He lowers his head and charges to head-butt me.
At the last moment, I sidestep him and bring my elbow down onto his back.
He hesitates, stilling, nearly freezing in place.
Another elbow and he’s down. I grab his wrist and cuff him before he can recover.
Damn. That was brutal.
Torn between guilt and sorrow, I glance around me. The hall is still filled with people tearing at each other. I don’t have any more cuffs to stop any of the others, no real way to end the madness.
No way to stop the ringing in my ear that is slowly driving me insane.
No way to stop the sirens.
No way to stop their singing.
Well, if I can’t stop their singing, I’ll just have to drown it out. Yes. Yes!
But, how? Everyone in Bethlehem is under the sirens’ sway!
So that just means, wait, what does that mean? It’s impossible to think. The pressure in my head is so intense that I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus on anything it.
The people. They need to focus on something other than what the sirens are singing. I can’t make out the lyrics, but the specifics don’t matter. They’re using their powers to cause the people to war against each other.
It kills me, but I have to throw a few elbows to fight my way outside. Guilt is killing me, slowly and surely. That everyone is willing to fight each other, maybe even to the death, leaves me depressed and devastated. Trying to remember this isn’t everyone’s true nature doesn’t help any.
The snow continues, and so many accidents litter the town that I don’t know if it’s worthwhile to drive.
But I need to move and move fast.
Down the hill from the hospital, I spy a big ole truck, the kind meant for terrible weather. Two guys are outside of it, fighting, fists flying.
The key’s already turned in the ignition.
I hop in and drive off. The guys hesitate and then scream obscenities at me before returning to their fist fight.
The truck tires are massive, and they help me on the icy streets. It’s not flurrying now. Oh, no. It’s snowing and snowing hard. Just gotta get out of the city. Gotta get out of here. Gotta get to Allentown. I have no idea if this will work, but I’ve gotta find a way. Only five or so miles from here. I can do that. No problem.
Yeah, no problem if the roads aren’t blocked. If there aren’t five accidents. If people aren’t trying to kill each other on the sidewalk.
East Susquehanna Street is utter chaos.
I blare the horn to try to get the cars in front of me to move before I realize they’ve been abandoned.
Plan B.
I jerk the wheel and hop onto the sidewalk. It’s a tight fit, and I lay on the horn continuously, trying to get people’s attention.
At first, they ignore me, but when the truck horn yells louder and longer, they stop fighting and start cussing at me.
Like people would if someone was trying to drive on the sidewalk.
I can’t flash them my badge, but I do claim to be a cop, and they kinda move. When I floor the gas, they have no choice but to move, and I continue on my way.
South Front Street to South Filmore to Bastin to Hamilton. I know the instant I reach Allentown because the roads are clear and smooth.
And not snowed on either.
Like magic.
I jerk the truck into a spot, more like a spot and a half, in the Allentown’s Police Department lot. Gasping for breath, I dart inside.
“I need to take to your best computer person,” I say between wheezing.
The officer behind the desk does not look impressed. “And who are you?” he asks with attitude.
“Detective Clarissa Tempest.”
I wince. I didn’t mean to lie, but it’s a habit.
Shit. Lying to an officer isn’t good.
But if I tell the truth, they won’t help, so I gotta roll with it.
“I don’t have my badge on me, but there’s a massive crisis in Bethlehem right now. You can call the station. Go ahead. Do it. But no one will answer. We need your help. That’s why I’m here.”
He rubs his very seventies mustache. “Now isn’t that convenient.”
His gaze never leaving my face, he picks up the receiver and makes a call.
To my surprise, someone answers, but it’s clear it was more the case of someone bumping it off the dock. Fighting and all kinds of commotion blare over the line. I can hear it where I’m standing.
Yes, I can hear subtle sounds again. My ears have stopped ringing as soon as I entered Allentown.
He calls out again and again for someone to talk to him, but he’s ignored. Eventually, he hangs up.
“See what I mean? I need your help.”
“What I need to do is make certain that you are who you said you are. How do I know you’re not the cause of the chaos over there?”
“Fair enough.”
But I’m wincing again. I’m not a detective anymore. Lieutenant Reynolds took my badge and gun.
“Should be easy enough to find out,” he mutters, typing away at his computer. “Clarissa Tempest you said, is that right?”
“Yes.”
I’m sweating I’m so anxious. If he won’t help me, if I can’t find help from Allentown, where can I go next?
“Forgive me, detective. I had to make sure.”
“Oh.” I exhale in relief.
The lieutenant must not have processed the paperwork yet for my dismissal!
“Of course, of course,” I murmur. “Not a problem.”
“What is going on over there?” he asks.
“I need someone to hack into the radios, TVs, computers, everything within Bethlehem. Music has to blare. Concert level loud.”
He’s back to being skeptical and suspicious, and again, I don’t blame him.
“What exactly is going on?”
“A new kind of terrorism, sir.”
Being polite can’t hurt.
“It’s some kind of frequency in the air. It’s causing people to attack each other. We can’t risk going in and being affected. We have to get the people to hear something else instead.”
“Or block the frequency that’s causing it.” Another officer walks over, holding out his hand. “Hello, detective. I’m Ryan Thorne. I can take you over to our computer personnel.”
“Please. Thank you.” I wave to the other officer.
The computer hacker is a good-looking guy. A little on the thin side but with a nice smile. He doesn’t need to know the specifics and immediately gets to work.
I like him already.
Ryan sticks around for a few minutes until he’s called away, so it’s just me and Kyle Hager.
“This frequency is like nothing I’ve seen before. It seems…”
“Like what?” I ask, perplexed.
“I don’t know. Hard to explain. Do you have any idea of the source?”
“Nope. That’s why I need you to make it safe for me to go back in and help find it to disable it.”
“All right. Give me an hour.”
My eyes almost bulge out of my head.
“Half hour, I’ll try. I make no promises.”
“You don’t understand. You have to hurry and—”
“I understand just fine, but you breathing down my neck won’t make me work any faster.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” I lean over his shoulder to watch him work on his computer.
He glances at me. “So now you’re literally breathing down my neck?”
“Do I need a breath mint?” I ask.
My stomach rumbles. Loud enough for him to overhear.
I straighten, blushing with embarrassment.
“You’ve been going that hard at it that you haven’t stopped to eat, have you?” He pats his nonexistent stomach. “I know how that goes. Go ahead and grab something from the fridge. Only if it has my name on it.”
“Are you sure? I honestly can’t remember when I last ate.”
“G
o for it. I don’t need you to distract me.”
He turns back to work, and I start to leave.
“Two doors down on the left. Oh, and smell it first. Who knows how long some of that stuff’s been in there.”
I laugh, but he’s right. The chicken parm in the back has mold growing on it. Disgusting. The leftover pizza looks to be all right, and I devour two slices cold.
Only five minutes have passed, so I brew a pot of coffee. Like a swarm, officers arrive to have some, and I have to explain who I am and why I’m here. They want all the details, but I don’t offer any, pretending to be a little upset and anxious about the whole mess.
Yeah, so I’m not pretending. I’m going out of my mind with worry. What if someone else gets bitten? Turned? Killed? What if Dean gets free and hurts someone? Kills someone? He’ll never forgive himself. I know he won’t.
And my friends on the force. Are they all right? If they were at the station, there’s a lot of firepower there. Even if they were out on the street, they’d have their issued gun. If they start firing into a crowd…
Thinking worst case scenario won’t help any, so I make my way back over to Kyle’s desk. He says nothing, so I maintain my silence. The clicking of the keys gives me comfort.
“Got a favorite artist?” he asks out of the blue.
“Um… Billy Joel,” I blurt out, thinking of my song title duel with the siren.
“Favorite song of his?”
I grin. “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”
“Okay. Car radios will be too iffy, but TVs and radios I got. I’ll continue to work on computers, but…” He swivels around to face me. “Want to hear what they’re hearing?”
“Yes, please!” I clap my hands, eager.
That rocking piano beat starts right off, almost loud enough to be obnoxious. I jerk back, startled but excited.
“You’re amazing!”
“Yeah, well.” He’s flushed.
“I have to go. Thank you!”
He gives me a thumbs up and gets back to work.
I rush out of there, ignoring the officers who ask if I’ll need help. Along the drive, I call up the station. No answer.
Shit.
I call the lieutenant’s cell.
No answer. It goes right to voicemail.
So does Diego’s and everyone else’s I call.
The cell towers. Are they down?
I reenter Bethlehem. There are a ton of fires, all right, but it seems like people are waking up from the siren’s control. I Go to Extremes is blaring so loud I can hardly think, but that doesn’t matter.
By the time I reach the station, A Matter of Trust is playing, and I’m crying with relief. A bruised and bloodied Diego exits the door as I climb out. He sweeps me into a huge hug, crushing me against him.
I brush back his hair from his forehead. For a moment, time stops.
But then I blink, and it’s over, and I wiggle free.
“Go and help everyone. Help the fire department. Get out all of the fires,” I say.
“What about you?” he asks, not letting go of me completely.
“I have to end this. The sirens are going to be pissed off little women-bird thingies.”
We can hear ourselves over the blaring song only because we’re that close to each other.
He smirks. “You need a backup.”
“I have a backup.”
I hope.
My face must give away my dismay because Diego shakes his head.
“No,” he says angrily. “I won’t allow you to do this. I won’t let you face them with Amarok. Whatever he was supposed to do last night with you obviously didn’t turn out very well. You need me.”
“I do need you.” I hesitate.
He doesn’t take the chance to twist that around on me.
My heart breaks a little. He’s being too serious right now.
I cup his face. “I need you to help the city. Please.”
My voice cracks on the last word.
“Garcia!” the lieutenant roars from inside. “How in the Hell were you not affected?”
Diego removes earplugs from his pocket. I can only assume they didn’t leave him in a trance like the lieutenant because of the scope of their song. The breadth of their power had to force it to encompass such a large area.
Maybe they’re weakened a bit from that show of power?
Can’t count on that.
“So you didn’t want to hear their song after all?” I ask.
“I’d rather hear you sing. I heard that you don’t.” He shoves the plugs into his pocket again. “Besides, I was too busy going around emptying everyone’s guns.”
“You’re…”
“Amazing?” he supplies, finally grinning devilishly.
“I was going to say a piece of work.”
I wink at him, shove his arms away, and climb back into the truck. He never gave me the chance to shut it.
My foot slams down on the gas, and the truck roars forward.
Yes, indeed, it’s time to end this.
Chapter 38
The streets are terrible still, and it’s impossible to go down some. It takes forever for me to get around, but I do my best to follow the people. As long as they’re helping each other, I’m not in the right place.
But then I spy people still fighting. I blare the radio, WLEV, and roll the windows down.
The people slowly spread apart, but one man remains motionless on the ground.
Feeling sick to my stomach with guilt and self-loathing, I keep on driving. Despite the music, I hear ringing.
I must be getting close.
There. Up ahead.
South Mountain is partially on fire.
The truck takes the road easily, but up ahead is a traffic jam. With all the trees, I have no choice but to climb out and hoof it.
It’s dark out. Stormy. I can’t tell what time of day it is. It looks as dark as last night. No, darker because the stars aren’t out.
The ringing gets worse as I climb. When I put my hands on my knee to take a breather, I realize I still have my axe on me.
Somehow. Someway. Despite everything.
I walked into the Allentown Police Department with a gun and an axe on my leg. No wonder so many shady characters wear them. Who knows what they’re hiding.
My ears ache, and I feel blood trickle down my neck. Still, I press onward. Should I get out the axe? No. I can’t go after them to attack without Amarok. We have to kill them at the same time.
At a clearing, I find them. A ring of fire surrounds them, and I jump the flames to join them. The sirens are several feet above me, flying without wings. They might not have any part of them bird-shaped, but they can fly.
“Look at you two!” I scream.
They ignore me, singing their song. Slashes and gashes appear on each other as if their words literally hurt each other, but they heal a second later.
“Fighting over a stupid guy. Who was he? Obviously not someone worthwhile. If he played you all, he’s a fool.”
They hesitate… maybe? Probably not.
“What guy could be worthwhile enough to tempt a siren let alone more than one of you?”
“Do not speak of him!” Selena shouts to me.
“Why not?” I challenge. “He was terrible to you. He’s worthless.”
“You can’t possibly understand,” Lorelei snarls.
“Make me understand. I like a good story.”
“We can sing you a song if you like,” Selena suggests.
I shrug. “Can’t hear you when you sing.”
“Oh, but I think you can on some level.” Lorelei swoops down and hovers just above me. She reaches down and wipes some blood from my face.
“Stories are meant to be heard,” I say, trying not to be afraid.
They’ve stopped singing, and I sure don’t want them to start again.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Selena says with a laugh. “They’re meant to be experienced.”
She flies over to her sister, and they hold hands. They don’t sing, though. They just hum. And I can experience it. I can feel it. Feel the wonder, the pain, the hatred. Feel the shock, the hurt, the grief. Feel the sorrow, the sadness, the agony.
“He didn’t love any of you, and none of you loved him,” I say as they stop their music.
They gape at me.
“It was all an illusion, a trick. He lured you all into a trap. He wanted you all to hate each other. He wanted this.” I spread out my hands to encompass their devastation. “He wanted you to destroy each other.”
“No.” Selena shakes her head, her dark hair blending into the darkness. The snow has not let up any, but it does not land on her.
“You’re wrong,” Lorelei agrees.
“Am I?” I challenge. “Think about it. You’re sirens. You know songs. You know love. Did he love you?”
“None of us ever loved him,” Lorelei says.
“That you assume love had anything to do with this says a lot more about you than it does us,” Selena adds.
“So why was he killed?” I’m so confused.
“He was our brother. The first male siren in history,” Lorelei says.
“He wished to control us after…”
“After what?” I ask, cutting.
“After someone killed our sister!” Selena snaps.
Ah, the unaccounted for sister, the one whose name I don’t know. I wonder who killed her and why. I’ll probably never know.
For a moment, there’s a brief, heavy pause. Then Lorelei continues their previous conversation as if there hadn’t been an interruption.
“He could control us to some extent,” she says.
“But in the end, we prevailed.”
“He was the one to kill Marilee.”
I blink a few times. “You told me Selena killed her.”
Selena rolls her eyes. “I thought you killed her.”
“No. He did. He said that if he were going to die, so would one of us. He killed her while you were unconscious.”
“I had a dream that you did,” Selena says slowly.
“You know he could control us. He must have sent that to you. He’s the reason why we’re fighting. He muttered something before he died.”
“It’s all his fault then.”
“Yes. It must be.”
The two start to sob. The snow turns to rain. They collapse into each other’s arms.
When Sirens Screech: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 3) Page 19
