Carmen DeSousa: Creatus

“I know vampires don’t exist,” she rejoined. “But…” she moved her head slowly from side to side as though trying to unite her memory with reality, “the way you came off that roof. And you do look the same. Now that I know I didn’t conjure up some apparition, I know what I saw. So, what are you? No normal human could jump off a four-story building without getting hurt.”

He gazed into her eyes, attempting to impress on her the importance of this conversation. “If I tell you, Kristina, your life as you know it is over. You’ll have to stay with me forever. My family won’t allow you to leave once you choose. That’s why I wanted to wait until you were older.”

Kristina lifted her chin, steeling herself, a question in her eyes as she struggled to understand, it seemed. “Can you make me what you are, then?”

His jaw practically fell open in response. He hadn’t expected her to accept that he was different so easily. “Can you turn an ape into a human? No, I can’t make you what I am; I’m a living being like you.”

Her body trembled, and she gathered the blanket tighter, as though a chill had swept through her. She’d been fishing for an answer, and he’d caved. Maybe she wasn’t ready. He needed to be careful.

But then she squared her shoulders and sat up straighter, as if preparing for the truth. “So, why me? Why did you save me—twice?”

Twice? It’d been more than twice , he wanted to confess. But he understood what she was really asking. Why hadn’t he saved her mother? “I was too late.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides. “If I’d only been a few minutes earlier, your mother would be alive. That punk stabbed her in the descending aorta. It was amazing she’d lived as long as she had.” He ran his hand across his forehead at the memory, pinching his temple. “So I had to make sure I’d never lose you; I couldn’t fail twice.”

Her eyes softened, accepting his answer. But then she leaned closer, her brow furrowing as if a thought had just occurred to her. “But how do you always know where I am?”

Derrick focused above her head, afraid to meet her eyes for this tidbit. “I wish I could claim some magical, mythical power, but I can’t,” he said, trying to make light of his confession. She didn’t crack a smile, so he continued, “It was easy the first eight years; I just had to check on you at night, make sure whichever foster home you were with didn’t abuse you. But then, you turned into a wild teenager, so I had to find ways to keep track of your whereabouts.” He lowered his gaze to her eyes again. “I tracked you by your cell phone. Amazing the programs that are available. I could sit back and wait to see what trouble you would find.” He smiled, attempting to diminish his admission.

“So that’s how you knew I was at the party,” she said, seemingly not alarmed by the fact that he’d kept tabs on her. He thought for sure that she’d think he was some deranged stalker.

He drew in a breath at the memory of Kristina when she was sixteen. He’d seen the two of them on the balcony, heard their conversation. Ignored the first twinge of jealousy as it’d hit him. He’d never thought of her as anything but his charge. But when he’d heard the college kid tell her to drink up and then offered for them to go outside for fresh air, he sensed he was up to no good. He’d waited, though. He’d thought it would be good to let the boy scare her, but he hadn’t expected him to turn violent as quickly as he had. “That kid is lucky I didn’t kill him.”

Kristina dropped her head, apparently not upset, but plainly disappointed for some reason. “So, you’re human?” she asked, a note of doubt tainting her words.

He released a breath of relief that the idea didn’t repulse her, but then realized she’d obviously ignored his attempt to change the subject of what he was. Offering her a hint of a smile, he said, “Would that disappoint you?”

When he’d failed to save her mother, leaving her parentless, he’d become her protector. But after seeing her with that college kid, he’d started to see her differently. They looked nothing alike, didn’t listen to the same music, didn’t do the same recreational activities. But he’d always hoped that once they finally met, she would like him. In the last few years, he’d fallen in love with her strength and spirit, even though he didn’t agree with her unwise choices to escape reality.

“I just don’t understand. How can you be the same age as I am if you’re human?”

“I’m not the same age,” he said, resisting a sigh. He wanted to tell her, needed to tell her, longed to tell her, but knew he could only reveal so much without knowing if she was the One . “I’m roughly twenty-eight in your years, though.” Again, he was talking too much, but he had to give her something, and for some reason, he felt as if he could confess anything to her.

She absorbed his answer without commenting. Kristina did senseless things, but she wasn’t stupid by any means.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, noticing she didn’t look away. “Kristina, if you’ll allow me, I want to watch over you while you come down. And then we can discuss everything else. Okay?”

Her brow furrowed again. She hated anyone to tell her what to do. He’d overheard many arguments between her and her foster parents over the years. Of course, in her defense, most of them had never treated her as their child, rather as a paycheck. Just another kid they fed in order to pad their pockets. “Come down from what?” she snapped.

His breath came out as a puff of smoke in the cool air at her reaction. He was surprised she was even able to have the conversation they were having. Based on her dilated pupils, even in the bright sunlight, she was still a tad bit high from her recreational activities only hours earlier. “Trust me; in about two days, you’ll know what.” He tilted his head in query. “Do you trust me, Kristina?”

A gentle smile lifted her cheeks, the first indication of the sweet woman he knew was hidden beneath her hard outer shell. He’d seen her soft side, the side she only shared with her best friend Beth. “I don’t even know you, but yes, I do trust you. Even with my life a couple times obviously.”

Derrick rested his hand on the side of her neck, his heart thrumming at the chance to be near her. She didn’t flinch at his touch; in fact, she closed her eyes and leaned into it. Soft golden beams of morning light saturated each strand of her hair, casting a delicate glow around her face. “You’re a beautiful woman. So smart, so sweet. Why have you done this to yourself?” He ran his fingertips along her face from her temple to her jaw then brushed her long blond hair off her shoulder, happy that she had at least stopped adding the purple and pink streaks. Another attempt to stand out in a world where she felt all alone, he assumed. She could have been anything she wanted, but she’d spent the last six years abusing her body.

She pressed her hand against his. “You forced my hand,” she answered. “I was looking for you.”

Derrick paced the floor of his apartment as he listened to his brother’s babbling. As usual, Michael was unable to keep his opinions to himself. They’d gone through the same thing last time.

His brother took a breath long enough that Derrick thought he might get in a word, but then started yapping again before he could speak. “Mom and Dad will be fine as long as you clean her up, but Vic’s going to be ticked. Me? What do I care? She’s just another human you’re infatuated with—”

“That’s enough, Michael,” Derrick cut him off, breaking into the one-way conversation. “The reason I called was to tell Dad I wouldn’t be into work this week. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Derrick stared out at the Boston skyline through the wall of windows on the one side of his apartment, his blood boiling over his brother’s callousness. His brother was one of their kind who’d be happier if they were the only superior beings on this planet.