Free No Man's Land by Debra Dunbar Page A

deep breath, getting her emotions under control. Jaq must think she was a complete fool, acting like that over a cheap band of silver.
    Within minutes, the smell of cooking filled the small trailer, and Kelly’s glass of blood was empty, replaced with one filled with wine. She felt better. Maybe it was the nasty cow’s blood, maybe it was the wine. Any alcohol effects would be quickly burned off with her ramped–up metabolism, but the slight buzz the sweet liquid gave her was welcome.
    “What’s all this?” Jaq asked, sorting through the contents of Kelly’s plastic bag of found items. It seemed that werewolves weren’t particular about respecting privacy. Coming and going in each other’s homes, digging through personal belongings.
    “Are vampires like magpies? Are you a hoarder? That would make a great show. ‘Vampire Hoarders of the Appalachian Mountains.’ I’d watch it.”
    Kelly paused, spatula in hand, and turned to face the other woman. That little smile had turned up one corner of her mouth, and she wiggled her eyebrows as she waved a bungee cord at the vampire. The woman was teasing her. Teasing. Kelly stood there, speechless, unable to think of a reply — unable to think of anything.
    “I know where there are some abandoned cars in the woods,” Jaq went on. “Or maybe you’d like that bag of rusty nails just past Melody’s place.”
    Kelly knew she was trying to lighten things up, but her comments just brought home how bleak her situation was. What the hell was she planning on doing with that junk anyway? All the thoughts of vampire MacGyver she’d had while collecting it seemed foolish right now. Accumulating random junk off the road was a futile act. It was a way to lie to herself about her terrible situation, to pretend it would somehow be better. Her eyes strayed to the knife drawer. Perhaps that was the best thing for her to do.
    “Hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been making jokes after all you’ve been through.”
    In a blink, Jaq’s arms were around her. The woman’s sharp, clean sent filled her nose, the pounding of her heart so close to her ears. Could this day get any weirder? Frying liver in a kitchen, being hugged by a werewolf. Kelly held the spatula awkwardly in her hand and remained stiff in the other woman’s embrace, wondering what she should do. Hug her back? Beat her with the spatula? Rip her throat out with dull incisors? Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, Jaq pulled away, sniffing the air.
    “You’re burning the liver.”
    “Shit! Shit!” Kelly spun around and lowered the heat, fanning the meat with her spatula. Was it burnt? She thought it was supposed to be that dark, although come to think of it, the liver Cook had prepared back in her human days hadn’t smelled quite this charred. She looked up and saw Jaq watching her. The woman’s lips twitched.
    “Maybe I’ll cook the liver.” Gripping her arms, Jaq led Kelly over to the sofa and pushed her gently down onto it. “You sit right there. I’ll bring your drink and finish cooking.”
    The werewolf relieved Kelly of her utensil and walked back to the kitchen area. Kelly gripped her wine in both hands and watched the tall woman flip the liver once more, expertly sliding it onto a plate. Why had she invited a werewolf to share a crazy dinner of liver and blackberry wine when she should be out trying to find a human to drink from?
    “Thank you,” Kelly said, taking the plate of liver from Jaq and glancing past her to the window on the other side of the trailer. As soon as it was dark, she’d head out. And in spite of the warnings from two werewolves, if a neighbor had to meet with a bloody accident, so be it.

8
    J aq eyed the setting sun with trepidation. Pink and golden rays streaming over the distant mountain range should have filled her with peace, but not this evening. Drat Jonah and his customs. What should have been a quick one–hour meeting had turned into dinner and a tour of his