by Lynsay Sands
“What?” he squawked with obvious alarm. “Where would you get something like that?”
“From you,” Holly snarled, suddenly furious. Between classes, work, and going out it had been a really long day for her, a long two weeks actually, and while she’d tried not to be hurt by all of his little thoughts this past week, she was. They had cut her to the quick and her self-esteem was now bleeding out and turning to red rage.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I would never say something like that,” he protested.
“No. But you sure thought it, James.”
“What, you can read minds now?” He laughed nervously and shook his head. “You’re just being paranoid.”
“Paranoid?” Holly asked in dulcet tones, her temper completely shredded. “Oh no, you don’t get to call me paranoid, James. You can think I’m OCD and socially awkward, and you can pretend it’s Elaine you’re banging to get it up, but you do not get to tell me I’m paranoid for knowing it.”
“What the hell?” He glanced to her with alarm and then back to the road. “Where are you getting this stuff?”
“From you, James,” she repeated grimly. “From your thoughts.”
Grinding his teeth, he tightened his hands on the steering wheel and shook his head. “That’s not—”
“Possible?” Holly finished for him.
“You can’t—”
“Read your mind?” she finished again, and then snorted grimly. “Actually I can. You see, I wasn’t away in New York at the start of the month. I was in Southern California, just outside Los Angeles, learning to be a vampire because I was stupid enough to run with scissors.”
“What?” he squawked turning to peer at her. Then shock turned to anger, and he growled, “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Really. Then what are these?” Holly asked, and opened her mouth to let her fangs slide out.
James stared, his anger slowly giving way to amazement and then fear. Before he could recover or respond, the sound of tearing metal hit her ears and Holly was thrown against the seat belt, then jerked back against the seat as they crashed into something. Even as they came to an abrupt halt, darkness was closing over Holly, dragging her into its soothing depths.
Something was dripping. That was the first thing Holly was aware of. It was followed by a damp sensation everywhere and pain. Lots of pain. Groaning, she opened her eyes and peered around, confused at first as to where she was and what had happened. A red light was glowing nearby, casting a nightmare vision across the interior of the car as it blinked on and off, briefly lighting up the man in the front seat next to her.
“James?” Holly murmured. She started to shift, to try to move closer to him, but sharp pain in her side made her halt and glance down. A tree branch had come through the windshield and impaled her, running through her right side and into the car seat.
“Nice,” she muttered, and then grimaced.
A moan from James drew her attention his way, and Holly frowned and reached her left hand out to touch his shoulder. He was slumped on the deflated airbag draped over the steering wheel. He moaned again at her touch, but didn’t respond otherwise and she glanced over him worriedly and then looked out at the front of the car.
They’d crossed into the oncoming lane and continued right off the road to crash into a tree, she saw. The driver’s side of the car looked like a squeeze-box. Her gaze dropped toward James’s legs then and alarm claimed her as she saw that the metal had been pressed in and crushed his legs. She couldn’t even see most of his legs from the seat down, but she could smell the blood and guessed that was the dripping she heard, it was running over the metal and dripping on the already soaked car carpet.
God, all she could smell was blood.
“James, can you hear me?” she asked, her voice surprisingly strong considering how much it hurt to even breathe.
James moaned again, and this time, started to rouse and try to sit up, but then he cried out in agony and fell back against the steering wheel, unconscious once more.
Cursing, Holly turned her attention to the tree limb pinning her to the seat. It was a smallish branch, about four or five inches in diameter would be her guess. Gritting her teeth, Holly grasped it about six inches in front of her chest and managed to snap it in two.
“Couldn’t have done that as a mortal,” she muttered to herself as she tried to work herself up for what came next.
“This is gonna hurt,” she grumbled, and then grabbed the end of the shaft now protruding from the right side of her stomach and yanked it out with one quick jerk and an agonized scream.
Holly sat clutching the stick and panting as she waited for the pain to ease. It was when she slowly became aware of liquid running down her stomach and soaking her pants that she dared to glance down and see that she was pretty much hemorrhaging blood.
“Crap,” she breathed, and then looked around for something to at least staunch some of the bleeding until her body could repair itself. Not spotting anything right away, Holly dropped the stick, popped open the glove compartment and retrieved the half roll of paper towels she’d placed in there just last week. Pulling off wads of “the quicker picker upper,” she quickly stuffed it into the hole in her stomach, wincing as she did.
“I’d never make it as a field medic,” she muttered to James’s unconscious form as she unrolled more paper towel to add to the first bunch. “I hope the nanos don’t think the paper towel is normal and try to turn me into a big roll of it or something.”
Holly laughed weakly at her own joke, and then shook her head as she pictured herself as a roll of paper towels with arms and legs.
“Must be delirious,” she decided.
When James moaned in response, Holly peered at him sharply, and then eased to the edge of her seat to brush the hair back from his face. She frowned at how pale he was. The man had lost a lot of blood, and he was still losing it. Holly was no doctor, but it seemed pretty obvious that his chances of surviving weren’t good if they didn’t get help soon.
She peered out the car windows, looking for that help. But of course they’d crashed in one of the few stretches of uninhabited road between the restaurant in San Francisco and their home in San Mateo. James would insist on using back roads instead of the freeway. Cursing again, she turned to peer at her husband, her mind working.
This wasn’t his fault; it was hers for arguing with him while he was driving. If she’d just kept her temper in reign and her mouth shut . . . How had she expected him to react when she’d flashed him her fangs? And she shouldn’t have been running with scissors in the first place. If not for that, Justin wouldn’t have turned her to save her life, and everything else that had happened, wouldn’t have, including her husband dying on a dark back road at the age of twenty-six.
“Screw that,” Holly spat, and without thinking about it, grabbed him by the hair with one hand and pulled him back to rest against the driver’s seat. At the same time, she raised her other hand to her face and ripped into her wrist. If Justin could turn her to save her life, she could turn James, Holly thought grimly as she quickly placed her gushing wrist against James’s gaping mouth. She wasn’t sure if it was her yanking on his hair, or what, but James woke up enough to open his eyes and peer at her dazedly. He then choked and tried to back away from her wrist, but she held him still.
“Swallow,” she ordered grimly. “We may be having problems, James, but I’m not going to have your death on my hands for the next millennia or however long I live, so swallow.”
Much to her relief he did.
Holly kept her wrist to his mouth until James passed out again, and then took it away to see that it had stopped bleeding. The nanos had sealed it, she noted and wondered if they were doing the same to her stomach. If so, she might be able to take the paper towel out now. But Holly had other matters to concern herself with just then, and so she left the paper tow
el and instead turned her attention to the metal crumpled around her husband’s legs. Holly eyed it briefly. She was obviously stronger now that Justin had turned her. She’d snapped that branch like a twig when she wouldn’t have been able to before the turn, but breaking a branch and unbending the metal from around James’s legs were not the same thing. However, she didn’t see much choice here.
Straightening, Holly opened her door and got out to walk around the car. When she reached the front, she braced both hands on the uncrumpled passenger side of the hood and shoved with all her might. Much to her amazement, the car rolled back under the effort. Her confidence getting a big boost from that success, Holly moved to examine the driver’s side door and then glanced into the car with surprise when James stirred. She’d thought he’d be down for the count, but he’d thrown himself back against the car seat, his face a rictus of agony. When he then began to moan in a loud voice, she quickly set to work on the door.
Holly didn’t know if the blood she’d given him had perked him up a bit, or if the turn itself was already causing him pain, but James was soon screaming his head off as she worked to free him. She withstood it for a good ten minutes, before she, who had never hit anyone in her life, stopped what she was doing and punched her husband, knocking him out. It wasn’t because his agonized screams were driving her crazy, which they were, but Holly just couldn’t bear that he was suffering such agony. His being unconscious, to her, seemed a kindness. Unfortunately, the pain didn’t let him stay under long and ten minutes later she was knocking him out again.
Sighing with relief when James fell silent again, Holly finished unbending the last of the metal pinning him in the car and then pulled her husband out of the front seat and set him on the grass at the roadside so that she could get a look at his legs. The damage was horrifying. His left leg had been nearly amputated with just a bit of tendon remaining attached at the knee. She was amazed that it had come with him when she’d pulled him out of the vehicle. His right leg was a little better. At least it was still fully attached, but it looked like someone had run it over with a lawn roller, crushing all the bones.
Mouth tightening, Holly pulled her jacket off and quickly wrapped it around both of his legs and then tied the sleeves together, hoping this way to keep from breaking the small tendon and bit of flesh that kept the lower left leg attached. She then scooped him into her arms and stood to peer up and down the road.
James had really picked a doozy when he’d chosen to use this back road. Not a single car had passed since their crash and while Holly was grateful no one had come along to see what she could do, she could use a car about now to stop and give them a lift.
Turning to the right, she started jogging up the street, hoping she’d find a busier road at the end of it and someone who could drive them home. She was nearly to a cross street as unlit as the one she was on when Holly noted the driveway on their right. Pausing, she turned to look around, relieved when she spotted the golden lights up ahead. It was a house, and someone was home. There was also a van in the driveway. Holly hurried up the driveway to the house and shifted James in her arms to hit the doorbell.
A moment later the door opened and an overweight man in a wife beater grinned out at her as he crumpled an empty beer can in his hand. “Well, hello little lady. What can I do for a pretty little thing like you?”
Holly didn’t waste time on niceties, she merely slipped into the man’s thoughts and took control of him. Within minutes he’d fetched his car keys and was opening the back door of his van for her. She immediately crawled inside with James and sat down cross-legged before arranging James half in her arms and half on the metal floor. Then she glanced to her chauffeur, Earl.
“Get in here, Earl, and close the door,” she instructed. Holly wasn’t sure if her control would hold if he was out of her sight, so didn’t risk sending him around the vehicle to get in. Instead, she made him climb through the van to the driver’s seat and gave him her address with instructions to drive there.
Once he’d started the engine and begun to back out of the driveway, Holly relaxed a little and grimaced as hunger immediately roared up inside her. It had been gnawing at her since the accident, but she’d managed to ignore it while she struggled to free her husband. Now though, she had nothing to distract her and it was making itself known, with a vengeance. Grinding her teeth together, she looked around the interior of the van. It looked like a serial killer’s holiday vehicle. Rope, duct tape, spades, and various implements that could have been used to torture someone hung from a pegboard strapped to one side wall, while a narrow cot was up against the other behind her.
Holly considered laying James on the bed and maybe snacking a bit on Earl, but then thought again. Feeding off the man driving the vehicle just didn’t seem like a good idea. And, she doubted this could be considered an emergency since it was only ten minutes to their home and the blood that waited in the fridge there. She could survive ten minutes. Besides, the bed didn’t look very clean. James was fine where he was, she decided, and glanced to their driver, slipping into his thoughts to make sure he stayed on course.
Ten minutes later the van pulled to a stop in their driveway. Holly had Earl get out and open the side door, and then gave him her keys to unlock the front door. Once he’d done that, she immediately scooped up James and slid out to hurry into the house with him. Unsure whether she’d need help or not, Holly had Earl close and lock the front door and then follow her as she carried James straight up to their bedroom. She ignored the man as she laid her husband on the bed, then straightened and rushed out of the room, barking, “Keep an eye on him.”
The laundry room had seemed a good place to keep the refrigerator of blood when they’d delivered it, but as she rushed down to the main floor, Holly thought the bedroom would have been handier. Rather than grab a couple bags and have to return later, she unplugged the refrigerator, picked it up and hurried back through the house with it.
She would plug it back in, in the bedroom and—
Holly’s thoughts died abruptly as she entered the bedroom and saw that James had Earl pinned to the bed and was tearing into his throat.
Cursing, she dropped the refrigerator and hurried forward.
“Bad! Bad James!” she yelled, smacking him in the back of the head.
When that had no effect, Holly caught him by the shoulders and pulled her husband off Earl. It was a lot harder than she’d expected. James was damned strong for a man whose legs were crushed and who’d probably lost more than half the blood in his body, if not almost all of it. Finally getting him off of Earl, Holly forced him onto his back and then knelt on his chest and caught at his arms to hold him down as he turned his attention to trying to bite her now. Not with fangs, she noted, he didn’t seem to have those yet, he was gnashing and biting at her with his mortal teeth, and growling like a dog as he did it.
Holly scowled at him briefly and then released one arm to punch him in the head again. Much to her relief, he went out like a light. Sighing, she sat back on his chest and then glanced around to check on Earl. She couldn’t tell how badly he was injured, but the man was lying unconscious on the floor, his neck bleeding.
“Now look what you’ve done,” she muttered, scowling at her unconscious husband. Shaking her head, Holly climbed off of him and went to plug in the refrigerator as she’d intended. She then opened the door, grabbed a bag and slapped it to her fangs as she counted the bags left inside the small appliance. She usually got deliveries on Monday night. James was at work then. This was Friday. More than half the blood she’d received on Monday was gone. Holly didn’t know how much blood was needed for a turn, but she was pretty sure it was more than what was in that refrigerator right now. In fact, she suspected she’d need that much to make up for the blood she’d lost herself.
She needed to call the blood bank and have a delivery made. Surely they would know how much blood a turn took, right? Holly
straightened and turned, her gaze landing on Earl before it shifted back to James. She couldn’t go downstairs and look up the number to the blood bank and leave Earl here. What if James woke up again? He might attack the man and kill him this time.
Maybe she should tie James down. Would rope hold him or did she need something stronger?
Holly threw her hands up with exasperation. She didn’t know anything about anything. She was as useless as—
Pausing, abruptly, she rushed to the bedside table and pulled the drawer open to retrieve the small slip of paper inside. Unfolding it she peered at the two phone numbers Gia had written on it, one was hers, and one was Justin’s she saw. Who to call?
James groaned and started to stir, and Holly snatched the phone and climbed onto the bed and then onto her husband’s chest. Dropping to sit on him, she watched his face warily as she dialed the first number. If he even blinked she was knocking his ass out again.
“And you’d deserve it,” she told her unconscious husband. He was normally such a nice guy. Who would have thought he could turn into such an animal?
“I’d deserve what?” Gia laughed over the phone and Holly turned her attention to her call with relief.
“Gia, you said to call if I needed anything,” Holly reminded her quickly, her gaze narrowing on James as he shifted and moaned under her.
“Yes, I did,” the other woman agreed. “What do you need, piccola?”
“Help!” Holly hadn’t meant to scream the word, but James chose that moment to wake and rear up at her, his mouth going for her throat. Help came out a startled yelp just before the phone was knocked from her hand and she found herself wrestling with her less than rational husband.
Holly was sitting on the floor outside the closed bedroom door, dozing against the wall when the doorbell rang. Lifting her head, she peered up the hall to the window to see that dawn was just cresting on the horizon. Day had arrived to chase away the night.
The doorbell rang again and Holly sighed wearily and dragged herself to her feet. Honest to God, this had been the longest and worst night of her life so far. She added the “so far” part in the hopes of not tempting fate. That bitch did seem to like a challenge.