No Man's Land: An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  His mouth twisted at the melancholy drama of his thoughts. The other explanation could be that the Prince didn’t truly intend to wait until midnight, that he’d strike as the sun went down, before Monica had a chance to rise and gather her strength. It would be foolish for a three–hundred year old to face Gideon without the strength of his father or an ancient behind him. Did he have abilities the older vampire was unaware of?

  Or maybe he was just a fool. Gideon didn’t think so.

  Route 15 stretched before him, cutting through the mountain pass and crossing the mighty Potomac into Maryland. He’d never been so pleased to see such wide and deep waterways. The Prince would take this route. Looping through West Virginia would be ill–advised with the werewolves riled up and ready to kill, and the only other route besides White’s Ferry was the Capital Beltway. Gideon had never allowed that corridor to be unguarded. No, he’d take this bridge. The only question was when.

  The burning at his back lessened, and he felt the shadows lengthen as they reached for him. Monica would be rising soon. He thought of her as she emerged from the dark of her space, her gray skin cool and smooth, her white eyes still heavily lidded with sleep. She always loved when he was there to greet her. He ached that he wasn’t there now.

  “Did you see that?” he asked the vampire beside him. Jared was only a few hundred years younger than him, but his second hadn’t lost the acuity of his daytime vision …yet.

  “Yep. Here they come.”

  Relief flooded Gideon. Facing a threat without Monica by his side was far preferable than seeing her stand by another. No matter what happened tonight, he’d won. She’d not left him for what was clearly a better opportunity. Surely that was a better proof of her love than any words they’d left unsaid over the last two centuries.

  “Let’s welcome them.”

  With a blur of speed, Gideon led the way down the mountainside, coming to a stop on the Virginia side of the bridge. Cars slowed as they passed him — humans on their evening commute eyeing the five figures standing on the shoulder. The movement on the Maryland side increased, and, with a rush, twenty vampires stood before him. Sweat beaded on Gideon’s brow. The Prince had only brought nineteen with him. What was going on?

  “Kincaid.”

  A young male vampire walked to the forefront. Even without the aura rolling off him, Gideon would have recognized the Fournier prince in an instant. The man in the expensive suit was a younger copy of his father’s illusionary appearance. This was how the vampire would look for the next thousand years or so — attractive and un–aging with a human appearance.

  “Kyle.”

  A muscle jerked in the younger vampire’s jaw at the informal name. He might be a Made, but he was still a Master and many centuries this man’s elder. There was no way Gideon was going to call the Prince by a name only his father had earned.

  “I am laying claim to all the territory from Virginia south into the Caribbean, and west to Mississippi river.”

  That was definitely short and to the point. Yes, this prince would want to get things wrapped up quickly. The sun had edged halfway below the horizon, and Monica would be waking soon. Once she was informed he’d made his move, she’d be on her way. Twenty miles would only take her fifteen minutes if she hurried. Although, Gideon had no intention of dragging this out. He was no Master if he couldn’t fight off this young, arrogant vampire on his own.

  “I refute your claim. As Master of these lands, I command you and your staff to return and never cross into my family’s area again.”

  “Then I challenge you for the right to be Master.”

  “Accepted.”

  This was an age–old ritual, but Gideon couldn’t help think that the addition of cars whizzing by made a poor backdrop. Before it had always been the forests, the sea, or even an imposing castle — not a gas station fifty feet away and rush–hour traffic.

  Jared walked forward to meet with the challenger’s second. They examined the sharp knives each held on a cushion of velvet. The Prince’s was a well–forged piece with the swirling, two–tone blade distinctive of Damascus steel. Its gleaming handle, accented with gold braid and precious stones was in sharp contrast to Gideon’s. His iron blade had darkened with age to a deep gray–brown; the only embellishment a thin band of wirework at the top of the hilt. His ancestors had used this knife for war as well as tending their crops, and Gideon wouldn’t have traded it for a dozen of the better–crafted one beside it. For this use, looks and quality wouldn’t matter — it was the ability of the wielder that would decide who walked away and who lost their life.

  With a quick motion, one of Gideon’s staff vanished, only to appear a moment later carrying a large granite rock. It was the one he’d been sitting on just a few moments ago, and it would make a much nicer table than oil drums from the gas station down the road.

  Gideon readied himself as the two seconds placed the knives on the stone, each contender’s blade pointed toward his opponent. This is the way it had always been. They could use whatever skills they had — telekinesis, speed, strength, or even illusion, but at the end of the match, one of those knives would be buried in the other’s chest.

  With Jared by his side, Gideon nodded to the Prince. It began. The cars, the smell of auto exhaust, even the vampire by his side all faded into the background as Gideon focused. He felt his aura ignite and flare outward, all the strength of years pouring forth into this battle. Silently, he willed the knife to rise, feeling the pressure of Kyle’s aura against his own. The Prince was stronger than he thought, although from the lack of movement of the other knife, he hadn’t seemed to have developed the skill of telekinesis yet.

  As the iron blade rose, it burst into twenty, and Gideon felt their weight in his mind. The prince had created nineteen illusions, but they still bore all the heaviness of the original. If he let one drop, they would all fall and open a deadly gap in his aura. They danced and sparkled, the illusion blurring them and causing Gideon’s hold to slip a fraction. Luckily the Prince didn’t seem to notice his misstep. Hopefully that meant he was struggling just as much as Gideon was.

  Picking one of the knives, Gideon managed to turn it and hurtle it toward the Prince. It was a one–in–twenty chance, and luck was not with him this time. The knife vanished as it struck the Prince’s chest, and he heard a faint snicker along with what sounded like “Old Man.”

  True. But there were some advantages to age. Patience was one of them. Gideon pushed the external distractions further away and concentrated his full attention on his knife. Selecting another one, he spun it around and launched it at the Prince. Again, it turned to smoke, drifting away as it hit solid flesh. The action was smooth and easy, but Gideon felt his aura shake from the effort. His skin tickled with rolling drops of sweat that stung the sunburned skin along his back and shoulders. Eighteen more to go. One of them would strike true, and hopefully it wouldn’t be the last one.

  Why was the Prince’s knife just lying there? The thought darted into his mind, and he struggled to section off another knife from the whirling mess above the stone. Did he hope to wear Gideon down first? Was the other vampire’s power completely occupied on defense? Surely he should have made a move by now.

  Another knife vanished on impact with the Prince’s chest, and Gideon felt a wave of nausea. Seventeen left. If only he could break the illusion, but that had never been one of his abilities. Monica, now that woman could do anything. There were hints that she was so much more than she showed the world — like an iceberg below the surface of the water.

  Again and again Gideon launched a knife at the Prince, only to see each one fail to hit its mark. Five remained. His clothing was drenched in sweat, but his aura held strong. The effort to continue occupied every ounce of his concentration. Nothing existed beyond the five knives before him.

  Slowly one turned. He felt the pressure of the other vampire’s aura against it. This must be the one, he thought in triumph as he pushed every bit of his will i
nto moving the blade. With slow jerks, it inched forward. This was almost over. Gideon felt relief roll through him like a wave.

  And then he felt a fiery pain rip along his back, penetrating flesh and searing a path into his heart. The knives fell, only one clattering as it hit the surface of the stone. His aura flickered and dimmed as he felt the silver knife twist in his back. Jared. He was the only one close enough. The only one he’d trusted to be close enough. It hurt more than the metal burning its way through his chest. As his vision cleared, he saw the Prince before him, saw the pretty, fancy knife move as if in slow motion toward his throat.

  Monica, he thought as the pain in his neck mirrored the pain in his heart. Monica, I love you.

  38

  The road twisted and turned its way through the hilly countryside. Visibility was limited to the pavement ahead and the few tattered houses that appeared here and there in the thick woods. Even with the bare winter trees, Kelly couldn’t see more than a few feet past the narrow shoulder of the road. They’d crossed the Shenandoah river miles ago, yet Kelly could still smell it near. Were they just driving around in circles?

  “Are we in Virginia yet?” she grumbled.

  Jaq shot her a quick grin. “Yes. We’re coming up on Leesburg in just a few miles. See? The city–limits sign is right there.”

  “But I still smell the river.” Kelly frowned. Her insides felt like a rat was gnawing on them. Had she made a mistake? What if she got them all killed? Jonah had put his trust in her. Jaq had put her trust in her. So much could go wrong.

  “Yes. You’re smelling the Potomac River, and before that Sleeter Lake and Crooked Run. Don’t you all have water in New Jersey?”

  The ocean, which drowned out every other smell for miles with its complexity. All this fresh water smell was usually confined to what came out of the tap in her manager’s suite.

  Farms gave way to rows of beautiful houses, surrounded by old–growth oaks and sweeping lawns. Jaq reached over and patted her hand as they led the line of trucks into downtown Leesburg.

  “There’s a lot of houses,” the werewolf noted, an anxious edge to her voice. “I know it’s not my place, but I’m a bit worried whether anything’s going to remain standing after we’re done.”

  Before Kelly could reply, a shriek hit her ears like a hammer, lancing pain through her skull. Jaq took her hands off the wheel and clutched them to the sides of her face, steering with her knees as she slowed and stopped in the middle of the street.

  “What is that?”

  Kelly couldn’t even hear her friend. The sound went on and on, like a high–pitched air–raid siren. Jaq winced in pain, but the vampire felt something deeper, aching within her insides. It built, pressing against her chest until she was gasping. An aura. A really, really old aura. Was the Master here to back up his son? Had the Prince made his attack early? And what was that painful noise?

  The noise ended as abruptly as it began, the aura vanishing with it. Kelly leaned her head against the dashboard and dragged a welcome breath into her lungs.

  “What was that?” Jaq repeated. Her voice sounded far away with a faint echo to it.

  “I don’t know, but I think we need to scrap any early reconnaissance and find the vampires. I think there may have been an early attack.”

  Jaq slammed the truck into gear and spun the tires in gravel as she drove onward. Downtown was oddly silent. Parked cars lined the road, but not a single person was seen walking the sidewalks or through the windows of the shops and brick row houses. Jaq’s nose flared, and she moved her head side to side as she drove, casting about for vampire scent.”

  “Where is everyone?” Kelly wondered.

  “Maybe they moved all the humans out to be safe from the attack? We do that sort of thing if we know ahead of time.”

  Kelly shook her head. “Humans don’t know about vampires. And vampires certainly wouldn’t care if humans got killed in any fighting. In fact, they’d want to keep some close by for convenient feeding.”

  The truck jerked to a stop as they rounded North Street. There, in front of a massive brick colonial–style building, was a large group of vampires — Fournier vampires.

  “Shit!” Jaq went to put the truck in reverse only to see the line of vehicles behind her hindering her retreat.

  Kelly felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. They weren’t fighting. They were just standing and …waiting.

  “It’s over. Their intel must have been wrong because those are Fournier vampires, and although they look alert and ready to act, they’re not attacking anyone.”

  “The humans,” Jaq whispered.

  Kelly didn’t know what to say. She doubted they were all dead. That would be a terrible waste of resources, and if the Prince intended to keep this territory, he wouldn’t be doing the equivalent of salting the earth.

  The vampires turned and spotted them the moment they came around the corner, and one broke away to walk toward their truck. Kelly squirmed with indecision. Should they try and make a run for it, abandoning the vehicles? If the Prince had won, then all deals with the previous Master were off the table. She and the werewolves would be vulnerable once again. More vulnerable.

  An idea wormed its way through her mind. They still didn’t know she’d sided with the werewolves, or the Kincaid vampires. She still had a slim chance of redemption if she could work this in her favor. Jonah was in the truck behind them. Hand him over to the Prince and she’d surely be reinstated, perhaps even to her former position.

  The thought made her sick. A few decades ago she wouldn’t have thought twice. Heck, a few weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice. But these werewolves trusted her — Jaq trusted her. They and the humans on Briar Lane were more family than these vampires in front of her ever had been. For the first time in her life, Kelly put aside her fear and summoned up her courage.

  “Stay here,” she told Jaq as she opened the truck door. “Don’t come out until I say, and if things go bad, get everyone out of here fast. Especially Jonah.”

  Jaq’s silvery eyes searched hers. “Be careful.”

  The vampire did a double take when he saw her, his eyes wide with disbelief as he took in Kelly and the line of werewolves behind her.

  “I am Kelly Demir, formerly Fournier and now representing the werewolf pack in the West Virginia territories.”

  The vampire’s mouth dropped open. “You’re the castoff? The exile? The werewolves? Are you their lawyer or something?”

  The guy was clearly not going to introduce himself, although Kelly was enjoying his shock. It helped her seize control of what was clearly a very lopsided situation.

  “No. I’m their advisor and advocate when dealing with the adjoining territories.”

  Now there were huge incredulous eyes to accompany the open mouth. He was a rather attractive Latino vampire, even with his tonsils clearly visible.

  “But you …you should be dead. Or dying. Or ….”

  Kelly waved his words away with an impatient hand. “Nonsense. Since I’d been unexpectedly dismissed from my former job, I found myself available for this interesting new opportunity. Back to the reason for my presence — I am acting on behalf of the werewolves, and we have a meeting with the Kincaid Master and Consort to discuss violations of the treaty and redress.”

  The vampire managed to pull himself together, although it seemed to take great effort. “I am Juan Manjarez, second to the Prince of the Fournier family. I regret to inform you that Gideon Kincaid is no longer the Master of these territories.”

  Kelly tensed. Her worst fears — Kincaid was dead, and the Prince had won. How to work this to her new family’s advantage and keep them safe? She could see Juan’s uncertainty. He would be wondering right now if it would be best for them to attack the werewolves, or to turn them away. She needed to make sure “attack” wasn’t an option.

  “Ah. How unfortunate. I can see you are quite busy here tying up loose ends, so I’ll make a formal meeting request at a later, mor
e convenient time.”

  The vampire nodded, his shoulders relaxing. It bolstered Kelly’s confidence. If there was one thing she knew her way around, it was vampire politics and protocol. But there was one last thing she had to know before she turned everyone around to leave.

  “May I ask — is the previous Consort no longer among the living? We had an open, unrelated matter with her concerning some money she was owed. I’d like to close that out if she is no longer alive to collect.”

  A flash of greed in Juan’s eyes had Kelly biting back a smile. “She is now the Prince’s Consort. If the werewolves owe any payments to her, you can address that through his staff.”

  The breath locked in Kelly’s lungs. Still alive? The woman she’d met just the night before had been adamant about her refusal of the Prince’s offer, yet she would have no other options if her current Master was dead. And Juan’s statement — Monica would be a powerless figurehead, unable to even negotiate repayment of personal debt. An ancient vampire shuffled from Master to Master and locked away. Kelly shuddered at the thought.

  She should walk away, just get into the truck with Jaq, turn the werewolf convoy around and head back across the border. Instead she hesitated. The werewolves needed allies, and the memory of her conversation with Monica haunted her.

  “I’m afraid matters progressed to the point where we would need her to personally turn the matter over to another. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course. I’ll have a power of attorney over to you within the week.”

  “If we could speak to her now, in person, it would save us all quite a bit of time.”

  The vampire gnawed on his lower lip, his eyes darting toward the group behind him.

  “It’s a considerable amount of money,” Kelly added softly. “Due to confidentiality, I can’t give the exact amount, but she seemed quite eager to collect.”

  Juan sighed, once again glancing nervously backward. “Okay. Wait here and I’ll arrange for a quick meeting.”