Chronicles of Han: Preserving Creata: Part 1: Learning Curve
Chapter Thirty-Nine

Tucker unzipped the third body-bag. This once good-looking young man had been executed in the same manner as the snitch.

Centering myself, I once again focused on being the observer, and touched the wound over his heart . . .

I was thrown into a closet. The now deceased young man closed the doors.

“Stay there! Stay quiet!” he ordered me.

Although frozen with fear, I was still aching deliciously from his lovemaking.

I could not help it, curiosity overwhelmed me and I opened the door a crack.

Ferdi was dressing hastily. The hotel room door was forced open and I had such a fright that I almost yelled out before clamping my hand over my mouth.

Ferdi froze, a gun held to his forehead.

“My father will have you killed before my body is cold,” he told whoever was holding the gun.

The sound was not loud, only a sigh.

Ferdi fell back, onto the bed. I closed the cupboard door as the second shot whispered and the body moved oddly.

Biting my fist to stop from screaming hysterically, tasting my own blood, I prayed to whatever Universe was out there that whoever killed Ferdi would leave.

I waited.

There was a struggling and a loud thump.

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Ferdi’s former friend and business associate, Grudber, was wrapping the body in the bed sheet.

Grudber was so intent on removing the body from the room that he did not check to see if Ferdi was actually alone.

The entertainment set was bumped over, sending shards of glass everywhere, killing the rhythmical sounds that had been coming from it throughout the whole event.

Grudber threw Ferdi’s body over his shoulder and left, leaving the door open behind him.

Who would care anyway, except to take whatever valuables they could find.

It seemed as if hours had passed before I emerged from the cupboard.

I closed what was left of the front door before dashing to the bathroom. My clothes were still lying in a pile next to the shower. As quick as my shaking fingers could pull clothes on, I yanked my portable comm from my pocket.

Checking at the door to see that no-one was going to disturb me, I phoned my lover’s father.

He disapproved of his son’s choice in lovers, but did not discourage our relationship outright, as long as we kept it confidential.

He had also given me his personal contact number in case of an emergency. This was an emergency.

I dialled the number. It was on Answering-service, allowing me to leave a message.

“Ferdi was murdered by Grudber in front of me. Grudber took the body with him. He did not see me,” I hysterically shouted into the comm before disconnecting.

I had to get out of here. The other side of the world looked attractive. I glimpsed myself in the mirror. My eyes looked like a frightened animal.

I felt a strange pull and remembered that I was NOT Ferdi’s unnamed lover . . .

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