Creatus

“Whatever,” Michael grunted, and Derrick could picture him throwing his hands up in frustration. Like Vic, his brother was another person he rarely agreed with. Yeah, they all got along, but when it came to their beliefs, his two best friends, Michael and Vic, saw things differently than he did and weren’t shy about voicing their opinions. They continually harassed him every time he mentioned Kristina.  “You don’t even know if she’ll want you, or how she’ll react when she finds out you knew her mother. That’ll mess with her head. And then, if she doesn’t choose you—” Michael broke off, not finishing his words. His brother knew Derrick understood what he was inferring.

Derrick’s heart thrashed in his chest at Michael’s insinuation. His hands broke out in a sweat causing his grip to slip on the phone. “You haven’t spoken with anyone, have you? I haven’t told Kristina anything, I swear.” The line was quiet and Derrick squeezed the phone in his hand, almost crushing it. He had to remember his own strength sometimes. “Michael, tell me you haven’t said anything,” he demanded.

“No, man. I haven’t said a word,” his brother finally said through a groan.

Derrick expelled a breath of relief. “Thank you. I just need a few more days. She’s through the worst part.”

“Where is she now?” Michael asked. A note of concern in his brother’s tone surprised Derrick. Michael had made it clear on several occasions how he felt about Kristina, most humans for that matter. Why would he even care if she made it through alive?

“Still sleeping. Her fever was high and her pressure was through the roof. I almost lost her. As you know, it’s not always safe to bring someone down like that. But she has a strong heart, and I didn’t have time to wait for days or weeks while I tapered her off slowly.”

“Why didn’t you just give her Valium?”

“Because the last thing Kristina needed—”

“No!” Kristina’s scream reverberated through the apartment, breaking through their conversation. She’d woken up several times in the last couple of days with cold sweats and tremors, but this time, her cry resembled one of her nightmares. It angered him that she still suffered nightly from memories of her mother’s murder, memories of what that butcher had stolen from her. Maybe now he could help her through them.

“I gotta go,” Derrick said, hanging up, not waiting for a reaction from his brother.

He barreled across the living room, but inched open his bedroom door quietly so as not to startle her. Kristina was still out cold, so it’d been a nightmare. He didn’t want her to wake before he had a chance to put everything away, but he needed to check her vitals before doing anything else. He sat on the chair beside the bed where he’d spent the last forty-eight hours watching over her. Droplets of moisture still dotted her forehead, but she wasn’t as pale as she’d been only hours earlier. He reached for her wrist to check her pulse and her eyes popped open.

She tried to sit up, but the straps impeded her movement. “What the—”

“Hang on. It’s okay,” he scrambled to explain.

“Okay?” she screamed. “You’ve tied me up?”

“Restrained you,” he countered. “There’s a difference.” Ignoring her full-on glower, he reached for her wrist again, checking her pulse. It had dropped to a safe level, but it was still high for her age. Of course, being tied up could cause that reaction, he reasoned.

He unlatched one restraint, and she immediately drew her arm to her chest. “Why did you restrain me?”

“You had the DTs, Kristina. You were hallucinating, screaming at the walls, but I think you’re finally safe.” He unbuckled her other wrist, his eyes gauging her overall health. Her lovely shade of peach had returned to her face, and her skin was more luminescent than the dehydrated state she’d been in for two days. Actually, she looked better than she had in years. “How do you feel?”

She moistened her chapped lips with her tongue before speaking. “Thirsty. Tired.”

“I’ll bet.” He handed her the bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand. She unscrewed the top and took a long pull, her eyes holding his with a hint of caution. He offered her a smile. Not only to comfort her, but because he was overjoyed that she appeared to be over the worst part. “It’s not easy to quit drinking cold turkey, but you did it. You’re going to be okay.” He hesitated. “Unless you start drinking again, that is.”

After swabbing the area on her forearm with alcohol, he removed the IV from her vein and covered the tiny puncture with a clean cotton square and tape, smoothing the area several times with his thumbs, delighting in just holding her hand in his.

When he finished, he looked up at her, wondering why she hadn’t spoken more than two words. “You need to call Beth. She’s worried sick. I returned her texts as if I were you, ensuring her you were okay, but she keeps asking you to call.” He paused at the confusion in her eyes then quickly added, “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds; I just didn’t think it was right to leave her worrying about you.” He reached for Kristina’s phone on the table and held it out to her, letting her know she wasn’t a hostage, since she was staring at him like a trapped mouse. “Just let her know you’re alive, nothing else.”

Without offering a word, Kristina finished off the bottle of water, trading the empty plastic for her phone.

Not knowing what else to say, Derrick stood to leave as she continued to gawk at him. He assumed she’d have more to offer than a few words. He’d rather questions than nothing. Even though she must have been reeling about everything, he was anxious to talk with her. He’d waited so long. Maybe his brother was right; maybe they weren’t supposed to be together. “I’ll give you a few minutes. You’re probably starving anyway. Please don’t mention me,” he reminded her.

She offered him a nod, so he left the room somewhat contented. It was something anyway. At least she wasn’t catatonic. She just needed to catch her bearings.

Derrick walked out into the hallway and then took the elevator to the cafe in the lobby to get something to eat. He had plenty of food, but he didn’t have any way to cook it, and she needed protein. He also wanted to be out of earshot in case she told her friend about him. The lobby wouldn’t be far enough, but he could make an effort to tune out her voice. He didn’t want to hear anything that would make him have to turn her in. He would never allow them to kill her; he’d destroy anyone who tried. The only thing he could do was hope she fell for him.

He’d only looked to be in his early twenties when he met Janelle, but they had become great friends. In actuality, he’d already lived more than thirty-five human years at that time, but most of his kind lived to one hundred fifty, so they didn’t count their years the same. His family had warned him he was too young to fall for a human and that he should stick to his own kind. He’d heeded their words, but since Janelle and Kristina had lived in such a rough area of Boston and were all alone, he’d always felt compelled to check on them. Something his father and grandfather had done for complete strangers in the early days of America, before everyone had a video camera on their phone.

He was now at the age where he wanted to make a lifelong commitment, and Kristina was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, something Vic and he’d discussed numerous times. No matter how many times Vic or Michael tried to change his mind, he wouldn’t bend. Kristina was the woman he wanted.

Derrick ordered a double-egg and cheese bagel sandwich and a latte for Kristina, and then headed upstairs.

“I brought you a vanilla latte,” he called out as he walked inside the apartment. She didn’t respond, so he peeked in the bedroom, hoping she was decent. He blanched when he didn’t see her. “Oh, Kristina,” he shrieked. “They’ll kill you.” He loped to the front door and jerked it open, as if she would be standing in the hallway waiting for him. Of course she’d left. He probably scared the heck out of her by strapping her to the bed. But if he hadn’t, she would have hurt herself. He needed to find her before they did.

“What are you screaming about?” she spoke behind him. “My head is pounding. Please don’t yell.”

He whipped his head toward the sound of her voice. “Oh, thank God.” He released a deep breath. “I thought you left.”

She shrugged. “Why would I leave? I’ve tried to get your attention for six years.” She ambled over to where he stood rooted to his wooden floor, accepted the coffee cup and bag of food, and plopped heavily onto the sofa. “Oh, this smells to die for.”

Interesting choice of words, Derrick thought as he sunk into a chair facing Kristina, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair was damp and she was wearing one of his t-shirts. She’d recovered faster than he’d anticipated. Of course, he’d always known she was strong.