The silver eyes. The singing. It’s something else. It’s gotta be. But what?
You know who I need? Blake Damon. Vamp hunter. That’s who. He gave me some vamp repellant spray a little while ago. Some vamp blood in a vial. A few tips. Hates vamps. Might even hate werewolves more. Maybe he’ll have an idea as to what could be doing the singing.
But he’s always been the one to seek me out before. Although I could really use his help, I’m not sure he’s still around. He seems to just go from city to city, leaving a trail of dead vamps in his wake. What does he do with the bodies? How is it that he hasn’t been caught yet?
He’s actually kind of intriguing in a way. Infuriating too without a doubt. Acts like he knows everything. Yeah, so he’s been doing this longer. Of course, his bank of knowledge is gonna be greater than mine. Can’t he share that knowledge?
Can I really risk wasting time trying to track him down? He’s the master of leaving no paper trail behind. And he already said goodbye to me. He’s long gone. Left Bethlehem in my less-than-capable hands.
I can’t rely on him all the time.
I need to handle this devastating catastrophe all by myself.
If I can. If I can survive.
If the city can withstand the onslaught.
A shudder of fear and worry rifle through me. One of these times, my luck is gonna run out. My number will be called. A goon, whether vamp or wolf or something else, will get me.
All I can do is fight until that happens.
Fight, stumble, try to win.
Never give up.
Never stop trying.
No. Never stop doing.
Chapter 15
My sleep for the next few days is plagued by nightmares. I see my parents’ murdered bodies. I see Diamond. I see Lacey. I see the dead vamp and dead wolf. I see the carnage, the devastation.
I see Samantha dead. Diego dead. Travis and his wife Ali dead. The lieutenant dead. Rex, Marlon, even Mercedes, the floozy of a cop who I can’t stand, dead.
Everyone I know. Everyone I’ve come in contact with. Friends, coworkers, acquaintances.
Yes, I see Dean dead too.
Each time, I wake up in a cold sweat. I dread going to bed and avoid it as much as possible. But my body is running down. You can only run on adrenaline for so long before you just crash.
And I’ve long since hit that crashing point. Honestly, I know I need to slow down and sleep. I can’t keep up this frantic, frenzied pace forever. Detective work all day. Supernatural detective work all night. A body has to recharge. I need to be sharp at all times. Now is not the time for slow reflexes.
If I run into a foe of any kind, I won’t be the one to die. I can’t be.
Funny. No, how sad. My mind goes right to the terrible assumption that any foe, human or otherwise, will try to kill me.
And that I will have no choice but to kill them in return.
What does that say about me? How far I have fallen. Before that first time I spied a vamp gnawing on a woman’s jugular, I was a great cop. By the book. You make an arrest. You build the case. You dump it into the DA’s lap, so he has a slam dunk case. It had been that simple.
Now, it feels like the book’s been burned to ash in that UV bomb. A friggin UV bomb. How in the world had the werewolves made it? The resulting explosion rendered locating the ignition source impossible.
We’ve also failed to locate the werewolves responsible. Honestly, all we’ve been doing is failing.
The lieutenant screams all the time now. He doesn’t talk. Rex does his share of yelling too. Everyone in the entire force is on edge. Even Angelo’s happiness over his improved marriage isn’t helping him remain chipper. Diego doesn’t flirt with me anymore. It’s sad to say it, but I miss his smile.
Marlon, the cop in vice I used to have a crush on and fought Mercedes for his affections, doesn’t smile anymore either. Even Mercedes isn’t flirting with him, her lips all pinched with grated nerves. It’s like a huge cloud has descended over us. A vamp fog of gloom and doom, promising devastation and destruction in its wake.
Every morning, Lieutenant Reynolds calls me into his office to scream from an update. I swear he expects me to end the war singlehandedly.
I would if I could.
But I can’t.
I hate disappointing him, but I’m fresh out of ideas. The well has run dry. The public is all freaked out over the terrorist attack. If they only knew who was truly responsible for the mayhem and madness.
A week before Thanksgiving, I finally start to feel a little bit better. The nightmares have subsided some. The dead bodies we’re finding are only vamps or wolves. No more humans have been caught in the crossfire. It settles me somewhat. Maybe that’s terrible, that I care more about people than vamps or wolves, but it’s the truth.
Let the monsters tear each other apart.
No. No. War is never the answer. Innocents have already been killed or injured. The war has to end and now.
The moon and stars shine down on me as I drive around. Angelo and I have been working closer lately, which means I haven’t spent much time with Diego. I haven’t talked to or seen Dean since I showed up at the hospital and we had lunch together.
I’m becoming like Blake Damon. A woman island of isolation.
So much for making a team.
At a red light, I glance around, hoping to see the fog that means a vamp. Do the vamps turn into the fog? What exactly causes it? Why have I seen no fog lately? Vamps are definitely still around. In fact, given how many have died recently, more and more vamps must be entering the city to fight against the wolves.
By now, the light must’ve turned green. I look up at the light. It has. Before putting my foot to the gas pedal, I stare straight ahead.
It’s a good thing I do because standing directly in front of my car is a woman.
Despite the cold, she’s wearing a sleeveless dress that flutters in the breeze. A gold band coils around one of her biceps four times. Her arms are ripped. She’s muscular, built like an Amazon. Her sleek black hair falls down her back, loose, straight, without a hint of curl.
Exotic makeup coats her face, highlighting her already exotic features. But it’s the ruined mascara from crying that catches my eye.
I’ve never spoken to her before, but I know who she is.
“The female alpha,” I murmur.
I roll down my window.
“Need a lift?” I ask.
She stalks forward, the movement graceful but also predatory.
“You are Clarissa Tempest, are you not?” she asks. She has a slight accent that I can’t quite place.
“I am. You’re Alphie’s queen.” I flash a smile. “Sorry. I don’t know his name. Your husband, mate, or whatever you call him, he’s not the nicest.” I wince. “To me at least. I’m sure he’s a great husband or mate or whatever to you.”
“He’s nothing now,” she says shortly.
My heart skips a beat in shock and dismay. “You mean to say he’s dead?”
“Yes. He and two others. All three had been killed.”
“By vamps,” I mutter.
“I believe so.” Her gaze shifts away from my face.
Believe so? She has doubts?
“What can I do for you?” I ask as I put my car into park.
“I need your assistance. I know you have killed vampires in the past. I need you to take up the quest again.”
“Hold up. You want me to join in a supernatural war on your side?”
She blinks. “I know that Shane was not the kindest toward you.”
I snort. “That’s an understatement,” I mutter.
Beneath her highlighter and blush, she flushes with embarrassment.
“He was angry and worried when he learned Amarok had been freed. He took out his aggression on you.”
“Do you wolves do that a lot? Lose control of your emotions?” I ask.
“Animals have emotions. They experience every one that humans do. Animals can feel fear, worry,
hope, excitement, happiness, sorrow.”
“Guilt?” I add.
She nods. “I wonder if werewolves feel emotions doubly, from both of our sides. Shane feared for his pack. He did not recognize the boon you gave us. Amarok has left Bethlehem. We are free from that burden because of you. I appreciate all you have done for us already.”
So Shane is Alphie’s name? I kinda prefer Alphie, honestly. And, of course, his name would be Shane. Only assholes are named Shane. Look at Shane Walsh from The Walking Dead. A complete and total douche.
She spreads her hands apart in a gesture that oddly looks like it’s a peacemaking one.
“I am afraid I need to ask if you will do more for us,” she pleads.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to join the war. I want it to end.”
“As do I!” she cries. Her olive skin pales slightly.
“So talk to the vamps. End it. Declare peace. Or move away. There has to be a means for you to end the war.”
She shakes her head. “You do not understand, Clarissa Tempest.”
“Make me understand, Alpha Female.”
Her dark eyes widen so much that I can hardly see the purple and green on her eyelids. “Forgive me,” she murmurs. “My name is Calliope Powell.”
“Well, then, make me understand, Calliope.”
My muscles are all tight. I try to loosen them by rolling my head from side to side, but my neck and shoulders are too tense. My whole body feels like it’s on high alert. I’m not afraid of Calliope.
But I am afraid. And it leaves a bitter, despairing taste in my mouth that I can’t swallow away.
“Some of the werewolves have not been listening, not even to Shane when he still breathed and lead. I fear they will not listen to me now that he has taken on the Great Sleep.”
“They aren’t listening in what way? Have they gone rogue?”
“They have not broken from the pack, no. But they did not heed Shane as they should have. They have become ruthless, predatory. They might even be…” She takes a deep breath. “They might even be out of their minds.”
“Are they the ones who created the UV bomb?”
Calliope hangs her head. “I believe so. Shane never sanctioned it! We did not even know if such a device could be made, the logistics of making one. We would never have wished to harm humans! Our kind has lived in Bethlehem for forever. We have lived beside humans with peace this entire time. Never before have we harmed a human. Clarissa Tempest, you must help us. Help me.”
“How can I do that?” I ask.
Calliope meets my gaze. There’s doubt there, fear, frustration, worry.
No anger. No hatred.
She’s weary. She wants the war to end.
Even though the war cost her husband, she just wants it to end.
Did she love Shane? It doesn’t matter. She has a pack to lead, and she’s willing to ask for help when she needs it.
That already makes her a stronger, better, more capable leader than Alphie had been.
“I am not certain yet,” she admits.
A slight silence descends, awkward and unsettling.
I hesitate. “Rolf, did he have anything to do with the UV bomb?” I ask, dreading the answer, hoping my guess isn’t correct.
She nods.
Damn it. Damn it all to Hell.
Chapter 16
Calliope promises to keep in touch with me and will alert me if she learns of any plans. She gives me her cell number. We promise to call if either determines a way that I can help with the situation.
I’ve driven down five blocks and am sitting at another red light when a fog rolls in. Every muscle in my body clenches. I reach for my gun.
“You don’t need it,” a soft voice whispers.
I slowly glance over through my side window to see a male vamp standing there. He’s definitely a vamp from his pale skin and fangs.
His eyes aren’t red. Black contacts cover his eyes. They don’t quite make him look human though.
So that’s how some vampires can sneak around without being caught. I wonder why any bother to not wear those colored contacts. The red eyes are a dead giveaway.
Pun intended.
“Forgive me if I feel more comfortable being armed around your kind,” I say dryly.
He winces. “I know. I understand. I… I don’t blame you. Go ahead. Get your weapon.”
I grab my gun but don’t point it at him.
“What do you want?” I ask.
Strange. I’m not afraid. I’m more perplexed than anything. First, Calliope paid me a visit and now a vamp.
“I wish to explain myself and my circumstances to you if I may.” He hesitates. “May I get into your car?”
“I prefer if you wouldn’t.”
The vamp nods. “Very well.”
But he glances around as if he wishes he could avoid detection.
“Who do you think might see you?” I ask.
“Other vampires,” he murmurs.
“Get in,” I say against my better judgment.
The words are hardly out of my mouth before he’s sitting beside me, the door closed.
Vamp speed.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” I demand. “Your fangs too.”
He smiles at me. When he had been human, he might’ve been good looking. Fangs kinda ruin any smile.
“I am Jace Wilcox. I used to be a farmer a long time ago. A different lifetime ago. I had a wife. A son. I was happy.”
Great. His whole life saga. Not exactly what I want to hear tonight.
For a vamp to try to humanize himself.
“It was back in the feudal days. My lord died. His son was impossibly cruel. He thought he could take what he wanted. He ruled by fear. He craved power. He demanded my wife. I refused. So he had my son killed. He was only three.”
All right. I would have to be a cold, unfeeling statue to not be moved by this story.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
The vamp doesn’t acknowledge me, indifferent to my words. He stares into space, and I wonder if he can see his son again.
“Still, I refused to back down,” he murmurs. “The lord’s son, now lord himself, had someone attack me. I didn’t know what was going on. I thought I was dying. I was given blood to drink. I… I became what I am now. I-I lost myself. I did not know or understand what I was. I did not recognize anyone. Not until after.”
“After what?”
He stares at me with blank, dark, emotionless eyes. “After I drained my wife. I killed her. As the lord hoped I would. He stripped my life from me. Took my lands. Threw me out. It took me nearly a century to become a shell of the man I once had been.”
“How did you end up here?”
“In Bethlehem? Or in your car?” He smirks.
“In my car,” I suggest.
I don’t want to feel sorry for a vamp. I don’t want to feel sympathy. He has killed so that he might survive. Humans mean more to me than vamps. That’s just the way it is.
“Others of my kind have lost their way. They had once been able to function as I do. Some even could feed without killing. It takes a lot of willpower and strength to be able to refrain. The thirst—”
“Is all consuming. Get on with it.”
Jace sighs. “You have no idea what it is like to be a vampire. I pray you never learn, but then you won’t, will you?”
He murmurs this last as if speaking to himself.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask sharply.
“They have become even more ruthless than normal. They’re bent on revenge. Payback, as they call it. They don’t just want to annihilate this pack either. Oh, no. After that werewolf stunt with the UV bomb, they want nothing more than to wipe all werewolves from the face of the Earth.”
“Are there other shifters? People who can be lions or tigers?”
“Or bears?” he asks with a faint smile. “No. Correction. No, not to the best of my knowledge.”
I nod. “So th
ey want to take out Amarok too, I would imagine.”
“Ideally, yes.”
“They must be pretty pissed at me for letting him go. After all, I had him in a nice little cage all waiting to be offed and offered up. Am I in danger for payback too? Are they gonna come after me?”
“No.” He hesitates.
“Go on,” I urge.
The vamp shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” I demand. “Why won’t vamps kill me? Why do they, well, protect isn’t the right word. They’re willing to knock me around. They’ll kill others. If you want my help, I want to know why vamps won’t kill me.” I hesitate myself. “Do I want to know?” I ask.
“You don’t,” he says sadly, “and even if this means you will not help me, I am afraid I cannot.”
“Your speech is pretty good for a serf,” I comment, letting it go.
The mystery of my surroundings is one that will have to wait until after the war is done and over with. I’ve never looked into my birth parents. Never had any desire to.
Had one of them been supernatural? Am I a kind of creature too?
But how can that be? Wouldn’t I know? Have super speed or strength or something? The ability to sniff out baddies isn’t real. It’s just a joke.
I’m so perplexed that I’m developing a headache.
“I spent a lot of time in Europe,” he says. “After I turned, that is. I dined with kings and queens. I drained their servants. A few drained theirs as well.”
“Some of the kings and queens were vamps?”
“Until they lost their heads.”
I gape at him in dismay and disbelief. “Are you serious? Because I can’t tell.”
“The past does not matter now,” he says firmly. “These vampires have lost all sense of reason. I fear that they will expose us to the world if they are not stopped.”
A pit of unease and anxiety forms in my stomach.
“They’re out of their minds, huh?” I ask, thinking of the wolves.
“Yes. Precisely.”
“Their eyes. Are they silver?”
“Of course not,” he says, sounding both surprised and indignant. “Vampires only ever have red eye. Unless, of course, they try to mask the terrible color with contact lenses. Only this equally hideous black will cover up the red, I am afraid.”
When Sirens Screech: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 3) Page 7
