Wolf Games (The Vampire Games Book 4)

by Caroline Peckham

  After a moment's thought, I grunted a confirmation, hiding my delight from Ulvic. It was a decent plan. And I had to hope that if Mekiah and Reason were freed, we could all run away and never have to see Ulvic again.

  My eyes glided upwards to Ulvic's enormous duffel bag, stowed in the rack above my head. It was packed to the brim with weapons. And hopefully a change of boxers, too. But mostly weapons. Funny thing about life, you can walk onto a train with an arsenal and not even have to pass through a metal detector. Take that bag to an airport, however, and you'd be eating a bullet before you got anywhere near plane food.

  Ulvic started asking me another question and I made a show of putting my earphone back in, turning casually away. Sucker.

  My iPod was on shuffle – and there was some seriously random songs on there – but it picked that moment to play Owl City's Fireflies.

  Thanks for the reminder universe.

  My heart longed for Cass. My little Lightning Bug.

  I sighed, squashing my cheek against the window.

  I made a mental note to apologise to Mercy. I needed allies on this trip. And she was helping me out here. Risking her neck. I reckoned she had some guilt issues. Most likely, she was only here to make up for all the crap she'd done in the past. But she'd lost her parents barely two weeks ago. And that was messed up, even if they had been bloodthirsty lunatics who liked to throw girls into death games.

  The train slowed as it pulled into a station – if you could call a concrete platform with a single bench a station. And evidently in this part of Norway, they did. My iPod promptly died and I scowled, packing it away in my bag. Note to self: buy portable charger.

  The station name was unreadable to my own eyes. We were in...Hvordetikkelyserlys. Um. Yeah. That.

  “It means 'where no light shines',” Ulvic said.

  “Ohh,” I cooed over-dramatically. “So we're in the arsehole of Norway? Yay.”

  Ulvic's jaw ticked as he stood, dragging his bag from the rack and tossing it over his shoulder as if it was as light as a feather. Definitely wasn't.

  I followed, shouldering my own pack, arm locked tightly around Nadine's waist. “Have a nice sleep?” I asked, nuzzling her. Effing Nuzzling.

  Mercy was waiting for us on the platform and I floated in her direction, muttering, “Sorry for what I said.” I gave her a smile and added, “You can be a poet if you really set your heart on it. Just take a course or something.”

  She laughed, satisfying me that our bridges had been rebuilt.

  I turned to Ulvic. “So does this Hor-tit-erlis have a bathroom? I need a piss.”

  “Hvordetikkelyserlys,” Ulvic corrected sharply. “And no. you'll have to go in the trees.”

  “Super.” I marched away, slipping between the boughs.

  A crow watched me pee, cawing loudly. Creepy? Check.

  It flew down to the ground several feet away, pecking at something. Tugging up my fly, I headed across the dead leaves, curiosity getting the better of me.

  The wind picked up and the scent of death sailed into my nose. A scent I knew way too well for my own liking.

  I raised a hand to my nose, dropping down to the corpse the crow was pecking at. A wolf corpse.

  I lurched away, scrambling to regain my feet. It wasn't too long dead, and its head was horribly disfigured from the bullet that had taken it out. My heart beat out of tune.

  It's not Mekiah or Reason. It's not them.

  Was it even a Werewolf? I couldn't tell. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe some farmer had shot it for taking his sheep. But I didn't like the feeling of dread growing inside me.

  Taking a shallow breath, I headed back to the platform where the others were waiting. I heard Ulvic explaining the plan to Mercy as I arrived.

  “Everything okay?” Nadine asked me, her gaze inquisitive.

  I didn't want to upset her and besides, we knew we were heading toward a Werewolf Hunter. I didn't need to give them the grim reminder.

  “Yep.” I slapped a grin on my face and she took my hand.

  “This way,” Ulvic said, guiding us uphill into the trees - in the opposite direction of the dead wolf thankfully.

  Unless Ulvic had grown up in a hollow beneath a tree – and I wouldn't put it past him considering his fashion sense – I reckoned we had a long walk ahead of us.

  Four hours later, in the depths of a woodland so thick, even I wasn't sure I could find my way out, I was proved right. God I hated being right all the time.

  Cass

  I'd never been on a cruise before. It was one of those things I'd fantasised about as a kid, though. I had a vague memory of sitting on an ashy carpet between my father's legs. The television had seen its day somewhere back in the early 90s. It was grainy and had a few busted pixels, but I couldn't remember ever caring. The adverts would roll between my father's favourite show, The Bill. Which had to be the cheesiest police drama in the UK.

  But it was the holiday adverts that stuck with me, more than any episode of that show ever had. Maybe because I'd wanted out of my home so badly. I could still hear Cliff Richard singing about summer holidays, the camera panning over a cruise ship, fading between smiling families with glowing skin, glistening swimming pools, a rainbow of cocktails. Even the crew had looked disgustingly happy.

  My cruise was not turning out like those adverts. I'd been locked away somewhere on the lower decks, shut in what looked like a boiler room. The whistling and hissing of pipes drowned my senses, driving me mad as the hours ticked by.

  Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

  It was better treatment than I'd expected, all things considered. After Silas had made his claim on me, I'd launched myself at him, trying to gouge his eyes out. He was frighteningly strong, and between him and his men, they'd quickly subdued me. But I was left wondering what the hell Silas was, exactly. Was he Immortal like me? Perhaps he was another screwed up Hybrid. Did he draw the line at experimenting on himself? Or was it just Immortals who got the lab rat experience?

  I sighed, perching on a large pipe which ran across the back wall. I'd been given some clothes to wear at last, even if they did look like something from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. My outfit consisted of a stripey crop top and flared jeans. Flared, for Christ's sake.

  The heavy door – which I'd repeatedly tried to break through – clunked as it opened. I sprang to my feet, but before I could brace myself for a fight, a tray slid into the room and the door slammed shut again. The snapping of bolts followed.

  I scowled, moving toward the tray and dropping down to a crouch, inspecting the contents. A bowl of cornflakes sat beside a jug of blood. A note was tucked under the jug, written in beautiful cursive handwriting. I extracted it with a frown.

  Congratulations. You're now a cibussanguitarian.

  Translation: a creature whose diet consists of both food and blood.

  Helpful tip: replace fluids with blood (e.g blood instead of milk on your cereal)

  Best,

  Silas

  P.S Remember you're eating for two now.

  “Hilarious,” I muttered, picking up the blood and pouring it over the cornflakes. I was hungry, in both senses of the word, but before I dunked the plastic spoon into the actually pretty appetising-looking meal, I paused.

  Silas wanted me to eat. He was trying to protect his 'assets' - i.e, me and the god-only-knew-what-kind-of-hybrid embryo that was growing inside me.

  I pushed the meal back toward the door, banging my fist on it. “If Silas wants me to eat, he'd better find me somewhere more comfortable to do so!”

  The workings of a plan started to come together in my mind. Step 1: get a little power back from Silas. The only bargaining chip I had was looking after my own body. Or not looking after it, so he'd have to give me what I asked for. And what I wanted was to see someone from The Sanctuary. Someone I knew, preferably. But I'd settle on any resident at this point. Someone I could make a plan to escape with...

  I ignored two more meals: spaghetti and
meatballs with a blood-based sauce, and strawberry cheesecake with – what a surprise – a blood syrup. And just when it was dawning on me that my hunger strike was probably going to have to be endured for days, possibly even weeks before I got a response, the door opened.

  Silas stepped into the room, his suit jacket removed, his tie loose as if he'd just finished a long day at work. A long day mutilating Immortals, I imagined.

  I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to speak.

  Silas's black and gold eyes trailed over the three trays of food on the floor, then drifted to me. He made a show of unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his shirt sleeves. I braced myself, wondering if he was going to attempt to intimidate me into eating.

  I could take a beating just fine, and I kind of wanted the fight just so I could get a shot at making a mark on his perfect face. But a small voice in the back my mind reminded me of the little being inside me that might not be so resilient in a fist fight. A golf ball seemed to bob in my throat. I shouldn't have cared. The thing inside me was leverage. That. Was. All.

  “My men inform me you aren't eating,” Silas said calmly. “They also inform me that you have been proposing to make a deal with me?”

  I was thrown by his infallible calm. I probably shouldn't have been. He'd not so much as flinched when I'd tried to rip his eyes from their sockets earlier that day. But the more calm he was, the more unnerved I became. Which, I guessed, was the idea.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, my spine straightening. “If you want me to eat, then I'll do it in a comfortable room.”

  “Fine,” he said simply, and I barrelled on, confused by his willingness to comply.

  “And I want a window.”

  “Done.”

  “And- and I want to see someone from The Sanctuary.”

  He hesitated, his Michelangelo lips pursing slightly before he said, “Agreed.”

  I was stumped, gazing at him, expecting a catch.

  “Anything else?” He raised a brow.

  “A lifeboat and a phone?” I tried.

  His face split into a grin and he turned on his heel, heading back to the door. I remained in place until he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Coming?”

  I followed, eyeing him suspiciously as he held the door wide for me.

  “I could run,” I warned, spotting only one masked crony in the corridor.

  “You could, but that didn't work out so well for you earlier, did it Firefly?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, knowing I was trapped. What was the point in running off when all I'd be running toward was an endless ocean? I didn't even know which ocean. No, until I had more information and a better plan, I had to behave.

  I stepped into the corridor and Silas moved at my side, his arm brushing mine as we walked. “No more attempted eye-gouging please,” he said, but I didn't respond.

  I caught the sound of the guard following us as Silas continued, “I'm rather fond of my eyes. If you must attack me again, go for my ears. I could use an excuse to get them remodelled.” He glanced at me, his eyes shining with mirth. He was actually attempting to joke with me. Was he completely deluded?

  What he'd inadvertently done, however, was tell me one of his weaknesses. His looks. I glanced at his ears, fixing a convincing frown on my face. “You're right. They do stick out a bit.”

  His smile didn't falter, but his left eye twitched.

  Ooh, did that hurt, Mr Beautiful?

  We entered a large lift with worn blue carpet and a huge mirror at the back. We travelled up several levels and Silas guided me into a corridor full of passenger cabins. The wood was faded and flaking in places, but at the end of the corridor, he dipped a key-card into a freshly painted door. We stepped into a large cabin. It was clearly lived in; suit jackets and shirts were thrown haphazardly on a sofa in front of a veiled window. A large bed took up one end of the room with white sheets and cushy pillows.

  The carpet reminded me of the one I'd grown up with in my living room. Little cream fleur-de-lyses ran across its red surface. I'd stepped back into the past, and it felt as familiar as my childhood home. The ship was old: 90s old. The once-fine luxury was now dated and screaming for someone to put it out of its misery.

  I folded my arms, halting by the door. “I'm guessing there are hundreds of rooms on this ship, so why are you giving me the one that looks like it was slept in last night?”

  “Because it was slept in last night.” Silas rounded on me, a glint in his eye. “This is my room.”

  “Yours..?” I trailed off, unsure where he was going with this. Did he want me to stay in his room with him? Because that was messed up. For a hundred reasons.

  “It's comfortable...has a window...and I'll shortly bring one of your Sanctuary buddies here for you to 'hang out with'.” He air-quoted the words, his eyes betraying his amusement.

  “So this is temporary?” I guessed.

  “Nope.” He gestured to the bed. “I don't sleep much anyway. And when I do, it's usually passed out in my office. A lot of the rooms need work, this one lacks mould and doesn't have a draft. So it's yours.” His smile widened. “And I get to keep an eye on my new favourite possession.”

  I bit my tongue, very hard to stop a retort slipping from my mouth.

  “Possessions. Sorry.” He winked, side-stepping past me toward the door. “I'll fetch you a friend. What were you thinking? Male? Female? Tall? Short?”

  “Surprise me,” I said dryly. But at the last moment blurted, “Tall, dark hair, navy blue eyes.”

  Kodiak. The first person to spring to mind.

  “That's not your boyfriend, is it? Because that one's not looking so hot anymore.”

  My heart beat harder and harder. “What have you done to him?”

  He gripped his collar, looking awkward. “Well...my father tried to do the same thing to him, that he did to you. It was pretty touch and go there for a while, but he pulled through...sort of.” He drifted toward the door again, before pausing. “Oh, I nearly forgot your other half is a Werewolf, isn't he? Unless you're playing the field. Which I'd completely respect, by the way. No judgment here. I'd just like to know for sure what species you're brewing in there.” He pointed at my tummy, clearly teasing me again.

  I rolled my eyes, not dignifying that comment with an answer.

  “Werewolf Daddy it is, then.” The door clicked shut and I was left to wait in agitated silence.

  A gold clock ticked loudly on a mantelpiece above an ornamental fireplace. I tried to ignore it, but each tick of the second hand soon became as painful as blood pulsing behind a bruise. After several minutes, I walked over to it and caved the back of it in with my thumb, forcing the sound to stop.

  The door opened and I swung around, the clock falling to the floor, hitting the hideous carpet with a heavy thud.

  I nearly didn't recognise him, but those navy eyes met mine and relief poured through me. Followed by a burning wave of anger. Silas nudged Kodiak toward me, gave me an apologetic frown then marched promptly from the room again.

  “Oh Kodiak, what have they done to you?” I gasped.

  He was a beast, his muscles having doubled in size; the shirt he was wearing was clearly too small and a few of the buttons had popped off. It looked like someone had tried to make him presentable. His smart trousers fit him though, where his hips narrowed to a normal size. But it was his face which had changed the most. His brow jutted forward and made a sharp V-shape above his heavily shadowed eyes. His jaw was wider, allowing space for the four sharp canines, top and bottom which slightly protruded from his mouth.

  I wasn't the touchy-feely type. But this deserved a hug. I wrapped my arms around him. His shoulders were too broad for me to reach all the way around and he stiffened as I gripped him.

  “I don't need your pity,” he growled. His voice was deeper, colder, gruffer.

  I stepped away, cupping his cheek. Although we weren't exactly best friends, he had wormed his way into my heart in the past few weeks. “I don't pity
you,” I breathed. “I'm angry for you.”

  He took my hand from his face, squeezing it slightly before placing it back at my side. “I killed seven men when I woke up. I was like an animal, Cass. I tore them apart with my teeth. And I'm not even starved. I feel hungry all the time. They feed me raw meat. Meat, not blood, Cass.”

  “Shh.” I flapped a hand. “Don't say my name.” I glanced around the room, but suspected the one place this ship wouldn't have cameras was this room. Another puzzle as to why Silas had brought me here.

  “They say I'm...” Kodiak shook his head, his already low brow descending further. “That I'm part Werewolf.”

  I nodded slowly and his eyes trailed from my face to the sun shining in the window behind me. “You're-” His eyes widened. “How's that possible?”

  “I'm part Werewolf, too,” I breathed.

  “But you're not like me,” he growled, confused.

  “No...” I shook my head, guilty from the thought that passed through my mind, this could have happened to me. “But I am different.”

  Kodiak nodded slowly, before glancing at the door over his shoulder. “We need to find the others, we need to get out of here. Have you seen anyone else?” His eyes burned holes through my head and I knew there was someone particular on his mind. Thames. Had the humans been brought here too? “No. And Silas won't tell me much, only that a lot of people died when they brought us here from The Sanctuary.”

  “Silas?” he scoffed. “You're on first name terms with him?”

  I bit my lip as I realised I might have been the only one who'd been offered any kind of special treatment around here. Which I guessed was because I was of value to Silas and his illusive father as a 'successful' Hybrid. Not to mention the other reason. I suddenly became uncomfortable about the fact a stranger like Silas knew my secret and none of my friends did. But talking to Kodiak about it wasn't an appealing idea. As soon as I voiced the truth, it would become real. Then I'd have to deal with it. And I had enough problems to focus on without making huge, life-altering decisions.

  Am I going to keep it? Will I even have a choice?