No Man's Land (35 page)

“I embezzled millions from my family. And I’d do it again if I could.”

Jaq shrugged. “And how long did you work for those vampires without payment? Kelly, you’re loyal, but only to those that deserve your loyalty. No one in your past gave a crap about you. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“George.” It was the one nightmare that haunted her. He was the one person in her life that didn’t deserve to be abandoned, didn’t deserve to be killed and tossed in an underground tunnel like a piece of trash.

“You were a child. You were scared, and you made a choice. I trust you. I trust you with my life. And in time, you’ll earn the trust of the other werewolves too. Do you think I’ve had an easy time of it? Some of them still keep their distance when I’m around.”

Kelly looked at her in surprise. Jaq? Kind and generous, quick to laugh and always willing to share what was hers? If they were wary about Jaq being in the pack, then there truly was no hope for her.

“Yeah, me. I hide a lot of my skills because I know many of them would feel threatened if they knew. Heck, some of them still feel threatened — Jonah included. Not that they have to worry. I’ve got no desire to be the Alpha — all that responsibility, everyone coming and whining because someone stepped on their tail or took their kill at the last hunt. No way. I’m happy to be on the fringes, a bit of a loner. Guess it’s the rebellious streak I inherited from my father.”

Her father, the angel. Kelly grinned. “What else did you inherit from your father? A lustful attraction toward other species? An inability to control your horny desires no matter the risk?”

Jaq glanced over, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, that’s me. The woman built like a beanpole, covered in freckles and wearing Carhartts.”

“Pink, lacy underwear. Black thongs,” Kelly teased. “I’m going to have to warn Melody in case you get an uncontrollable urge to have your way with Joe.”

“I’m more likely to try and have my way with his neighbor.”

Jaq’s face was crimson. Kelly stared in surprise at her carefully averted gaze. Was that a come–on? How should she respond? She didn’t want to assume …maybe she misunderstood?

“I’ll come with you tonight to Leesburg and fight for that Kincaid woman,” Jaq continued, still staring at the road ahead. “I’ll even come with you to that island in the South Pacific, if you’ll let me. And if you stay here, the pack will allow it. I can’t force them to welcome you with open arms, but I can make quite clear the consequences to anyone that even thinks of harming you.”

Watching the determined look on Jaq’s face, Kelly felt a surge of affection. She didn’t need a family, didn’t need a pack. All she needed was one good friend by her side and everything else would work itself out.

37

G
ideon Kincaid stood on a rocky ledge overlooking the Potomac River. The setting sun felt warm against his back — too warm. It felt like someone was holding a lit match right next to his skin. Every nerve ending was hyper aware, stinging from the light that danced through the wind–tossed trees. He’d suffer for this later, but some things were worth the pain.

Leesburg at midnight was what their informant had revealed. There was no way to escape this sort of attack. The vampires would destroy businesses, kill whoever tried to face them then issue their challenge. Gideon had been through the same routine thousands of times, but not for a few centuries. It had been a lovely reprieve, but that was over. If not Fournier, then some other group would try to take his lands — perhaps even from within his own family. Monica was the only Born in their family, but he was certain other Made vampires were eyeing his spot, wondering if they’d be able to take him down. Monica would help him against internal threats — stability in the family was important, but he wasn’t positive she’d assist in countering outside attacks.

She was the reason he was here so early, blistering his skin. When he’d seized the southern territory and Monica had agreed to stand by his side, Gideon had faced his remaining challenges alone. Yes, she’d supported him, silently doing what she could to ensure he came out the victor, but she’d not intervened. It was important for a Master to be seen as strong enough to rule. It was a difficult tightrope to walk when his Consort was most likely more powerful than he was. A Born, and so very ancient, Monica had never fully revealed the extent of her abilities, even to him.

Leesburg at midnight — it was just so wrong. The Prince didn’t have his father’s backing, so why would he issue his challenge when Gideon would be at his strongest? Unless he expected to have Monica by his side. His insides twisted at the thought, but he needed to face the harsh fact that she had everything to gain by aligning with the Prince. If no one advanced across the border until that magic hour, then his question would be answered, and Gideon would go to what would most likely be his death, already having lost the only thing of importance in his life. Wouldn’t it be ironic for the young Prince to find that Gideon’s heart was already ripped from his chest — shredded beyond repair?

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 into 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

T
he 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?