No Man's Land (22 page)

“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

G
ideon 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.

The woman shrugged. “For all I know it could be some odd new human perfume from Saul’s late–night snack. Or a genetically modified animal — they always smell a bit off.”

She was lying. It hurt that she was suddenly keeping things from him, but it was to be expected. Someday soon he’d find her gone, off to partner with a vampire more her equal.

“That’s the least of our worries right now,” she added.

It was, as was the inevitable departure of his Consort. How should he deal with this insult from Fournier? He’d felt the young Prince closing in for a few years now. Was this the first shot fired in what would probably be a very bloody war?

Gideon stalked over to the dead vampire and bent to examine him. “He’s got gashes across his back and side. Did Fournier’s man hit him with some multi–bladed weapon before impaling him on the dumpster?”

Monica strode over to look curiously at the gashes. “I’ve never seen a weapon like that. Something with a handle, like a type of old threshing tool perhaps? One of the scouts took a silver–tipped projectile through the stomach and probably a silver knife removed his heart. I can’t tell what kind of weapon killed the other. It looks like a sharp digging implement removed his heart, and pretty much everything from his chest cavity, but I don’t know if he that caused his death, or was done afterwards.”

“Wes had some crazy tale about an insane Fournier vampire right over the border,” Gideon confessed, a bit embarrassed to even mention it. “A spy living among the humans. I sent him and Derrick to interrogate and kill her. You don’t think?” His voice trailed off. It was absurd to even ask.

Monica shook her head. “I can’t see Fournier allowing an insane vampire to exist, even as a solitary in West Virginia. Too risky, too difficult to control. It’s not in keeping with what I’ve gathered about the young Born either.”

The Prince. Gideon winced. His time was running out. Any day now he expected vampires to surge across his borders and attempt to rip his head off. He glanced over at the angular face of the brunette next to him, seeing beyond the illusion to the ancient vampire beneath. It would be dawn soon, and she needed to be safely underground. Monica. His Consort. He’d hoped by aligning himself with a Born he’d stave off this sort of attack. How long would she stay by his side? One word from the younger Fournier and she’d betray him for the chance to rise in the ranks, to rule as the Consort of another Born. He needed her. She leant a noble legitimacy to his rule. She was old, powerful, and highly intelligent.

Gideon glanced at her again; a longer look, to take in the illusion of warm golden skin and the puffs of black hair that escaped her tight braids, hugging the nape of her long, elegant neck. It had been a long time since she truly appeared that way — long before he’d been turned, long before he’d been born of his human mother. Some might see the gray, sinewy creature under the illusion as horrific, but to him, she was beautiful. When had she become more than a political ally, more than a partner? She was a part of him, and losing her would be worse than losing a limb.

“What?” She smiled, her eyes dancing with rare humor. “You’re staring. Is my illusion slipping?”

“Perfect as always, dear.”

Gideon needed one of the Fournier leaders dead, but that sort of assassination took time. With the Prince dead, there was no threat. If the old Master died, the young one would have his hands full taking over his father’s territories. The last scenario was more unlikely to happen than the untimely demise of the Prince himself. But he had no time for assassinations. He had no time at all. Tomorrow was as good a time to die as any.

“This is an affront. A grievous insult,” he told the woman, ensuring the others heard him as well. “Fournier vampires crossed our border and sent us this clear message of their intent to take our lands. We can’t just hand over our territory to a young Born barely weaned from his mother. We must show them that the Kincaid family won’t allow such a thing to happen.”

Monica nodded in understanding, a look of sorrow in her eyes. She knew — knew his reign was almost over. Gideon took a deep breath and steeled himself to continue.

“Call in my leads in Virginia, and my seconds. We advance into DC and Maryland by tomorrow nightfall.”

“Who are we attacking?” Monica asked with mild curiosity. “The elder or the younger?”

“Doesn’t matter. Right now they’re one in the same. Declare war.”

She smiled. “With pleasure, darling.”