“I will.”
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe not. I have a kind of sense about things. That’s why I have such a high arrest rate. It’s possible others do, too. Something triggered unrest within her about this man. Might as well keep an eye on him.
Maybe Diego’s right. Maybe I do want to have my hand in everything. This guy might be involved in some fashion. He might not be. He might be completely clean, or he might be dirty in a way completely unrelated to vamps or wolves. Either way, I’m as invested in this as I am the vamps and Blake Damon. And that’s not to mention the animal attacks and Amarok and the wolves.
I’m sticking my neck out pretty far in a lot of directions. As long as my neck stays intact, I’ll be fine. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that more and more people are going to want me dead and soon.
Once I go home, after a strong black belt class at Leading Edge Martial Arts, I whip up some chicken. Quickly, I toss it into pasta with some broccoli and low-fat Alfredo sauce. It’s past time I start eating healthier. Yeah, I know I had a big lunch, but I burned a ton of calories with all of the kicks and punches I threw. I need to get back to taking a class at least twice a week, every week. Mom would be agitated that I’ve been opting for cage fitness in place of black belt training so often.
After I wash up the dishes and put away the leftovers, I place the box from my desk onto my coffee table.
It’s a box. Not a bomb. Don’t be afraid.
But what if it’s from a vamp?
Give me a break. If a vamp wanted to hurt me, they wouldn’t send me a box. They would come here and kill me and be done with it.
I should know. One sneaked into my house and threatened me.
Pushing aside any fear, I open the box, albeit gingerly, carefully.
It’s not from Rolf after all. No weapon. Just a fang and a vial of blood with a note taped to it that reads, “Still fresh enough for tests.”
Typed note so I can’t submit it for a handwriting analysis on it, but that’s all right. I’m sure this is from Blake Damon. He is hanging around still, and this fang and fresh blood are proof he’s just killed another vamp. One within the city? Outside of it?
Even though it’s getting late, I have a few items added to the to-do list that need to be dealt with. First up, Henrietta.
The medical examiner is pouring over a journal, scribbling away. She glances up as I approach.
“Got something for me?” she asks eagerly, holding out a hand.
“Sorry.” I wince guiltily. “I should stop by more often, outside of when I need your expertise.”
“Yeah, well, I like to have work. Busy mind, busy hands. So, what is it?”
I hand her the vial. “Vamp blood, or so I’m told.”
“Hm.” She tilts the vial this way and that, confusion and excitement in her critical expression. “A little darker in hue than ours. Do you know how old it is?”
“Supposedly fresh.”
“Vampire blood. Do they have their own blood or is it just regurgitation of the humans they drink. Or…” Mumbling to herself, Henrietta turns a page in her journal and starts to write again.
“Let me know if you learn anything,” I call, doubting she heard me since she doesn’t respond at all.
I make my way to the station. Only a few cops are working yet, and I nod to them before helping myself to the footage of the station. Quickly, I rewind to when I had been at lunch with Marlon. It’s not the easiest to see my desk, but I do manage to see enough. The one who drops off the box is none other than Don Bass, a small-time druggie I’ve busted a few times.
Well, well, well… looks like I’ll have to bust his door down again.
Last I heard, he went into rehab. He’s been in and out so many times that I don’t know if he can ever get clean. It’s a shame, too, because he has two kids. Their mom died ten years ago, and that’s when Bass started to take drugs. Guess he couldn’t cope with the grief and the stress of being a single parent. His kids have been taken away from him. While I wish them a happy ending—with Bass cleaned up and providing the life his kids deserve—I’m afraid that won’t be in the cards.
And if he’s something more of a delivery guy for Blake Damon… Nah. He can’t be involved in the vamps. No way. Blake strikes me as a loner, and if he is to have a partner, he’d want a competent one.
Bass has several known addresses, and the first two are empty, but I strike gold on the third one. It’s an apartment on the south side. I knock a few times.
No answer.
It’s late but not super late. If he’s not home, maybe I can get ahold of the landlord and—
The door opens a crack. “Officer Tempest. Can you hold on a second? The place is a mess and—“
I push the door open. There isn’t a sign of drugs anywhere. Just a few dishes about, mail scattered off on the table, half on the floor, and a few toys.
Toys?
“I’m trying to clean myself up. Again. I know.” Bass runs a hand through his hair. It’s thinner than I remember, shorter, too. Clean shaven for once. When he’s drugged up, he doesn’t shave and resembles a caveman. His red beard doesn’t help. The hair on top is brown, though. His green eyes are clear, without the fog of influence.
I notice a picture of a much younger Bass, maybe a teenager, on his nightstand. Prom pic. The girl beside him is a cute redhead. His wife had been a blond.
“Are you doing this for yourself or someone else?” I ask.
He follows my gaze. “Myself. Me and the kids.”
“And what prompted your cleaning up? Besides them?” It’s not that I think he can’t do it. It’s just that he’s gotten his kids hopes up before and failed them time and again.
“Gina.” He sighs heavily, clearly weary and depressed. “My old high school girlfriend is back in town, and I thought… She has her life altogether, you know? And what do I have to show for my life? Nothing. She’s married, and her two kids love her, and me? I’m a waste of life. My kids hate me. I can’t provide for them. I want to change for me. For my kids.”
“Well, I wish you the best. I do.”
“You didn’t come here to ask me my sob story.” His eyes widen, and he holds up his hands defensively. “I swear I’m clean. I haven’t done anything to warrant needing a cop here—“
“You really claim to not know why I’m here?”
His pale cheeks pinken, and he rubs the back of his neck. His uneasiness is rubbing off on me. “The box,” he mumbles. “The guy assured me you wanted it, that it was important, that I would be doing you a favor—“
“Relax, Bass. You aren’t in trouble. I just need your help, okay? This guy, can you take me to him?”
“I’m not sure where he is.”
Of course not.
“Did he tell you his name?”
“Nope.” Bass hung his head.
I bring up a pic of Blake Damon on my phone.
He brightens with a smile. “That’s the guy. Listen, I can take you to the spot he told me to soon, though. We just have to wait another hour.”
“Wait another hour,” I repeat slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me this upfront?”
“Because he told me not to tell you specifics,” he mumbles. “And he scares me more than you do…”
“Trust me.” I stalk toward him. “I can be plenty scary.”
Bass holds up his hands again. “Please! Don’t be upset with me! I’m trying here. I didn’t want to get involved, but he said that he could help me get clean, and I’m desperate enough to listen.”
“Just how is he going to get you clean?” I ask suspiciously.
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I’m willing to try anything.”
“An hour, huh?” My mom tried to teach me patience, but that’s one lesson I never mastered. “It never hurts to be early, right?”
“In this case, I think it might. We have to wait, Officer Tempest. Please. He was really firm about it.”
“Did he say why? Or anything else you think i
s important for me to know?”
“He said something about you being reckless. I disagree,” Bass rushes to add. “You’re a great cop. A terrific one. That guy, he knows nothing. He doesn’t know you like I do.”
“You hate me,” I remark, amused.
“You arrested me because I was wrong. I deserved it. I needed it. You… You did me a solid.”
I blink in surprise. Maybe this new leaf of Bass’s will last.
Bass offers to turn on the TV for me, but I tell him not to bother. He rushes around the place, cleaning up some, and I opt to stand, leaning against the front door. His couch looks dirty, and it smells like stale beer, and I am not sitting on it.
My thumb scrolls along through the news on my phone. Not too much going on. No more animal attacks, thank goodness. Maybe I’ll luck out and Amarok will move away and pick another city to roost.
But can I live with myself if that were to happen? Not that I think it will, of course. I don’t have any luck except for the bad kind. On the off chance, Amarok does leave, wouldn’t I have to follow it? I mean, it’s bad enough that we know vamps are real. Who knows? We might have or might not have told the government about their existence. Sure would be nice to be in the loop, but I’m not that special, evidently.
Yeah, I’m still bitter.
The hour actually goes by quickly, and soon, Bass has me in his car. He’s quite insistent that I can’t drive myself. I have no choice but to listen since he won’t tell me where the meet up is supposed to take place.
Considering he doesn’t ask to blindfold me, I don’t get why he has to drive me.
Then I realize he’s gonna drop me off, and I’ll be at Blake Damon’s mercy.
I do not like the sound of that.
Bass takes me to a field. “He said for you to take fifty paces north, fifty west, and another fifty north. That’s where you’ll find him.”
“What is this? Some kind of warped treasure map?” I snap, failing to distance myself from my anger.
I don’t understand the need for any of this. It’s foggy out, and I can’t see him. It’s not like one-hundred-and-fifty paces is that far of a distance.
Bass’s beater car drives off, his muffler shockingly loud. I wince as his tires peel, and I’m alone. Isolated. Abandoned. Despite myself, I feel vulnerable.
One, two, three… Am I really going to count my steps? But I can’t see far ahead at all, and I take out my gun. Maybe this is a setup. After all, what do I really know about this vamp hunter guy? Not much. He’s a complete mystery, despite the little digging I’ve done into his background. Some women might find mysterious guys attract, and he somewhat has a sexy dark side. Not for me. I do not like him and his secretive ways. His killing those vamps… that wasn’t his call. He crossed the line. And now he wants to lure me out here for what purpose, to what end?
That hour I had to wait… It had to have been for the sun to go down. This fog, I can’t tell if it’s natural or from vamps.
I turn west and keep on going, glancing around with each step, just knowing a vamp will jump out at any second.
As it turns out, I’m right.
Chapter 13
Before I can count how many red glowing eyes I see, the vamps descend on me in a blur of fangs and claws. They kick and punch me, biting at my clothes but never piercing my skin. Why aren’t they willing to kill me? Why leave me alive? Why fight me at all?
Because I’m the reason why some of their brethren died, even if it hadn’t been by my hand.
I’m too busy fighting back—trying to fight back—to give into fear. Fight or flight… I’ve always been all fight. Adrenaline rushes through me, burying any sense of fright even more, but I’m shocked from the get-go. My reflexes are just too slow for me to be able to defend myself from these disgusting, vile, creepy bloodsuckers.
Against several human assailants, I can hold my own, even if they’re bigger and stronger than I am. Years of training for my black belt, my grappling knowledge, plus my gun training… I’m a formidable foe.
But against vamps? I might as well be a five-year-old little girl, crying for her mommy and wetting her pants.
I do my best to fight back, and I do manage to fire off my single round of a silver bullet. The round buries deep within the vamp squeezing my neck, holding me several inches above the ground. That’s actually a boon because I can kick with both legs instead of one, but the vamp drops immediately. With a breathy “oomph,” I fall on top of the dead vamp.
More shots ring out, and I scramble to hide under the body of my kill. Another dead vamp falls, and I realize there’s only one more left. They had been moving so fast and attacking me so hard that I thought there had been an entire horde of them.
The last remaining vamp takes off running, and the sound of heavy footsteps has me standing.
Blake Damon is chasing down the vamp, a strange-looking gun raised.
My body is bruised, broken, but I slid into position to block him.
His eyes flash darkly in the night. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.
“What about you?” I retort. “You set me up!”
“I…” He tries to go around me.
A sudden wave of dizziness washes over me. I wrap my arms around him, leaning against him, fighting for balance.
Blake mumbles a curse and holds me up, putting his gun away with his other hand. “You need to understand,” he starts.
“No, you do. Public safety—“
He snorts. “You let one go.”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed.” I push away from him.
“Funny,” he snaps, “I was gonna say the same about you.”
“Then why lure me out here?”
“I knew they would come.”
“You’re obsessed with them.”
“And you aren’t?” he asks quietly.
I ignore him and examine myself more closely. My clothes have been slashed to ribbons, but I’m not as badly off as I could be. Several cuts, but none especially deep. My ribs might be bruised or broken. The side of my head has a huge knot. All in all, I’m not that badly off.
Why? Why do the vamps keep attacking me? Why not just kill me? I don’t understand, and my confusion helps to fuel my adrenaline even more. Maybe that’s why I’m not in as much pain as I should be.
“I’m gonna get myself killed? You sure seem to be the one to take those honors,” I finally remark, trying to calm down some. I’m so anxious and uptight. What if that last vamp comes back? What if he or she is pissed off now and finds someone to feed on? What if…
So many what ifs lead to dark and terrible paths. The fog has rolled away from the field. One is settling within my mind, bringing sorrow, grief, and despair, confusion and panic, and maybe some anger too.
“I’ve never seen them react to a person like they do you,” he says.
“Well, I don’t know why, and it seems like you don’t either. For now, let’s forget them and focus on something else equally important. What can you tell me about all of the recent ‘animal attacks?’”
Blake jerks back, eyes widening for only a second. He’s a master at keeping his emotions at bay, I can tell, but that flicker is one of surprise and fear.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about it,” I say, refusing to be disappointed, refusing to let him get away.
My hand is closed tight around his wrist. Well, as much of his wrist as my fingers can go around. He can easily break free of my hold though. My fury can only take me so far. My body is weakening from the assault, but I refuse to drop, to fall apart, to give in to weakness.
Blake merely looks down at my hand on his wrist, saying nothing.
“Werewolves,” I admit. “Well, not—“
“They are…” He shudders. Big, bad vamp hunter Blake Damon is trembling. He’s scared. “Half human. Half beast. It’s terrible. So terrifying. It’s monstrous. They are…”
Interesting. Such an unexpected reaction. I’m shocked.<
br />
“Do you hunt them, too? Or anything else besides vamps?” I ask.
Blake glances away and rubs the back of his neck. “The less you know, the better.”
“Ignorance will get me killed.”
“Knowledge isn’t always power. Mark my words, stay in the light.”
I’m baffled. Before I can demand that he explain what he means, he gently disentangles himself and fades away into the gloom.
I do not feel isolated and alone. The darkness and the shadows are becoming my allies.
Chapter 14
After a quick call to Samantha, I ask her for a ride. When she arrives, I beg her to make a quick trip to the liquor store first. She’s quiet at first but keeps glancing over.
“I’m fine.”
“No offense, but you don’t look it.”
“Yeah, well… I am.”
“Are you sure you want to go to the liquor store? The hospital might be—“
“Please.”
“You got it.” She grows silent, and that’s why I love her. She doesn’t push. She knows when to back off.
It’s not something I know how to do, though.
As for the hospital… I’m not as bad off as I had been that time the vamp sneaked into my house to give me a warning. The worst of it is my ribs, but I can tape them up myself. I’ll be fine.
I hope. Maybe.
Maybe not.
Samantha asks me what I want to drink, and I opt for a six-pack of Smirnoff Ice. Something quick and simple and easy. She runs in and gets it for me, waves away my cash, and takes me home. When I go to open my door, she locks it.
“You need to be careful,” she says seriously. “I don’t know what’s all going on with you, and I know you can’t talk about it all, but something’s up. I know it is. You have to take time for you. I do not want to have to bury you next to your parents, you hear me?”
“That won’t happen,” I assure her, even though I can’t be sure about that. I mean, I’m up against vamps and this Amarok wolf spirit thing.
She sighs. “Clarissa… I really think you should let me take you to the hospital.”
When Wolves Howl: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 2) Page 9
