V Games (The Vampire Games Trilogy Book 1)

by Caroline Peckham

  Varick started handing out backpacks; they were the type a runner would wear, slimline and lightweight. He shoved one roughly into my arms and I grimaced at him, tugging it open. Inside, were several energy bars, a bottle of water, a box of matches and a slim knife.

  I scoffed, chucking my bag at Varick's feet. He turned to me, practically snarling. “What is it now, sweetheart?”

  “This is a joke,” I muttered. “You're sending us to the slaughter. What's the food for, to pretend you're giving us a chance?”

  Varick prowled closer as some of the other girls dropped their bags too. “Fine. Go out there without supplies. See what I care? You can take it or leave it.” He kicked the bag at my feet and my heart thumped harder in my chest. I glared at the pack, stubbornly considering leaving it simply to spite Varick. But that would only harm my chances of survival – if there were any. With a sigh of defeat, I scooped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder.

  “There will only be four Vs hunting you in this round,” Varick announced. “The game will get progressively harder. So the quicker you learn how to defend yourselves, the better.”

  Silence rang out in the room, his words doing nothing to comfort any of us.

  “So...if you'll proceed with me to the start of the game,” Varick said, guiding us out of the cell.

  We passed down a wide hall of pale flagstones and huge, red and black tapestries, featuring a large letter H bordered by Latin phrases.

  I felt the back of my neck, searching for a bump and my fingers brushed over a raised piece of skin. With a sinking feeling, I knew there was no way to escape.

  Varick was watching me again and I dropped my hand, not wanting him to see me afraid. But, of course, I was terrified. Of him, of this place, of the creature that had attacked me and, most of all, of what lay beyond the huge wooden door at the end of the corridor. It was held in place by metal chains attached to the ceiling and, as Varick turned a massive wheel on the wall, the door slowly lowered, forming a bridge.

  A sheet of snow hid the view beyond it, whipping across the land in a storm. We all huddled together as a horn blared through the castle, deafeningly loud.

  Varick pointed toward the bridge and we shuffled out onto it, grouped together in a tight cluster.

  I glanced back and Varick's eyes locked with mine, his expression seeming to say, “Run.”

  Selena

  Ice. Snow. Night.

  There was nothing but those three things beyond the wooden bridge. I squinted to try and see further, but snowflakes skated and danced through the air, forming a curtain before us.

  Then something snagged my attention. Something that sent a chill down my already frozen spine.

  Bones.

  They crunched beneath our boots as we shuffled forward, clinging to each other in a throng of bodies. Bodies, I realised, that were sitting ducks for whatever was out here to hunt us. If anything Varick had said was true, we needed to split up, run, get as far away from this place as possible.

  “Cass, move,” I hissed, her fingernails tearing into my arm. I treasured the pain, knowing it confirmed her presence, my eyes darting left and right through the veil of snow around us.

  The bascule bridge creaked as it moved upwards, stranding us on the island for good.

  One of the girls, Maria, in her sunshine yellow dress, darted toward the rising platform, screaming as she tried to reach the edge of it above her head.

  “Maria!” Briony screeched, darting toward her as Maria teetered on the cliff edge. The sea water roared below, crashing against the endlessly sharp rocks. It was barely visible through the fog of snow, but the sheerness of the cliff walls alone was enough to invoke fear.

  Maria's boots slipped from beneath her and Briony gripped her waist, dragging her back so they both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

  “Selena,” Cass hissed, but I couldn't drag my eyes from the cliff. She shook my arm until I turned to her, finding her eyes trained on the snow before us.

  Dark figures drew closer in the mist. The longer we stood there, the more vulnerable we became.

  A sucking, sniffing sounded as they approached.

  “Go.” I shoved Cass, not wanting to be around when the Vs emerged.

  She stumbled over the hem of her long dress, gathering it up in her hands as we darted away from the other girls.

  Footsteps pounded after us as the group followed. I glanced over my shoulder and the Vs descended on us.

  Kite barged past me, faster than any of us as she took off into the snow and disappeared in an instant.

  The wind swept across my path, surrounding us in a fog of white so I lost sight of the girls behind us.

  But the screams didn't escape me.

  I drew freezing breath after freezing breath into my laboured lungs, trying to focus on nothing but not falling as I ran, keeping my dress knotted up in my hands.

  A scream cut short, followed by a vile gargling I knew I would never be able to wipe from my memory. Cass was just ahead, her long legs outpacing mine as I hurried to keep up.

  The snowfall never let up, obscuring everything, both before us and behind. I kept my eyes on the swishing, dancing red hair of Cass ahead of me, stumbling over loose rocks and the ice that clung to the ground. The snow began to settle, so much so that we had to slow down, struggling through the thickening inches beneath our boots.

  We hurried on for what felt like hours, walking until my legs ached and my lungs were raw. But we never stopped, not once, terrified of what was pursuing us out here.

  A rush of air ruffled my hair and I ducked instinctively, clutching the stake tightly in my hand. Wheeling around, I saw only shadows dancing in the mist, but a strangled scream made every part of me shake.

  The brief moment of distraction had separated me from the group. Cass was no longer visible and as I turned, left, right, round and round in circles, all I could see was the ever-pressing white mist.

  I tried to slow my breathing, but no matter how hard I tried, it continued to drag raggedly from my lungs, seeming as loud as an alarm bell in my ears.

  A crunch to my right made me slap a hand to my mouth. My fingers were numb, trembling, turning my lips to ice the longer I held them there.

  Whispers filled the air like hushed prayers, working their way into my head. “Be still. Don't run, children. Come to us.”

  The lulling voice soothed my heartbeat for a moment and I nearly removed the hand from my mouth.

  Snow clumped in my hair, melting as it reached my skin beneath and sliding down my neck in a cool trickle. My hand began to move, seemingly of its own accord. I struggled to force the voices from my head, blinking out of my stupor.

  I remained stock still, my heart in my throat.

  “Here's one,” a sharp female voice cut through the mist.

  I pinched my noise, my lungs burning for air. Footsteps sounded so close by, I was sure whoever was there was just feet away.

  “Come here pretty girl,” a rough male voice joined the first.

  “Hello?” a girl's voice sounded nearby. I shook my head in horror, wanting to call out to tell them to run, but knowing I couldn't.

  “So pretty, all that long yellow hair.”

  It wasn't me they'd found. And I despised myself for how much relief I felt for that.

  “No more games, I'm starving,” the male voice said and a scuffle sounded, then a loud thump as something heavy hit the ground.

  A blood-curdling scream reached to high heaven, making me want to claw at my ears just so I didn't have to hear it a second longer.

  Tears sailed down my cheeks as I used the girl's death to hide my escape, fleeing at a sprint, running faster than I'd ever run before. How could I leave her? What kind of person did that make me?

  As I fled, my legs gave way beneath me and I slammed into the ground, the stake flying from my grip. I gasped in horror, desperate to find it, scrabbling through the snow.

  “What was that?” a voice hissed close by. Too close.
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  With a wrenching feeling, I abandoned my plight, standing and sprinting away. I was desperate as I traversed the uneven ground, trying to escape, losing my footing again and again.

  A new noise eventually reached to me from the distance: the gushing of fast water. I scrambled my way toward it, practically blind in the snowstorm, clambering down a rocky hill in the pressing darkness.

  The tears on my cheeks had frozen to two trails of ice, leaving my face numb from the cold.

  As I reached the bottom of the hill, the mist lifted.

  Snowflakes melted as they hit the obsidian river before me and the rising, rocky walls made me feel as though I were encased within a bowl. A waterfall flooded the space with a cacophonous roaring that I prayed would cover the sound of my movements.

  Picking my way across the rocks, I moved along the shore, growing closer to the falls. The spray clung to my hair so it curled around me, glistening with water droplets and flecks of white snow.

  How I was ever going to survive the night without getting hypothermia was challenge enough, let alone without those bloodthirsty creatures hunting me too.

  A cave was my salvation; not much more than a dent in the rocks like huge knuckles had once taken a swing at the wall. Inside, it was mostly dry, and that would have to be enough. The cold bit at my skin and I huddled within my cloak, clutching it tightly around my shivering shoulders.

  Death lurked in plain sight. Death by teeth, death by ice, death by exhaustion. These were just a few of my options. But in my frigid state, my teeth chattering and my body rocking a rhythmic pattern back and forth, I found a memory to cling to. Admittedly, it could be considered a bitter one. But to me it tasted sweeter than honey.

  The moment my mother found me: my stepfather's body slumped on top of mine. I lay panting in a pool of heated blood, blood that had seeped over my skin. I never realised how warm it was, and considering the man my stepfather had been, I'd have guessed he was a cold-blooded creature.

  Mum had rolled the body off of mine and I extracted the blade from his belly. He'd died so quickly. I had no idea it would be that way. And in all honesty, I hadn't thought through the process of killing him. But a kitchen knife had been tucked into the folds of my pillow case for months.

  As I sat rocking, the persistent rattle of my teeth in my ears and the roar of water beyond the cave, I thought of the way the blood had felt on my skin. I relived the relief, then the resulting tears, hugging my mother until she too was drenched in his blood. We waited too long to call the police. That was my mistake. The one they pinned on me in court. Where was the remorse? What kind of teenager stabbed their stepfather and didn't shed a tear? It didn't matter what I'd said about the abuse. There was no proof. Of course I'd say that. And my stepfather had been an upstanding man in the community. He even donated generously to the local church.

  I released a breath, watching as it turned to vapour before my eyes.

  Still alive.

  Still breathing.

  Using the cuff on my wrist for light, I spotted the remains of an old fire, the wood was nearly burnt to a crisp. It had long since been put out and I wondered if these 'games' were held regularly.

  Lighting it could be a death wish. The smoke could alert the Vs to my presence. But the snow had soaked me through to the bone and, now that my adrenaline had subsided, I was shivering uncontrollably.

  Perhaps another twenty minutes passed before my resolve finally broke.

  Taking the matches from my bag, I stripped off small pieces of the box, gathering them into a pile before arranging them beneath the most salvageable log. I crumbled the charred ends of it so more kindling was added to the cardboard before striking the first match. It took three more to set the log alight, but it burned bright, crackling with red sparks as the bark was devoured.

  If the spectators were watching, and no doubt they were, many probably just ripped up their betting slips for having chosen me as their winner. I tapped the cuff on my wrist, illuminating the map. Perhaps no more than a hundred acres was highlighted in blue on the hologram. Far to the west of the castle, on a corner of the island that tapered into a sharp point, sat a flashing red beacon: our first checkpoint. I had eleven hours left to make it there. And right then, that didn't seem like much time.

  As the fire grew, I shed my cloak, laying it out to dry beside it. My hands soon regained feeling and my lips no longer felt like two lumps of ice clinging to my face.

  My instincts told me fire and smoke were bound to draw the attention of my hunters. I just had to hope they had more easy targets to occupy them. However dark that thought was.

  Soon, the constant gushing of the waterfall and the flicker of the firelight offered the illusion of safety. I curled up like a child before the flames, thinking over my next move. I couldn't waste much more time. Reaching my fingers toward the fire as close as I could manage without burning myself, I resolved to give myself a little longer in its embrace before I moved. Besides, it seemed like a reasonable idea to wait until some of the girls had journeyed away from this area, drawing the Vs away with them.

  Every new sound that reached my ears made my body twitch and jolt. Soon I'd be plunged into darkness, forced to face the cold once more.

  A noise made me sit up; a pebble overturned by a shoe. Standing, I readied myself to face whatever came at me. It was too late to douse the fire. If a Vampire was close, it already knew I was here.

  Varick

  The Helsings insisted I watched the games. In part, to remind me what awaited me if I disobeyed them. And, I suspected, to keep the spectators in line, too. The Helsings may have had me under control, but the men didn't know that, and I was certain they were left to make their own conclusions about me. To them, I was one of the vicious Vs like those out in the game, tearing the heads off innocent girls. Well, as innocent as their criminal records showed.

  Taking girls from prisons was a new idea brought in from the last generation of Helsings. In the modern age, it wasn't as easy to abduct women without the whole world finding out. So the idea was to choose women that few people cared about and Charm anyone who questioned their disappearance. Charming guards into believing a prisoner had died in the night was simpler than convincing the whole world to stop looking for some innocent country girl. The sad truth was, no one cared about anyone who had landed themselves in a maximum security prison. And no one would listen to their families either.

  It sat better with the Helsings, too, knowing the girls were a bunch of murderers and felons themselves. They even preached it to their new clients, so they needn't feel guilty for participating in the blood sport. Not that I thought the spectators cared either way. The numbers had remained remarkably similar for hundreds of years, and I for one, had witnessed the dark nature of these men.

  The auditorium was laden with velvet chairs and betting tables where the men could spend more money as they kept one eye on the screens surrounding the room. I sat in the crescent of seats at the edge of the room, remaining in the shadows. My eyes were pinned on the screen showing Selena, curled around a fire.

  I'd nearly bitten off my tongue when she'd lost her stake. Now she would have to reach the first checkpoint without a weapon. And though this may have been the easiest round of the game, with just four Vampires released to hunt them, she still had drastically reduced her chances of survival by losing it. My hopes of her survival were, of course, rooted in the fact I got to drink from the winners. And her blood was like nothing I'd ever smelt. The problem was, the Vs in the game would soon figure that out, too. Making her a prime target. And the thought was driving me mad.

  My eyes flicked to another girl: the redhead who had arrived with Selena. She'd reached the hot springs on the island and was huddled around a steaming geezer. That area of the island was probably the safest. The scent of the sulphur would cover the girls' own, and the hot water would keep them alive. The only problem was, the Vs knew that. And it wouldn't be long before they ran a sweep through that area to se
e if any of the girls had stumbled upon it. The advantage was always with them. Unless the Vs were recently turned, they knew the island like the back of their hand. And the games were the only time they were let loose from their holding cells.

  If it were me, I'd have been as ravenous as they were. When a Vampire was deprived of blood for months, there was nothing left of us but thirst. So, in a twisted way, I pitied them.

  A cry went up across the room as a bald, portly man won a hand at poker. He gathered up the chips which were coloured red, stamped with the H of the Helsings. Money and blood, that's what this place was home to. Not much different from the sea life I'd once lived. But I'd never seen myself like these men. At least back then I had bet my life in a hand for gold, and blood had been spilt from my enemies, not in some organised game.

  I'd always managed to keep a healthy distance from this scene, showing my face only as much as I had to during the season. Now, I sat rigidly in my chair and didn't plan on vacating it until I was sent to the first checkpoint to meet with today's survivors. I wondered how quickly they would realise that polar night currently reigned on this island. If any of them were waiting for the sun to rise and save them, they'd be sorely disappointed.

  “Varick!” Abraham's voice boomed across the hall.

  I tilted my head in acknowledgement as he marched toward me through the crowd. He was dressed in a smart suit and tie, his huge form towering above most of the heads in the room.

  As he reached the bottom of the seating area, he jerked his chin, commanding that I come down.

  Bored already by whatever conversation he wanted to have with me, I rose gracefully from my seat and moved toward him.

  A hush fell over the room as the men closest to me noticed my movement, all eyes drawn to mine. As I halted on the last step before Abraham, he shot out a hand and took hold of my shirt, tugging roughly forward. I resisted his Hunter strength, but the menace in his eyes warned me to comply.

  “Do you want a shot of silver in front of the entire room?” he snarled, threateningly reaching into the inside of his jacket, no doubt to retrieve the remote that could unleash a torrent of pain on me.