Tempted in the Night (35 page)

John nodded. "Where's that medical kit you had?"

She hurried to bring him the kit and then left him again to get damp cloths and dry towels, unsure what they might need.

When she returned, John had already removed Harris's shirt and cleaned the outside of the wound. The torn flesh looked like raw hamburger and turned her stomach. John seemed unfazed by it and took the pair of long, needle-nose tweezers she'd found and started digging around for the bullet.

She prayed it wasn't buried too deep because there was no telling what further damage they were doing in trying to extract it.

After what seemed a long time, Jess heard the dull clink of metal touching metal. A glance at John's face told her that he'd found the bullet. It took several more minutes for him to extract it, but finally, it was out. Both he and Jess heaved a sigh of relief.

John was looking pale and Jess worried he might still be suffering side effects from his experience. Needing to be useful, she threaded a needle with suture and moved to Harris's side.

"What are you doing?" John asked. She hated the censure she heard in his voice.

"I'm going to stitch him closed. We can't leave the wound open like that. You should sit down while I do this. You look like hell."

He glared at her, but didn't get out of her way. "John, I'm trying to help here," she said, exasperated.

"Why should I believe you want to save his life? Less than twenty-four hours ago, you threatened to shoot him. And now here he lies, shot with one of your bullets."

"John, I assure you that if I wanted to kill Harris, I had ample opportunity to do so earlier. I didn't shoot him then, and I bloody well didn't mean to shoot him this time. Now, are you going to let me help try to save his life or shall we continue to argue?"

Reluctantly, it seemed, he moved out of her way so she could kneel beside the body. Taking a deep breath, she distanced herself emotionally from what she was about to do and, grateful that Harris wasn't conscious, started sewing the edges of his skin together.

There were several times when she had to stop and take deep breaths because the sight of blood was making her woozy. At least vampires didn't seem to bleed as much as humans.

Finally, she was done. Her stitching wasn't pretty, but it was effective. The wound was closed and had just about stopped bleeding. She cleaned it once more, patted it dry, and then applied a topical antibiotic before bandaging it. Now came the hard part.

"He needs blood," she told John. "Neither one of us is a great candidate because we've both been dosed with drugs, but I don't see that there are any other options. It's not like we can purchase blood at the local blood bank, so we'll have to hope gifting him our blood will have some influence."

She removed two large syringes, needles, and a tourniquet from the medical kit. Then, she applied the tourniquet around her arm and started flexing it as John looked on.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"No, but it helped you when you were attacked. Maybe it'll do the same thing for him."

"Maybe," John agreed quietly.

As soon as she had a vein exposed, she stuck the needle in.

"What can I do?" John offered.

"Pull back on the plunger, but be careful not to disturb the needle."

He did and at the right moment, she pulled off the tourniquet and watched the syringe fill with her blood. She fought off a wave of dizziness and when the syringe was full, pulled out the needle. Bending her arm to stanch the bleeding, she walked over to Harris.

"Here goes nothing," she said, pulling the needle off and then putting the tip of the syringe against the tip of one of Harris's fangs.

"I give this blood freely," she intoned, remembering when she'd done the same thing for John. How long ago had that been? She squirted just a little blood and watched it get sucked up. Encouraged, she squeezed out a little more and waited until it, too, was sucked up. She repeated the process until she'd emptied the syringe. Afterward, she thought that Harris seemed to be breathing easier.

"I think it's helping," she said to John. "Maybe we should give him more." She started to tie the tourniquet around her arm again, but John stopped her.

"You've already given enough," he told her. "It's my turn."

She nodded and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm instead. Then, taking a fresh needle and syringe, she drew blood. When it was full, she fed it to Harris, who took it as quickly as he had the other.

After she had emptied the syringe, she turned to John. "I don't think we can spare any more blood." He nodded, but continued to stare at her until she felt uncomfortable. "What?"

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For trying to help me save him.
I didn't think you would."

She offered him a tired smile. "It's difficult to admit, but perhaps you're right about Harris. He's not a typical vampire. After all, he not only stopped me from making a grave mistake, he also saved your life. I couldn't have saved you by myself. I realize that now." She fought against the sudden weight of emotion she was feeling. "No, I definitely don't want him to die."

He rubbed the back of his neck in obvious exhaustion. "I guess now we wait and see."

"Why don't you go to bed? I'll stay up and watch over him."

He shook his head. "That's okay. I'll do it."

He didn't trust her, not that she blamed him. She'd tried too many times to kill Harris. If she were in John's shoes, she wouldn't want her help either. She tried to ignore the hurt and disappointment and broached another subject that was bothering her. "What do we do about Brody?"

"Honestly?" he asked. "I don't know."

"But—"

"Jess, we can't solve all the problems tonight. We'll do the best we can. Now, go to bed."

"Are you sure this is what Harris would have wanted?" Jess asked John two nights later as they walked the last block to St. Magnus Cathedral.

"Yeah, I am. He told me that he came here a couple of times. I think he would have liked knowing we had his memorial service here."

"I'm sorry he's gone, John. I know you two were close."

He gave her a sad smile and squeezed the hand he'd been holding. "Thank you again for working so hard to make these arrangements—and for getting the announcement in the paper. I feel bad because there won't be anyone to mourn his passing."

"That's not true," she said. "I know of at least two who will."

The cathedral was just ahead. As they drew closer, Jess understood why Harris had liked this particular place so much. There was an old-world Gothic charm to the building. It was a massive structure, standing at least three stories tall with a roof that resembled a series of upside-down V's, each adorned with a spire on top. Lit from within, the stained-glass windows were a work of art.

Probably what appealed to Jess the most were the stone gargoyles perched on the roof corners. As far as she could tell, they weren't
chupacabras
, but actually part of the original architecture. Behind them, the stars shone bright on a cloudless night.

"It's a good night for a service," Jess observed as they reached the church and mounted the steps.

John held the door for her and they went inside. The arrangements for the funeral had taken a day to plan and the casket sitting in front of the altar was largely ceremonial since transporting Harris's body after it turned to stone would have been impractical.

She'd placed the announcement in the paper, even though Harris hadn't known anyone in town, and Jess was surprised to see several people sitting in the pews for the service. She suspected they were there by chance to pray.

She'd called Mac, Dirk, and the others to attend, but hadn't been able to reach them.

She and John walked down the aisle to the casket, stopping before it to share a moment of silence. Then John placed a hand at her back and guided her to the front pew to sit.

The priest appeared to begin the ceremony. When it was over, Jess wondered if, in God's eyes, Harris had redeemed himself. She hoped so.

When John went to speak with the priest afterward, she went with him. They verified the arrangements for the casket's delivery to the cemetery.

"Are you all right?" she asked as they left the church minutes later.

John nodded. "Yes. I just wish I'd had more time to get to know him."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I ever made those bullets. If I hadn't—"

"Don't," John said, taking her hand and pulling her to a stop outside on the sidewalk. "Don't do that to yourself. You didn't mean to shoot him. I know that—and I think Harris knew that. If you want to blame anyone, blame Brody. He's the one who pulled the trigger."

Jess wiped at her eyes, ineffectively trying to clear them.

John gave her a tender smile. "Hush now. It's time for us to move on. No more tears, okay?"

"Okay," she said through a weepy smile. She reached for her purse to pull out a tissue. "Wonderful," she muttered.

"What's the matter?"

"I forgot my purse in the church."

"Want me to get it for you?"

"No, it won't take but a second." She hurried up the steps and pulled open the door that led to the front foyer. Fortunately, no one had turned off the lights, though the sanctuary was dimmer than it had been during the service.

She hurried down the aisle to the front pew and looked for her purse. It wasn't where she remembered setting it. Confused, she looked around and found it had been moved quite a bit farther down the aisle.

Strange, she thought, going to pick it up. She slipped the strap over her shoulder and had just turned to leave when she stopped short.

"You!"

Brody gave her a smile so evil and predatory that her blood ran cold. "Hello, sweet Jessica. Miss me?"

Jess looked around, desperate for something she could use to defend herself. "I'm surprised to see you here—inside a church." She tried to get him talking. Maybe, if she was gone long enough, John would get worried and come check on her.

"First time," Brody admitted to her. "But rest assured
,
it won't be my last. I'm sure there are many lonely women to be found here."