When Vamps Bite: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 1)

by Nicole Zoltack

  I drag myself to the shower, and, yeah, Doctor Dean’s right. I seem to have new bruises everywhere I look. Washing isn’t fun, and lifting my arms above my head is especially painful, but I manage. By the time I wrestle myself into my favorite jeans and a black turtleneck, I’m ready for a nap.

  Instead, I call Calinda Moore’s number. It’s kinda scary how easy it is to track a person down on the internet. She doesn’t answer, so I sneak out the back of my house. I drop my car off at a nearby, small-time repair shop. The owner, Gus Brandon, and I went to high school together. His older brother had been a cop too, who died in the line of duty a few years ago.

  He eyes the car and whistles. “What happened?”

  “You don’t want to know.” I wince. “More worried about the damage to my wallet.”

  He flips an oily rag over his already dirty jumpsuit. “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow,” he promises.

  I grin. He’s always done right by cops.

  From there, I walk to where the vamp initially attacked me.

  Vamp. I’m already thinking of him as a vamp and not a vamp wannabe. Maybe it’s depression or aligning myself with the worst-case scenario. I’m not sure. Whatever he is or thinks he is, and the same goes for the murderer, they must be stopped.

  Money’s growing tight lately, but I’m not walking all the way to Calinda Moore’s house. I call for an Uber. When I’m dropped off, my body is too stiff for me to stand at first. With a groan and feeling like a feeble old lady, I ease myself out of the car.

  Ugh. Calinda has a decent driveway. My legs don’t appreciate it, that’s for sure, but I have no choice. Besides, moving around will help me even if it’s painful.

  I knock on the door. The “2” in her house number bolted onto the door is a little crooked, and my fingers itch to straighten it.

  The door opens a crack, and a timid voice calls out, “Who’s there?”

  “Hi. I’m Clarissa Tempest. I’m a police officer, and—”

  “I already made my statement.”

  “I know, but I wanted to ask a few follow-up questions. If you could let me in—”

  “I don’t want to,” she says more strongly.

  I lift up my shirt to reveal my bruises and the bandage wrapped around my bruised ribs. “I’ve been attacked myself.”

  Without a word, she opens the door and grants me entry. The door slams shut behind me, and I jump, startled. With a frown, she gestures to the black leather couch. Her lights are off, and her blinds are closed, so there’s very little light in here. Kinda freaky but it makes sense. She’s hiding from the vamp who attacked her.

  I sit gingerly. “I can tell you what happened to me—”

  Not looking at me, she holds up a trembling hand. “I don’t want to hear it. It’s hard enough for me to remember…” She talks slowly. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s having trouble formulating her speech or because she doesn’t want to discuss this. “I was walking home from work when I thought someone was following me. I ducked into a store and pretended to shop. I hoped the person would go away, but when I left the store, I was followed still. I tried to call the police, but the call wouldn’t go through, and he…” She rubs her neck.

  “Did he bite you there?”

  “No.”

  Calinda turns on a lamp. Moving in slow motion, she lifts her sleeve to reveal a vicious scar in two opposite arches. She doesn’t look at it and covers it again almost immediately.

  “Did you need a blood transfusion?” I ask.

  “Yes. I lost three to four pints. I don’t remember exactly what the doctor said.”

  “Can you tell me about your assailant?”

  “He… I…” She closes her eyes and breathes in and out several times. “Why is it so bright in here?” she mumbles.

  “It’s—”

  She leaves the room and comes back in.

  Wearing sunglasses.

  What in the world is going on with her? Has she always acted this strangely? Or has the attack made her snap?

  “Better. Where were we?” She’s still talking slowly. Even her movements are slow. “My attacker. Right. He moved so fast that I couldn’t see him. He looked like a blur. That’s it. A blur. And the air was so cold and foggy… I did see that he had red eyes, but that’s it.”

  “How tall was he?” I ask, thinking about my intruder.

  She lumbers over to a chair and lowers herself onto it feebly. “Maybe six feet. I’m not sure.”

  Hm. Six feet is a fair amount shorter than approximately six feet five. Her description fits more with the murderer.

  Unless there are more than two vamps in Bethlehem.

  Ugh. What is the world coming to?

  “Are you feeling all right?” I ask softly.

  “My head hurts. I… I’m sensitive to light.”

  “A migraine?”

  “Yes. I’ve had a constant one since the attack.”

  “About that, I need to ask you a few more questions.” I’m trying to be as gentle as I can.

  “Please. I don’t like remembering.” She hugs herself, clearly insecure and alienated by my request.

  My chest aches at the pain I’m forcing her to relive. “I’m almost done. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s…” She closes her eyes, exhales, nods, and reopens her eyes. “I’m all right. I’m all right,” she repeats, and I get the feeling she’s saying that for her own benefit.

  “Why do you think you lived? How were you able to get away?”

  She smiles now and rubs her neck. No, she’s bringing out a chain.

  “This was my mother’s.” She toys with the chain, almost happy now. How curious. “He… I don’t think he was able to get enough blood from my wrist. He tried from my neck, but he hissed when he touched this.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s silver. Pure silver. A family heirloom.”

  Calinda slowly grins, and although she’s appeared weak, she seems to find some strength now. Like she’s rejecting being a victim.

  “My mom was the strongest woman I knew,” she continues. “She survived breast cancer, but then she also had brain cancer. She lived a lot longer than the doctors expected. Thinking about her, knowing that for some reason the necklace helped saved me… I ripped the necklace off and hit him with it. He hissed like an animal and disappeared. I didn’t see him leave.” She caresses the chain. “I had the necklace fixed as soon as I got out of the hospital. My watch is sterling silver, but he didn’t react to that. Just broke it off my wrist so he could munch.”

  Silver. Silver affected him. Maybe I don’t need wooden bullets but silver ones. Pure silver, though. Not even sterling silver. I know sterling is an alloy with other metals mixed in. Hm.

  At least something hurts them, considering I shot one, and he remained unharmed.

  Just what are those things? Are they really vamps?

  “What do you think it was?” I ask her.

  A darkness clouds her features. It’s unnerving that she’s wearing sunglasses in her house when no lights are on and the blinds are closed. “Let’s see… he came at me at night, was really strong, reacted to silver, felt ice cold, and drank my blood. What do you think?”

  I say nothing.

  “A vampire.” She rubs her arms briskly as if suddenly freezing. “What else could he be? Don’t you agree? Were you bitten, too? Never mind. I… I want you to leave.”

  “Of course.” I hold out my arm to shake her hand.

  She hesitates but then shakes it. Her grip is weak, pathetically lackluster. Her skin seems to slide, the grossest feeling, and I quickly end the handshake.

  “Do you want protection?” I ask quietly. “It’s possible he might come back.”

  “Oh, I know.” She removes her sunglasses. “I’m marked. Bitten. They’ll come for me.”

  “They?” My blood runs cold at the suddenly vacant look in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let them kill me.”

  “How many are t
here?”

  She blinks, and clarity returns to her eyes. “I’d rather die than allow them to kill me.”

  My mouth runs dry. “You can move away,” I suggest.

  Calinda shakes her head, the movement slow and robotic.

  “You can—”

  “I can die on my terms. They… You’re right. They will come for me again. They already did, but I got out of there fast enough. Gizmo, though… I haven’t seen him since, not that it matters. After I got out of the hospital, I went to see him. He hooked me up before he hooked them up with some… or all… of his blood.”

  “Gizmo? Gizmo the drug dealer? Calinda, please tell me you aren’t going to end your life.”

  She grits her teeth, and for a second, there’s fire in her eyes, but the flames die even more quickly. “It’s not up to you.”

  “You know, I’ve dealt with death a lot in my line of work. I’ve experienced loss, and I’ve talked to enough shrinks to be able to maybe help you. Maybe I’m crossing the line here, but please, hear me out.” I’m begging, desperation bleeding into my voice.

  She only looks away, not telling me to put a lid on it or to leave.

  “I know that what happened is terrifying, but your walking to the hospital proves that you want to live. That you had the necklace fixed immediately, the one item that not only protected you but is a memento from your strong mother, is more proof. Dying on your terms is still dying. It’s still letting them win!”

  Calinda toys with her chain, her thin lips a straight line. After a moment, she presses two fingers to her temple and rubs.

  “Do you have a friend you can stay with for a few days?”

  She nods but avoids eye contact.

  “It might not be a bad idea to keep your head down, but not six feet under.”

  “My nightstand,” she says, her voice hardly audible, her tone not quite indifferent. Guilty, that’s it. “Top drawer.”

  Confused, I make my way through her small house to the bedroom. In her drawer is a baggie full of pills. The drugs she got from Gizmo, the ones to off herself.

  I don’t know why she opted that route instead of popping a bunch of sleeping pills. At least I might have someone else to interview, another potential eyewitness. Does this mean that the vamps have been here in Bethlehem for some time now? Have they been operating in the shadows, unbeknownst to the rest of us?

  “I’ll dispose of these for you,” I promise.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “Officer? Gizmo and I were friends long before he became Gizmo, back in school when he was Gee Whiz. I… If he’s alive, will you help him like you helped me?”

  “Of course. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

  Calinda shakes her head empathically, now distant and cold. “You need to go. Now. Please.”

  So I do.

  Gizmo is one guy I’ve dealt with often. He’s a known con man, a drug dealer, and a drug user. He’s a genius when it comes to his silver tongue, and he did well in school. When his parents died in a freak accident, he dropped out of school and started his con game. The drugs came later.

  His IQ is off the charts, which is why we’ve never been able to make any charges stick despite knowing what he pulls. It’s infuriating beyond belief. Let me tell you.

  Right now, it’s helpful that I know so much about him. Samantha’s a doll. She makes me beg, but she lets me borrow her car until mine is back from the shop. Quickly, I go from one of his drop off spots to another, trying to peg him. At the one near the park, I think I spy him, but it’s a dog walker. I nod to the guy and swing by Gizmo’s house. He keeps odd hours, but I’m running out of places to check.

  My knuckles rap against the door, but he doesn’t answer. No surprise there, but I’m growing so frustrated that I bang on the door again.

  “Come on, Gizmo. I just want to talk to you. Look. No badge today.”

  Who knew that would come in handy?

  “Just me. No wire. No partner. Nothing.”

  I hold my breath and listen. Maybe he isn’t home.

  But then I hear a slight thud.

  “Gizmo, seriously, open up or else I’ll knock your door down.”

  He takes so long that I gear up to shoulder the door when he finally opens it. The con man glares at me for only a second before he holds up his arm to block the sun. “Knock my door down without a warrant? How illegal of you.”

  I toss the baggie at him. “Giving your friend drugs to off herself? Really?”

  His reaction time is too slow, and the baggie lands on the floor. With a grunt, he bends down to retrieve it, a hand on his back as if he’s an old man.

  “What are you talking about?” He inspects the contents and then looks at me through squinty eyes. “No badge?”

  “Not today.”

  His bushy eyebrows lift, disappearing beneath his thick, desperately in need of a haircut bangs. “Yeah, this is mine.”

  Gizmo hasn’t invited me in, but I step forward, and he slides back to allow me entry into the small house. It’s more of a shack, the size of a postcard.

  “The name Calinda mean anything to you?” I ask.

  His lips twist into a smile and then a frown as if he can’t make up his mind which he wants to show. “I don’t want to talk—”

  “You will talk. You just admitted—”

  “You’re off duty.” His words are slightly slurred. Is he drunk?

  “You know that changes nothing.”

  “Look, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just go.” He pulls the already closed curtain closer together.

  Photosensitive, just like Calinda. Coincidence? A side effect of being bitten? Maybe there’s a toxin in their teeth…

  No, there can’t be. I’m seeing things that aren’t really there.

  At least I have my eyes open, though, knowing what might be going on. Gizmo huddles in the middle of the room, gaze darting around as if afraid someone is going to jump out and grab him.

  Or jump out and bite him.

  Paranoid. Skittish. This isn’t Gizmo. I’ve seen him upset, pissed off, agitated, annoyed, even happy.

  I’ve never seen him scared before.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Like you care.” He lifts his chin defiantly, but between his dull eyes and pale skin, he can’t pull off the look.

  “Are you drunk?” I ask, dismayed by his appearance and attitude.

  “No.”

  “High?” I demand critically.

  He sits down on a chair and nods for me to sit, but there isn’t any way on Earth I would sit on his furniture.

  Head in his hands, he rests his elbows on his legs. “I’m not fine, but I’m not high or anything else. I just haven’t… I don’t feel well. I’m sick or something.”

  Sick or infected? Rabies. Could he have rabies? Is it possible that the whole fang thing might be a side effect of some kind of disease or condition?

  I’m making my head hurt from thinking so hard, and I’m only confusing myself more than I am solving anything.

  “Calinda was attacked,” I say, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “She came to you for drugs. Maybe she wanted to forget. Maybe you talked her into killing herself.”

  He jerks his head up and winces as if the rapid movement caused him a great deal of pain. “I would never—”

  “But then she was attacked again. You were attacked. Tell me about it,” I say, hoping I don’t sound skeptical or suspicious.

  “You’re here about that?” he asks disbelievingly.

  His words are still slurred, but I think I’ve figured out why. He’s hardly parting his lips. Something isn’t right with him, and Calinda hadn’t been right herself.

  Do they take more than just blood? Obviously, Calinda’s will is shattered, and she’s convinced they’ll hunt her down and kill her. I can’t even blame her for considering going out on her terms. First, she needs to do whatever she can to surv
ive. Her best bet is to move as far away from Bethlehem as possible.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m here about that.”

  “If you want to live,” he mumbles quietly, “you’ll stay out of it. I’m just trying to pull off a few more deals so I can bounce. Bethlehem’s grown stale for me. Time for me to grow wings and fly away.”

  “Gizmo—”

  He flings the drugs back at me, but they land at his feet. Is he toying with me, or is he really that weak? His hand is shaking, and when he notices me looking at it, he crosses his arms.

  “Just go,” he mutters. “I’m not saying another word.”

  And no matter how many questions I ask, he keeps his word and his mouth shut.

  Gizmo never does anything without a reason, so I ask my friend in the forensic lab to run an analysis on the pills ASAP. The results come back the next day as very diluted coke mixed with sleeping aids. He never intended for Calinda to kill herself. He just wanted to give her a slight trip and some sleep.

  Maybe he hadn’t been such a terrible guy after all. Maybe. Nah.

  From the lab, I grab Samantha from her place, and we pick up my car from Gus Brandon. She drives off immediately for the gym while I settle my account with Gus. He cuts me some slack. There’s no doubting that. I really appreciate it considering I don’t want to run this through insurance. It’s not like I can claim a vamp attack under collision.

  My car looks better than it has since he put on a new door. I’ve been ignoring some nasty scrapes for years now. Cosmetic repairs just aren’t in the budget.

  Glad to have my wheels back, I go to find Calinda to tell her. There’s a for sale sign out front and no sign of her anywhere near the house. I’m ready to head back to my car when I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right here.

  Anxious, I walk back to her front door. Instead of knocking, I walk around to the back door and knock. No answer. Thankfully, the curtains are parted, and I can peek inside.

  To see Calinda on the floor.

  Having a seizure.

  I call for an ambulance and bust the back door open, so I can roll her over onto her side. Her limbs flail. It takes her a good few minutes to calm down.