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

by Nicole Zoltack

  “I’m here to make a deal,” I say the moment I shut the door behind me. Diego watched my other two interrogations. Right now, he’s talking to another agent, so I have a few moments to myself. “You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you that taste of me.”

  I hold out my wrist and pull back my sleeve.

  “Agreed?”

  He parts his lips, saliva dripping from his fangs. “What do you want to know?”

  “What is it in your blood that affects human? Can it be cured? Can vamps be created? How? And—”

  “One question. One sip,” he barters.

  I shake my head. He’s not going to manipulate this into his favor. “Not gonna happen. You see, talk is cheap. You might be telling me the truth, or you might lie. How am I supposed to be able to tell?”

  “Ever heard a little something called faith?” His grin fills me with dread.

  “Let me guess, you vamps hang out in cemeteries so much because you’re all so deeply religious.”

  “That’s not the faith I’m referring to. Faith in yourself comes from faith in others. If you can’t trust others, it’s because you know you’re untrustworthy yourself.”

  I groan. More vamp psychoanalysis. Great.

  “Can a person survive being bitten by a vamp?” I ask.

  He doesn’t respond.

  My fingers rub the velvet soft skin on the inside of my wrist. “If you can’t guarantee that, no blood for you.”

  Lucas bares his fangs. “Don’t tease me.”

  “Don’t expect to get and not give first. In case you aren’t aware of the situation, I have all the playing cards. You and your friends are locked up. We have silver bullets to end you. We can keep you here as long as we want.”

  “If you’re trying to intimidate me, I should warn you that you’re not even close to accomplishing your goal.”

  I smile and walk out of the room. Diego is still talking to the officer, and I quickly nab a glass of water and return to the room. Without hesitating, I dump the water onto the vamp’s head.

  He glowers at me.

  “Oh, relax.” I place the empty glass on the table, grab my pocket knife from my pocket, and slice a tiny cut along my thumb. Watching his eyes light up, I squeeze out some drops of blood into the cup until there’s about a shot’s worth. It takes some time to get that much from the tiny cut.

  The vamp lunges as far as the silver will allow, but I hold the glass out of reach.

  “Can humans be cured, or does the poison from your bite always kill?” I demand.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wrong answer. Can more vamps be created? How?”

  “Give me the blood,” he demands, his words laced with desperation.

  “Not until you give me intel.”

  In the end, I don’t give him the blood. He doesn’t give me anything. Maybe there’s a council of vamps or something and he’s afraid to spill the beans for fear of repercussions. Maybe he just wants to be an ass of a vamp. Maybe he’s not thirsty enough to give in.

  I leave the room, thoroughly agitated and my thumb throbbing like Hell.

  Diego leans on the opposite wall, arms crossed, glaring at the glass in my hand. “Really, Tempest?”

  “Get off my back.”

  “Look, the lieutenant isn’t here to run the show. Our boss is doing his best to keep the media at bay. You think you can just run around and do whatever you want while they aren’t watching. You can’t. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “You might get someone else killed. You’re playing with fire, Tempest.”

  “I am the fire.” And I walk away without another word.

  Chapter 30

  Diego has a good point. He knows it. I know it. But that doesn’t mean I can rest easy. Not a chance. There’s more work to be done yet. We need to know more about the vamp threat to not just Bethlehem but the world.

  “Not gonna talk, huh,” I mutter under my breath as I leave the station behind. I so badly want to beat a vamp to a bloody pulp until he or she starts talking. I’m not normally a violent person, but if you go after me or one of mine, yeah, your ass is grass.

  My body is bruised and battered. I just want to crawl under the covers and sleep until next week. Instead, I force myself to drive to the hospital. I haven’t heard from anyone about the lieutenant. Even if someone else has told him about the events, I’m sure he’ll want to hear my side of things.

  So I check in and make my way to his room. He’s lying down, eyes closed, sleeping. For a moment, I watch from the doorway. His chest rising and falling is rhythmic. His coloring may be better or not. I don’t know. It’s impossible to tell from the dim lighting in the hallway.

  “He’s recovering very well,” a familiar voice says softly.

  I turn around to see Doctor Dean.

  “Don’t you ever take a night off?” I ask to cover my surprise from seeing him. I shouldn’t be shocked. He does work here, after all.

  “Don’t you?” he counters with a smile. He cocks his head to the side, and I follow him toward the nurses’ station. No one else is around.

  “He’s really getting better?” I’m anxious and eager for something to finally go my way.

  “He has none of the side effects Calinda Moore developed. His condition is much improved, enough that I think he can be discharged in a few days.”

  “Already?” I gape at him, astonished, and maybe a little worried, too. “Is he really that recovered?”

  Doctor Dean nods. “I see no reason to keep him here longer than necessary. I do think it best for him to wait a week to return to work, not that I think he’ll listen.”

  His grin reveals dimples. A hot, kind doc with dimples. So not fair.

  “He won’t listen, that’s for sure,” I say, thrilled beyond belief. “What cured him? What exactly did he have?”

  “We’re still running tests on the blood we took from him, isolating out what infected him. His body had faced the same elements and—”

  “Wait, so his body and his blood were both changed?”

  “Correct.” He strokes his stubbly chin. Normally, he’s smooth and clean-shaven. I like this rugged appearance. It makes him almost look like a TV doc instead of a real one.

  “Which treatment cured him?” I ask eagerly.

  It’s almost too much to sink in, the amazing news of his recovery. I’d been so afraid, so worried that he would die, too. The guilt of his death would’ve devastated me.

  “We’re still trying to determine that, too. Honestly, I was really worried we’d lose him, after what happened with Calinda. She went downhill so fast…”

  “Maybe there’s a limited window that a person can be cured before death,” I murmur.

  “Maybe no one can survive without being cured. Or maybe some can. We did discover that Calinda had an undiagnosed disease.”

  “Which one?”

  He grimaces.

  “Oh, right. HIPAA. Sorry I asked.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t think that detail is necessary for your case.” He wrinkles his nose.

  “You’re probably right, but just a quick follow-up. Could that have contributed to her death?”

  Doctor Dean hesitates and glances away.

  “Might it have sped up the reaction from the poison or whatever it is?”

  “Possibly,” he mutters.

  He’s clearly uncomfortable, so I change the subject. “Thank you so much for all of your help, with the case, with the lieutenant. If anything had happened to him…”

  To my horror, I have to blink back tears. The man can be a terror, gruffer than a grizzly, but he pushes each of us to be better cops. He pushes us to work harder, to get the job done the right way. I admire him, plain and simple.

  For him to have taken the point on this case… Not many lieutenants would’ve done the same.

  “Just doing my job.” He blows on his nails and buffs them on his chest, grinning roguishly.
“Saving lives is hard work, but someone’s got to do it.”

  So I do the same, the blowing and the buffing. “You’re telling me.”

  The doctor and I share a laugh. It feels as if the weight of the world is finally lifting from my shoulders. Sure, there’s still work to be done, but there’s a time for celebrating the minor victories, right? And this victory actually isn’t that minor at all.

  “What time do you get out of here?” I ask. My heart starts to race, and I swallow past a lump of anxiety in my throat. Butterflies are fluttering like mad in my stomach. It’s stupid to feel this way. I know it’s been awhile since I’ve dated, but seriously? This is grade school nerves. I should be way past this. And with the vamps locked up, I don’t have to worry about them coming after Dean. I can be free.

  But I still feel unease. I still feel worried.

  Damn it. I’m gonna celebrate the victory and put these feelings to bed!

  “Actually…” He glances at his watch. A nice one, but not the most expensive that I’ve seen. I like that he doesn’t seem to flash his wealth around. “I’m done in fifteen if you want to stick around.”

  “I might be persuaded to.”

  Doctor Dean leans closer, but before he can say anything, a nurse approaches. She smiles weakly at me before coughing. “Um, Dr. Cline? I need you. I’m sorry.”

  Blushing, I pull away.

  “Duty calls. Lives must be saved!” Doctor Dean pumps a fist into the air and winks at me before walking away with the nurse.

  The grin on my face remains as I return to the lieutenant’s door. His eyelids flutter, and without opening them completely, he calls out, “Come in, Tempest.”

  “Sir?” I question as I comply.

  “Your tread. You walk with force, with purpose. You might be impulsive, but you also do everything deliberately.” He finally opens his eyes.

  I tighten my jaw. Is that a compliment? Or a complaint? Either way, it is kinda accurate. “Trying to give Dr. Harris a run for her money?”

  “Speaking of her, how many times have you gone to see her?”

  Uh oh.

  “That few, huh?”

  “Well, the vamps are real, so…”

  “Yeah, I heard that, but they weren’t the main reason why you were supposed to be talking to her.”

  I hang my head. The kid. My good mood evaporates in a puffy cloud of despair and remorse.

  “Oh, don’t look like that. I didn’t kick your dog. I just meant that you should know better than to work a case and ignore the problems from the previous one.” He groans.

  “Are you hurt?” A rush of fear overwhelms me. There’s nothing I hate more than feeling powerless. “Do you need—”

  “I’m tired,” he snaps, clearly frustrated, “and I want to go home. I’m sick and tired of being poked and prodded and…”

  “I can come back,” a soft voice from the door says.

  I glance over to see a woman in her late thirties, early forties. A nurse? A PCA? I’m not sure.

  The lieutenant coughs and sputters, “Can you give us a few, Kat?”

  She nods, her lips caught between a smile and a frown, backs away, and leaves.

  “Kat?” I ask, confused as to why he’s talking to a nurse so personally.

  He makes a strange noise, but his aggression lessens visibly as he stares at the door, smiling slightly.

  “Tired of being poked and prodded?” I tease. “Even by a cute nurse?”

  “That is none of your concern.“ He clears his throats and narrows his eyes.

  I don’t want him to get back to gruff mode, so I change the subject. “How about we talk vamps instead and what we’re going to do about them?”

  It’s a long and drawn out conversation. It’s only later that one of the nurses tells me the doctor waited an hour before he gave up and left. It’s just as well, honestly, because by the time we wrap up the conversation, I’m dead on my feet. We haven’t figured out what to do with them. We aren’t sure how to best handle them or where to keep them permanently. Most importantly, we aren’t sure how long we can keep this from people higher up the food chain. Like it or not, the US government needs to be told about the existence of vamps.

  Then again, what do you want to bet the government already knows?

  Chapter 31

  The days drift by. Every day, sometimes twice a day, I go in and talk to each of the vamps, trying to draw them out. A detestable Lucas continues to deeply desire my blood. A worthless Vincent continues to be the most talkative, but he never offers anything important. A disillusioned Lucille is a cold-hearted vamp who doesn’t say much of anything.

  So frustrating and infuriating. It’s a wonder I have any hair.

  The lieutenant is discharged from the hospital, and he returns to work immediately, against Doctor Dean’s orders. He doesn’t make any headway with them, either, and places me in charge of their care.

  “Of their wellbeing?” I ask in disbelief. “But—”

  “I know.”

  “Then how can you—”

  “Are you questioning an order?”

  “No,” I ground out through gritted teeth.

  You’re damn straight I’m questioning this, but I know when to hold my tongue, and damn am I holding it now.

  He does have a point, though. They seem to be growing weaker, and their skin is definitely turning gray. It’s clear to me that they need blood or else they’ll die, and where will we be then?

  “Can I see if they can stand the sunlight?” I ask eagerly.

  “And potentially kill them?” A hint of frustration colors his tone.

  “Just one of them,” I offer sweetly.

  He scowls. “Do you hear yourself, Tempest? They’re…”

  “We don’t know if they’re part-human or not,” I say quietly, without any guilt. “But we do know that they are a threat.”

  “We’re not at war with them.”

  “Maybe we should be,” I counter, trying to hide my rising fury.

  He throws up his hands, clearly exasperated and exhausted. Yes, he’s healed, but he still needs his rest. Stubborn mule.

  “Just get them better. Enlist the help of that doctor if you have to.”

  I shake my head. I don’t want Doctor Dean involved more than he has to be.

  Instead, I go to the local blood bank and acquire a few blood bags before I return to Lucas’s detaining cell. We can’t keep them in interrogation the entire time they’re here, after all.

  “Lucas, Lucas, you aren’t looking so hot,” I start with mock dismay. “Need the sun? A few rays of Vitamin D? Or do you get the vitamin from blood?”

  I toss the bag toward his feet.

  His hands are chained together. Another chain ties him to the wall. He stares down at the bag, but even though it’s within his reach, he makes no move to get it. His expression is one of resigned resentment.

  “Oh, right. You need from the source. Are you certain about that? Because you’re not getting blood unless it’s that.”

  My sneaker nudges the blood bag closer to him, trying to provoke him into desperation mode. We need answers, and I’m going to get them, one way or another.

  “Although,” I continue slowly, “maybe I could be persuaded if you would just. Start. Talking.”

  His eyes bore a hole through me. His face is almost skeletal, his skin stretched taut over the clearly visible cheekbones. He’s wasting away in here.

  “Explain what you are,” I demand, not frightened in the least, my frustration and anger rising. “The teeth, the feeding, all of it.”

  “Vampires,” he croaks out.

  “But I need more than that,” I prompt. “How did you become a vamp? How many are there of you? Do you operate together, have a whole underground system? Why are you here in Bethlehem? What about me? Why keep me alive?”

  Lucas lowers his head. Then he slowly, deliberately, raises his foot and stomps on the bag, splattering blood everywhere.

  “Blood from a ba
g will kill us,” he says. For a moment, I swear the monster inside of him dies away. “Do you think we all want to hunt humans and drink their blood?”

  “Is it an unquenchable thirst that you have to give in to?”

  Oh, God, if that’s the case, I can just see how lawyers will have a field day with that little tidbit. “They have no control… Did what was necessary to survive…”

  But again, he falls silent. Short of forcing a vamp to drink the supposedly tainted blood, I can’t think of a way to get them to talk.

  It’s Saturday. Tomorrow at least I’ll watch the Eagles’ game with Doctor Dean… as long as he isn’t too mad at me. I tried to call him once to apologize, but then the lieutenant needed me to fill out some paperwork. I never got around to leaving the doc a message.

  I’m such a pro at this whole dating thing. Let me tell ya.

  Ugh. Just when it seems like I have my work life sorted out somewhat, my personal life goes to shit. Although it’s not as shitty as it had been when my parents died, so I can’t complain too much.

  The number of messages we’ve gotten through the tip line this entire time is insane. No one has been bothering to listen to them since I staged my whole solo shot at the vamps. That’s why I’m here at the station today instead of at home, preparing for my date tomorrow.

  A few of the tips do mention vamps, but they also mention werewolves and other creatures. It’s obvious that the people are just crazy. Yeah, I’m behind vamps now, but the thought that humans can shift into animals? Or half-human, half-animals? That I just can’t wrap my head around.

  Most of the tips are completely worthless. I’m three hours into messages and starting on a wicked migraine when I come across one that gives me pause.

  “How bad is the problem there in Bethlehem? Do you need help?”

  The voice is a male, sharp, determined, without any kind of anxiety. Crisp. Polished. I immediately picture a guy in his early thirties with slicked-back hair and business attire. Arrogant, cocky. A Han Solo type but maybe with more class. Can someone sound rich? Because this man does.