“I understand.” I rub my chin. He’s still holding onto the necklace, although he’s stopped getting ready to wrap it up for me. “Tell me, is there a way to test if an item is purely silver or not?”
“Yes, actually. First, let me show you the hallmark. It’s a stamp that tells how high the silver content is. Ah, here it is. Ninety-nine. You won’t see one hundred, I’m afraid. Is that enough proof for you? Unfortunately, both my Caratometer and my electronic tester need to be calibrated. There is one other way, but it is more invasive. If you like, I can do that for you, for a fee. I’ll have to shave off some of the necklace.” He gingerly touches the same rectangle I had. “But you place the shavings in acid. Any discoloration means the presence of a metal other than silver.”
“Do I need to pay that fee?” I ask quietly.
He grimaces. “I would never lie or…” The man glances to the right, at the clock on the wall. The store should’ve closed five minutes ago. “Give me a moment.”
Again, he disappears to the back and returns with a strange-looking device and a glass half-filled with acid. With precision that only comes with practice, he removes fine shavings from the leftmost rectangle and carefully deposits them into the acid.
A minute passes. Another. And another.
The acid doesn’t change its coloring in the slightest.
I breathe easier. “I’m sorry I questioned you.”
“You’re well within your right to.” His grin returns as he gestures for me to turn around. I lift my hair, and he secures the necklace. “You need it to fight a vampire after all.”
My stomach does a funny flip, and I hope he can’t read my face, can’t see my apprehension. My resolve is firm, but that doesn’t mean I’m not at least a little frightened.
“That will be ten dollars.”
I’m not sure if that’s a discount or not, but I hand him a ten.
“Take care now.”
For some reason, he seems uptight now. His arms are crossed, and he keeps glancing around the store even though we’re the only ones here.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I ask.
“Pardon? Oh, no. No, no. Nothing like that.”
His uneasiness only serves to increase mine, and his sharp change in behavior strikes me as overly distrustful.
“Have you seen anything suspicious lately?” I ask quietly.
“No. Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Please, tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Can you walk me to my car?” he blurts out.
I blink. “Ah, sure…”
“It’s just… The bodies, the murders… They all have neck wounds, right? And now a cop comes in here and has to have pure silver, and I only meant the vampire thing as a joke, but…”
“It’s a joke.” I force myself to smile. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. We have the situation under control. You’re perfectly safe. If you like, I can walk you to your car. That’s not a problem, but I do have other places to be.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just being superstitious, that’s all.” He exhales loudly. “Are you working the case?”
“I can’t discuss—“
“Of course. One of… One of the victims was my cousin, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” Small world. The lieutenant had been the one to talk to family members while I had been stuck on tip line duty. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I talked to the… I think he said he was a lieutenant. A good guy. Not that I had a lot to tell him. My cousin… He tended to be a hothead. And he liked to drink. He’s divorced because of both accounts, which made both his temper and his drinking grow worse.” The man grimaces, sudden lines appearing on his forehead and making him look older. “We got in a fight a few months back, and I haven’t talked to him since. Maybe if I had… Maybe if he had gone to rehab…”
“It’s not your fault.”
The man nods, but he has a faraway look in his eyes. He’s grieving. He’s hating himself. He’s putting the blame on himself even though that’s ridiculous. But I get it. I so get it.
“I just don’t know if I’m next, you know? The media hasn’t given out all of the names of the victims yet, and I don’t know if any of them are related. I don’t know if there’s a bull’s eye on my back or…” He shakes his head, and his eyes clear. “I’m sorry. I think your coming here and my joking about vampires are making me freaked out. I’m not normally like this.”
“It’s all right,” I assure him. “If you see anything suspicious, give me a call.” I hand him a card from my purse. “If you have reason to suspect that you are being followed, we can offer you protection.”
His sigh is one of relief, and he looks like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you. I haven’t seen or noticed anything, but I’m paranoid.”
“Completely understandable.”
“I’m terrible about this. I’m Mark. Mark Fisher.”
We shake hands as I say, “Clarissa Tempest.”
“I saw.” He flashes the card and tucks it into his pocket. “I’m parked about a block away. I’ve been looking into seeing if I can’t get a spot out behind the store or in the alley, but so far, no dice.”
As we walk to the front door, I quickly tuck the necklace under my shirt. He locks up behind us. We talk about nothing important to his car, and he waves and honks as he drives off.
One last Good Samaritan deed for the record books.
Now, time for my showdown.
Ready, vamps? Because I’m coming for you.
Chapter 27
Slowly, I meander back to my car and pretend to be carefree. I doubt the vamps are watching me right now. The fog has lightened up significantly. Still, I’m not about to take my chances.
Once I’m in my locked car, I wrap the necklace around my right hand, like it’s brass knuckles. Filing the rectangles down to points… I just don’t have time for that right now. This’ll have to do.
I take my time driving to the cemetery. The closer I get, the more my foot grows lead until I’m flying. Maybe I have a death wish. Maybe I just want to get this over with. Maybe I’m sick and tired of being the victim.
Or I’m disgusted that I’m not the victim.
As far as I know, everyone else who has crossed paths with the vamps has ended up bitten or dead. I’m the only one who hasn’t. If they’re keeping me alive for a reason, I want to know what it is.
If they continue to play games, threaten me, or want to beat me up again, I’m gonna put up a fight, one that’ll hurt them this time.
Because they’re gonna go down, or else they’re gonna take me down.
The entire drive here, I made sure no one followed me. I’m alone in this. I’m fine with that. No one else will get hurt.
No one other than me potentially. Most likely.
Should I park down the block and walk inside? Nah. I don’t want any officers on patrol to see my car and come investigate. This is my job and mine alone.
I drive inside the cemetery and park far enough from the entrance to not be visible from the street. The fog has rolled back in, making it impossible to see more than a foot in front of me. I square my shoulders, confident in every step. I force myself to move forward and not jerk and startle at every small sound I hear. The whisper of fabric on fabric as I speed-walk grates on my nerves. The faint chirping of nocturnal birds sounds spooky tonight. The crunch of gravel beneath my shoes echoes as I turn off the street and down a row of tombstones.
The gravestones glow eerily like they’re demonic doorways pushing up out of the dirt. At least I can see them through the fog, so there’s no risk of walking into one.
I make my way around the perimeter of the cemetery and do smaller, consecutive squarish laps. The closer I get to the center, the heavier the fog becomes and the less I hear the birds. Now, I can’t even hear the crunch of leaves beneath my shoes. Or my clothes brushing against themselves.
Nothing. I hear nothing.
Except for the rapid pounding of my heart and my heavy breathing.
I’m terrified, yes, but I’m also filled with a strange, almost powerful sense of thrill. Maybe most cops feel this when they’re out and about chasing down goons, or maybe I’m just crazy.
With each step, I grow bolder. My fear vanishes. A rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt before floods me.
Not that long ago, I never would’ve thought vamps were real. Here I am, trying to draw them out, to provoke them into a fight that will lead to carnage and death.
Most likely my own death.
Even that acknowledgment doesn’t frighten me.
I halt beside a tombstone that reaches my knees. The bright glow of it almost hurts my eyes. Strange. The silver wrapped around my knuckles also glows.
Clearing my throat causes a shocking burning sensation. I force my shoulders back and remain motionless, although I’m dying to drop into an offensive position.
Sure wish I had gone with you to a boxing session, Samantha. Might never get the chance to now.
Granted, there are a ton of punches involved with karate and earning a black belt. Cage fitness, too, has a lot of punches thrown.
Man, a shot of something hard right now would help to settle these nerves.
No! My mom had been a strong, fierce woman. Alcohol had slowed down her reflexes. That time hadn’t been the first occasion someone had pulled a gun on her. Then, she had been able to disarm the goon. She shot him in the knee so he couldn’t flee the scene before the police arrived.
But slowed reaction time equaled her death and my father’s, too. I’m sure that if she could go back in time, she’d never have drunk a single drop.
You can do this. You have to.
My resolve doesn’t require liquid courage, or so I try to tell myself. I take a few steps to walk around that tall gravestone.
“Show yourselves,” I say quietly. I’m trying to ignore my fear, attempting to draw on my anger at their threatening presence within my city.
A slight wind picks up and carries my meek voice on it. It’s a blasting cold wind, from the depths of a Canadian winter, far too cold for late fall in Pennsylvania.
Why coldness? Shouldn’t vamps be from Hell? Then again, if they are undead, the coldness makes sense. This all is so confusing. The poisonous infection in their blood that the lieutenant is struggling to fight makes me wonder if they are alive after all. Can vampirism be a disease?
If that’s the case, isn’t there a possibility for a cure one day?
“I just want to talk,” I say through chattering teeth. Even with my heaviest coat, I’m freezing, like a human popsicle. “That’s all.”
Fog seeps out of my mouth with every word I say, but it’s regular fog. It highlights how alien and foreign the fog creeping along the cemetery is. This fog around me has a strange heaviness to it, a chilling presence. It’s like it’s alive, like it’s more than a whisk of a cloud.
Like it can consume a person and leave behind only their bones.
Stop it!
“Talking,” I stress as I take a step forward, my words dripping with hate and disgust. “You know, using your mouth for words and not biting? Not draining a person of their blood? I’m sure that’s hard for you, being such gluttons. Gluttony does refer to drink, too, right? Not just food?”
The more I talk, the louder my voice becomes and the surer my steps are. I don’t have to watch where I’m walking. Despite the fog, I can see where the gravestones are without glancing down. My hands are tight fists at my side. Even though the chain from the necklace scrapes against my knuckles, tied too tightly, I embrace the pain. It gives me a rush, a sense of empowerment. My willpower has never been stronger.
“Look. I know you’re here. I can sense you.”
No answer, not that I’m surprised.
“A one-sided conversation is kinda boring,” I declare, “but I’m not leaving. In fact, if you guys don’t show up in the next… oh, hour or so… I’m gonna call the news stations. Tell them to bring out their cameras. And if you still don’t show up, I’ll make an announcement for the entire world. I’ll tell everyone that vamps exist and that I have proof.”
The fog shifts slightly. I lied before about sensing them, but I can now. They are here.
Yes, they. It’s not just one or the other. Both of the vamps are here.
The fog diminishes but doesn’t vanish completely.
One form appears. A second.
I’m wrong.
A third figure materializes.
Well, shit.
Chapter 28
The necklace cuts into my knuckles and draws blood. There’s a collective hiss from the three of them.
The three vamps.
I hoped only one would show. I counted on two.
I hadn’t considered a third would, but maybe I should count my blessings. Three is better than five. Or a gazillion.
Just how many vamps are there?
“Well, hi, everyone.” I do my best to suppress my mounting fear. Damn it. Fear is for cowards, and I don’t have time to be afraid. I have to remain calm, stay levelheaded. Above all, I must stay in control. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I’m pretty sure you all know my name. In case you don’t, I’m Clarissa Tempest. And you are…”
None of them move. It’s eerie how much the trio resembles statues. Unlike the angels protecting some of the gravestones, these monsters are grotesque gargoyles. Sure, they kinda look human, but the red eyes alone are enough to mark them as inhuman. That’s not including their fangs.
“Your names. Introduce yourselves. Come on…” I approach them, slow and steady, about five paces. There are five rows of graves between us. They could descend on me in less than a half a second if they want to.
But they’re holding back.
Again.
Why?
The vamp all the way to the right is the intruder. The middle one I recognize as Jennifer Hamilton’s killer. The left one is the stranger, a female. Her eyes are the deepest red of them all.
I focus on the intruder. “It really is rude to break into someone’s house and then not even tell her your name after she’s forgiven you.”
His lips quirk as if he can’t decide whether or not to smile. “You may have forgiven me, but your presence suggests differently. That chain proves it. Do not lie to us.”
“Ah, good! Dialogue. Back and forth.” I hold up my wrist and shake it, the rectangles clanging together in a melodious chime. “And, yes, I brought this along, but can you blame me? You did attack me the last time we saw each other, after all.”
“Enough of this,” the female says.
Her red eyes narrow. They look more like hard, glittering rubies than eyes. Their gemstone-like appearance makes the vamps seem more inhuman than ever. The fog only serves to increase that effect.
She turns to the intruder vamp. “You were supposed to deal with her.”
Deal with me? How?
“Keep her in line,” she hisses.
“Oh.” I grin, feeling oddly detached to my body, as if I’m untouchable. Who knows? Maybe I will become detached soon. Even that thought can’t tear the smile off my face. They want me alive. Maybe there’s a chance I can survive this.
But I’m not counting on it.
“I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never been one to stay in line,” I add. “I’d say you should ask my parents, but they’re dead.”
The intruder vamp stiffens.
“And my boss… one of my bosses… he’s in the hospital right now, so I don’t think it’s a good idea you seek him out either, but trust me. Very much not a line-stayer-inner. Sorry.” I shrug.
My fear lingers like a slimy, greasy residue. It congeals into a boulder in the pit of my stomach, but I mask it, feigning charm and ignorance. If I can just get them to lower their guard…
I narrow the distance so now only three rows of graves rest between us. “I say, let’s let bygones be bygones. Yo
u stop going after me, my friends and colleagues, and my city…” This last phrase I add in a hushed rush. “…and you can move on.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably as that boulder shrinks slightly but grows even slimier. Guilt is eating away at me. To subject the vamps to another city, to give them permission…
But as long as I can track them, I can do more research. I can try to secure useful bullets and aid their police force. Put in a transfer…
Fat chance of that. Like I’ll be able to track them when they can move faster than the eye can see!
The murderer vamp shifts slightly, as if pushing back an imaginary cloak. He crouches, and I know, I just know, this is it.
I bring up my silver-necklace-wrapped wrist, holding it out.
He appears behind me, grabbing my hair and thrusting out my neck.
“A small taste won’t hurt,” he says, his voice garbled from his fangs.
“Lucas,” the female admonishes, clearly disgusted and revolted.
His ice-cold breath on my exposed skin turns my body into an icicle. My human frozen popsicle-ness is not gonna stop me. His hold is too strong for me to jerk free. Still, I twist my body enough that I get in a solid right hook.
Right into his fang.
Which cracks.
He drops me to the ground, more or less throwing me down. The impact jars me so badly that I can’t stand. His howls sound like a wolf’s, and I swear I hear the flapping of huge wings.
Bats? Can they really shapeshift?
Better bats than wolves.
Oh my God, werewolves better not be real, too.
The female vamps the injured one back a three-graves distance.
Something glitters, glowing, smiting the fog. A piece of fang. The sharpened edge slices through my skin as I pick it up. I don’t feel as vulnerable or frightened now, only furious. They’ve provoked me enough.
Thoroughly furious and even more determined now, I force my legs to cooperate and stand. The intruder materializes in front of me. His cocky smirk makes me want to punch him.
When Vamps Bite (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 1) Page 20
