No Man's Land: An Imp World Novel

by Debra Dunbar

  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.”

  ****

  Monica sat in the diner waiting. Two hours until dawn. She’d raced from Gideon’s side in Winchester to this location, and would need to hurry to ensure she was underground before the first deadly rays crested the horizon. This was such an irritation, being confined to business only during the dark hours. At least the winter afforded her more time to get things done before she slept like the dead.

  The vampire was risking a lot with this meeting, but she needed to make a decision, and she hated making decisions based on hearsay. It was always best to evaluate others face to face and judge their worth without the filter of another’s perceptions.

  This was a decent diner, right on their border. She was here alone, assuming that Fournier would be hesitant to initiate a bloodbath in a human public place. In the off chance of an attack, she was fairly sure she could take him. She was a Born too, and had five–thousand years on him. She smiled, more actually, but a lady never admitted her true age.

  Out of habit, Monica glanced at her reflection in the chrome of the music–selection device in the booth and saw …nothing. It was still a shock. It had been at least two–thousand years since she’d been able to see her reflection, and even before that it had become hazy and faded as she aged. She actually missed it more than she missed the sunlight.

  Not that she’d been particularly attractive, even when she’d had human characteristics. Her hair had always been a tight mess of frizz, exploding out in a pyramid shape from her skull unless oiled and tamed into snug braids. Her nose had been a sharp beak, her dark eyes deep set, and lips thin. Her best asset; her skin, the color of dark honey, smooth over high cheekbones and an angled jaw. She knew what she’d become, what her body and face morphed into as her reflection faded away and the vampire inside revealed itself. Ah well, she was what she’d been born to be. Part of her hoped she was an attractive vampire, that somehow her milky eyes and gray skin, stretched tight over lean muscle and bone, were more appealing than most. She hoped, but she was too vain to ask anyone, and Gideon for all his honest affection, never commented on her appearance.

  Maybe she did miss sunshine more. It had been hard watching Gideon’s enjoyment of the intense heat all those years. He’d get up long before she was capable and sweat out on the beach. She loved the smell of it on him when she awoke at dusk, the way the sun and the warmth combined with his perspiration. Still, she was secretly glad when he’d begun to feel pain, begun to blister at exposure. She hated being jealous.

  The bell rang on the diner door, and two vampires walked in. Monica felt a twinge of irritation. He’d brought back–up. Prudent, given her age, but still a mark against him.

  Gideon had come alone when she’d negotiated with him. Warmth spread through her as she remembered the meeting. Her previous Master, a Born, had been killed in the struggle to take over as head of the family. She’d been the only Born left. The fact that she was female had spared her a preemptive execution. Gideon had come to offer her an alliance — she would become his Consort to lend status to his claim as Master, and she would live.

  She’d been prepared to fight to the death at that meeting. She could not imagine suffering the humiliation of being a Consort to a Made, especially for one of her age, of her lineage. All those plans fled the moment he’d walked into the room. He had been so young, but there had been something about him. There still was. Gideon Kincaid had the raw power of a self–made man, a vampire who had earned by shrewdness and strength every step up the ladder he’d taken. One look at him and sh
e’d changed her mind completely. One look at him, and she’d lost her heart.

  She still loved him. Almost two–hundred–and–fifty years they’d been together. He treated her as an equal, valued her intelligence and relied upon her counsel. They worked as partners. Even as a Born, there was a glass ceiling for female vampires. Gideon had always acted as if that barrier never existed. Her word carried the same authority as his. And there was passion — then and now. A consort relationship seldom included intimacy, and many were strictly a contract on paper. Theirs wasn’t. It amazed Monica to think of how desire flared between them. Gideon was gorgeous, by human or vampire terms, and she …she was not. Still, a vampire’s life was a long one and love was a fleeting thing. She needed to put emotion aside and evaluate her options. She needed to ignore that part deep within her that protested and begged her to walk out of the diner right now.

  Monica observed the two vampires that approached. The Fournier Prince was obviously the young man with the ridiculously expensive suit. He resembled his father, whom Monica knew from many millennia back. Another good–looking man. She grimaced slightly, thinking that this one was unlikely to desire a sexual relationship with her. Her status and power were a heady attraction, but it was clear from his glance that he’d not want more. It wouldn’t be a problem. He was so young; it would have been like having sex with a child.

  His aura was solid and strong, but it had a sharp bite to it — a sensation of inexperience. Some found that attractive; she did not. Another mark against him. If he had been a thousand years older, she might have jumped sides right away, but he was just too darned young to be going up against either Gideon or his own father for territory. Youth. They were so impatient. They thought they knew all the answers at three hundred.

  “Revered Ancient,” Kyle said as the Latin–looking vampire with him took a seat at a distant table. Close enough to rush to the Prince’s aid if need be, but far enough away to not offend. Monica hid her annoyance at his greeting. He’d pointedly not called her ‘Consort’.

  “Young Born,” she greeted him, insulting him slightly with the minimal title. He didn’t react at all, his face a bland mask of pleasantry. A point in his favor.

  He sat down and got right to the topic without unnecessary pleasantries. Another point in his favor.

  “I know I’m young, but I’m prepared to offer you Consort status if you assist, and if we are successful in our goals. I appreciate the power and knowledge you hold, and find those traits valuable assets in a Consort. In return, I would grant you an active role in the management of the family and territory. Your influence would not lessen. In fact, it would expand with greater territory and a larger population.”

  Monica considered his words. “What if you’re only partially successful? I could end up with a smaller piece of the pie than I have now. Even if you take Kincaid’s entire territory, what advantage would there be to me if you were unable to grab at least a section of your father’s holdings?”

  “My ultimate goal is to consolidate both territories. Achieving that would be quicker with you by my side.”

  The amusement she felt didn’t show on her face. “Quite ambitious of you, but my question still stands. I’m not convinced the odds of your success are favorable enough for me to align myself with you.”

  “I can’t reveal details to you at this point in our negotiation,” Kyle replied smoothly. Another point in his favor. “The speed and size of each acquisition relies on many fluid events. I have plans in place to accommodate each changing variable in the situation.”

  She nodded. Even if he had outlined his take–over plan to her, ultimately her assessment of his success would hinge on her assessment of his character. So far she was impressed. If only he wasn’t so darned young.

  “What’s to stop me from using your activities to seize control of the Kincaid territories myself? I’m a Born with a far stronger aura than you. Between the two of us, I’d exert more influence.”

  It was a leading question, and it paid off. There. She saw it deep in his eyes, although he hid it immediately — the same look his father had, the same look her own father had, the same look every male vampire except for Gideon had. The Prince was absolutely confident that in a contest between them for loyalty, he would triumph because he was male and vampires would not follow a woman. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps it was because his lineage traced slightly father than hers. She doubted it. Women were equals until the very top, and then they were not. At that point, the best they could be were partners, Consorts.

  “Vampires work in groups for the good of the entire family,” Kyle said smoothly. “Together we are much stronger than alone. Together we can combine two families and territories and rule the largest vampire holding in the world. Wouldn’t that be far more satisfying than trying to maintain a financially struggling territory against a very persistent foe?”

  The threat was there in his words, but not in his tone. He knew she was smart. He knew she realized all this. It was a little reminder, an acknowledgement between them of what constituted reality. Another point in his favor. Monica rose. This was enough for a first meeting. She had much to think about, and she was sure he did too. Besides, she had to get underground before dawn.

  ****

  “What do you think?” Kyle asked Juan as they drove back to Baltimore. He’d already made up his mind, but knew how important it was to solicit other’s opinions. It helped tighten their bond to him, and they often had interesting views that caused him to alter his position.

  “She’s so old,” Juan said in a reverential tone. “She reminds me of the Master. It kind of scares me,” he admitted.

  Kyle nodded. He, too, felt a little uncomfortable around her, like he was a naughty, presumptuous little boy. It would be difficult to have her as a Consort. He’d constantly need to be on guard that she not overshadow him. He didn’t want to end up second fiddle to her. Before the meeting, he’d thought of proposing a simple alliance on paper. They’d join forces, then when the battle was won, go their separate ways. He was beginning to rethink that.

  “I might truly give her an active role in managing the family. We’d have a huge territory, and she could mean the difference between spending a century gaining solid control or gaining control straight away. I just worry about her upstaging me.”

  Juan looked curious. “She’s a woman. She wouldn’t want to single–handedly run a huge territory.”

  Kyle agreed that she didn’t seem particularly driven to rule alone. He knew his own prejudices, knew how dangerous it was to make assumptions based on them. Yes, women never ruled unless as a Consort, and even then with less authority then the Master. That didn’t mean it would never happen. Didn’t mean that someday a smart, powerful woman wouldn’t unexpectedly seize a territory and lop their heads off while they looked at her in surprise,

  “Stereotypes can get you killed, Juan,” he warned. “With proper motivation, there’s nothing stopping a dominant female vampire from taking and holding a territory. I’m hoping this one doesn’t have the motivation.”

  24

  It was closing time when Jaq staggered into Dale’s, barely making it to the end of the bar before dropping heavily onto one of the stools. She hadn’t slept in nearly two days, but instead of catching some much–needed shut–eye after work, she’d headed straight out to repair the damaged traps. Once Kelly got off work, they’d put out additional traps and wait for the inevitable retaliation from last night.

  Good thing it was Sunday and Dale closed early, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her eyes open. Normally she’d do it herself, but Jaq didn’t want to leave Kelly alone in her home in case the Kincaids came to deliver their revenge. Maybe the pair of them could take turns standing watch while the other slept on Kelly’s hideous sofa.

  Worry gnawed at her. It was one thing to pick off the occasional vampire, but the forays into West Virginia had increased beyond what she could manage. What if one or the other of t
he opposing families decided to take up residence? What if Kelly was right and vampires swarmed their lands in war? They’d never be able to share the state — it would be win or die, or flee into another area to live in one of the small spread–apart packs that survived in neighboring states.

  Musing over the visions of a grim future, Jaq watched Kelly sweep empty glasses from a table, whirling to the kitchen in a graceful dance of movement. To every other eye in the bar, the vampire probably seemed fine, healthy and strong, but Jaq noticed little details, like the way her shoulders drooped, how she leaned on the bar for support as she rang up customer purchases on the cash register. She was so thin, and the dark circles under her eyes deepened each day. Could they skip the extra fortifications and try a dash across the border to get the blood she so desperately needed? Jaq winced. Given that they’d just dumped two vampire bodies behind a pawn shop and killed another, it probably wouldn’t be a good time to be trespassing in Virginia. Although, they may have no choice. It didn’t look like the vampire could wait for things to settle down.

  Kelly scooped up a huge tray, effortlessly balancing the heavy load of dishes on her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen. She looked delicate and fragile, breakable as a glass figurine, but Jaq knew better. The werewolf had known the moment she’d reached down and touched the vampire, bleeding and broken on the floor of her trailer, that the woman had the strength to endure. She had proven herself to be smart, adaptable, with an unexpected sense of humor.

  A vampire is my closest friend. I’m trusting her with my life, with the lives of my pack–mates, with the lives of my human neighbors and friends.

  The whole thing was unbelievable. Bloodsuckers had always been the enemy. Their snooty, superior attitude, their lack of compassion, and their willingness to sell out their own mother for gain — not exactly traits that made for a long–lasting friendship. What in the world was she doing trying to carve out a space for one in a werewolf world? How could she ever think this would work?