When Sirens Screech (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 4) Page 9

  “You know nothing,” she hisses, but even though her expression is horrific, she remains beautiful, as does her voice.

  My eyes widen, and I slowly sink back onto my couch. All of my fear and worry leaves me, just like that. I’m left drained and perplexed.

  “You don’t want me dead either,” I mumble.

  “Of course not.” She rolls her eyes.

  The siren looks like a movie star out of the fifties. She’s perfect, utterly flawless. Although she has no pores, I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup. It’s all natural.

  “The vampire and the werewolf went rogue,” I continue. “That’s why you changed tactics and are using humans again. Why Lacey though? Why her? Did you use her right from the start? Before she saw the vampire? Or did you get in town later, after the whole mess with them? Before or after Amarok?”

  She says nothing, her full lips pursed and perfectly pouty.

  “Either way, I’m guessing that whatever plan you had for her didn’t work, am I right? Was it because she’s insane? So your singing powers didn’t seep into her brain? Am I close? You can nod if I am.”

  “You talk far too much for one willing to waste a lot of hot air,” she says airily.

  “Why me?” I ask angrily. “Damn it. Answer me. Why do none of you want me to be killed? Why did the vamps and wolves protect me from the ones you altered or sirened or whatever you want to term it?”

  And then it hits me.

  “You’re afraid to tell me. Why? It’s something to do with my parents, isn’t it?”

  I open my mouth to demand to know who they were, but I hesitate. One, they might be alive. They might come for me. Two, it feels like a betrayal. For so long, I held my adopted parents up as if they had been my birth parents. I hadn’t needed my birth parents because I already had parents. I purposely never sought out my birth parents because they hadn’t mattered to me.

  To seek them out now feels wrong. Seriously wrong. Epically wrong. Whoever they are or had been, it makes vamps, wolves, and now a siren want to protect me.

  “Your father,” she admits. Her lips curl into a vivacious smile. “Destruction has already been had. Devastation will come next. Are you ready for what the future has in store for you, Clarissa? Are you ready for the coming storm?”

  Just like that, she leaves, disappeared before my eyes. Her laughter still rings even my ears for a long while.

  Chapter 21

  “Coming storm,” she said. Deliberate or an actual storm?

  My last name is Tempest. Was she referring to me or something else?

  “What are you, part-Sphinx?” I mutter. I wearily rub my forehead. All of this is too much for me.

  My father was… something. I doubt he was a vamp. Wolves wouldn’t protect me if he were. Likewise, I doubt he was a wolf. Sirens are only female, right? Everything I remember about them, everything I’ve read suggests that.

  So there’s something else in play. Potentially in play. May come into play.

  I know I thought about making a team, but this I have got to keep under wraps. There’s no way I can let anyone on the force know that I have questionable parentage. They’ll never trust me.

  Then again, if I keep it a secret and the truth comes out, there’s no way in Hell that they’ll trust me either.

  “Devastation will come next.”

  A warning. What’s to come? How bad will it be?

  Horrifically bad, as it turns out, but thankfully, it occurs on Black Friday, not Thanksgiving.

  <<<>>>

  Thanksgiving morning, I wake up, feeling like I forgot something.

  Shit. I never got a bird.

  Crap. I never made plans with anyone.

  Damn it. Thanksgiving is not meant to be spent alone.

  What the Hell am I gonna do now?

  I grab my cell. It’s six in the morning. My body just won’t let me sleep.

  OMG. I never realized this. I’ve just been nonstop go, go, go.

  I’ve been ignoring texts, calls, and voicemails from both Samantha and Dean.

  Texts about wanting to hang out. Samantha wanted a double date with me and Dean and her new cover model boyfriend, Leo. Suggestions for movies or restaurants. Checking to see if I’m all right or if I need anything.

  The most recent texts from Samantha have been equally worried and pissed off.

  The most recent from Dean has been blunt.

  If you’re going to ghost on me, the least you can do is let me know you’re out of my life.

  I wince and cover my face with my hands. How do people do it? How do they risk falling in love when the world is falling apart around them? I know I’m not being fair to Dean. I don’t want to let him in. I’m holding him at bay.

  Because I know that if I gave him a chance, I might fall in love with him.

  And that terrifies me. With the craziness of my life right now, I can’t risk having a weakness. I can’t risk having him be in danger.

  Isn’t that a choice that he should make?

  But how can he make it when he doesn’t know the truth about what’s going on in the city?

  I call up Samantha despite the early hour. She answers on the first ring.

  “Clarissa! Thank God! I was starting to think that something had happened. That you lost your cell and hit your head and had amnesia and forgot my number. Did you know I got so worried that I called up Diego?”

  “You have Diego’s number? Wait, you called him before calling Travis?”

  “I called Travis, but he was busy getting ready to head out of town. He and Ali are having Thanksgiving with her family. He gave me Diego’s number.”

  “Hm.”

  That Travis would hand out Diego’s number instead of Angelo’s gives me pause. Have the two of them been talking about me?

  Should that really come as a surprise? Travis acts like a big brother to me. He’ll want to make sure Diego knows his place.

  Not that Diego has done anything inappropriate.

  Except maybe make me start to feel something for him.

  Damn. I don’t need this. Maybe I should swear off all guys and move to an island. Forget the world.

  Yeah, okay.

  “Hmm, what?” Samantha presses. “You’ve told me about Diego before, how he’s a huge flirt. Honestly, Clarissa, I gotta say that he really has it bad for you. I think he’s in love with you.”

  I snort. “Yeah, okay. Diego only loves himself.”

  At one time, I thought that to be the truth. Now, not so much.

  “I’m not calling for love advice.”

  “You should be,” she crows. “I’m in love myself.”

  “With Leo? You two haven’t been together long at all.”

  “Clarissa, when you’ve dated a few people, you know what you want. You know what you don’t want. It makes finding the one easier. I’m not saying that we’re gonna run off and elope, but I really want you to meet Leo.”

  “I still don’t believe that’s not a stage name.”

  Samantha laughed. “You can ask him about that if you want. He’s so easy to talk to.”

  “And easy on the eyes, obviously.”

  “I won’t deny that, but there’s more to him than his looks. He understands me. What more can you ask for?”

  I rub my chest. The tightness building there won’t go away. Who can understand me when even I don’t know what I am?

  “So, you calling me out of the blue on this day of all days makes me wonder. Does this mean that you worked so hard that you just remembered that today is Thanksgiving?”

  “Maybe.” I draw out my answer, so it’s more like two words.

  “Do you want to come over?”

  “I don’t know. Will you have turkey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stuffing?”

  “Stovetop.”

  “No dice. I’ll make the stuffing. Mashed potatoes?”

  “Sweet potatoes.”

  “Gross.”

  She bursts out laughin
g. “You do realize I’m not gonna just start shoving horrible crap into my body for one day?”

  “You do realize Thanksgiving is about being thankful that you have food to shove into your body?” I counter.

  “It’s about family and togetherness. Now, if you come on over, you can whip up your stuffing, but hurry. We need to get the bird in soon.”

  Quick as I can, I grab the ingredients, my dad’s chef hat, and apron, and I’m out the door. I sure hope she has basil because I’m out.

  As I drive over, I call up Dean. It goes straight to voicemail. I invite him over and beg and plead with him to have mashed potatoes loaded with butter. Who knows. Maybe he has to work. Maybe he’s pissed at me. He has every right to be.

  Imagine my surprise when I arrive at Samantha’s and have to park behind Diego’s car. She must’ve invited him when they spoke.

  My stomach churns. If Dean comes over, this is gonna be fun.

  Another car pulls up.

  “Marlon?” I gape at him.

  “Hey. Been a little while.”

  I swallow hard. Samantha and Marlon are friends. Of course, they are. I’ve only had a crush on him for years. It’s natural for my best friend to get to know him. I just hadn’t realized that so many people would be over.

  “Need a hand?” he asks as he climbs out of his car. He has a pie in his hands. “Just need to be baked. You like pecans?”

  “I love pecan pie. My thighs don’t.”

  He laughs.

  I manage to juggle all of my food stuff, but he gets the apron and hat for me with a knowing smile. Does he realize they’re my dad’s? The apron’s bunched up so he can’t read what it says. The one I grabbed isn’t my favorite one. That would be the one that reads The Grillfather. This one says Stand back! Dad is cooking. The most recent one I got him had said I’m a proud dad of a freaking awesome daughter. Yes, she bought me this apron. He laughed and laughed when he opened it that Christmas. Promised he would wear it next Thanksgiving.

  Only he had died a week after Halloween, before that Thanksgiving ever came.

  Yeah, so he has a ton of aprons. It was silly because he only ever wore them on Thanksgiving, but it was kinda our thing.

  His aprons had been collecting dust until now. Maybe I’ll start wearing them. They don’t fit me, but they mean something to me just the same.

  Inside, it’s perfect chaos. Samantha’s sister and her boyfriend are also here. Supposedly, they’re on salad duty, which is crazy. Samantha takes her salads seriously. Diego already has a five-pound bag of potatoes, a thing of carnation evaporated milk.

  “You’re gonna add butter to that, right?” I ask him, sliding over.

  “You bet.” He gives me a one-armed hug.

  I try to make room on the counter and work my magic. Bread crumbs, bread crumbs, even some ripped up chunks of slightly stale bread. I put Marlon to work cutting up onions and Diego celery. Even though we’re not cutting them, Diego and I have to blink back tears. Marlon’s made of steel. Doesn’t tear up at all.

  Half of the onions and celery I sauté, the rest I add to the breading crunchy and firm. Then I add some milk. Before I stir, I add salt, pepper, poultry seasoning, and, yes, Samantha does have basil.

  Unlike Mom, I only make enough to fill the bird. Actually, with so many eating, maybe that’s not enough.

  As soon as I taste test and give the stuffing a thumbs up, I move aside so that Leo can fill the bird. I try to find a quiet place and call up Dean. Again, I have to leave a message.

  “Actually, a bunch of us are over here, and someone else is gonna make mashed potatoes. Green bean casserole or something veggie related would be great. Or just bring yourself. You don’t have to bring anything. I didn’t mean to suggest that you have to. I… I hope to hear from you. Or you can just show up. I swear you’ll be thankful you did.”

  Man. That’s so corny.

  “What’s the matter? You and hot doc on the outs?” Diego asks.

  “You know, that’s something I would expect Samantha to say. It’s kinda weird to hear you refer to Dean as hot doc.”

  He shrugs. “I’m comfortable with my sexuality. I would’ve thought you already knew that.”

  “Nice try.” I laugh.

  Dinner is amazing. We end up eating around three-thirty. The TV’s been on, and in between helping to cook more, we watch football. Dallas loses which me so happy. I hate the Cowboys with a passion.

  Leo seems like a great guy. He is definitely book cover worthy, but it’s the way he looks at Samantha that makes me smile. They’re gonna make breathtaking babies if they get married one day.

  Samantha’s sister and her boyfriend have news to share. They’re engaged. Samantha promptly freaks out, and everyone gives his or her congratulations. It feels so mundane and yet so wonderful.

  And yet depressing too. I don’t know if I’ll ever get married.

  Sandra and her fiancé Derek leave after their announcement. We’re still eating though. The mashed potatoes are amazing. I would’ve never thought to put evaporated milk into it, but it makes them so much creamier than regular milk. My stuffing is a big hit, and the turkey is perfect, not dry at all. For making some kind of healthy gravy, Samantha’s offering is a hit.

  I’m helping myself to a little more mashed potatoes when there’s a knock at the door.

  “It’s open,” Samantha calls.

  Dean walks in, holding a store-bought pie. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here until now.”

  “No worries.” I stand.

  I’m sitting next to Samantha and Diego. Derek had sat across from me, so Dean takes his slot. There’s still plenty of food yet. I can’t help noticing that Samantha had some of Diego’s potatoes and not just the yucky sweet stuff.

  I introduce Dean to everyone who he hasn’t met yet. His smile is kinda forced to Diego, and he grimaces slightly when he sees Marlon. Marlon and I went to a shooting range. I beat him, so he bought me lunch. I texted Dean about it. He didn’t understand why I felt the need to until lunch meant something to me.

  I told you everything’s complicated.

  Eventually, we eat our fill and watch more football. At halftime, we carve into the desserts. Leo made some kind of tart that is both healthy and delicious. I already promised Marlon I’d have a slice of his pie, but I have to have some of Dean’s too. Just a sliver of each. Marlon’s is heavenly. Dean’s tastes like it’s store bought.

  All in all, it’s a wonderful time. Laughing, talking, just enjoying life. It’s hard to remember all the chaos, all the violence, all the terror right now.

  I almost feel at peace.

  But then the meal is over. The day is done.

  The peace is shattered.

  On Black Friday, the promised devastation hits.

  And, man, is it devastating.

  Chapter 22

  The devastation takes the form of a huge bomb that goes off near the casino. A fire breaks out. It’s not as bad as the UV bomb at least. Not as many causalities. Fewer injuries.

  But this time, the device is recovered.

  I’m on the scene, of course, helping as much as I can. It’s not until that night that the lieutenant calls me into his office.

  “Do you have anything you want to say?” he asks me.

  I hesitate. I do, and I don’t. It’s a slippery slope.

  “How about you start explaining yourself,” he says.

  His face isn’t red. That’s bizarre. He looks ready to rip me from limb to limb. Thank God he’s not a vamp or else he’d have the strength to do just that.

  Why is he so angry with me? Why does he look so confused and dismayed?

  “Sir, I don’t understand. I have nothing to explain.”

  “Yes, you do. Why did you set the bomb?”

  I gape at him, my jaw dropping with disillusion. “What? Why on earth would you think I would have anything to do with the bomb?”

  “Did you set the UV one too?”

  “Of course not! That
was the act of wolves!”

  “Convenient for you to blame it on people we haven’t been able to find.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Some don’t consider them to be people,” I snap.

  No, Clarissa. Don’t give into anger. Don’t fight back. Be calm. Arguing will only get you into deeper waters. You might already be up to your neck.

  I clear my throat. “Why do you think I’m involved?” I ask evenly.

  “You might want to get a lawyer.” The lieutenant runs a hand over his face. “We found your prints all over it.”

  The bomb. The bomb I never saw. I have no idea how to disarm one. I have no idea how to create one. I’m a lot of things, but a scientist isn’t one of them! You would have to be a scientist to make one, right? A physicist or something? Or is that just for nuclear bombs?

  I’m panicking. That’s why I can’t focus. I also can’t breathe right.

  “Your badge and your gun,” the lieutenant says softly.

  “So, just like that, I’m canned.” I’m numb. I can’t move anything but my lips. “After all, I’ve given you and the city. Just like that.”

  “You planted and set of—”

  “You know damn well that I was set up!” I slap my hands against his desk.

  “By who?” he counters.

  “By a siren!”

  “A… siren,” he says in disbelief.

  “Yes. She saw me earlier this week. Promised more devastation was coming.”

  “So you were warned and said nothing.”

  “What was there to say? She gave no specifics!”

  “Damn it, Tempest. You can’t withhold information like that! That you continue to do so makes you a liability. We can’t have that on the force. You need to give me your gun and your badge. Now.”

  I toss the badge onto the desk. The gun I hand to him. My hands tremble with anger. My eyes prickle and sting with tears of frustration.

  “Do you believe me? That I’ve been set up?” I whisper.

  “I believe that you better not skip town. You’ll need to lawyer up. And if you are innocent, you need to find out who framed you and find proof. Legally.”

  “Yes, sir.” Head down, I start for the door.