When Wolves Howl: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 2)

by Nicole Zoltack

  “Why are we here?” Diego asks.

  “Gonna ask around a bit. See if anyone has seen Blake. He probably has a large weapon cache, but he’ll need new supplies eventually, right?”

  “Good point.”

  So we spend the afternoon visiting the various pawn shops and other stores that sell weapons and then move onto the metaphysical shops. We don’t get anywhere, but it’s better than nothing. We’re spreading the word, and if someone does see him, they now know to call us. I’m not ashamed to cling to the hope that we aren’t wasting our time.

  Speaking of calling, Rex rings up Diego.

  “Why haven’t I talked to Black yet?” Rex talks so loudly I can overhear without him being on speaker.

  “Blake,” I mutter under my breath critically.

  Amused, Diego turns away from me. “We’re working on it.”

  “You and Tempest? She hasn’t been in either.”

  “We’re working hard, boss.”

  I cringe with dismay and disapproval and wait for Diego to hang up to say, “Boss? You call him boss?”

  “It’s not really boss with a capital ‘B.’ Think lower case.”

  “Lower class is right.”

  Diego snorts. “He might abuse you, but I can treat you right.”

  “Just don’t treat me with bleach.”

  “Never. I’d give you massages with oil and—”

  “Expect the same in return?”

  “Of course. Back and forth. Give and take.”

  “Would’ve taken you for a… taker.” I can’t help smirking.

  “I know how to give. Believe me.” He doesn’t give me a once-over like I expected him to.

  All right, this is going on long enough. I shouldn’t be teasing, joking, maybe even flirting with him. It’s not fair to him or to me. It’s way too confusing.

  “I believe pigs may fly at this rate,” I retort. “Any idea of another place to go?”

  “Yeah. Let’s hope onto 412 and go to Hellertown. I’m dying for a cheesesteak from the Crossroads. By then, it’ll be dark enough to go out vampire hunting, and hopefully, we’ll find a hunter instead of a vampire.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Crossroads is an amazing little place on the corner of Main Street and High Street. There used to be this huge ugly fish hanging on the wall. The original owners closed the restaurant down for a little while before selling it. The new owners kept on most of the old staff and bought all of the old recipes. They did get rid of that fish. While some people were upset about losing the icon, I was glad for it.

  The place is packed. No surprise there since it’s always hopping. My absolute favorite is their Sicilian pizza with bacon on top. It’s absolutely divine. Too bad we don’t have time to wait the half hour the pizza would take to cook. Instead, we both opt for cheesesteaks and fries. It’s a tough call to say which they’re known more for—their cheesesteaks or their pizzas. A few freaks don’t like it, thinking the pizza is too salty or something, but they’re wrong. So wrong.

  But as delicious as our dinner is, our night is just as unproductive. I’m so frustrated. We can’t find Blake Damon, and we can’t find vamps.

  “Maybe they’re really gone,” Diego says as I turn onto his street.

  “Maybe,” I say doubtfully. I’m not sure what’s going on, but something isn’t right yet. Call it a hunch. Call it paranoia. Whichever the case, I’m on edge, looking over my shoulder, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows at me.

  And let me tell ya, it’s not a fun feeling. Especially given my history with vamps and that wolf nightmare.

  I rub my throat as I park my car in front of his place. “Any idea for tomorrow?”

  “Not sure. I think Hunter wants me to actually be his partner tomorrow, that the meetings might be done. I hope. Don’t know.”

  “What are all the meetings about?”

  “How to keep the media from finding out about the vampires and maybe telling the government about it. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, if scary dudes in suits carrying suitcases come into the station, we’ll have our answer.”

  Diego snickers, but I’m not laughing. I do not want to have to be debriefed by the military or another government agency. I’m nothing special.

  Even though the vamps made it clear they wouldn’t kill you?

  I swallow hard. I don’t understand that. Maybe I focused on trying to learn about that too much while we dried out the vamps. It would’ve been better if I attempted to get them to explain more about themselves. Although Blake Damon, before he went behind my back and killed them, did give me some intel on them at least.

  But I’m not special. There is no reason for the vamps to want to keep me alive.

  Unless they have some kind of special plan for me…

  Like what, though? And wouldn’t they want me by their side then? There’s no way for me to be by their side if there aren’t vamps nearby.

  Not that I want them to use me for some kind of plan, of course.

  “Get some sleep,” Diego advises.

  “You, too.”

  To my surprise, Diego reaches over and hugs me. It’s just a quick one, nothing too overbearing, and then he’s out the door.

  I’m not sure how to feel about that. Did I look depressed or something? Or does he have feelings for me? I don’t want to encourage him if he does. Not while I’m with Dean.

  Speaking of, we haven’t talked since our date. Should I text him? Nah, it’s after midnight. He might be working late or he might be sleeping, and if the latter, he needs rest as much as I do.

  My body feels drained, and I sluggishly leave my car once I’m home. I inch to the front door, my gaze automatically seeking out shadows. Nothing and no one seems to be lurking in the darkness, so I should feel relieved, right? I don’t. I’m so uptight and anxious that the back of my neck is all uptight. I do need a massage, just not one from Diego.

  My sleep isn’t the best quality, and it’s morning way too quickly, but at least there isn’t a scary nightmare.

  Wait. It’s only four in the morning. What woke me up?

  A soft knocking at my door has me scrambling out of bed. Whoever is here must really need help to be here at this hour.

  But when I open the door, it’s not one of my friends or coworkers. It’s a man I’ve never seen before, but the fright in his eyes is enough to get me worried.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “I hope so,” he says in a voice that’s impossibly deep. “I hope so.”

  Chapter 9

  The man towers over me, well over six feet tall. He has steely gray eyes, chocolate brown hair, a tanned complexion, and enough muscles to make a linebacker jealous. Despite his size, the anxiety and worry in his eyes have me feeling for him. I wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

  He crosses his arms, muscles bulging. Despite the cold November wind, he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt and doesn’t seem cold at all. I’m shivering in my oversized T-shirt that hides my pajama shorts.

  “Can I come in?” he asks.

  “Who are you?”

  The man smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Rolf Kieran. Now can I come in?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I need your help.”

  Is it just me, or is he starting to sound peevish?

  Now I’m the one to cross my arms. “Help with what? Do you even know who I am?”

  “You’re Clarissa Tempest, an officer with the Bethlehem Police Department. More importantly, you’re the one behind taking those vampires off the street.”

  My eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “Come in,” I hiss, grabbing his arm—harder than rocks—and pulling him inside. I close the door behind him. “Sit. Or stand. Whatever. Who are you, Rolf Kieran, and what do you want from me?”

  “I know you’ve seen him.”

  “Him? Him who?” I’m wide awake by now, but my mind is fuzzy on the details.

  “The wolf.”
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  “The one who killed Frank Ivy? Yeah, I saw him.”

  “And the man,” he continues.

  “What man?”

  “I saw you—”

  “You’ve been spying on me? Did you witness the wolf murder—“

  “I saw, yes. I’m not spying on you, no. It’s just that—“

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a…” Rolf glances around as if expecting someone to jump out and attack him. For being such a strong-looking man, he almost seems like a coward.

  “You’re a what?” I ask impatiently.

  He doesn’t respond and won’t meet my eyes.

  “Look. It’s way too late… or too early… to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to really talk.” I grip the doorknob.

  “Wait. Just… Just give me a moment.” Rolf turns around and removes his shirt.

  “Whoa, buddy, what in the world—“

  Off go his jean shorts, too. Thankfully, he’s wearing boxers but still!

  “I don’t know what the—“

  He lets out a low groan that sounds almost like a howl. He shoves my coffee table out of the way, and then he gets down on all four. His back arches like a cat’s, and fur starts to sprout.

  I race to my purse on the coffee table. By the time I have my gun in my hand, he—Rolf the man—is now a wolf. A full wolf. Not a wolfman or hybrid-type creature, but a full-on wolf. A smaller wolf than the one who had killed Frank Ivy, more normal-sized.

  The wolf faces me, backs up, and the fur begins to disappear, the body reverting. I turn around to give him privacy, my heart pounding. Am I terrified? Shocked? In awe? Curious? Petrified?

  Yes to all of the above.

  “You can turn around now,” Rolf says.

  I do just that, noticing his ruined, ripped boxers in his hands. ”What the hell was that?”

  “I’m a werewolf.”

  I… I don’t know what to think. What to believe. I mean… it’s pretty compelling to have seen him change into a dark-haired wolf. The lights aren’t on in my living room. It’s too early for that. I don’t want to be blinded, but there’s no questioning what I saw.

  “Are you saying that the wolf that killed is a werewolf, too?”

  “You saw the wolf enter the lair. You saw a man leave. You had to think—“

  “People don’t jump to conclusions and think werewolves are real,” I snap.

  He gapes at me, showing anger for the first time. “I showed you what I am. I revealed myself to you when it could get me killed, and you still doubt what you’ve seen with your own eyes?”

  “I’m not doubting you,” I say hotly, “but I didn’t see the first one transform, so forgive me if I doubted that. Cut me some slack! Who the hell is that werewolf? Why the hell are you here, and what the hell do you think I can do to help you?”

  “That werewolf isn’t just a werewolf,” he says slowly, breathing more calmly now. “He is Amarok.” Rolf hesitates as if expecting me to recognize the name.

  “Amarok,” I repeat, confused. “Who’s that?”

  “The spirit of the wolf. The first werewolf. He craves human flesh and drinks blood and—”

  “A werewolf vampire.” My gun in one hand, I rub my forehead. With a grunt, I cross over to the couch and flop onto it, disillusioned and dismayed. “Great. Just what we need.”

  “Not really. Don’t call him that. He would hate you forever, hunt you down, and feast on your bones for centuries.”

  “So he’s vengeful too.” Of course, he is. I am so not eager to meet this Amarok.

  “Very much so. My pack and I have been here in Bethlehem for… Our ancestors came here back in the early 1900s, I believe.”

  I lean forward, blinking rapidly, startled. “Werewolves have been here for that long, right under our noses?”

  “We tend to keep to ourselves.”

  “This Amarok, does he have a pack of bloodthirsty followers?”

  It feels so awkward and wrong to be talking about werewolves as if they’re just human. I guess this is my life now.

  First vamps, now wolves. I wipe a hand down my face. Man, am I tired.

  “No. He hunts alone.” His eyes flash, burning with contempt and hatred, and maybe something else, too, but I can’t be sure.

  “I guess that’s good.” Not that I’m happy about having this Amarok in the city. One is bad enough.

  It bothers me that Rolf’s towering above me instead of sitting. Then again, I don’t want him next to me, so I don’t mention it.

  “What made him come here, to Bethlehem?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. He doesn’t get along with vampires, so maybe clearing them out hadn’t been the best of ideas.”

  “But the vamps hadn’t been here long,” I protest. “Right? I mean, we didn’t find bodies until just recently.”

  “They got lazy. For the most part, vampires and werewolves do not occupy the same city, but we had a kind of truce and—“

  “You had the opportunity to drive out the vamps and didn’t bother to?” I jump to my feet, agitation seeping through me, my body trembling with rage. “How can you live with yourself? How many lives could you have saved?”

  “I’m sorry,” he rumbles, “but the lives of the pack—“

  “No,” I spit out, barely able to contain my anger and aggression. “All lives are worth everything. It doesn’t matter if you’re white or black or purple or—“

  “But vampire lives don’t matter?” he counters, just as furious and hostile.

  I jut out my chin. He’s not gonna win this argument.

  “Not if the vampire is a murderer,” I say with confidence.

  Rolf’s gaze falls to my gun. “You were saying?”

  I flush. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

  His eyebrows raise, and I don’t have to be a mind reader to know he’s thinking Yet.

  Agitated, annoyed, tired, and cranky, I snap, “You cost so many people their lives.”

  “The pack—“

  “Are you the alpha? You do have alphas, right?”

  Rolf bristles. “No, I’m not the alpha.”

  “Did he send you?” I press, seeing an opening.

  He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The werewolf looks so agitated himself that it almost feels cruel to interrogate him like this. “No. I—“

  “You came here of your own free will. Even if your alpha didn’t tell you to go and save those people, you could have.”

  “I would never do anything that jeopardizes the pack!” He bares his teeth at me. Human teeth, at least, not a fang in sight.

  “Right. Okay. Sure.” A wave of lethargy hits me, and I just want to go back to bed. “Let’s back up. How long have there been vamps here in Bethlehem?”

  “Since after the First World War.”

  “For so long. How did we miss them?” I mumble. I’m reeling from the news—actually reeling as I sway on my feet. To recover my composure, I sit down, trying to release the fear inside of me. Somehow, I have to become hard and strong again.

  “When vamps don’t want to be found, they can’t be found. And they do know how to get rid of bodies so that any clues can’t be found.”

  “So they got lazy lately.”

  Rolf looks at me pointedly.

  “What? What is it about me that the vamps—“

  “You’ve been asking a lot of questions.”

  I glower at him, annoyed at the interruption.

  “Can I ask you some?” He doesn’t pause and asks, “You’re a cop. Are you the best that your department has?”

  “I don’t know about the best,” I protest.

  “Have you a sense for tracking down criminals?”

  I nod slowly. “Kinda. I guess. My arrest rate is high. I can sometimes have a sixth sense when someone is acting shady. But that’s nothing—“

  “There’s a darkness about you,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how else to describe it. Not that you’re dark,” he rushes to add,
“just that it’s a part of your aura.”

  “Aura. Vamps. Werewolves. A spirit of the wolf. What’s next?” I rub my forehead. “Are there more vamps in Bethlehem?”

  “I’m not sure. They may have fled, or they may have gone underground.”

  Underground as in coffins? I don’t even want to know.

  “You said you need my help. I take it you want me to track down and take out this Amarok, is that it?” I ask wearily.

  “Yes,” Rolf says eagerly.

  “Are you going to help me?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Can I tell the other officers about wolves?”

  Rolf shakes his head.

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve lived in peace for so long,” he pleads. “We don’t want anything to change. Amarok threatens us, yes, but we would rather leave than go up against him. He has lived for a thousand years—“

  “A thousand years?” I gape at him.

  I’m waiting for the day when nothing will surprise me anymore. I have a feeling that day will come soon. Then I’ll just shrug everything off like it’s no big deal. Not today, though.

  “Yeah.”

  “How the heck am I supposed to kill a bloodthirsty wolf that’s lived for an entire century when you won’t bother to help me?”

  “Amarok has devastated entire packs before,” Rolf utters as if this excuses everything.

  “And I’m human. Probably easier to kill than you. What makes you think I can go up against him? And by myself? Do you realize how crazy that is? You’re throwing me at him like I’m some kind of blunted dart! Let me tell you, I’m not gonna allow you to turn me into a sacrificial lamb. No way, no how. I’m out.” I motion for him to leave.

  Rolf walks to the door but faces me with a strange smile. “You know you aren’t going to be able to turn your back on this. You’re a cop. You have to protect the innocent, to defend the city. Amarok is a threat.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not convinced you’re not a threat yourself,” I bite back.

  He opens the door.

  I sigh. “Wait. Do you have any idea how to kill Amarok? Or even just hurt it?”

  “Him,” Rolf corrects. “And no.”

  Fury hits me, banishing my fatigue. Rolf wants the impossible from me. Who does he think he is to even ask this of me? And to provide no help at all…