No Man's Land (3 page)

They’d left this woman here for dead, but vampires didn’t die all that easy. She still had her head on, still had a heart somewhat beating in her chest. She’d pull through if she had food and blood to regenerate. If not, then she was in for a horrible, lingering death. Jaq stared down at the battered female in indecision. Vampires were the enemy, but it was hard to see this tiny woman on the floor as anything but a victim.

This was their land, and they'd never tolerated a vampire here, although living in the middle of two fractious vampire clans had its challenges. This woman should die. If she survived her horrendous injuries, she wouldn't survive here for long. Trespassers never did. It would be sensible to kill her now, while she lay helpless on the floor. It would be merciful to end her life now. Jaq had put down plenty of dying animals in her life, and this was no different. Vampire or not, this creature had to die.

But something stayed her hand. “Poor thing. What did you do to deserve this?”

The fragile woman on the floor didn’t look at all like the vampires she’d faced over the years. This was no threatening enemy; this was a broken bird on her doorstep, and despite her fierce reputation, Jaq had always had a soft spot for broken birds.

Gently she straightened the vampire’s legs and pushed the protruding bone back through her shoulder. It must have hurt, but the vampire didn’t give any indication that she felt pain. Jaq placed a tentative finger against the woman’s face, feeling bone like bits of gravel shifting under the skin.
She should heal. She should be fine
, Jaq chanted silently to herself, but she wasn’t convinced. The woman had lost too much blood, and the faintly human smell of her led Jaq to doubt that the dark–haired woman had the regenerative powers to come back from this level of injury.

It would be best if she died now, quick and painless on the trailer floor. Best for the Pack, and best for this poor creature. How could she feed it if it began to heal? Would Jaq come home from work one night and find the neighbors drained of all their blood? It would be cruel to nurse this woman to health only to kill her when she recovered and proved to be just as much of a threat as every other vampire that crossed the border.

Taking a deep breath, Jaq looked toward the ceiling of the trailer, as if she could see straight through it to the stars above and the god that she hoped watched over them all. “I’m a fool. I’m a fool for letting her live, and I’m a fool for what I’m about to do.”

A white band of light twisted around her left hand to join with a golden one from her right. Jaq guided the light down through the tiny woman before her. It was like diving beneath the surface of another’s skin, feeling along muscle, bone, and nerve, but this was unfamiliar territory. The woman’s body appeared to be the same as others she’d healed, but there must be differences. What else could account for the fact that when she pulled the light back into her core, the woman remained just as battered and broken as before.

“Well, I tried. I guess whether you live or die is truly up to you, and whatever god looks over vampires.” Jaq rose to her feet. She couldn’t heal the woman, but perhaps there were other things she could do.

Briskly and efficiently, Jaq searched the small trailer. The electricity and water were on, but the fridge was empty. A few dishes and some silverware lay dusty in the cabinets, but nothing else. There weren’t even sheets on the bed. As she stood, contemplating what to do, her gaze drifted to the coffee table. A knife. A well–made filet knife with a carved bone handle and a blade of silver alloy. Why in all that was holy had that vampire chosen to leave this woman a suicide knife? What was wrong with these people? Torturing one of their own, dumping her in enemy territory, and then encouraging her to end it all. She'd never understand them, didn’t want to even try.

Jaq picked up the knife, using her shirt edge to guard her fingers against the silver. Walking to the kitchen area, she shoved the knife in a drawer.
No suicide for you, little one.
There was no way she would let that happen, even to a vampire.

Now, what to do about food? Jaq made a quick trip back to her own neighboring trailer, careful not to wake her snoring brother, Mike, as she raided their refrigerator. What could vampires eat? It's not like she had bags of human blood in her freezer, or bags of human anything in her freezer. Ugh. Humans tasted worse than anything in the world. Worse than salad. Although neither she or nor anyone she knew had actually eaten a human. The angels would exterminate them all in a blink if they started feasting on their neighbors. Throwing her hands upward in frustration, Jaq finally grabbed a huge steak Mike had thawed for dinner and carted it back to the other trailer, stuffing it in the empty fridge.

Hoping the vampire had the presence of mind to look for her offering once she awoke, Jaq stared at her, watching the broken body as it began to twitch on the floor. The woman moaned, and Jaq couldn’t help but go to her, stroking her torn cheek and soft, silken black hair.

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

This was wrong, so very wrong. By morning others in the Pack would know this vampire was here. Jaq would need to let them know, to provide some sort of protection for the woman until she was strong enough to leave. But leave she must, because their land could never be home to any vampire.

****

His father kept his attention firmly rooted to his paperwork as Kyle approached. It wasn’t the first time that the Master refused to acknowledge him. The distance had been growing between them over the last few decades, foretelling the future when they'd go their separate ways, when they'd become adversaries instead of allies. It was the way things were. He may be his father's flesh and blood, his only son, the only Born he'd sired in his very long life, but when a child reached a certain age, all fatherly instincts went out the window. Territory, status, dominance were survival, and a young, powerful Born son threatened all of that.

Kyle knew he was strong. He'd proven himself to be an excellent leader. His staff both loved and feared him.
You’re not ready,
an uneasy inner voice reminded him.
You’re too young to control a large vampire population, to hold a territory
. Maybe not, but he could tell his father was on the edge of a decision — throw him out, or lock him away where the son could no longer be a threat to the father. Either way, it would be sink or swim — carve out a place of his own, either from a rival or his sire's territory, or perish in an eventual bloody fight for dominance.

Kyle dropped into a chair and propped his feet on the desk, purposely pointing the bottom of his shoes toward the Master. He didn't want to appear a weak clingy son that his father needed to throw out of the nest. Better to be seen as insolent. Better to turn his subtle challenges overt. It was time for him to get his own territory, time to leave the family before the things between his father and he turned deadly and split them all down the middle. He wasn’t ready yet, but some things couldn’t wait for a person to be ready.

“It’s done,” Kyle told him, his tone emotionless as befit a vampire of his stature. “I doubt she’ll survive the week.”

“Where did you dump her?” the Master asked in an equally emotionless tone.

“Outside Ranson, West Virginia.”

The older man gave a short bark of laughter, and Kyle shrugged with nonchalance. West Virginia was beyond the southern edge of their territory. There wasn’t a vampire around for a hundred miles of there. If she didn’t starve or go insane from exile, one of the Kincaid scouts would execute her. Or worse. West Virginia was home to a particularly vicious pack of werewolves. There wasn’t much in the state worth defending, but the brainless idiots guarded it like it was the Garden of Eden.

“Stacking the odds pretty hard against her, are you?” the Master asked, his voice light with amusement.

Kyle shrugged again. “It’s a ruthless world. She screwed up.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“You’ll be heading up to New York now?” the older man asked.

Kyle tensed. He’d been given Delaware, Maryland, and Pennsylvania to manage. Did his father’s comment suggest that his sections were stable enough that he could manage them remotely from Manhattan, or that he was too incompetent to handle the states and should crawl back into the womb? Talking with the old man was like playing a never–ending game of chess.

“No, I’m heading back to Baltimore,” he said, brushing a speck of lint from his pants.

“You’re not strong enough to move against Kincaid, my boy,” the ancient vampire told Kyle, his words coated with cloying affection that rang false in Kyle's ears. “Give yourself time to mature a bit more. Go to New York. I’ve got some lobbying work I need you to do. I’ll send Durand down to Baltimore.”

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

E
very 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.