When Sirens Screech (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 4) Read online

  “Tempest?”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish it hadn’t come down to this.”

  “Me too.”

  He’s right. I brought this on myself to some extent. I should’ve been forthright. The siren knew I wouldn’t come forward. She played on my fear concerning my father. She created that fear in the first place.

  Yes, I know the lieutenant said legally, but in a way, I’m free. These creatures aren’t playing fair. They don’t have laws to follow.

  So I’m gonna create them.

  If I have to be judge, jury, and executioner, so be it.

  Maybe Blake Damon has the right of it all along.

  <<<>>>

  I don’t say a word to anyone. I don’t pack up my things. I’m too upset right now, too emotional. Word will get around soon enough. After how perfect yesterday was, I can’t bear to see the wonder, disbelief, and hurt in Diego’s, Travis’s, and Marlon’s eyes. Hell, I don’t even want to look bad in Angelo’s eyes.

  Rex, well, he can shove it.

  I don’t head home, though. If I’m on my own, then I have no backup, and it means those I care about are that much more vulnerable.

  First, I call Samantha, but she’s busy training a client. She’s a fitness trainer. One of her clients is complaining that his pants don’t fit after he gorged himself on Thanksgiving and Black Friday. She promises to call me back later when she has time to talk and focus.

  So I call up Dean. “Any chance you have some time for lunch?” I ask doubtfully.

  “I do. I have the day off actually. Want to swing by for a sandwich?”

  “Sounds great.”

  When I arrive, he has a whole slew of cheese and assorted lunch meats set out along with lettuce, onions, and tomatoes already sliced. We make our sandwiches and eat in relative silence.

  “I was surprised to get your messages,” he says after he finishes his last bite.

  “I never meant to ignore you. Things have been crazy lately.”

  Boy, is that an understatement.

  “Can you talk about it?” he asks carefully.

  “Be careful if you see silver eyes,” I blurt out.

  “What about red?”

  And it all gushes out. About vamps and werewolves. I don’t mention the siren though, but that’s basically all I keep to myself.

  And that’s when the inner freak out starts. Oh, my God. What did I just say? How could I have told him? I’m so panicked, dismayed, and worried that I wish I could go back in time and slap myself before I said one word.

  “You cannot tell anyone,” I plea. “No one. Not a single soul. Not even your sister. Swear to me, Dean. Swear you’ll keep this to the grave!”

  He hasn’t said a single word. I have no idea if he believes me or if he thinks I’m crazy. He’s staring out into space as if processing all of this. It’s a lot to take in. Believe me. I know it is.

  “Dean! Snap out of it. Did you hear me? You can’t tell anyone, not even your sister. I know that’s asking a lot, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you as it is. No one is supposed to know outside of the police department. If you do tell anyone, and I mean anyone, we’re done. Whatever this is between us, it’ll be done.”

  Maybe that’s not fair of me to say. It’s definitely an ultimatum, and I’m so not a fan of ultimatums. But this is serious. This can be life or death.

  This can mean the difference between a peaceful Bethlehem that we’re working toward and a panicked Bethlehem that will always be in bedlam.

  “I’ll keep this to the grave,” he says quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”

  My chest is heaving. We ate the sandwiches at his couch and over his coffee table. He gently pulls me against his chest. He’s trembling.

  No. I’m the one trembling.

  He murmurs into my ears about how everything is going to be okay, but he’s lying. He knows he is. I know it too.

  Did he also lie about keeping it a secret?

  Only time will tell.

  I swear since I first saw that vamp, I’ve made one wrong decision after another.

  I sure hope telling Dean everything, well, just about everything, is just one more to add to the list.

  Chapter 23

  After I leave Dean’s, which is only a couple minutes later because I’m still too freaked out by telling him everything, Samantha calls.

  I just tell her to be alert, to be careful, and to call if she sees anyone with silver or red eyes. She says okay, and that’s that. I love that she won’t ask or demand answers, that she just accepts me for who I am.

  All right. I need to think. Oh, man. I can’t think. I’m too amped up and anxious to think clearly.

  Since I can’t go to Leading Edge because it’s not the time for a black belt class, I opt for the shooting range instead. There’s something almost peaceful about firing at a non-moving target. My mind can just wander, and I can escape. Not everyone can understand that, I’m sure, but it works for me.

  Sure enough, it opens up my mind, and I formulate a plan.

  I need to find the siren. What better way than to try to block whatever else she has planned?

  Enacting it will be tricky, but, as if someone is smiling down on me, it’s not as time-consuming as I would’ve thought.

  It’s as if I’m back on the streets, patrolling a beat. I’m walking down the street where the pawn shop was hit. It’s twilight now. If someone is gonna attempt to steal from another store, they would probably be putting the finishing touches on their plan now.

  A black car sets a block down from another pawn shop. When I come back up the street ten minutes later, it’s still there.

  My goon radar is going off. I slip into a nearby alley, waiting and watching. Soon enough, a man comes over, walking fast, head down. A few more steps and he passes my alley.

  I see a flash of silver in his eyes.

  The lieutenant took my badge and gun, but I have another gun, and I also have cuffs. I cuff him and put him in the back of my car.

  “Any ideas where your buddies might be?” I ask.

  He growls and grumbles. The guy hasn’t said a coherent word this entire time.

  “Anyone else on this block?”

  He grunts.

  I drive around until he makes a ton of guttural sounds. He’s trying to kick at my seat. Quickly, I park, tie him up, and lock the car behind me.

  There. Up the street. Another guy is walking fast, head down as if he doesn’t want to be seen. Wherever he’s going, he’s moving toward it with purpose and deliberate intent.

  Might as well see what he’s up to. I get close to him. He looks up, whirls around, and takes off.

  The flash of silver in his eyes has me ready to pounce. He only makes it down half the block before I tackle him. A few minute later, he joins his pal.

  The two grunt and growl back and forth, more like animals than humans. By the time I head down two more streets, it’s their sudden, suspicious silence that alerts to another one. This time, the victim is a young woman.

  Hopefully, three silver-eyed captives will be enough to lure out the siren.

  I force the trio into my house and tie them all to chairs.

  Clapping my hands, I step back from them. “Now, isn’t this a nice little scene?” I ask cheerfully.

  They glower at me with hatred burning in their silver eyes.

  I shrug. “Whatever. If it’s any consolation, it’s not you I’m after. I just want the queen bee. The one who… You know.”

  I won’t dare say sing. Or siren. Or song. Or anything that might spark them into killing themselves. I will not have anyone else get hurt, not if I can help it.

  I whistle softly.

  My front door opens and slams shut. I do my best not to react, but I’m startled just the same even though I’ve been hoping and expecting her to come.

  “You made it.” I clap my hands again. “I was hoping for a little reunion.”

  The siren glowers at me. Even with her features twis
ted with contempt and disgust, she remains beautiful.

  The tramp.

  She stands directly in between her minions and me. I dart forward to grab her wrist, so I can cuff her to me, but she slips away, running out the door.

  I give chase. Luckily, I still have my coat on from earlier, my sneakers too. Unluckily, I worked out my legs yesterday, and my thigh muscles are tight. I can’t run super fast to begin with, and right now, that is seriously working against me. I think my best mile has been seven minutes, which isn’t terrible, but that’s because I went all out. I can’t go that pace for any longer than a mile.

  And the chase she has me on is definitely longer than a mile. She zigs and zags, and there doesn’t seem to be a destination in sight.

  She’s just toying with me, the poisoned-tongued viper.

  “Stop running like a coward,” I scream.

  She just laughs at me over her shoulder.

  And then she just disappears.

  With frustration giving me a boosted jolt, I dash to where I last saw her. She’s really gone. There’s no sign of her or where she went.

  But that’s not the worst of it.

  I hurry back home, but the trio of silver-eyed humans is gone. An alarm sounds from nearby. Sighing and gasping for air, still winded, I practically limp to my car.

  A squad car is already there. Another pawn shop has been broken into, the same one the guy I nabbed had been casing. Muttering a curse, I rush over to the streets where I found the others. Yep, more robberies.

  Not one of the three is apprehended I learn the next morning on the news.

  Once again, I tried to take on and fight the world by myself.

  Once again, I lost. When will I ever learn?

  Or am I a lost cause at this point?

  Chapter 24

  I’m fit to be tied. I’m sure the lieutenant is in even more knots than I am. Considering that he hasn’t arrested me is a good sign. Maybe he wants me to work the case off the books? Or maybe he’s waiting to find something else to link me to the bomb so he really can nail me?

  Is that what he thinks of me? That I’ve gone off the rails? That I would risk endangering people? That I would deliberately set off a bomb in the city I love? I would never do such a thing! Ever!

  A hot shower the next morning helps to distract my thoughts. I couldn’t sleep last night because of my guilt. Working alone is gonna get someone killed, and that someone could very well be me.

  It’s only after I towel off and go to brush my hair that I realize my brush is gone. Missing.

  Or swiped.

  My brush is silver. It’s one my mom gave me before I went to college. Beautiful and ornate but it gets dirty quickly.

  Especially with fingerprints.

  Did the siren swipe it to get my prints?

  And, yes, I only realize it now. I know I should, but I don’t brush my hair every day. A lot of times, I just throw it up in a ponytail. A braid sometimes if I’m feeling fancy.

  “If you want to pin your crimes on me, why not go epic and do something really unbelievable?” I mutter.

  I don’t care if she can’t hear me and I’m talking to myself. I’m pissed. I’m in a perpetual state of anger, frustration, and fear.

  And I absolutely hate it.

  During the sun-kissed hours, I do my best to track down Blake Damon. If we could just team up, I know we would make one Hell of a pair. We could become a kind of Bonnie and Clyde without the stealing, crimes, romance, and overkill shoots to end us.

  Like before when I tried to locate Blake after he killed the vamps I brought into custody with Diego’s help, he’s disappeared. Vanished. I can’t find him. It’s like he’s a damned ghost. The only time I ever see him is when he wants to be seen.

  I’ve hunted for him straight through lunch, and it’s nearly dinnertime. I eat some food, take a nighttime cage fitness class, and return back home.

  The front door is ajar.

  I waste no time calling it in. Diego and Rex arrive because they suspect the siren or one of her goons is involved. We find nothing missing, but there are definitely signs that someone had been there.

  The look Diego gives me when he leaves just about kills me. He wants to stay. He wants to help.

  I want him to, but I also don’t want to risk his career either. He’s already put himself on the line for me too much as it is.

  Come on. Think, Clarissa. The siren has been going after silver, maybe to keep the vamps in check. How many pawn shops have been hit?

  I print out a map of the city and use colored pins for the pawn shops. Quickly, I swap out the yellow for red to mark the ones already cased and robbed.

  Two haven’t been yet.

  Hm. What about this Steel City Gold & Coin? Might be worth a look. Over on East Third Street.

  It’s long been closed by the time I arrive. I climb out just as a woman walks by it. She’s tall, thin but curvy, and something about her makes me look twice.

  The siren!

  I duck down and watch as she looks at the front of the store and then turns to walk around the side of it.

  I follow her, silently, stealthily, when I accidentally kick a rock.

  That jumps up and hits into the wall.

  Making a distinct and loud sound that mimics a rocket blast in the deathly quiet night.

  I don’t have time to duck or hide. The siren stills, whirls around to face me, and grins.

  That witch!

  The siren dashes around me back to the front of the store. She’s one of those women who can run fast in heels. It’s a trait I’ll never have, but I make decent enough time in these treads. Even so, I’m not fast enough to catch her.

  Already, she’s singing a sweet song that gets a driver out of his ride. She hops in, the tires screeching in protest. The witch is getting away. Man, do I hate her. I’m furious with myself, livid. Do I hate her or myself more? It’s a toss up.

  Thankfully, I had the foresight to leave my car parked out front instead of down the block. I yank the door open, jab my key into the ignition. The car roars to life, and I peel my own tires in my desperate haste. My flashing lights move the cars out of the way, but the tramp with a voice has too great a lead. How in the world has it come down to this? I’m not sure, but I don’t think I can forgive myself if anything happens. She has the devil’s tongue. I shudder, horrified, growing more incensed with every second that she’s putting between us. Who does she think she is? I’m not gonna just stand back and let her do whatever she wants in my city. Not on my watch.

  My car is getting old, a real hunk of junk, a few bad potholes away from the scrapyard. Inspection’s due, and I think my tires are balding. The suspension is shot, and the brakes have been out of whack lately. Basically, it’s a death trap. I’m courting danger, and while danger loves me, it’s gonna be the end of the line for me, and soon, if I’m not careful.

  I’m not ready to die. Not by a long shot. Not that I have much hope for a long, healthy life. If the last few months have proven anything to me, it’s that life is fragile, nothing is guaranteed, and Bethlehem might always be in bedlam.

  Car chases in real life aren’t like on TV. There’s so much danger, so much to be worried about. It’s almost rush hour, so there’s plenty of traffic on the road, plenty of potential causalities. I’m more frightened for them and what she might do to harm them than myself. I’m a cop, which means everyone else comes first, always.

  The siren’s pushing sixty. In these winding streets? Maybe she’ll do me a favor and get herself killed. If only I could be so lucky for once!

  But the chances are that she’ll get others killed, too. I refuse to give into fear, to let apprehension guide the wheel. My knuckles are white as I grip the steering wheel. The tires whine in protest as I take a turn too tight, the back end fishtailing. The car she stole isn’t a sports car, but it’s definitely a sweeter ride than mine is,

  Too many of these creatures—vamps, sirens, and even some of the wolves—just
don’t give a rat’s ass about us humans. I refuse to let them have their way. I’ll do whatever I can to save the day.

  I might not be frightened for myself, but desperation can lead to stupidity, and I have got to keep my emotions in check. She’s bobbing and weaving around cars. The longer my alarm is wailing, the more the cars are getting out of the way for me… and for her. Frustration mounts. Should I turn the alarm off? Better not.

  She yanks her wheel to the left, and I follow suit. My undercarriage slams against the ground. Gotta love all the potholes in PA. Seriously. Why can’t they be fixed? My teeth are chattering from the impact! At this rate, I’m gonna get nothing in return for a trade in.

  Up ahead, at the top of the hill, the light’s turned red, but she’s gunning it. The stench of burnt rubber clears out my sinuses. Cars are coming from the other directions, and even my alarm isn’t enough to stop them. She’s gonna plow into them!

  My heart’s in my throat. Desperation and anxiety overtake me, and I slam down on the gas even more, jerking my wheel to the left. Just a little farther… just a little more… And I slam back to the right, the front side of my car clipping into the back of hers. Success! But I’m not cheering, not even as I watch her car spin and spin. The other cars coming in the opposite directions have stopped, thankfully, but the siren’s righted her car. She’s off again, back the way we came, down the hill and turning right. Why can’t she just give up already? I’m starting to get more agitated than worried.

  My car groans and jostles me. Another pothole and my head bounces up to hit the ceiling. I hadn’t the time to buckle up, but I somehow manage to do so now, even while pushing seventy.

  We’re on 412 now, and I just know she’s gonna head for the highway. If she reaches 78, I’m screwed. She’s jerking in and out between the lanes, and any second now, she’s going to plow into another car.

  I’ve got to stop her!

  But how?

  A sudden speck of red from the corner of my eye catches my attention. A cigarette falling from a driver’s hand.

  Fire.

  Nah. Too dangerous.