When Sirens Screech
Bedlam in Bethlehem Book Four
Nicole Zoltack
Copyright 2017 by Nicole Zoltack
Published in the United States of America
Publish Date: 2017
Cover Artist: Nicole Zoltack
Cover Art Copyright 2017
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
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When Sirens Screech
Vampires, werewolves, and now... sirens?
Detective Clarissa Tempest has faced against all kinds of foes. She's made some questionable choices. Now, she'll have to deal with the fallout that includes her being cut from the police force.
That doesn't mean Clarissa is gonna turn her back on the people of Bethlehem. No how. No way. And it's a good thing too because a new kind of foe has emerged. A siren who does not sing sweet songs. Even worse, vamps and werewolves are at each other’s throats. Literally.
If Clarissa's lucky, she'll get through this too. If not, it'll be worse than losing her job.
She'll end up dead.
To those who live in Bethlehem. This one’s for you.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Other Books By Nicole Zoltack
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
The gloom of the night enshrouds me like a blanket. I shiver. Winter is almost here, and already, snow falls. It glistens in the moonlight, pretty, beautiful even.
But the shadows can’t be kept at bay for long. Especially not now.
Not when vamps are real. So are werewolves. They might be at war because of me.
And then there’s Amarok. An ancient wolf who drinks blood and can turn others into his minions. He’s gone supposedly. It’s terrible of me to have condemned another city to suffer from that monster. What could I have done instead though? I had to let him go. I had to release him. It was the only way to save innocents.
I’m a detective, but that doesn’t matter. You can’t search and locate who is missing that you don’t even know is missing. Somehow, some way, Amarok was able to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. The families didn’t know a loved one was missing. Their coworkers, friend. No one could fill out a missing person’s report.
How he could tap into the mind of so many people I didn’t know. Vamps can do that too. They affected my good friend and one-time partner, Travis Hoffman. They even had him try to kill me! Despicable, disgusting, vile, blood-sucking goons.
At least I threatened one and bullied him into helping me. What did he get in return though? A bullet. A silver bullet. That I fired.
He had been about to kill Rolf. Rolf Kieran. A werewolf. Possible ally. Maybe. He definitely has his own agenda. He used me to get rid of Amarok. Now that I released Amarok, he’s gonna be pissed as Hell at me. My boss sure is. I’m treading water there.
A faint film of snow covers each of the gravestones as I pick my way toward my parents’ graves. Whenever I’m lost, whenever I’m upset or hurting, whenever I’m in need of guidance, I visit them.
I get more out of our “talks” than I do when I see my shrink.
The moment I halt before their graves, I close my eyes before I can read the well-remembered phrase. Here lie Jeremy and Rachel Tempest.
Darkness surrounds me, and I swear, I can feel Mom hugging me. She’d been shorter than me, a little plumber. “A stick with curves,” she used to tease me. “I’m just a donut shape.”
Dad had been built like a bear. He would’ve played linebacker in college if he’d gone to college. Blue-collar worker instead. A hard-working man. A self-made man.
Each day, I miss them more. Adoptive parents or not, they had been my whole world until the night they had been gunned down.
“I’m back again. Already. I know. You aren’t getting bored of my visits, are you?”
I open my eyes long enough to reach out and touch their graves before closing them again. Despite my anxious frustration, I almost feel a sense of peace.
“I’m nervous about the days to come,” I admit. “No, not because Thanksgiving’s coming up. Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be sure to baste the turkey if I make one. Yeah, Mom. I’ll make your homemade stuffing if I do make that turkey. What’s the smallest size bird you can buy? I might just need a personal turkey. A three-pounder.”
My chest tightens. Thanksgiving had always been Dad’s holiday. It was the only time of year that he’d put on an apron. I even got him a chef’s hat for Christmas one year. He’d get the biggest bird the store would have. Use the sharpest, largest knife ever to carve it.
Mom would make a huge thing of stuffing, so much that it couldn’t all fit into the bird’s cavity. She’d put the rest in a pan. We would have enough leftovers to feed us for a month.
My dad had been a paramedic. He’d be the kind of guy to set everyone at ease. Always cracking jokes, making even grumpy people smile. Every Thanksgiving, he would invite over a few of his coworkers and their families.
Mom had been the disciplinarian at a high school. After watching her walk down the halls in four- or five-inch heels, the kids didn’t respect her. Not until she accidentally let leak out that she was a black belt. Hardly anyone ever got into trouble. No one wanted to mess with her.
Mom never liked messes. She always had to straighten them out.
Right now, I feel like a mess that needs straightening out.
“I’m not sure how Thanksgiving will go this year,” I say. “I’m not here about cooking tips though. I just… things aren’t getting any better in the city. If anything, I’ve made things worse. The vamps, the werewolves… The way Zeke the vampire went batshit crazy and tried to kill Rolf the werewolf was insane. Sorry, Mom. There’s no other way to describe his behavior. He kept going on about how Amarok will take over the world. He thought Rolf was one of his agents.”
I pause. Rolf had wanted me to get Amarok out of the way.
I had. First by putting him behind bars and then by letting him free after he promised to leave Bethlehem alone.
What if that had been what Rolf wanted all along? What if Rolf is
actually in league with Amarok?
“No,” I mutter. “He can’t be. Rolf? An agent of Amarok’s? He tried to kill me after Amarok bit me. He thought I was going to change into one of his minions. He wouldn’t have done that if he were on Amarok’s side, would he? Unless he wanted me to think him against Amark, and he was playing me the entire time.”
Great. This is just great. The one werewolf I thought I could trust might really be in league with one of the most terrible foes I’ve encountered.
So far.
“You’re right, Mom. I can’t trust anyone who’s tried to kill me no matter the reason. Yes, Dad. Trust has to be earned. I’m better off sticking with the people I already trust.”
Like Travis, my old partner. Marlon Price, my one-time crush. Diego Garcia, who has a crush on me. All cops.
And then there’s Samantha Hendricks, my best friend, and the hot doc Dean Cline who is kinda my boyfriend.
Oh, and the vamp hunter Blake Damon who pops in now and again. Actually, I’m not sure if I can trust him.
“I’ll make my team. Karate might seem like it’s a solo sport, but it’s all about teamwork and discipline. I’ve been going about this all wrong. Keeping secrets, going after vamps by myself… I need to be able to count on others. To trust them. Thanks for the advice, Mom, Dad.”
I open my eyes, bend down to kiss their gravestones, and make my way back to my car. A faint mist has rolled in. Natural or unnatural, I’m not sure.
Either way, I leave Fairview Cemetery behind. My path lies ahead of me. Fog clouds it, but I’m sure there are major bumps in the road. Whatev. I’ve survived so far. I’ll be fine.
Chapter 2
It’s only eight at night when I return home. Not too late for a few phone calls. I’m missing my parents like crazy, and returning to the empty house is just too depressing. I’m not ready to go to sleep yet, but the walls are caving in on me like an igloo of isolation.
First, I call Samantha as I plop onto the couch. She answers with a quick “I’ll call you back,” and hangs up. Hm. I wonder if she’s out with her new boyfriend. I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet, but he seems almost like a gentleman. Which is super rare nowadays. As long as he makes her happy. And as long as he doesn’t give me creepy vibes for no reason like her previous boyfriend did. He never did anything to make me dislike him. I just never cared for him for whatever reason.
So I call Dean. It rings and rings. Right when I think it’s gonna go to voicemail, he answers.
“Clarissa.”
I wince. He doesn’t sound the happiest with me. Why?
“Dean, I—”
“You haven’t been answering my texts. You finally called me and then hung up after I heard sirens in the background. Clarissa, what in the world is going on?”
I hesitate. Dean doesn’t know about a lot of things. That vamp blood cured my arm after Amarok chomped on it. That werewolves are real. That I’m not in a good way right now. That I’m doubting our relationship. That I doubt I’ll be good for anyone in a relationship.
Maybe I’m sabotaging whatever it is we have going.
“I know you told me that you would tell me if you could,” he continues. “But I don’t know how much longer I can wait. Hold up. Are you hurt? Do you need me to come over?”
“No! Nothing like that.”
There’s a slight pause.
“I guess you’ll be upset to know that I’m hurt you think that’s the only reason why I called, huh?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck. I shift to lie down but can’t get comfortable.
“Can you blame me?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I understand that you’re angry with me. I deserve that.”
“I’m not angry. Well, maybe a little. You’re right. I’m upset. I care about you, Clarissa. I thought you cared about me too. But if all you do is get hurt and call me to patch you up without giving me any details… I feel used, honestly.”
“I never meant—”
“That Diego guy made it clear I wasn’t supposed to take you to the hospital before I stitched your shoulders at your place. It’s not safe for me to do that in someone’s home. It’s a liability. Why couldn’t you just go to the hospital?”
Because of all the questions I’d be asked about how I acquired such marks. I sigh. It’s not an answer he’ll want to hear. I’m sure it’s what he suspects, though.
“Fine. You want the truth? I’ll give you some. I’m not just a detective, Dean. I’m a member of an elite organization. Not CIA or FBI but something along those lines. I can’t tell you more. Believe. I hate not being able to tell you. But I can’t. It’s not my call.”
I hesitate. He says nothing.
After a deep exhale, I add, “I understand if that explanation isn’t good enough. I get it. You need complete transparency because of your sister and her poor history with the guys she’s been with.”
“Just one guy,” he grumbles.
“It only takes one guy to ruin a lot of lives,” I say softly. “He damaged her, and he…”
“Are you saying I’m damaged?”
Crap. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“If you’re damaged, I’m smashed to smithereens,” I offer. “But I think you already knew that.”
Again, he’s silent. I just don’t know how to take that.
“If I’m not able to give you enough to make you feel comfortable, I’m sorry. I understand if you want to walk away. I won’t call you again. But…”
Would it be the truth if I say that’s not what I want?
“Maybe that’s for the best,” I say softly.
Dean hangs up on me.
Honestly, I’m so confused about my feelings toward him that this might really be what we need. Vamps went after my work partner. I’m sure they wouldn’t hesitate to go after my life partner if they feel threatened.
Still, I feel like crap about the whole thing.
I mentioned to Dean about us being friends when I had been out of it on pain meds. He’d said yes, but he stilled kissed me. We had still flirted with the idea of being together. I guess that’s dead and gone now.
It’s clear to me he has some demons of his own. Man, do I know about that. Maybe if we can bother to get our heads on right, we can revisit dating?
Somehow, I doubt he’ll want to give me a second chance. Or would this be a third or fourth?
I definitely don’t want to turn in feeling so depressed, so I call Henrietta Goldersnatch the medical examiner next. We’ve become close friends recently. She doesn’t pick up. Neither does Diego or Marlon.
Geez. What’s the point of having a cell phone if no one ever answers them?
Instead of getting ready for bed, I leave. I drive around aimlessly. Looking for anything suspicious. Looking for glowing red eyes. Looking for a vamp to take down.
Thirty minutes into my trek, I spy a fog that is definitely not natural. For once, it’s not at a cemetery. The fog covers a small children’s park that’s closed at this late hour, thankfully.
I park down the block and double back to the park on foot. Before I can head toward the swings, something hard strikes the back of my head. All I remember before everything turns dark is a faint sound that almost sounds like singing.
Chapter 3
My head is pounding. Seriously pounding. Ugh. There’s no way I don’t have a concussion.
What the heck happened?
Slowly, I open one eye and wince. It’s not even that bright where I am, but it’s still too blinding. With a groan that makes my ears hurt, I force myself to sit up. A wave of dizziness washes over, and my stomach churns. Man, I feel as badly off as I had after Amarok beat the crap out of me.
Both eyes open now, I force myself to focus on my surroundings. I’m still in the park. I must not have been out for long. The sun hasn’t risen yet. Good. The last thing I need is to be discovered in the park as if I’m a drunk.
I stretch, and something falls out of my lap. It must’ve been placed
on top of me after I was hit.
Without hesitating, I pick it up, shriek, and throw it away.
A freaking wolf paw! With blood leaking from the end and everything. My clothes are damp with blood from the severed limb.
Who in the world would have done this? Why? Why give it to me?
To pin it on me? Werewolves, I’m pretty sure, have a super keen sense of smell. If they realize one of their own is missing, they’ll go out hunting for him or her. If they find the scent on me, it’s not gonna be good.
Great. This is just fang-friggin-tastic.
Especially since I’m not sure if I can trust Rolf, the only werewolf I’m really on speaking terms with.
Maybe I would rather speak to the alpha. Or the alpha female. Then again, Rolf had to go behind their back to enlist my help against the Amarok.
Potentially supposedly against the Amarok. And maybe Rolf lied. Maybe the alphas knew about him talking to me all along. If the werewolves can smell as well as I think they can, they’ve had to have smelled me on Rolf. Not that we touched or anything. Heck, the werewolves might’ve smelled me during their gathering I spied on.
South Mountain isn’t too far from here. If I hurry, I can get there while the moon still shines.
But the moment I stand, ringing starts in my ears. I take a step and nearly fall over. My sense of balance is completely gone. I stagger like a drunk. My stomach churns like mad as I retrieve the bloody wolf paw. Am I reacting to the paw or is the nausea from my concussion? Doesn’t matter either way.
When Sirens Screech (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 4) Page 1
