"No," he managed. "What… what did he do to you?"
Her eyes were open and glassy, and she stared up at him. Only she wasn't really staringat him, it was more like she was staringthrough him. Her face was pale, corpse-like, and turned to the side so her throat was completely exposed.
His stomach lurched and he let out a strangled cry. Malcolm hadn't been gentle with her. It looked as if she'd been attacked by a wild animal, the fang marks on her neck uneven and raw.
Quinn grabbed at a pillow and ripped the case from it, trying to make a bandage. He held it against her neck to try to stop the bleeding.
"How long?" he asked her. "Dammit. How long was he here?"
Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Too long, he thought. Malcolm had drunk from her for too long.
Janie was going to die. The victim of a vampire. The combination of too much blood loss and the vampire toxins from Malcolm's fangs were a deadly combination.
That bastardmeant for this to happen. He meant to leave her to die alone.
Why had Quinn waited so long before he came over to check on her? He could have prevented this.
His throat hurt so much he could barely form words. His eyes blurred. "Please, hold on. You can't die on me. Not like this."
Keeping the bandage pressed against her throat he reached toward the phone. He could call an ambulance. Call hotel security. Something. Anything.
But then his hand curled into a tight fist, and he turned away from the phone and back to Janie. Whoever he called wouldn't understand what just happened. And besides, it would be too late before anyone arrived to help even if they knew how to treat such an injury. He'd seen vampire attacks like this before.
Witnessed men twice Janie's size succumb to blood loss much quicker. There was no hope for them.
There was no hope for her.
He swore loudly and got up from the bed, grinding his fists into his closed eyes. His stomach twisted painfully, and he felt as if he was going to be sick. He looked down at her and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.
"No," he said again, and it sounded so strangled that he realized he was crying from frustration and grief.
"I'm not losing you.Goddammit , Janie. Do you hear me?"
He crawled onto the bed next to her and gathered her into his arms. The life was leaving her eyes. He had no time to think things through. No time to worry if he was doing the right thing or the wrong thing, if she'd thank him or if she'd hate him.
She could hate him. She could want to kill him. He didn't really give a damn. At least she'd be alive.
He was pretty sure she couldn't hear him anymore, but he kept talking anyhow. "You've been trying to convince me that my being a vampire doesn't make me a monster. I'm really hoping you were serious about that."
He brought his wrist to his mouth and, without taking his gaze from Janie, slit his flesh with the sharp edge of a fang. He felt so numb that he didn't even register the pain.
"I'm sorry, Janie." He pressed his bleeding wrist to her mouth. "Call me selfish. It's true. But I'm not losing you like this."
And then he prayed. Something he hadn't done for… he didn't even know how long. He'd been Catholic once. A good Irish Catholic boy. His mother once took him to confession. It was a fuzzy memory, since she'd died when he was only six, but it came to him right then. Lighting the candle, his mother smiling down at him, mussing his hair; then he'd gone and spoken to the priest about the tiny sins that little boys commit.
Things had changed greatly since then. He had a lot more to confess if he ever went back.
"Please, God," he murmured. "This seems like an odd situation to ask for your help with, but I'm begging you—don't let her die. Please. I'll do anything. Just get her through this. I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to find that asshole Malcolm and get the Eye back. Then I'll make the wish. I'll wish Janie human again so none of this will matter and she'll be okay. But I have to do this and, please God, let it work. Let her live."
It felt as if it took forever before she began to respond to his blood.
He worried that his own lack of strength and lousy nutrition of late would come back to haunt him now.
The only blood he'd had recently had been Janie's. When he'd been injured last night, his own blood had run thick and unnatural and inhuman. But what came from his wrist now was red and filled with life.
It was Janie's, after all. She'd given him his life back. Now he was returning the favor.
Finally she began to drink, and the feel of her mouth at his wrist was such a relief he felt tears stream down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He held his wrist to her mouth and with his other hand stroked the long, tangled blond hair off her face.
He watched as the color slowly came back to her cheeks. Her gaze fixed on his as she drank, and the intelligence and awareness returned to her eyes. Her forehead creased as she realized what was happening, but she didn't release his wrist.
"That's right." He managed to smile down at her and then kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and the side of her mouth softly "You're going to be okay."
A tear slipped down her temple, and he wiped it away with his thumb. Finally she closed her mouth and lay back on the bed.
"Janie?" he asked, holding his wrist tightly to stop the bleeding.
"Thank you," she murmured and then drifted off to sleep.
Janie pried one eye open and then the other.
So this was the afterlife, huh? Looks a lot like my hotel room.
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around.
Itwas her hotel room. Two double beds. A bathroom. A closet. A portrait of a strung-out Courtney
Love on the wall…
No, wait. That was her reflection in the mirror.
She reached up to touch her face and wipe at the mess of smeared eyeliner and lipstick.
She turned her head and saw Quinn. He'd just emerged from the bathroom. He froze in place when he saw she was awake.
"Is that a wet towel in your hand," she managed, surprised at how croaky her voice sounded. "Or are you just happy to see me?"
His lips twitched, and she was pretty sure she saw relief in his dark blue eyes. "I'm very happy to see you. But this is also a towel. For your neck."
She nodded and grimaced. Her neck. Vampire chew-toy central. Seriously. Was she wearing a sign on her back that month that said "Bite me"?
She reached up to touch the wound, but Quinn closed the distance and grabbed her hand. "It's pretty bad."
"Have I told you about the time when a zombie tried to eat my intestines on an assignment?" she asked weakly. "First of all, intestines can't possibly be a tasty treat. Ever. Even if you're a rotting corpse. Very disgusting. But you should see my scar. Some people think I've had a tummy tuck. I can cover it up with a bikini, but still. Not a pleasant experience, so I'm sure this can't be worse than that."