When Vamps Bite (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 1)

by Nicole Zoltack

  I hate that she’s said the “V” word out loud and can’t help glancing around. Even though she’s talking quietly, I don’t want us to be overheard.

  I lean closer and drop my voice. “I—“

  But she doesn’t give me a chance to talk. “And maybe they’ve moved on. Have you considered that? They might not even be here anymore.”

  My anger level is rising. “I have thought about that, thanks. I don’t need your condescending tone, so you can go back to your car and leave me alone.”

  She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Let me drive you home.”

  “Don’t bother.” I stalk off.

  Yes, of course, I’ve wondered if they’ve moved on. I’m the only cop who thinks they’re real and I promised I’d be leaving. They probably think they can have free reign here.

  It’ll be a long walk back to my place, but a few minutes later, I realize a car is following me. It pulls up beside me.

  “Stop being so stubborn and get in,” Mercedes snaps.

  I don’t want to accept, but I do. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  She drives me home, and I know she thinks I’m crazy and incompetent.

  Honestly, maybe I am.

  Notices pop up on my phone about my upcoming flight. I ignore every one of them, and finally, the plane takes off.

  Without me on it.

  I keep a low profile. My defiance is not going to go unnoticed, I’m sure.

  While I don’t leave my place, I do make some phone calls to see if I can’t get my hands on pure silver.

  It’s just about impossible. Either it’s not pure silver or it’s out of my price range, as in mortgaging the house wouldn’t even be enough.

  So I’m stuck. I have no more leads. Yes, I break down and call Doctor Dean. He apologizes for not calling me sooner, but he doesn’t have anything to report. No one with unexplained neck wounds, no one who needs a ton of blood.

  Once I hang up, a feeling of isolation overwhelms me. I have to have something to do, some small way to help, and it hits me.

  Blood.

  Victims will need them, and even other people. I call to schedule a blood donation. Maybe I can donate plasma, too. They need that, right? Luckily, they can fit me in tomorrow.

  Good. Feeling pleased, I make my way to the kitchen. My cupboards are bare, and my fridge is almost empty, too. I desperately need groceries. Tonight’s looking like pizza. Maybe I can invite Diego and Felix inside. I’m dying to have some interaction. I’ll even tolerate Diego’s flirting. It would be worth it, although Felix’s sour moods lately have been kinda grating on me. I’m not sure what his deal is.

  I open the front door to find out what toppings the guys prefer when I stop short. Diego’s already walking up to my front door.

  Automatically, I reach for Marlon’s gun. “What is it?” I ask.

  Dread creeps inside of me, taking dark roots, growing a twisted bloodied blossom of confused despair.

  “I just heard from the precinct.”

  My breathing hitches, the roots burying deeper, growing thorns that carve into my heart. “Another body’s been found.”

  “Two actually.”

  “Some marks on their neck as Jennifer Hamilton’s?”

  “Yes.”

  A drop of black blood drips from the blossom, turning the blood inside my veins to ice.

  Felix opens his door. He’s still in the car. “Make that three. No. Five.”

  “Five?” I gasp. My vision fades as I close my eyes for a long moment.

  Their deaths… their murders… they’re all on me. It’s all my fault. Because I refused to leave.

  But what would the vamps have done if I had left? They would’ve drained people of blood just the same.

  Or maybe not. Maybe they would’ve only taken some blood like they did with Calinda. Then again, they did kill her in the end since she died from side effects of their bite. Plus, the vamp would’ve drained her completely if it hadn’t been for her necklace.

  Her necklace.

  Her pure silver necklace.

  She was probably buried with it.

  Damn.

  Immediately, I feel a pang in my chest. I shouldn’t be so self-centered. People are dying. The city is being terrorized. There’s no way the media will not catch wind of this.

  And I’m right. The media latches onto the story like it’s the story of the century. They broadcast it on every channel they can, talking about it at least eighty percent of the time. They don’t know one angle, though, one that Henrietta tells me about before she files her report.

  All of the victims have the same marks as Jennifer Hamilton. As best she can tell, they were made from two different weapons.

  Or two different sets of fangs.

  And all of the victims were almost entirely drained of blood, even more than Jennifer Hamilton had been.

  The media calls the killer Jack the Ripper 2.0.

  More like Super Vamps 1.0.

  Chapter 21

  Almost exactly an hour after Henrietta confides in me her findings, the lieutenant calls me. “My office. Half hour.”

  I have no chance to answer.

  I have no choice but to go.

  When I arrive, Henrietta is there, too, and so is my other boss, the Bernardo. He glares at me with disapproval. He’s always in need of a haircut. His hair resembles a rat’s nest. Since his promotion, he’s gained at least twenty pounds. When he crosses his arms, like he is right now, they rest on his food belly.

  So I focus on Henrietta and give her a smile before facing the lieutenant, who is sitting behind his desk.

  Sitting.

  The man is a ball of repressed anger and energy. He never sits.

  Uh oh.

  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” I ask in lieu of an actual greeting. I hope to soothe any anger, anxious to avoid provoking him or fueling his frustrations.

  “Henrietta just gave me her report.” He nudges it toward me but when I go to retrieve it, he snatches it back. “The vics all were drained of blood. The marks… could they be from teeth ripping across the flesh?”

  “It’s possible, but not human teeth, no. It would have to be—”

  “Don’t say it,” he warns her.

  So I answer for her. “Fangs.”

  The lieutenant’s glower is fierce and powerful. “Can’t you control your personnel?”

  Vice/Intelligence Detective Sergeant Howard Bernardo growls. That’s a new one. I’m used to his grunts and scoffs, but a growl?

  “You’re the one who suspended her without talking to me first,” he says, almost grunting the words.

  “Yeah, well, she might be onto something with her vampire wannabe idea.”

  Um, I’m pretty sure that they’re actual vamps, not wannabes. I’m not gonna mention that until I have proof, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “Wipe that smirk off your face,” the detective sergeant mutters.

  Whoops.

  I clear my throat. “Why else would all the blood be missing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s some kind of vampire cult who needs the blood for rituals or for drinking. Maybe it has nothing to do with vampires or vampire wannabes at all. Maybe some scientist has been around chemicals too long. They affected his brain, and he wants to do testing on it. Or maybe—“

  “Or maybe we’re shorthanded, and we need to examine all possibilities.” The lieutenant stands and opens a folder. He spreads out photos of various people in alleys or behind stores, their throats ripped and torn like Jennifer Hamilton’s. He places a thick finger on the top one. “We’re not about to let these murders go unsolved. I’m taking point myself.”

  “B-But—“ Bernardo stutters.

  “You heard me,” the lieutenant snaps. He opens a drawer and tosses something to me.

  My badge. I catch it easily.

  “You have one shot to chase down this lead of yours. Don’t blow it.”

  “By myself,” I plead. I
don’t want to risk anyone else’s lives.

  “I’m sure you think the whole stew and poison thing—“

  “What stew and poison thing?” Bernardo glances between the two of us as if we’re tennis players in the middle of an evenly matched set.

  Come to think of it, Henrietta has that same look on her face, minus the slight disdain coming from the detective sergeant. I’ve never been on his bad side before, and I never want to be again. He’ll put me on patrol duty or desk duty if I’m not careful.

  The lieutenant ignores him, which might or might not be a good thing. “You think it’s related, don’t you?”

  “And the memory loss. I don’t think he’ll ever remember what happened during that week.”

  “Why not? He got back his memories for everything else?”

  “I just don’t think he will.” I clasp my hands behind my back.

  “Right. Vampires.” He wearily rubs his forehead.

  “If I can assist—“ Bernardo cuts in.

  “Run your department and keep a closer eye on your men,” the lieutenant snarls. “You’re dismissed.”

  Bernardo tightens his jaws, nostrils flaring. He shoots me a dirty look and closes the door behind him just short of slamming it.

  I gulp. I do feel bad for him. It’s my fault he’s in trouble. All because I couldn’t stick to my own department. Bernardo is actually competent and not a terrible boss. Compared to the lieutenant, he’s almost a saint.

  “Keep the blood info tight to your chest,” Lieutenant Reynolds tells Henrietta.

  “Of course.”

  Maybe it’s because they’re related because he can obviously see something in her face that I can’t.

  “You already told her.”

  “Yeah. She’s the one who first had me looking into the blood in the beginning.”

  “You know you can’t discuss findings of this magnitude without permission.”

  “I knew you would have to bring her back.” Henrietta cocks her head from side to side. She’s giving him attitude and getting away with it!

  I’m jealous. And in awe.

  “Don’t be too cocky,” he says. “I want you to go over all of the bodies again. See if there’s anything else you can find.”

  “Look for poison,” I cut in.

  “Poison? Like from the stew?” She rubs her chin. “I’ll have to talk to forensics. Who did you give it to?”

  “Doug Nelson.”

  “Doug Nelson? Really? Why didn’t you come straight to me?”

  Good point, but I do have one reason for not coming straight to here, and he’s in this very room.

  She glances at him, rolls her eyes, and shakes her head.

  I shrug.

  “I’ll have to look at tissue samples from the wound and from other places to compare. We can check and see if there’s any kind of poison, not just that one. Any proteins or anything else. It’s not that we didn’t look before for anything unusual, but a second go over can’t hurt.” Henrietta undoes her bun and redoes it with the deft sureness of someone who has twisted hair countless times. “Since there are more bodies to examine, the chances of finding something out of the norm should be much higher. I still can’t believe that I didn’t find one hair or fiber from the perp on Jennifer Hamilton. It’s like no one touched her, other than the blade or teeth or fangs that cut her.”

  Or like someone super fast made sure to grab everything before he left the scene of the crime.

  “Why are you standing here telling us what you’re going to do instead of doing it?” the lieutenant asks with a smile on his face.

  Henrietta tips two fingers in a silent salute, grins at me, and leaves.

  The smile falls from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me about Calinda Moore?” he demands, agitated and annoyed.

  My swallow gets caught in my throat, and I have to cough to pass it through.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, truly remorseful. “I didn’t know for certain that her case was connected. I didn’t want to burden you with what might have been a false development.”

  “If you don’t have anything else important to share, then get out of my office.”

  I retreat a half step. “Say, do you think I could have my gun back?”

  “You’ll get your gun back when I say you do, and you shouldn’t have been snooping.”

  Uh oh. He’s pissed, and when he’s furious, that’s never a good thing.

  “I wasn’t trying to snoop. It’s just that after a vamp attacked, not at my place but another attack, I went to the hospital. I’m fine now, can hardly feel it in my ribs, thanks for asking—“

  “Smart ass,” he mutters. “And you never told me you got attacked again. Where? When?”

  I wave his questions away and ask one of my own. “Are you sure I can’t have my gun back? If I’m going back out into the field—”

  “You won’t be in the field without me. Is that clear?” he barks.

  “Yes, sir.” I swallow hard. “When I went to the hospital, I happened to ask the doctor if he had another case similar to mine. I might’ve mentioned Jennifer Hamilton—“

  “Damn it, Tempest!” He slams his fist down, his face red from anger, almost purple.

  “I got the info any way I could like only other police detective would. Lieutenant, if I help with this, if we nail the guy, you have to think—“

  His face turns purple. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “At least consider transferring me to homicide.”

  He stares at me with a blank look on his face. “And the connection between her and Gizmo? Because that’s how you got embroiled with him, right?”

  “Yes. She got drugs from him. She was thinking about killing herself.”

  “Why would anyone kill themselves that way? Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t think she was thinking clearly.”

  “Her mind affected? Because of being bitten?”

  “Maybe. She had a lot of symptoms when she went into the hospital before she died.”

  “All right. We’ll head over to the hospital and find out more about her. See if anyone else has come along.”

  “I’ll go. My source—“

  “You aren’t on point.”

  “I know.”

  Now my stomach is churning for another reason. Doctor Dean. I’m not sure I want to see him, but I definitely don’t want him to see me as an underling. As a tagalong. Even if he didn’t mean it when he mentioned us going out sometime, I don’t want to look inferior in his eyes. Stupid, maybe, but it’s bothering me that I’m stuck in vice. I want to be in homicide. That’s the main issue here.

  “We can go and talk to Doctor Dean—“

  “Is he the head of the hospital? No. We’re talking to who I want to talk to.”

  So we go to the hospital, the lieutenant driving. He immediately schedules for a meeting with the head of the hospital and the head of the surgical department.

  Before the head of surgery can arrive, I excuse myself to the bathroom. The unnerving scent of disinfectant and blood makes me want to vomit. I don’t, thankfully, and I make my way back to the office.

  It’s a large room with a filled bookcase, a massive elegant desk covered in files and folders, and three chairs. Lots of diplomas and awards decorate the walls.

  The lieutenant stands in front of one of the chairs. The head of the hospital, looking vaguely uncomfortable, stands in front of the chair behind his desk. We have to wait another ten minutes before the head of surgery arrives. He looks younger than I expected, maybe in his forties, while his coworker is definitely in his sixties.

  The head of surgery goes to take a seat, but since all of us are standing, he remains on his feet. “Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant Reynolds. How can we help you?”

  Don’t be miffed that he’s ignoring you. Don’t be miffed that he’s acting like he didn’t just walk past you to address the lieutenant. Don’t be miffed.

  Too late. I’m miffe
d.

  “You’ve seen the news,” the lieutenant says without preamble. “We need to know if certain types of patients have come through the doors here and at other hospitals. Patients who need blood, a lot of it. Patients who have cuts on their necks. Patients who have lost memories.”

  “We can go through our records,” the head of the hospital says.

  “We’re always willing to help in any way we can,” the head of surgery adds.

  “And any new patients, too, that come in,” I cut in.

  “Of course.” The head of surgery flares his nostrils and lifts his nose into the air as if I’m beneath him.

  I flush and do my best not to squirm. It’s not often I feel uneasy when in the presence of guys, but these guys think their shit don’t stink. They’re wrong about that, by the way. When I left the bathroom, a man was leaving the men’s room. The whiff from it would be enough to knock over a cow.

  The lieutenant blinks. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go through your records now.”

  “Of course,” the head of the hospital says smoothly.

  The head of surgery inches toward the door. “I’m afraid that this really doesn’t pertain to me. The patients you’re looking for won’t need surgery—“

  “No, of course not. Not unless you know how to reattach a head and neck to a body,” I say dryly.

  The lieutenant rolls his eyes, whereas the head of surgery’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

  “The sooner you can give us the information, the better,” Reynolds snaps.

  He leaves the room, and I trail behind him.

  Once we’re out of earshot, he asks, “Did you have to mention that?”

  “Maybe if either of them would’ve introduced themselves to me…”

  “Yeah, they can be pricks. So can anyone. If you’re gonna have such a thin skin, I don’t see how you can hack homicide.”

  “It’s not that I have thin skin,” I protest.

  “Yeah, yeah. Your vacation hasn’t done anything for you, has it?”

  “Not really,” I mutter as we head down the hallway to the elevator. “Between everything that happened to me and the other victims, and Travis, and…” I bite my lower lip.