Do you like to get high, Kris?”

  She didn’t, not anymore. Every time she tried, she had some strange reaction.

  “I have some good stuff. My brother gets it from Florida.”

  “That sounds like fun,” she heard herself say.

  He didn’t wait; he took her hand and led her off the dance floor again. “Let’s go. Do you need a ride?”

  “I have a car.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Should you be driving?”

  Was he for real? He acted like a boy scout the way he escorted her to and from the dance floor, away from the scores of people, but then offered her drugs. Who did that? “I’m fine,” she said.

  “All right. I’ll walk you to your car, and then you can just follow me home.”

  Home? She’d just been thinking they’d go to his car. He seemed nice, but… Hell, what difference did it make? He could rape her just as easily in the parking lot as he could at his place, and somehow, it seemed if he was willing to invite her into his home, he didn’t plan to hurt her. Didn’t most psychos kill their prey in abandoned buildings—or in between dorm buildings?

  No, Kyle was a clean-cut business guy who liked to get naughty on the weekends. His hands hinted that he’d never worked a hard day’s work in his life. His clothes screamed money. Too bad money had never been important to her; otherwise, she could probably trap some unsuspecting man like him. She’d known a few girls who’d done that. Kyle was probably some high-level consultant or broker. She doubted he was an attorney or physician, based on his nonchalant mention of drugs. But all she wanted from him was a night of escape from her life, from the guilt, from the nightmares.

  He trailed her down the street, stopping in front of a sleek, black Lexus. “Hop in and I’ll drive you to your car.”

  “Umm…” she hesitated. “It’s just down the street.”

  He smiled. “I swear I won’t bite.”

  She stood there, so he shoved his remote back in his pocket. “Okay. I’ll walk you to your car, then.”

  Kris couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted to get her high, but she couldn’t walk down the street. Maybe he thought she’d run. “Fine. You can drive me.”

  Content in her assent, it seemed, he unlocked the vehicle again and opened the door for her. “Thank you. I’ll feel better.”

  By the time they reached her car, her head had started to spin. She’d drunk more than she thought. Oh, yeah, the shots. She didn’t usually do shots. How many had she had? Three…no, four, and four beers. “How far is your place?” she asked as he stopped in front of her car.

  “Just a few miles. You sure you’re okay?”
>
  “Yeah…but drive slowly.” She knew it was wrong, but who was out at this time of the night anyway? It was only a few miles. Tomorrow, she’d stop drinking for good. She just needed to get through this one night.

  Kris pulled up behind Kyle, but cringed. She wasn’t far from home; she’d driven through this neighborhood before she was pretty sure. It looked vaguely familiar anyway. Too bad his apartment building wasn’t as nice as his clothes and car.

  Kyle opened her door and held out his hand. “I know it doesn’t look like much. I’m working on moving soon, but I assure you it’s clean inside.”

  Needing the support, Kris nodded and accepted his hand. He really was quite sweet. Her vision blurred and she tottered, almost falling into him as he led her up the stairs.

  Kyle unlocked the door to his apartment, holding it open for her to enter. He hadn’t lied. It was clean and tastefully furnished.

  “Let me guess,” Kris started. “You recently graduated MIT and landed a great job.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah…something like that.”

  “So you’re smart, you have a great career ahead of you, and yet, you get high.”

  He shrugged. “It’s just pot. I already took my drug test.”

  Just pot. That’s what everyone said.

  “You want another beer? I don’t have Coors Light, but—”

  “Whatever you have is fine. Unopened please.”

  “Got it.”

  Kris sat down on the dark blue sofa. It was cleaner than most of the guys’ apartments she’d been in, but she still wondered why she was here. What was she thinking? She knew better than this. Still, the thought of going home…

  Kyle sat down beside her. He opened the beer and handed it to her, then scooted closer, burying his head into her neck. “You smell amazing.”

  Kris adjusted herself so she edged away from him a bit. He no longer smelled as good as he had. The drinking, the dancing, sweat from the other patrons, had all permeated his clothes, and he must have smoked a cigarette on his way home. Buying some time, she took a long pull off her beer. Just what she needed…more liquor.

  Kyle ran his hand over her knee, moving her dress up slightly. At least he hadn’t just gone right in for the kill. She hated that. “So…do you want to fool around a bit or get high?”

  She wasn’t usually such a killjoy, but neither sounded acceptable anymore. But she still didn’t want to go home either, not that she was capable of driving anyway. “Umm…” she lifted her bottle again, downing it, “maybe another beer first.”

  He got up from the sofa, fumbled around in the kitchen for a few minutes, and then came back with the ice bin filled with beers. “There…now I won’t have to leave again.” He opened another beer for her and leaned into her neck again while she downed it.

  He was gentle, but she just wasn’t feeling it. She hated strong odors. “How ’bout that hit?” If he got high, maybe he’d be like Billy and not be interested in anything but eating and watching cartoons.

  “Uh…sure.” He got up again, and Kris fell back into the couch. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she meet a guy like him under good pretenses? No liquor, no drugs. He seemed okay. But now that he was sweaty and smelly, she just wanted to leave.

  Kyle sat back down with a bong and a bag. He sprinkled a few crushed leaves into the bowl and then reached for a lighter. He held up the bong for her.

  “That’s okay. Go ahead.”

  He smiled. “You’re wary of doing things first and drinking out of opened containers, and yet, you’re in my apartment.” He shook his head. “Not sure I quite understand, but I swear I won’t hurt you, and this really is primo weed.”

  Kris shrugged. “I’ve just been burnt a few times.”

  Kyle leaned toward her, running his fingers up her jaw. “You’re beautiful, Kris, and I just want to have a little fun.”

  She gulped as he moved to her mouth. He pressed his lips against hers, immediately working to separate her lips so he could enter her. She tried to relax, but she just couldn’t take it. She pulled back again. “Thank you.”

  Her disinterest didn’t seem to upset him; he just moved his mouth to the bong instead of her. He held the lighter over the bowl and inhaled. He sat back, holding the smoke in, and then handed her the bong. She didn’t want to, but she accepted it from him. She breathed in slowly, holding it in her lungs as long as possible.

  Kyle smiled, seemingly content that she trusted him enough to smoke after him.

  Kris reached for another beer, counting…six, seven…did it even matter anymore?

  As suspected, Kyle sat back after a few more hits and flipped on the television, no longer as intent on sexual activity, she guessed. Good…she just wanted to feel the buzz course through her and for just a moment, forget.

  “No…take me, not her!” Her own scream woke her up. Kris looked around the strange apartment. The flickering TV gave her glimpses, but she couldn’t quite make out where she was. A soft snore from beside her brought her up fast. She looked down at the stranger leaning against her.

  Uck…she cringed away…trying to move out from beneath him. Thankfully, she was still fully dressed, so at least she hadn’t had sex with him. Umm…was it Cato, Keith…God…she couldn’t even remember his name.

  She scrambled for her keys and purse on the coffee table. Her shoes. What had she done with her shoes? She fumbled on the floor with her toes, then got down on her hands and knees and felt around. Just a tip protruded from underneath the sofa. He must have inadvertently pushed them back when he’d sat down beside her.

  Kris glanced down at the bong, the drugs, the empty beer bottles. Gross…she was gross, and a rancid smell had her covering her mouth and nose, about to puke. She had to get out of there. Then what? Another day…another night…more days of her life wasted away.

  She pushed through the door and stumbled into the hallway. She cringed again…she’d forgotten what a dump he lived in.

  What a worthless piece of garbage she’d become.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Derrick watched as Kristina left the bar and jumped into her Grand Am, ready to follow a total stranger home for a hit.

  He still had three more years before he could talk to her, but with such a short time left, he couldn’t take a chance that something would happen to her now.

  She’d stopped smoking pot years ago, since every time she did it, she had the reverse reaction. Derrick wanted to grab her and show her how to use Google. Not everyone reacted the same way, and if she wasn’t careful, one bad batch, and she could end up dead. He’d been so good about not watching over her anymore, just making sure she got home safely.

  Tonight was a bad night, though, the anniversary of Janelle’s murder. She hadn’t mentioned it…she may not even remember, but she always became depressed in March and tended to drink too much. For that matter, so did he. When he heard the man at the bar mention that he had some good stuff at his apartment, he had to follow her.

  As always, he tried to tune out if she was going to do anything sexual, but it sounded as though she’d fended off the man’s advances rather well. She didn’t sleep around, but she didn’t seem to care whom she made out with.

  The apartment was quiet for a while, and then her scream broke the air, “No…take me, not her.” She was safe…just another nightmare. He still had them too.

  A few minutes later, she barreled out the front of the apartment building. He clambered up a fire escape, repressing a sigh as she tripped on the sidewalk. She stumbled down the block, searching for her car, fussing the entire way, as if her choices in life were his fault.

  Derrick lost focus of her for a second as he saw where they were. The same alley. No!

  From the street below, her words echoed his as he smashed his hand over his mouth, feeling as though he’d puke from the stench and the memory. He couldn’t be sure if the reek was from his recollection or if it still smelled like death here. Not here. He dropped to the floor of the
rooftop, his body racking in pain. Of all the places…why did she have to end up here tonight?

  He lost sight of Kristina, but heard her yell at no one in particular. He was dying inside, and she was furious. With him. She blamed him. Only this time, she was right. He’d failed.

  She finally stumbled upon her car and sped off. He raced across the rooftops to keep up with her. Normally he’d stop and look before he’d jump to the next building, but she sounded angry and desperate.

  “Where are you going, Kristina?” he screamed at the top of his lungs, wishing she could hear him so she’d stop whatever she planned to do. He’d waited too long, and now she hated him for it.

  Not caring, he bounded from one building to the next until he made it back to his vehicle. He sped through the streets to catch up to her until he saw that she was heading to the Mystic River, The Tobin Bridge. “Oh, no. God, no!”

  Knowing she didn’t plan to just drive to Chelsea, he pulled his vehicle over the first chance he got and then shot up to the top of the bridge, hoping she was bluffing. She hadn’t seen him in years, since she was sixteen. It’d been six years, why would she suddenly do this? He raced across the top railing, listening to her threats.

  His heart pounded in his chest. Don’t do this, you stupid girl. God, don’t do this. I can’t save you this time. Even though the sun hadn’t come up yet, there were still too many people around. If anyone saw… He chewed on his lip, deliberating how to stop her, but then dropped his head in defeat as he watched her plunge a hundred and thirty-five feet into the frigid waters of the Mystic River.

  Creatus

  Book One in the Creatus Series

  Carmen DeSousa

  It is from them we obtain our fairy tales—and our nightmares. They are the reason we believe in superheroes—and monsters.

  Because…they exist.