When Wolves Howl: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 2)

by Nicole Zoltack

  “If I need to go, I’ll go. Or I’ll call Dr. Dean.”

  Her eyes widen. “So things are going well between you two?”

  “Sure.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “Trust me. If I need him for a medical emergency, I’m sure he’ll come running.”

  “But otherwise?”

  “He’s as busy as I am.” I shrug, wince, and rub my neck.

  “Soak in a tub. You might want to take some medicine instead of the alcohol.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  With a grimace, moving as slowly as a feeble, old woman who is missing her cane, I ease my way out of the car. My joints are stiff, and carrying the bag isn’t fun, but I manage.

  It’s not often I drink considering my parents had been walking home from a party inebriated when they had been murdered. So much has been going on though. I’m too uptight from stress and apprehension that I just gotta find a way to unwind slightly.

  “Oh all the rotten luck,” I mumble.

  I walk through the front door.

  For the rest of the night, I take a bubble bath and drink three of the Smirnoff Ice. I end up falling asleep on the couch, some stupid moving rolling on the TV.

  Bright and early, my phone rings. Bleary-eyed, half out of it, I answer with a groggy, “’Lo?”

  “Clarissa. Hello. It’s Dr. Harris calling. I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a little bit since we last spoke and—“

  “I was actually planning on calling you.” I wipe a hand over my face. My neck is so sore, and my back is tight. Sleeping on the couch had not been a smart idea, not that I intended to.

  “You want to come in for a discussion?”

  Discussion? Ha. The doctor only cares to hear herself speak, but I do need to talk to someone. The vamp eyes I’ve been seeing… are they real? PTSD? Am I going crazy? Hm, if I do want to talk to her about the vamps, I’m gonna have to ask the lieutenant first. She might not know about them yet. I’m not about to stick my neck out there. I won’t be the one to tell her if she’s supposed to be kept in the dark with most of the world.

  “Yes,” I admit. I hate going to her, but what choice do I have?

  “I have an opening this morning at nine if you can make it.”

  Ah, is that why she called me? Because isn’t that convenient…

  “Yeah, that should work.”

  “Excellent. It will be good to talk to you. And, Clarissa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t be late.”

  I hang up. “Don’t be late,” I repeat irritably.

  I’d hoped that drinking a ton of water in between and after the bottles would’ve helped to keep a hangover headache at bay. Nope. My entire body aches, and my head is pounding. I choke down some toast and drown Advil down with more water. Last night’s bath had been about trying to soothe my muscles more than about cleaning and washing, so I take a shower. All of the bruises on my body, all of the cuts and gashes… I look absolutely terrible. I feel even worse.

  Washing my hair is a challenge because lifting my arms is torture. How I’m able to rinse the shampoo out is almost beyond my abilities, so I opt to forgo conditioner.

  By the time I’m done, I’m ready for bed again. Instead, I grab my cell and call Rex.

  “I have an appointment with Dr. Harris. I’ll be in as soon as it’s over.”

  “Tempest, you can’t just… Yes. Here.”

  I furrow my brow in confusion.

  “Tempest.”

  I almost jump out of my skin. “Lieutenant.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m going to see Dr. Harris.”

  “Good, good.” He sounds… happy, which instantly makes me suspicious.

  “Does she know about…”

  “About what?”

  “Vamps.”

  “You want to talk to her about vampires?”

  “Uh… yeah…”

  “Were you going to talk to me about that first?”

  “Yeah. I called Rex first, but you were next on the list.”

  “Next time, call me first.”

  “Noted.”

  He doesn’t say anything else.

  I clear my throat. “Well…”

  “No. You can’t talk to her about vampires.” He’s hissing his words, tone low.

  “Then there’s no point in me talking to her.”

  “Just twist it into being about criminals.”

  “Yes, sir.” I roll my eyes. Because criminals have red, glowing eyes and can vanish because of their high speeds.

  “If you really need to talk to someone about vampires, talk to me. No, talk to Rex.”

  “Me?” I hear in the background.

  Disgusted, I roll my eyes. I would rather be humiliated, ridiculed, or even rejected to an island with no food or drink than talk to Rex.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say calmly.

  “Tempest, don’t lie to me.”

  “Never, sir.”

  “You sound off.” Suspicion filters over the line.

  “You sound happy.”

  “We’re not talking about me.”

  “But you do.” Even though he can’t see me, I smile.

  “Don’t try to change the subject. Now, don’t you dare talk to her about the vampires. If that means you have to cancel the session, you cancel the session, do you understand me?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. Report to me when you come in.”

  “Will do.”

  He hangs up.

  Great. I’m gonna have to dig out my foundation to try and better hide my bruises. If he sees me like this, it’s not gonna be good.

  After slapping on the same amount of makeup Mercedes does every day, I make my way to my car. Driving isn’t easy—using my legs and arms is almost too taxing for my beaten body.

  Surprisingly, Doctor Harris immediately brings me back. I opt for the chair, not the lounger, and she, of course, sits behind her desk.

  “What do you want to talk about today?”

  “I think I’m being stalked,” I blurt out.

  She lowers the pad of paper she just lifted and blinks a few times. I threw her off her game. Score!

  Only it’s not a good thing to be stalked, and it’s even worse when it’s by a vamp.

  “Why are you seeing me, then? You should be talking to your people, giving them a description, and—“

  “I think I’m being stalked. I’m not sure.” I exhale through my nose. “One minute, he’s there, the next he’s gone, and I don’t know if he’s there or if I’m seeing things…”

  “Are you in danger? Does he talk to you? Do you know who he is, what he wants?”

  “Yes, no, not exactly, and no.”

  “I need to know what exactly is going on. Please be as descriptive as you can.”

  I open my mouth, shut it, and sigh. Coming here had been a mistake. “I’m afraid that I… I’m under a lot of stress. I don’t know what I’m seeing, if any of it is real, if it’s inside my head…”

  Great. Now she really is going to think I’m mental, will want me to come in and see her weekly, all that jazz. I don’t even like talking to her.

  But I’m nervous, and when I’m anxious, I tend to babble, so I keep on going. “What exactly is PTSD? How do you know when you’re suffering from it? Is it possible that I’m not actually seeing anyone?”

  Doctor Harris leans forward and proceeds to give me a huge, long spiel about PTSD. I can’t help zoning out. I tried to listen at first, but my chest is really starting to hurt. Every breath sends a shot of pain straight through me. The effort required to not wince is all I can focus on.

  Eventually, the time is up, and I haven’t said another word in the session. I told you Doctor Harris likes the sound of her own voice.

  I duck out of there, not feeling any better. As I approach my car, my phone vibrates—a text from Dean.

  Hey. Sorry I haven’t called you back or respo
nded sooner. Crazy busy with work. You know how it is. I just wanted to say that I don’t get why you felt the need to text me about your lunch outing unless it meant something to you.

  Ugh. I don’t have time to worry about that right now.

  I go to report to the lieutenant as soon as I make it in, but he’s having yet another meeting with Rex. I wave to them through the window and prepare to hightail it out of there, but the lieutenant waves me in.

  I open the door, and a shockwave of pain jolts me so badly that I grimace.

  “What is it, Tempest?” the lieutenant asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re not fine.” He appraises me. “What happened last night?”

  “Nothing,” I repeat.

  He narrows his already beady eyes. “You’re wearing makeup. What are you hiding?”

  “I had a hot date last night.” It’s a quip I’ve used a lot of times with Travis. Not really appropriate here, though, and now I’m wincing from my stupid tongue.

  “With a vampire?”

  I clear my throat but don’t answer.

  “I won’t ask you again.”

  “Yes. I killed it.”

  “Just the one?”

  I can’t risk lying. “Blake Damon killed the other. A third got away.”

  “The vampire hunter.” The lieutenant swears under his breath. His red face reveals his fury, his disgust, his disappointment.

  “Why didn’t you call in for backup?” Rex explodes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

  Surprising, I’m spared from his wrath as Reynolds barks critically, “Hunter, get out.”

  “Lieutenant—“

  “You heard me.”

  Grumbling under his breath and shooting me a glare that made me gulp, Rex scampers out of there.

  “Is that why you had to see Dr. Harris?” the lieutenant asks me quietly.

  “I…” I swallow hard.

  “Did you have to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m dealing.”

  He nods. “And the vampire hunter? Where is he?”

  “I couldn’t bring him in. I’m sorry. I failed.”

  “Well, if we’re lucky, he’ll track down that missing vampire.” The lieutenant shakes his head.

  I blink a few times, amazed he hasn’t ripped me a new one.

  “Take the rest of the day off.”

  “Sir?”

  “You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

  “I can work.”

  “You can. Tomorrow.” He drums his fingers on his desk, near a hospital business card for a Kat something. Kat. Hadn’t he talked to a nurse or doctor and called her by her first name? The lieutenant was old-fashioned and called people he just met Mr. or Mrs. or Ms. and never by their first name. He reserved last names for his subordinates.

  I don’t bother to bring her up.

  “Do you have something else to add?” he asks.

  I hesitate. “I’ll do better, sir.”

  “Is that because you want Hunter’s job?”

  “Because I want to keep Bethlehem safe?”

  “Can you keep Bethlehem safe if you’re dead?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then call for backup next time. Or, better yet, don’t go out there alone. Why didn’t you call Angelo?”

  I actually don’t have his number, but I keep that detail to myself.

  “Take the rest of today off and tomorrow, too, if you need it.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Good. Go.”

  I leave his office, avoid looking at Rex, and ignore Angelo. I’m walking out as Marlon strolls in.

  He takes one look at me and does a double take. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, surprised.

  Hurt and provoked, I want to scream. So I’m wearing heavily caked on makeup. Is that such a terrible thing?

  “I’ll be fine,” I mumble.

  Dismayed, tired of being disrespected, I rush away. Not to home, though. I can’t just stop working. There’s no off switch for me. I will do whatever I can to protect the lives of the people of Bethlehem. It’s my job. It’s my duty.

  It’s why I’m alive.

  But how can I best save them all from threats they don’t even know exist?

  Chapter 15

  To keep everyone safe… I need to worry about Amarok first, then the vamps. I’m not sure vamps are still lingering about yet, and so far, we haven’t come across another vamp victim. Granted, they might not be leaving bodies for us to discover anymore, but Amarok is definitely the biggest threat.

  Rolf is supposed to get me weapons, but in order to use them, I first need to find the vamp-wolf beast.

  Watching the footage to find Bass has given me an idea, and I set up a camera in the cave from Amarok. As soon as dawn comes, I download the footage and watch.

  There’s nothing to see.

  A few nights later, there’s another animal attack. That makes four. People are getting restless, and on the news, I learn some want to organize hunts. The lieutenant, of course, discourages that, and I debate telling him about the Amorak. Not the wolves, just the main big bad. But I don’t. Can’t risk it. He’d want to know where I learned everything about it, and I promised I won’t talk about the wolves.

  Vamps. Wolves. Amarok.

  Yeah, I really do need a shrink so I can deal with all of this.

  What is the point of all of this? Amarok is killing people at random, as far as I can tell. Xandrie, Frank Ivy, and the other two victims have nothing in common.

  Point.

  I grab a map of Bethlehem and mark off where the four bodies have been discovered. Fairly close together, almost a semicircle, and if I had to guess, the next one would be right about… here.

  It’s Saturday morning, and I hurry over to where I think another attack might occur. I’m not sure what I hope to see or accomplish, but I don’t find a hidden cave anywhere.

  When lunchtime rolls around, I opt to grab myself a sandwich. My Wawa hoagie is delicious, so much meat and enough oil and vinegar without being too much.

  As I eat, I scroll through the news on my phone and realize another body has been discovered.

  My guess had been off by two blocks.

  I’ve brought my marked map with me, and I plot out the latest attack. The five points make for a perfect star, with South Mountain Park in the center.

  Maybe that’s where the main cave for Amarok lies. That’s my best guess, but I’m not about to stick out my neck, not without those weapons.

  I’m too much a woman of action to wait around. Eagerly, I take a chance that night on seeing if the wolves will show up on South Mountain. They’re close to the park, and I can’t help wondering if they’re involved somehow. My gut tells me no, but I can’t ignore the signs. Amarok is a werewolf. The others might not share his propensity toward blood drinking, but that doesn’t mean the other wolves aren’t dangerous too.

  It’s well after midnight by the time I see Rolf. He’s in his wolf form, and he trots right up to me. His nose nuzzles my hand. Warm but wet. Ew.

  Disgusted, I jerk away and squat in front of him. “Shift. I need to talk to you,” I demand critically.

  He trots away behind a tree. Bones snap, and I watch his shadow as he changes shape. A few minutes later, he comes back over to me wearing only boxers.

  Crazy. It’s way too cold to not be dressed.

  “Do you have weapons for me?” I ask without bothering with any niceties.

  “Yes.”

  “Well?” I hold out my hand impatiently.

  “I’ll bring them to your house tomorrow.”

  “And you’re sure they’ll work on him?” I ask, suddenly skeptic and wary. “Hurt him? Kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  His short answers are grating on my last nerve.

  “How can you be so sure?” I ask.

  “Sometimes you have to have faith.”

  “Well, excuse me if I’m fresh out right now,”
I say dryly. “Between vamps, wolves, and all the death everywhere around me, I’m fresh out of faith in anything good, sunshiny, rainbows, and unicorns.”

  “You’re going to want to have faith before you take him on.”

  “Spare me the lecture.” I’m trying so hard to not be provoked, but I’m failing big time. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Of course not. We have to remain as unnoticed of him as possible, which means that we have to pretend he isn’t here. We can’t go and seek him out. That’s your job.”

  “Right. Me. The mere human. The mere expendable human.” The bitterness in my tone is so biting that I wince.

  “I will tell you all I know of Amarok.”

  “About time,” I mumble.

  “Long, long ago, before words were ever written, there is said to be a woman named Yesenia. Her husband died in a war. One by one, so did all of her children until only she and her youngest son remained. She was still a beautiful woman, not too old yet, but she would not remarry. Her whole life became that son.”

  “He became Amarok?”

  “Patience,” he hisses. “If you cannot be patient when you attack Amarok, you will not last long.”

  “Seems to me that I’m only going to have one chance at him. Shouldn’t I be going full throttle right from the start?”

  He ignores me and continues with the story. “Some of the older sons died in that same war, but the rest of her children died of a sickness. When this last son also grew sick, she cast a spell and used all of her healing abilities to save him.”

  “Why didn’t she use them with her other children?” I’m confused. I’m not a mother yet and might never be one, but shouldn’t a mother care about all of her children equally?

  “I think she acquired them later on.”

  “Acquired them? Are you talking magic? Was she a witch?”

  “A druid priestess. She became one after her sixth child died.”

  I blink in surprise. “How many children did she have?”

  “That I’m not sure. Some versions of the tale say seven. A few say sixteen. One claims two dozen.”

  “Never,” I murmur. “So she became a druid priestess, whatever that is. Did she heal him?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “And that’s how he became the spirit of the wolf?”

  “No, not yet. Their village was attacked—“