“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.
“And you are suffering the effects of blood loss and so exhausted that you’re not making any sense,” Holly told herself as she stumbled up the hall and started down the stairs.
“You’ve also apparently taken to talking to yourself,” she added with rebuke as she reached the main floor and staggered toward the front door. “But what the hell, there’s no one here to talk back but you. James just growls and poor Earl has been curled up in a corner of the bedroom whimpering since he woke up.”
Shaking her head, Holly grabbed the doorknob and—-idiot that she was—-opened the door without checking to see who it was first. She regretted that the moment her tired brain recognized the police uniforms the two men on her stoop wore. One had dark hair and one was blond. It was Blondie who started talking.
“Good morning, ma’am, we’re . . . er . . . are you okay?”
Holly glanced down at her torn and bloodstained clothes and then back to Blondie. Her voice was as dry as dust when she queried, “Is that what you knocked on my door to ask?”
Blondie blinked, as did his partner. Apparently they weren’t used to being questioned themselves. Their surprise was brief however and then their expressions both turned stern and kind of scowly.
“No, ma’am, we had a noise complaint,” Blondie said, and then completely blew the tough cop act by frowning with concern and reaching out with one hand as if he thought he might need to steady her. “Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look so good. You’re white as a sheet.”
“That’s because—-” Holly paused abruptly. Blondie’s scent had just reached her nose and he smelled like pot roast on Sunday. Licking her lips, she murmured, “Actually I do feel rather faint. Maybe you should help me to the living room.”
They were very accommodating policemen. Concern clear on their expressions, both men stepped forward to help. As each took an arm and urged her toward the living room, Holly tried to work out the logistics of controlling them both while she fed off first one and then the other.
“Holly!”
Freezing, she turned and found she had to go up on her toes to see over the shoulders of the officers to get a look at who was at her door. Gia, she saw, and the other woman was eyeing her with rebuke. Grimacing, Holly threw up her hands and complained, “I’m hungry. I’ve been hungry for hours and everything hurts. I need it. This is an emergency.”