No Man's Land: An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  His smile was cool as he turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

  A crackle of power filled the room, although Kyle’s expression remained bland. He stood, bowing deeply to his father as he left with a casual pace, clicking the door shut quietly behind him. His calm demeanor remained in place as he strolled through the casino, got into his car and drove south.

  4

  Every inch of Kelly ached. She was lying on something hard and cold. In fact, the air was cold. She was damp. Her mouth throbbed; her eyes throbbed; her chest hurt with every shallow breath; her extremities felt like someone had been whacking them with metal rods. Carefully she forced her eyes open and looked at what seemed to be the legs of a chair. Dirty vinyl flooring stretched in front of her face in a plaid pattern of olive and beige. With blurred vision, she could see a table, and the cloth skirt of what presumably was a sofa.

  Where was she? Everything in her mind jumbled together in a crazy mosaic. The casino, the demon, Pierre’s grinning face, it all combined with dusty human memories of her standing on a stool to reach the tabletop, her small hands rinsing a cup in a bowl of water. She needed to be careful, or it would break — shatter like the legs twisted under her body.

  Something brushed along her hair in a soft rhythm, accompanied by a caring whisper.

  "Shhh. It's okay. I’ve got you. I'll keep you safe."

  George. I’ll keep you safe. Except this was a woman’s voice, and the hand on her hair was lithe, its touch light and gentle.

  The pain receded into the distance, and Kelly focused on the touch. How long had it been since anyone had soothed her? Again a boy’s face swam out of her memories. The thought of his quick grin and laughing blue eyes was more painful than the agony that lanced her body.

  No. Kelly crammed the memories back into the recesses of her mind. That was long ago. The girl she’d been had died, and there was nothing to be gained from giving that tiny portion of her life the slightest thought. Kelly closed her eyes and felt the rhythmic stroking of her hair and cheek. It lulled her away into darkness.

  When she came to again, Kelly could clearly see the battered table legs and shredded fabric edges of the sofa. Underneath stretched a thick layer of dust and a crumpled packet of cigarettes. Where was she? No rooms in the casino had such shabby furnishings, let alone this level of uncleanliness. She tried to lift her head and thought better of it as everything started to blur again. Best to lay here a moment.

  Everything hurt worse than last time she was conscious, but at least she felt like she could think properly. The gentle stroking against her hair, the comforting whisper had disappeared, and she wondered if she had imagined it. Carefully, Kelly moved arms and legs. Her shoulders had been dislocated, but they were now back in their sockets and healing well, as was the broken arm. Four broken ribs, a broken hip, every finger broken, both legs broken, and some internal injuries. Everything healing slowly, but healing. She didn’t even want to think about her face. Or her fangs.

  Kelly pulled herself into a sitting position, reclining against the coffee table to take the pressure off her cracked hip. Nausea heaved her stomach upward, and the room swam before her, but after a few moments the pain dulled to a manageable level, and her vision cleared, allowing her to check out her surroundings.

  A trailer. They’d dumped her in a trailer, and not even a clean one by any standard. The hideous sofa was covered in floral upholstery that sagged in the middle, tufts of stuffing poked from randomly placed slashes, as if the former occupant had frequent violent battles with the cushions. The table to her left was equally battered, and the mismatched appliances in the kitchen looked like they had seen the hard end of a fist. Whoever the owner was, Kelly hoped he didn’t return before she managed to heal enough to defend herself.

  Where was she? One moment she’d been facing a painful death next to a dumpster, and the next she was inexplicably in a dilapidated trailer. The only bright spot in all this was that she hadn’t come to strapped into the torture chair. One encounter with that thing was enough, and as nasty as this place looked, it didn’t appear designed for pain.

  Nausea rose up again in her throat, and Kelly gagged — the action like a knife through her lungs. Every inch of her hurt, and her few moments of visual exploration were the most she could manage. She glanced toward the bedroom, knowing she’d never be able to manage the distance in her current condition. The bed was out of the question, but she couldn’t bring herself to just slump back down on the filthy floor. Bracing herself against the coming pain, Kelly dragged herself closer to the sofa and attempted to pull herself up. It was no use. Her bones just hadn’t healed enough yet.

  How long had it been since they’d dumped her here? How long had it been since she’d been beaten? Vampire healing prioritized itself by critical area, so damaged organs and essential bones would repair long before more cosmetic injuries, but she was New and wouldn’t heal as quickly as the older vampires would. Still, she did heal fast. More than a day? She was guessing it might be around thirty hours or so. Her head ached trying to think of these things, and the sofa was clearly out of reach. Giving up for the moment, she pulled the ugly cushions to the floor and rolled onto them, gratefully embracing the darkness.

  Kelly awoke this time to find the trailer pitch black. Eventually her night vision took over, outlining her surroundings in a brownish grey. The broken bones in her hands had knitted together, although they were stiff and puffy from lack of motion. She wiggled her fingers and heard them pop and creak in protest. Gingerly she rose to her feet and tested her limits.

  Everything critical except for her fangs had healed, but that didn’t mean she felt spry and ready to roll. Her chest throbbed with each breath, and every movement was slow and painful. She’d have bruises and cuts for a few more days at the very least, and the ones she was sporting were extensive. They wouldn’t heal at all if she wasn’t able to eat. Her stomach growled, and she realized that the continual nausea wasn’t from her head injury but the lack of food.

  Great. She was starving, in a trailer in God–knows–where. What she wouldn’t give for a human right now, although feeding without fangs would be a problem. She could cut her victim open with a knife and lap the blood like a dog, but it would be a struggle. The venom in her glands had been more than a numbing agent and an anti–coagulant; it was also a narcotic, giving the human a rush of ecstasy followed by mild short–term memory loss. Without her fangs, feeding would be a violent affair, and she’d probably need to kill the human afterward. Not that there were any humans within grabbing distance. Besides, she was in no condition to wrestle her meal to the ground and hold them still as she dined.

  They hadn’t killed her, and although this wasn’t exactly the Hilton, it was a reasonable shelter. Maybe her family had also left her some food. Kelly made her way slowly over to the fridge and opened it, blinking as the light temporarily blinded her. It was empty except for one item; a raw steak.

  Steak. Kelly frowned at the meat neatly wrapped in plastic on a Styrofoam tray. Were they taunting her? A packet of fresh human blood would have meant all was forgiven and that she was to wait here for them to eventually bring her back. But a steak? Vampires ate solid food for hundreds of years before the need for it tapered off, but she required human blood in order to properly metabolize this food. She’d been so injured that she wasn’t even sure she could digest this without a few pints to wash it down. Animal blood would help, but there wasn’t enough of it in this package to kick–start her healing. And animal blood wouldn’t hold her for long. Did they intend for her to starve to death? Was this a sign of eventual forgiveness, or a cruel reminder of a short, agonizing future?

  Taking the Styrofoam and plastic–wrapped package from the shelf, Kelly looked at the date. It was fresh by human standards, not fresh enough by vampire standards. Her heart sank, but it was no time to for an internal debate over the meaning of this strange offering and whether she’d ever be welcomed back into her family. Ri
ght now, this steak was all she had.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” Kelly said out loud, slurring the words with her mangled mouth as she ripped open the package.

  She ate the steak raw, wincing as bits jabbed into the empty sockets where her fangs should have been. The thing had been slaughtered months ago and frozen since. It was horrible, but it was the only food in the house. Finishing the two–pound steak, Kelly carefully poured the blood from the plate into a glass and licked the plate clean. She had no idea where or when her next meal would come from.

  She eyed the glass of blood thoughtfully. Saving the blood in the fridge would allow her sustenance for later, but there was a good chance it would be undrinkable by tomorrow. She picked up the glass and threw the blood as a shot down her throat. Normally the taste filled her with peaceful satisfaction — a flood of flavors, warm and sensuous on her tongue. This stuff was cold and congealed. Nasty, but it would keep her going.

  Kelly rinsed the dishes then carefully peeled off her bloody clothing, washing it in the sink as best as she could before draping it across the counter and the chairs to dry. She freshened up a bit in the bathroom then collapsed into the lumpy bed, convinced she’d be covered in bed bug bites by morning. Reasonably full, and with throbbing pain from the empty holes in her mouth, she drifted off to sleep.

  5

  Bang, bang. Bang, bang, bang.

  Don’t hit me! I’m sorry, please don’t hit me! Elizabeth cringed, covering her head as Cook flung another pot at her. It hit the table, ricocheting off the wall behind and onto the floor. She’d be blamed for the dented pots too. Double the beating, although beating was preferable to some punishments. The two days she’d spent locked in the cupboard without food or water had been far worse.

  The cook screamed, her English failing in anger as she ran around the long wooden table, this time brandishing a knife.

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry! The little girl darted under the table, thankful for once that she was tiny and quick.

  Not quick enough. A fat hand grabbed her ankle like a steel manacle, throwing Elizabeth face–first onto the stone floor. The grip around her ankle tightened painfully as the cook dragged her from under the table. A sob of terror caught in the girl’s throat as she frantically tried to pull free.

  You’ll be sorry soon enough, dirty little bastard.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Kelly’s mind rose with the sound, jarring her from the unpleasant dream. She wasn’t a human anymore; she was a vampire, and far away from that dingy kitchen. What was that noise? Was someone throwing dining trays around her manager’s suite? Why did her bed feel like the mattress was stuffed with acorns? Why was she so sore? She felt starved, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. And why did her down comforter itch and scratch like cheap polyester?

  “Hellooooo,” a cheerful female voice called. “Are you ok in there, sweetie?”

  Memory flooded Kelly, and she opened her eyes to stare at the faded, teal–striped wallpaper and lacy curtained window a scant foot from her bed. She was sore with tight muscles, like she’d run a marathon in the night, but thankfully the only pain was from the throbbing in her mouth.

  Bang, bang, bang. “Hellooooo.”

  Daylight. Judging from how sluggish she felt, it had to be early morning. It sucked to be up during the day. She’d always tried to pawn off early casino duties on a subordinate vampire.

  The banging echoed again through the trailer, and Kelly grumbled. This person wasn’t going to leave until she answered the door. Maybe whoever it was had a bloodmobile parked out front. Probably not, but a girl could have her fantasies.

  Kelly squirmed to the end of the bed and stood, wrapping the itchy blue comforter around her naked body and shuffled to the door. A female face peered through the window, disappearing only to reappear at the door as she opened it.

  “I’m so glad y'all are finally awake,” the human woman said with obscene cheerfulness. “I saw you moved in last week, but you never seemed to be home when I came 'round. I peeked through the window this morning and saw you sleeping and just had to come by and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  The woman appeared to be in her late forties. She was stout, but not obese, her figure at a horrible disadvantage in black leggings and a t–shirt that barely cleared her midriff. Her blond hair showed a hint of dark roots, and her make–up was carefully applied.

  Kelly stared at her with fascination. She’d had very little interaction with humans for nearly a century. Sure, she saw them all the time in the casino and spoke with them somewhat before biting them, but she’d not actually had a conversation with one in longer than she could remember. Others handled most of the day–to–day dealings with the humans. She’d been too busy, and there hadn’t really seemed to be a point to engaging them in any kind of social interaction. One didn’t talk to one’s food.

  The woman pushed by her into the trailer, and Kelly realized she was carrying a container of some sort. She smelled the warmth of the woman, heard the thud of her pulse. Had she said it had been a week since she’d arrived? A week with only a two pound steak to keep her going after all the blood she’d lost and all the damage she’d needed to heal. No wonder she felt so weak and bruised. Her body was probably refusing to heal further until she ate. If she’d had her fangs, she would have jumped right on this woman and bled her dry. Normally a pint would do it, but Kelly felt like she could drain a whole football team to empty husks and still not be satiated. Her stomach growled.

  “I’m Melody Cramer, and I live in the next place down. I brought you over a nice tuna casserole. You don’t seem to have a microwave, but you can warm it up at three fifty for about twenty minutes and it will be wonderful. My heavens, it’s cold in here! You really need to turn up the heat.”

  Placing the container of tuna casserole on the counter, Melody walked to the thermostat by the door and adjusted it.

  “There. Now I’ll just put this casserole in your fridge here. You can bring back the container when you’re done. No hurry at all. My goodness! You don’t have a lick of food here beyond this steak!”

  Steak? Kelly had eaten the only steak in the fridge. How did there come to be another one in there?

  “I noticed you don’t have a car. I can pick you up some staples when I run into town. Or maybe you can come with me. If not, the nineteen bus stops right at the end of the road four times a day, and you can catch that into town.”

  Melody’s words faded to a buzz as Kelly stared at her. Blood. Blood. She envisioned sinking fangs into the woman’s neck, or her wrist, and the crimson liquid filling her mouth — warm and salty, with that lovely metallic tang. Kelly, in cruel anticipation, swallowed the saliva that filled her mouth and realized that Melody had stopped talking. The woman was looking at her expectantly.

  “Oh, sweetie! Here I am babbling away and you probably don’t even have any coffee. I can’t imagine putting my brain in gear in the morning without coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  Melody whisked out of the trailer with unexpected speed given her chubbiness. It seemed like the door had barely slapped on its hinges before she was back carrying a plastic tub of Folgers and a handful of coffee filters. Grabbing the stained and slightly melted coffee maker off the counter, she efficiently started a pot brewing. With a steady stream of conversation, she ransacked the little kitchen, looking for who knew what.

  “Ah here, you’ve got a couple coffee cups and glasses and some dishes and silverware. One saucepot and one fry pan, and your coffee maker. And this crazy knife. Goodness knows what that will come in handy for. Maybe home protection.” She chuckled.

  Kelly looked at the filleting knife. It was the only new thing in the trailer. It was high quality, sharp, with an intricately carved bone handle. It was silver. No doubt it had been specifically left in case she got too desperate, reached the end of her rope, gave up. It was a kind gesture. One she hadn’t expected.

  Suddenly the door flung open and a tall, thin woman burst throu
gh. Kelly instinctively crouched in a defensive posture, which was ridiculous given she was naked and wrapped in a cheap polyester bedspread inside a ramshackle trailer. The woman seemed out of breath, whipping her blond hair from side to side as she looked frantically from Kelly to Melody and back again.

  “You’re alive,” the woman informed Melody, as if she had expected to find the opposite. Kelly frowned.

  “Well, of course I am, Jaq,” Melody chuckled. “Although I wasn’t sure I would survive that Shrimp Lo Mein last night. Why Joe insists on getting take–out from that place, I’ll never know. The man has a stomach of iron.”

  The blond woman, Jaq, didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Melody; instead, she had turned her pale gray eyes to Kelly, looking her over as if she’d expected her to be dead as well. Kelly stared back, more out of irritation than any particular interest — another human whose pulse beat tantalizingly out of reach. Jaq was ridiculously tall, towering almost a foot over Kelly, with hair the color of sand escaping her ponytail and flying in wisps around a freckled face. The woman was covered with faint spots, as if she were part jaguar.

  “You okay?” the woman asked Kelly, her voice soft.

  No, Kelly thought. I’m starving to death and you smell so good. Even better than the round woman in the yoga pants.

  “Fine.” The words came out garbled as she forced her swollen, damaged mouth to form the sounds.

  Melody scurried around the tiny kitchen in the background as the other two women stared at each other. This Jaq woman didn’t look to be a threat. Not that Kelly could do much if she was. It was just the way she looked at the vampire, as though Kelly were a wounded animal in need of care — a dangerous wounded animal. The whole thing made Kelly feel uncomfortable — and hungry.

  “I’ll just move these clothes and we can sit down. . ..” Melody’s voice trailed off as she picked up the dry shirt from the back of the chair.