It took Harris only a second to realize that the detective was in trouble, with only Lucy standing between him and death.
There was a momentary flash of regret that Brody would escape again, but there was no question in Harris's mind about what he should do. Thinking he recognized some of the distorted background from the cemetery he'd passed a short distance back, he hurriedly retraced his steps.
As soon as he reached the place, he saw them. Lucy stood over John, her blazing red gaze focused on the creature she faced. Her mouth was open so far her fangs protruded like weapons, and she emitted guttural, hissing noises, warning the other creature back. Despite its larger size, it seemed to obey.
Moving forward slowly, Harris studied the other creature. It was also a
chupacabra
, but it stood a good foot taller than Lucy, with slightly longer fangs. Its
coloring
was also different: while Lucy was of a medium-gray
coloring
, this creature was a dark charcoal black.
Harris wasn't sure if he would have been able to see it if it hadn't been for his night vision. There was one last difference between the creature and Lucy—this one had a set of
batlike
wings that were so large, Harris thought its wingspan must be at least fifteen feet.
It took Harris only seconds to notice all this as he drew within a few feet of John's prone body on the ground. He was still too far away, though, to tell if John was alive or dead. In either event, Harris couldn't leave him here. If he was alive, he needed to get help. And if John was dead… he didn't relish the thought of staking the detective. He wouldn't be so bold as to claim they were friends, but Harris had enough respect for the man that he wouldn't condemn John to the same life he was forced to endure; he wouldn't allow the detective to become a vampire.
As he wondered how he might retrieve the body, Lucy, who had been facing off with the creature, moved forward, keeping herself between Harris and the winged
chupacabra
. The larger creature growled when Harris inched forward, but didn't try to attack him. Feeling like this was as good a chance as he was going to get, Harris went for the body.
Jessica was exhausted. She badly wanted to soak in a steaming hot bath and then collapse into bed. Unfortunately, she was a bundle of nerves and much too agitated to relax. She wished John would come back soon and berated
herself
for not sneaking out after he left in order to follow him. She couldn't believe he'd willingly gone out with a vampire. If the creature attacked him, John would be dead before he realized he was in danger.
She'd killed plenty of vampires in her time; knew how silently they could move—and how quickly. She tested the weight of the sword in her hand once more as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was late—or early, depending on whether you were thinking in terms of the night or day. She estimated the sun would be up in about three hours. Surely, John would be walking through the door any minute now.
A noise outside caught her attention and she stopped pacing long enough to listen. She heard it again and felt her blood run cold. Whoever it was knew her name. She moved closer, trying to make out the words.
"Jessica! John's hurt. He needs help."
It was a trap, she told herself even as she hurried to the window to peer out. Standing less than five feet away, the vampire from earlier stood holding John's limp body in his arms. From where she stood, she could see that John's throat and shirt were covered with blood and his complexion had grown much too pale.
"Open the damn door before it's too late," the vampire growled. "He's dying."
Gripping her sword more tightly and hoping she wasn't making a fatal mistake, she yanked open the door.
She barely had time to step out of the way before the vampire entered.
"Where?"
"The couch."
Still gripping her sword with one hand, she gestured to the living room with the other. "What did you do to him?"
"Other than bring him here, nothing," the vampire said, gently laying John down. She gestured with the sword for him to move back, out of the way, and then bent over John. He looked so pale, her heart clenched at the thought that he might die. She pressed her fingers against his throat.
"He's got a pulse," Harris told her. "But it's faint."
"If you didn't do this,
who
did?
Brody?"
"No. It was a
chupacabra
, I think. Over in the cemetery."
Despite her fear for John, Jess felt a spurt of excitement. There were
chupacabras
close by.
"He lost a lot of blood," the vampire continued, coming up behind her, standing just a little too close for comfort.
"I should call an ambulance," Jess said, hurrying to the phone. Before she could punch in a single number, however, the vampire was beside her, snatching the phone away.
"What the hell are you doing?" She leaped back, raising her sword defensively. Immediately, the vampire was on the other side of the room, the cordless phone still clutched in his hand.
"I have other phones," she informed him, backing toward her purse where her cell phone was resting.
"Just stop and think," he implored her. "If you call an ambulance, they're going to want to know what happened to him. What are you going to tell them? That he was attacked by a wild animal? They'll have animal control and game wardens out here so
fast,
we won't have a chance of hiding the
chupacabras
from them. How many humans do you think they'll kill before it's all over? There'll be vampires all over the place—and they'll be so hungry, there won't be enough humans to feed them or hunters to kill them. Is that what you want?"
Jess let herself consider the scenario Harris described; vampires, like a plague, spreading across the nation, all because she called an ambulance to save John's life.
She glanced at him now, lying pale and lifeless on the couch. "I don't care," she said resolutely. "I'm not going to let him die."
"I don't want him to die either," he said so gravely that, for a second, Jess actually believed he cared. "He needs a transfusion," he continued. "I can get blood and bring it back."
Jess's eyes opened wide in horror. "I'm not going to let you kill innocent people to bring him blood."
The vampire gave her a disgusted look. "I meant from a blood bank."
"You can't just walk in and ask for blood," she argued, but the vampire wasn't listening. He was headed for the front door.
"Try to keep him alive until I get back," he said. "And stay alert. Brody is still out there. I'll leave Lucy on guard out front, as added precaution."
"Who the bloody hell is Lucy?
Another vampire?"
She was feeling inundated with the
undead
.
"She's a
chupacabra
."
Before she could learn more, he disappeared, leaving her alone in the living room, clutching the sword in her hand with John's still body lying on the couch.
As she hurried to the bathroom for a wet cloth and medical supplies, she found herself feeling grateful the vampire could move so quickly. He would be back shortly. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she did.
She carried her supplies back to the couch. John hadn't moved, so she knelt by his side and fought a wave of dizziness at the sight of all that blood. She had to be
strong,
she chastised herself, for John's sake, because she couldn't let him die. Gritting her teeth, she stroked the hair from his face. "I don't know if you can hear me," she said. "But you have to fight, John, like you've never fought for anything before. You can't give up. Please, don't give up."
She steeled herself and slowly wiped away the blood using the cloth she'd brought. The twin holes where the
chupacabra's
fangs had pierced him seemed unusually large, reminding her that she'd never borne witness to a fresh
chupa
bite before. Had Mac's and Dirk's wounds looked like this?
Thinking of the changelings made her realize that even if John lived, his life wouldn't be the same. He'd be like Mac and Dirk—a changeling. Her knowledge of changelings was limited to what she'd read in old family texts and the stories her father had relayed to her from Charles regarding Mac and Dirk.
At that moment, John jerked. Alarmed, Jess placed her hand on his chest, trying to calm him. His heart pounded erratically as it
labored
to pump what little blood he had throughout his body. Jess feared he was on the verge of having a heart attack.
She remembered the legend of changelings and how, if they consumed freely given blood, it would imbibe them with great recuperative powers. Would giving John some of her blood now do the same thing for him?
Another convulsion had her reaching for the rubber tourniquet, syringe, and needle.
She moved to the living room table and with practiced ease, used one hand to wrap the tourniquet around the upper portion of her other arm. Actually drawing the blood one-handed would be a little trickier, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd done it.
Resting her outstretched arm on top of the table, she used her free hand to smack the inside of her elbow until a vein rose to the surface. Then she grabbed the syringe, popped off the top and, taking a breath, let it out slowly and applied enough pressure on the needle that the tip penetrated her skin and entered the vein.
A ringing in her ears started as she watched blood appear at the bottom of the syringe. She forced herself to relax and pulled back on the plunger. Balancing the syringe on her arm, she let it go long enough to pull off the tourniquet and then watched the syringe fill with blood.
"I give this blood freely." She said the words aloud, wanting whatever
mythos
was involved to know that this was a gift of life she was giving John. At least, she hoped it was.
Pulling the syringe from her arm, she pressed a ball of cotton against the injection site and bent her arm to hold it in place. She kept the pressure on for only a moment, because that was all the time John had. Then she carried the syringe over to him and knelt on the floor.
Then she hesitated. Did she inject the blood into his mouth to be ingested? Or inject it into a vein? She didn't know. The vampires and changelings bit their victims, but were they really drinking the blood? Or was it being sucked through their fangs, which she knew to be hollow, and then into their bloodstreams?
She decided to do both. Digging through the container of medical supplies, she found a pair of scissors and used it to cut open the sleeve of his shirt, exposing his arm. Fortunately, John's veins were large and visible.
Holding the syringe upright, she depressed the plunger, expelling the air trapped in the tube. When she was satisfied that the syringe was ready, she selected a vein and injected him. "Come on, John. Take this blood, freely given, and live, damn it."
She emptied the syringe halfway and then pulled it out. Careful not to depress the plunger, she popped off the needle and then shot the rest of it into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it, all the while fighting to keep down the contents of her stomach.
Please let this be the right thing to do
, she intoned silently.
When John's body jerked, she forgot all her other thoughts and fell to her knees at his side. Her blood was working its way through his system and when his body
spasmed
again, she placed her hands on his chest, trying to quiet him. It didn't work; he was dying, and Jess didn't know what to do.
Tears of frustration and grief sprang to her eyes. She tried to remember any helpful medical knowledge she'd ever learned, only to come up blank. All she could do was hold him, hoping the convulsions would stop.
"Oh, John," she pleaded, so filled with despair that her head fell to his chest. "I was trying to help. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't die."
She felt something touch her hair and realized that John's fingers had closed about several strands. She lifted her head enough to see his face. His eyes remained closed and he seemed oblivious to what he was doing, yet the convulsions began to weaken and after a few minutes, he was lying peacefully once more.
Then the door to the mansion burst open and the vampire was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
"Where the hell have you been?" she shouted, jumping to her feet to help him unload the bags of blood in his arms.
"I ran into a few problems," he muttered, not bothering to spare her a look as he pulled IV tubing and needles from his pockets and hooked them up to the first bag.
"What kind of problems?" She was almost afraid to ask.
"Vampires."
"Here?" It was surprising news and yet it was the reason she'd come down here.
"Yeah.
They smelled the blood on me. I didn't think you'd appreciate my leading them back here, so I had to lose them."
By now, he had the transfusion ready to go and looked to her for help positioning John's arm. When he saw the bandage on her arm where she'd drawn the blood, he cocked an eyebrow in question.
"I was afraid he was dying," she explained. "So I gave him some of my blood."