No Man's Land: An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  “I’ve never done that before,” Kelly marveled, looking at the broken shovel on the ground, then at her hands. Telekinesis. Vampires began to acquire the skill at around two–thousand years of age. “I think it may be a side effect of your blood. I’m guessing that will wear off eventually too. Pity, because that would be a really nifty skill to have.”

  “Do it again,” Jaq urged. The werewolf was mostly naked, her pants on the ground beside the truck, and her shirt and bra still an awkward tangle around her midsection. Who knew where the woman’s underwear had gone.

  Kelly bit back a smile and reached out a hand. The broken handle flew into her palm without her even looking at it. “Yeah, I could get used to this.”

  The werewolf nodded then began to look around the pavement, no doubt searching for her underwear. “Me too. I don’t think you should make a habit out of drinking my blood, though. I have a bad feeling it could have some terrible long–term side effects.”

  “You werewolves must go through a lot of clothing,” Kelly commented, picking up Jaq’s pants and shaking gravel from them.

  “Not normally.” Jaq picked up a tiny scrap of fabric and examined it, making a disgusted noise. “It takes most werewolves ten to twenty minutes to change. With today’s effective human weaponry, we usually only use the wolf form for organized social occasions, like hunts, so there’s plenty of time to disrobe.”

  “But you’re different.” Kelly handed her the pants, and Jaq gave one last annoyed look at the underwear before shoving them in a pocket.

  “Yeah, I can change immediately. I can be other animals besides a wolf, and in animal form I’m pretty indestructible. I don’t usually do it, for the obvious, clothing–destroying reasons, but when I don’t know what I’m up against, it’s worth ruining fifty–dollar lingerie.”

  Kelly whistled. “That’s some expensive lacy stuff under your Carhartt overalls, girl. I never would have guessed it.”

  Jaq frowned, hopping as she put the pants on, commando. “I’d really prefer if you didn’t tell anyone. No one in the pack would ever let me live it down.”

  “Two secrets,” Kelly teased. “Nephilim and girly underclothes. Hmmm, such blackmail potential.”

  Jaq hesitated, a flash of distrust flitting over her face.

  “I’m teasing, you know,” Kelly told her softly. “Best friends don’t betray each other.”

  Jaq’s smile returned, her shoulders relaxing in relief. “Help me get these dead guys out of the truck. I want to get out of here before more vampires show up and I have to ruin what’s left of my clothing.”

  It was good to have a friend to joke with, one to rely on when you needed help. This whole thing — exile, starving, enemy scouts trying to kill her — it was a horrible situation, but with Jaq by her side, it all seemed manageable. More than manageable, actually. With Jaq, it felt like she could conquer the world, and that had nothing to do with the half–angel blood coursing through her system.

  “I’m so glad you’re with me, but I feel kind of guilty. I dragged you into this whole thing.”

  Jaq shrugged. “I was killing vampires before you came along. It’s a whole lot more fun when there’s someone else by your side.”

  Kelly nodded and looked at the two corpses in the bed of Jaq’s truck. “We probably should have just buried these bodies, but I wanted to make a statement. I wanted to send a message to Kincaid to keep off my land and leave us alone.”

  My land. Somehow it had become her land. Yes, it was also werewolf land — a worthless buffer zone between two vampire territories. Could she manage to survive being squashed between two powerful families, living in the company of werewolves? Jaq wanted her to stay, but would the others? And how could she ever manage it with their ban on human blood?

  Jaq grinned. “I think the guy dangling from the dumpster will get your message across.”

  Kelly looked at the gruesome sight.

  “I understand territory,” Jaq added. “I want to keep these guys out of our lands as much as you do.”

  Kelly considered her words then climbed into the back of the truck to shove out the two vampire bodies. Jaq grabbed them off the bed gate and easily tossed them over her shoulders before striding to the dumpster and pitching them to the ground.

  “You’re right — we need to get out of here,” Kelly muttered, keeping a sharp eye turned to the pawnshop and dark buildings down the road. “We’re not usually out alone. I don’t know where that guy’s buddy is, but he’s bound to be back soon, and I’d like us across the border when he gets here.”

  Jaq nodded, shutting the tailgate with a bang and gesturing for Kelly to get into the car. “Yeah, I’ve got to get ready for work too. Early shift this morning.”

  Some friend she was, dragging Jaq all over the place fighting vampires and ruining her clothing when the woman had to work.

  “Sorry. I really appreciate your help.” In more ways than one — with Wes, with the vampire drooping from the dumpster, and even her rocket–fuel blood. Which she was not about to have any more of.

  Jaq smirked at her as she climbed into the truck. “Don’t mention it. I’d call in sick, but I’ve got a vampire I’m supporting and I need the hours.”

  “Ha ha. I’d be a lot cheaper to support if you had a basement in your trailer for me to live in.”

  Jaq started the car and turned to Kelly, a serious expression on her face. “And as much as I hate to bring up a prickly subject when we seem to be on speaking terms again, we need to talk about blood.”

  Kelly knew what the woman meant, but she just didn’t want to go there. “So you need laundry advice on how to remove it from your clothing? Well, you’ve turned to the right vampire. I’d suggest soda water, or baking soda. Or you could just dye your t–shirt pink and be done with it.”

  Jaq pulled the truck out onto the main road, but not before shooting her a stern, one–eyebrow–raised kind of look. “Don’t. I didn’t work my butt off that night they dumped you half–dead in the trailer only to have you starve to death out of stubbornness. The cow and deer blood isn’t working for you, or the fresh blood from the animals we’re trapping. Human blood — how much and how often do you need it to keep you alive and in tip–top shape?”

  It was time to be truthful. Kelly sighed. “At the casino I got three meals a day. A pint each, fresh from a human. That’s a privileged modern life, though. It wasn’t always that way. We have the ability to gorge and store, but I haven’t even been able to do that. I would have been dead days ago if it hadn’t been for that guy outside the strip club. And if I hadn’t been so injured and weak from blood loss, what I took from him would normally have held me a week.”

  “Draining someone dry is going to get you killed before sun–up,” Jaq commented, her tone deceptively casual. Kelly could see the tension in her shoulders, hear the strain in the very back of her voice. “What’s the minimum you can have? We’ll work up from there.”

  “I …I really don’t know.” She didn’t. She’d always been fed. Fournier vampires didn’t go hungry, whether it was a shared meal from an expendable human out of the slums when she was first turned, or the civilized delivered meals in the casino.

  Jaq threw up her hands in frustration, momentarily leaving the truck’s steering unattended. “Give me a ballpark here, Kelly. I can’t let you run around like some fangless Dracula, stabbing strippers and drunken guys.”

  “How far does your pack’s mandate extend? Maybe I can borrow your truck and run in a few times a week to Martinsburg for drunks and strippers.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Jaq’s voice was firm, her profile grim. “Thousands of us, remember? The pack owns this state. You start killing or assaulting humans anywhere in West Virginia and there’s not much I can do to save you.”

  Kelly frowned, realizing that the fact Jaq was a Nephilim wasn’t the only thing the werewolves were hiding. There was no way the angels would have allowed thousands of them in one state under the existence contract. No w
ay.

  As if reading her mind, Jaq shot her a perceptive look. “And no, the angels don’t know. We’ve got a huge number of werewolves under the radar here. For some reason, we’ve managed to keep it under wraps. No angels, no demons.”

  “No vampires,” Kelly added softly. “Until me.”

  “There were plenty of vampires nosing around and passing through before you. We killed every one we got our paws on. Makes them think twice about sending people into our territory.” Jaq’s voice turned gentle. “You’re the only one that’s lived here. Our very own token vampire.”

  Her words tugged at something deep inside Kelly. The staff at Dale’s was still wary of her, but Jaq appeared to carry some weight in the pack. For a moment, she had a fantasy of life here, as the token vampire surrounded by others. The panicked feeling at the thought of being so far from her vampire family had dulled to a throb over the last few days. Would it go away eventually? Could she find some kind of peace, or maybe even happiness here? Kelly stared at Jaq with her disheveled blond hair and freckles, which were clearly visible even in the dim dashboard light. It was such a silly, ridiculous idea, but somehow it seemed far more appealing than the harsh reception she’d get even if she was reinstated into her family.

  “I couldn’t.” Cold reality crashed down on her. She had no fangs, and the werewolves would never tolerate what she would have to do to survive. The humans either. It was a lovely fantasy, though. One to dream about while curled up alone in her bed as dawn colored the horizon. “I know I said I wanted this to be home, but I’d starve. The werewolves won’t compromise on this issue, and I can’t.”

  Jaq’s face momentarily betrayed her disappointment before her eyes shuttered, closing the emotion off. “So we’re back to the original topic. If I’m robbing an American Red Cross blood donation site, how new does the blood have to be and how much should I steal?”

  She was clearly serious. Kelly closed her eyes. This was more than she’d ever been given; a gesture of real friendship. “No more than twenty–four hours old. I could probably drink eight pints one night, and eight the next before it loses its effectiveness. Which means you’d be robbing blood banks on a weekly basis.”

  She and Jaq, the Bonnie and Clyde of blood donation facilities. Once a week, breaking and entering to run off with a cooler full of ruby liquid. It was the stuff Hollywood movies were made of, and it would get them incarcerated within a month.

  From her sigh, Jaq realized it too. “This would be a lot simpler if you just let me talk to our friends about a system of donation.”

  “This would be a lot simpler if you’d just let me stab a drunk guy behind a strip club,” Kelly replied. Humor was the only way she could combat the grim situation. It was the only thing left in what had become a stalemate between her and the ruling werewolves.

  “Consent,” Jaq snapped out. “What part of consent don’t you understand?”

  “Vampire,” Kelly retorted. “What part of vampire don’t you understand?”

  The drove for a while, Jaq grinding her teeth in rhythm with the engine noise of the old truck.

  “Is it a secrecy thing?” she finally asked. “Because they’re eventually going to find out. They’ll spot you doing something vampire–like, or notice how they’re all getting old and you don’t look a day over twenty.”

  They wouldn’t, because she wasn’t going to stay, although her options seemed to be getting narrower with each passing day.

  “It’s not just secrecy; it’s not done. There are the Candidates and everyone else is food. You don’t talk with your food. You don’t borrow their crème brulee torch to melt silver for weapons, and you don’t eat their tuna casserole.”

  Somehow all the neighboring humans had become off–limits to her, fallen into the Candidate category although she had no intentions of turning them, even if she was able to.

  “I’m not asking you to chomp down on their arm or suck on their necks. Barbara is a nurse. She can draw blood and bag it for you, so you don’t have to get all squeamish about eating your friends. You don’t even have to know where it came from.”

  “No.”

  Kelly made sure the word sounded final. Jaq glared at her and mumbled comments as she drove. The effects of Jaq’s rocket–fuel blood were starting to wear off, and Kelly felt hunger creep through her. Didn’t matter how much it would piss off her friend or the werewolves that seemed to constantly be peering over her shoulder, she was going to have to find fresh human blood in the next twenty–four hours. She just had to make sure to cover her tracks.

  Jaq glanced her way with a quick sigh. “If you ever need to borrow my truck, the keys are under the floor mat. Winchester is the biggest city in Virginia that’s close to the border. Leesburg is a bit further out. I’d prefer if you take me along. I can guard while you’re taking care of things and make sure you don’t get carried away. You kill someone, even out of state, and nothing I can do will protect you. Plus, the Kincaid vampires are now going to put some kind of bounty on your head.”

  Kelly’s mind spun. That Jaq was willing to bend her personal ethics for Kelly was something she’d never expected.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be involved in this,” Kelly said earnestly. “I know I’m attacking humans and this bothers you. It’s not something you should get involved in.”

  “I need to go with you,” Jaq said with more firmness in her voice then Kelly had ever heard. “It’s safer; you’ll have a better chance of success and of remaining undetected if we work together. We’ll travel across state lines, and if the pack suspects you of any attacks in West Virginia, I can assure them you weren’t involved.”

  Kelly watched the scenery pass by as they drove — long stretches of fields dusted with snow, broken by the occasional appearance of a farmhouse set far back from the road. The mountains rose in the distance, hidden by the night and low cloud cover.

  “I’m so sorry, Jaq. I wish the cow blood had worked. I wish I didn’t need to do this.” She wished she’d kept a tighter leash on her temper back at the casino, or that her family had somehow found her useful and brought her back.

  Farmland gave way to thick groupings of trees, shielding housing developments and smaller farms from the road as they crossed the state line. Kelly felt the tension leave her shoulders.

  “You need to feed on human blood,” Jaq said softly. “It’s who you are. There’s nothing wrong with doing what you have to do to survive.”

  Kelly was surprised when Jaq reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. She looked down at the long fingers intertwined with hers in wonder.

  “You’re not a monster,” Jaq added. “You’re just a carnivore. Nobody blames a lion for what he is.”

  “Yes, until the lion starts attacking humans. Then he’s killed. They won’t even let lions live close to villages. They’ll kill them, or catch and relocate them. It’s too risky. I’m the same way. I prey on humans. They’ll kill me or drive me away if they know. It’s hard enough being an outcast from my family; if I had no contact with any sentient beings at all, I’d go insane.”

  “All right,” Jaq replied doubtfully. “I don’t think you’re giving the humans enough credit though.”

  She pulled her hand away, and Kelly peered at her face in the dim light, trying to read the werewolf’s expression. Was she angry? Jaq was her only friend. Even in her vampire family, she’d never been close to anyone. She’d been safe, sheltered, but without any kind of individual personal connection. Kelly’s hand felt suddenly cold, and empty.

  23

  Gideon Kincaid scowled as he looked down at the dead vampires lined up before him. Wes and Derrick, dead, their bodies dumped behind a pawnshop. Literally dumped, as if they were no more than an empty fast–food bag.

  And Bruce. The vampire had been lifted and thrown with force great enough to impale him on the side of the dumpster. Gideon shook his head thinking of the power it must have taken to perform that feat. No New scout could have done
that, or taken out two experienced scouts. This had to have been someone Old.

  “The scouts were not killed here. Their bodies smell of Fournier, and the scent is also on Bruce as well as here and there along the ground,” the female vampire next to him said. “I’m assuming from the scent patterns that one of our enemy trespassed to bring these two to us as a sort of message.”

  “One?” Gideon asked. This was a lot for one vampire, but he trusted Monica’s analysis. It just confirmed that whoever did this wasn’t some lightweight.

  “One. The deaths don’t concern me as much as the confrontational method of their return.”

  True. Vampire scouts and spies generally did not live more than a few centuries. The lousy ones even less. Sometimes it was a dumping–ground job for those Turns that didn’t quite live up to a Master’s expectations. Generally they just disappeared. Monica was right to be anxious. Throwing the dead at their doorstep was a rudeness that could be considered an act of war.

  “What about Bruce?” Gideon asked, gesturing angrily at the body. “What’s your counsel on this?”

  “I’m thinking this one was a defensive kill,” she said reluctantly. “They were trespassing to return the bodies. Saul said he went out for a quick bite while Bruce was finishing up the month–end paperwork, and when he came back, this is what he found. Bruce probably smelled an enemy and attacked him.”

  Idiot. Anything this strong would have had an aura — Bruce should have noticed and waited for backup. Better to hide and gain valuable information, than die from foolish bravery.

  “There’s another trace smell here too,” Monica added, tilting her head and inhaling deeply. “Cold and sharp, sort of a pine note.”

  Gideon frowned. “Was the enemy vampire accompanied by someone else? Do you think this unknown creature assisted?” That’s all he needed. Enemy breathing down his neck, and now some pine–forest–fresh monster sniffing around his territory.