In answer, Quinn stuck out the arm that wasn’t bleeding and opened his hand, revealing two small, clear-glass cylinders, each with a needle on one end and fins on the other, like a pool dart. A dart gun. Someone had shot her with a dart gun. Dammit, I should have thought of that.
“I tried to give her my blood,” Quinn continued, looking woozy. “Had to keep opening the vein . . .” He trailed off.
“Can vampires even drink vampire blood?”
“For a quick fix, not long-term,” he mumbled. “Worked for a bit, but she started choking. Spit it out . . .” His eyes lost focus, and I knew he’d given too much blood. I didn’t think it would kill him anytime soon, but he’d be weak until he fed again.
“Sit down,” I ordered. Quinn sort of half-nodded and leaned back against the Dumpster. “You have a knife?” Vampire teeth are sharp enough to cut through skin, but most of them prefer to use a blade. Easier to explain the wounds later.
He pointed to Maven’s body, and I leaned forward to see a large Swiss Army knife tucked against her arm where he’d dropped it. I picked it up and, trying to not give myself enough time to get grossed out, made a cut on the back of my right hand, like I’d seen Simon do once.
“Drink,” I told Quinn, starting to move my hand toward him.
“No!” He lurched to his feet, slower than usual but still faster than most humans. “I can’t.” He pointed at Maven. “Help her. She’s dying.”
“Quinn—” I was planning to argue with him, but then I glanced down at Maven, just for a second, and realized something was seriously wrong. Her face seemed to be . . . not aging, exactly, but her skin was going gray and papery, like . . .
Like it was beginning to decay. Which happens when vampires die. Panic jolting through me, I slapped the back of my hand over her open mouth, praying she could drink it. Vampires can feed off witchblood, but if she couldn’t swallow Quinn’s . . .
Blood dribbled into her mouth, and for a long moment she remained completely motionless. The decay didn’t progress, but it didn’t reverse, either.
I cursed under my breath. It wasn’t working. I looked to Quinn for help, but his eyes had drifted shut again. “If you’re wrong about this, Nellie, so help me . . .” Wincing, I turned one of Maven’s wrists over and used the knife to make a deep slash down the main vein. It was clumsy and I had no idea if I’d gone to the right depth, but blood erupted out of the cut like it was evacuating her body, spraying straight up. That didn’t seem normal, but then again, what did I know about vampire baselines?
I reared my head back and managed to avoid most of the spray, but some of it got into my hair and jeans. A voice in the back of my mind started chanting ew-ew-ew, but I didn’t have time to listen. I clamped down on Maven’s cut with my left hand and positioned my bleeding wound back over her mouth. “Come on,” I urged. “Please, please drink.”
Maven didn’t stir during the cut or the gushing of blood, and she didn’t stir now. But after only a few seconds I saw her throat work, once, twice. I blew out a relieved breath.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—her skin lost the papery cast and looked . . . well, it was still whiter than was humanly possible, but at least it looked like skin. “It’s working.” I dared to lift my left hand a little, and saw that the cut on Maven’s wrist wasn’t bleeding anymore. Thank goodness. I pushed back a strand of hair from my eyes, not caring that I was probably smearing more blood on my forehead.
I looked up at Quinn, but he had slumped sideways against the Dumpster, his eyes closed. “Quinn!” I yelled, and to my immense relief, he straightened up a little and looked at me. “Did your wound close?” I said, trying to keep my voice low and calm.
He looked down. “Yeah.” He sighed, and his eyelids began to flutter.
“Hey! Quinn!”
When he was looking at me again, I said, “We need help. And blood. Who do you trust?”
He gave me a slow blink. “Don’t know. If anyone finds out . . .”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Maven controlled supernatural activity in the whole state. If anything happened to her, it would break the peace between vampires and witches and leave the state wide open for werewolf activity—or for Morgan to come back and stir up trouble all over again. And then there were all the other powerful supernatural creatures who would be interested in coming in to take the state for their own. Nature abhors a power vacuum.
And without Maven’s protection, Charlie would be fair game.
This was not good.
Besides Quinn, there were only two people in the Old World whom I fully trusted—but pulling Simon and Lily into this would put them in the very awkward position of keeping a powerful secret from their own mother. Again. Hazel Pellar was the most powerful witch in the state, but she had strong feelings about helping the vampires. Her loyalty to Maven was iffy at best: although they had a bargain in place, it didn’t exactly favor the witches. It limited them. Besides, if something were to happen to Maven, Hazel’s eldest daughter would be able to return to Colorado to be with her children. Not to mention Hazel herself could have a go at ruling the state.
At the same time, though, what choice did I have? If I didn’t get some help, Maven was gonna die, and possibly Quinn, too.
Still feeding Maven with one hand, I pulled out my phone with the other.
Chapter 12