Wolf Games (The Vampire Games Book 4)

by Caroline Peckham

  The guy took hold of the cuffs, dragging me out of my cell. I didn't bother fighting back. I'd clearly have to cooperate until I could suss out this place.

  I gazed toward Mekiah and Reason's cells, getting a better look at them. Maybe a little thinner, but not hurt. So that was a plus.

  Nadine watched me, holding onto the bars of her cell door as she watched my escort tug me down the corridor.

  “Where are you taking him?” she called and I gave her what I hoped was a comforting expression.

  My guard leant close to my ear and his hot breath washed over me, making me grimace. “One wrong move, Jameson Fairfax, and I'll hurt her, not you.”

  I set my jaw, trying not to show my reaction to that, but his dark chuckle told me he'd seen it. “She's got some nice curves on her. Shame she's a disgusting Werewolf.”

  I hoped that meant he wouldn't lay a finger on her, but I suspected this guy's morals were as greasy as his moustache.

  We headed up an icy staircase, our boots thumping against the grey stones. I was fairly sure we emerged in a dark cellar which was in need of some serious TLC, but I didn't get much time to form an opinion as Moustachio shoved me forward and someone's fist smashed into my face.

  I stumbled, head spinning. Another punch landed on my jaw, knocking me on my arse. W...T...F?

  I gazed up at the arsehole who'd just signed his own death warrant. I got a glimpse of two beady black eyes and a man so hairy, he's put me to shame in my wolf form, then his boot slammed into my forehead.

  I hit concrete, a bubble of blood forming over my mouth as I spoke. “You're a dead man.”

  His boot came at me again, but this time I was ready. I rolled, catching his ankle and tried to pull his feet out from under him. No luck. He ripped his foot from my grip and I had half a second to get to my feet. Which I took every advantage of.

  I sprang upright, throwing my shoulder full-force into his chest, but my strength wasn't what it normally was. He was twice as broad as me, which was saying a lot, and apparently made of stone. Pain lanced through my arm, but I didn't stop fighting. With a grunt of annoyance, I brought my bound fists up to meet his jaw. He deflected the blow and knocked me to the floor again.

  “That's enough, Jax,” Moustachio growled.

  “I just like to see their faces when they realise they can't fight me, Lynch,” Jax snort-laughed.

  “Take this collar off and I'll be happy to go for round two,” I drawled, rolling onto my knees. I was not going to be rattled by getting knocked down. I may have lost the battle, but I'd win the war.

  Just give me time suckers.

  Jax stepped toward me, cracking his knuckles.

  “Hund wants him tenderised, not dead.” Moustachio AKA Lynch said, halting Jax.

  “Fair enough. Hund's son's got a thing for pretty boys, I hear,” Jax taunted.

  “That so?” Lynch dropped his hands to his knees and gazed down at me. “You been hooking up with a Hunter, kid?”

  Kid? Who the hell did this guy think he was?

  I didn't know what these shitheads had been told, so had no choice but to stick to the plan. “Ulvic was my prisoner and I was trying to make a reasonable trade. But then you went and shot a dart in my neck and screwed up my plan.”

  “Bullshit,” Lynch said casually. “We know about Ulvic and his filthy pack of Werewolves.”

  Jax snort-laughed again. “Reckon he's gonna be real upset to see his boyfriend all beat up.”

  “Boyfriend?” I almost laughed. Yeah, me and Ulvic were about the most unlikely people to hook up in the world. Ever. And not because he was into men and I wasn't.

  “Yeah,” Jax growled, stepping closer, speaking a word on every footfall. “Dirty. Little. Homo.”

  My gut shrivelled. I might not have liked Ulvic, hell I hated him. But intolerance? That was not my jam.

  I rose to my feet, grinding my jaw. “Wanna say that again, pal? Not sure I heard you right. It sounded like you were being an ignorant shitbag. Was that about right?”

  Lynch stepped between us before Jax threw another punch at me. “Move.” He dragged me away from Jax, leading me into another staircase.

  “Are you a homophobic shitbag, too?” I raised my brows at him and he glared back at me. His moustache twitched. “I just need to know so I can reorganise my kill list. Your name's currently listed under 'general assholes', but I reckon I could narrow it down. You'd fit in nicely under 'ignorant pricks with unfortunate facial hair', but also 'uggly-ass, hot-tempered douchebags'. I'm undecided-” Lynch slammed my face into a brick wall.

  The horrific sound of a boot crushing a snail is the exact noise my nose made when it broke.

  “Muvverthucker,” I said through a mouthful of blood. I spat a wad of it at his feet.

  Lynch clamped a hand around my throat, pinning me to the wall he'd just broken my face on. Guy was Hulk-strong, but if I'd had one ounce of the strength I normally had, he'd have been dead fifteen minutes ago. “You listen to me, kid. This cocky bullshit is gonna last all of five seconds upstairs. So you better learn to keep that flapping mouth of yours shut, or I'll put a bullet in your brain right here, right now and head back downstairs for Nadine instead.”

  I gave him an even stare that I hoped communicated all the ways I was going to hurt him when I got my chance.

  Lynch licked his lips, looking ready to snap. “Your death won't even make me blink. And if you think I won't do it...” He took the Flintlock pistol from his waistband, cocked it and pressed the barrel to my forehead. “One word. Go on. Say one more cocky little word and I'll pull the trigger. Make. My. Day.”

  My instinct was to throw more insults at him to show him how many craps I didn't give. But, okay, I did give a couple of craps. I was kinda fond of my face. So having it splattered all over the wall behind me wasn't on today's to-do list. I was already mega-pissed that a good portion of it was currently snapped and dripping blood.

  Lynch smiled satisfactorily, lowering the pistol. “That wasn't so hard, was it kid?”

  I remained silent, grinding my teeth to dust. I was so over being a prisoner. But it didn't look like I had much choice again.

  Lynch guided me upstairs and my nose started to throb like a bitch. Lynch unbolted a door at the top of the stairs and we stepped into a quiet hallway of wooden floorboards. It was sparsely decorated, with a couple of deer heads on the walls. The whole place was screaming out for a feather duster. Scrap that. This place needed the team from D.I.Y S.O.S to storm in here, bulldoze the place and rebuild it from the ground up.

  Lynch dragged me along and my nose dribbled blood as we walked through the hallway.

  He pushed me through a door and I emerged in large dining room with dark green walls and a huge table at the heart of it. It was laid out with food and wine, and sitting at it was Ulvic and an old guy I didn't know. From his weathered face and grisly grey hair, I wouldn't have spotted the relation to Ulvic, but it was his eyes which gave it away. The exact same shade, shape and low brows. Apart from that, Alfric Hund looked like his skin had melted, hanging from his bones like dripping candle wax.

  Ulvic stiffened as he spotted me. He was dressed in an old-fashioned suit that belonged in a museum, but it was nothing compared to his father's get-up. He wore a mauve neck-tie to match his button-down jacket. A shiny black cane rested against his high-backed chair, the silver head of it shaped like a wolf skull.

  “Here we are, Lord Alfric.” Lynch jammed his pistol into my spine so I shifted forward again.

  My thighs bumped into the end of the table and I gazed across the roasted bird in the middle of it, straight at Ulvic's father. I had him to blame for a lot of my problems, I reckoned. Ulvic hadn't turned into a self-centred prick all on his lonesome. No, he'd had an abusive father and a lack of affection to help with that.

  Beyond the steady drip of blood from my face, there was no sound in the room.

  “Where's Mercy?” I demanded.

  “Alive,” Ulvic said quickly and Alfric
slammed a hand down on the table to shut him up.

  Ulvic's face became blotchy, but his knuckles were turning white on the silver cutlery in his fists.

  “Lynch,” Alfric commanded, prompting him to act.

  Lynch grabbed the back of my neck, slammed me down onto the table, sending a silver goblet flying. A plate broke beneath my face. I growled through my teeth as I fought against him.

  Useless.

  Wonderful.

  “Now...I'm tired of your lies, Ulvic. I'd like you to tell me the truth,” his father said, his voice gruff.

  “I've told you the tr-truth,” Ulvic stuttered. “Jameson brought me here as a c-captive. He wants his p-pack m-members back.”

  “Then you won't mind if I have him killed?” Alfric asked, leaning back in his chair, his gnarled fingers curling around the armrests.

  My heart rate shot upwards. I strained my muscles and Lynch's arm gave a little, but not enough.

  I'd gotten out of tight spots before, but this one was tighter than a camel's butthole in a sandstorm.

  “That's n-not n-necessary,” Ulvic tried, but in my opinion, he wasn't trying nearly hard enough. Maybe this would have been an easy way out of his guilt, though. After all, he'd let me kill most of our pack without much care. I had no reason to believe I wasn't as expendable as them. If not more so now that I actively rebelled against everything he said.

  “It might not be n-n-necessary,” Alfric mocked Ulvic. “But if, as you say, this Werewolf turned on you, brought you here against your will-”

  “Enough,” Ulvic hissed.

  “Do you admit it then, son? That this wolf is your friend? Or will you continue to deny the extent of your betrayal to me?”

  From my awkward angle on the table, I couldn't quite catch Ulvic's expression. But my guess was, he was crapping his tighty-whiteys.

  “I-er-I-” Ulvic stuttered on, making me shut my eyes and pray to god he was going to find some of that courage that floated around his system occasionally. “Alright. He's mine.” Pride filled his voice and I wrinkled my nose. “I tamed him,” Ulvic growled, his stutter absent now. “And I'll be damned if you're going to take him from me.” A thump sounded his fist hitting the table.

  “Ah, there we have it. The truth,” Alfric announced triumphantly. “My Werewolf-loving son finally admits what he is.”

  “I don't want any trouble,” Ulvic growled. “I'm here for my wolves. I know Ignus Helsing sent them to you.” As he spoke his ex-lover's name, his voice quavered.

  Alfric laughed loudly; it was dry and rattling and vaguely reminded me of a blocked hoover. “Of course you are. Why did you think I bought them from him in the first place?” Silence reigned until he answered his own question. “I have no other heirs, Ulvic. I am growing old. And I've had enough of this feud between us. I took the Werewolves in hopes you'd come for them.”

  It was unexpected, but something told me a hug and a handshake was not going to fix this bitterness between them.

  “You've had your fun. Now it's time to stand together again. As a family. There are far fewer Hunters in the world than there were a week ago.”

  Ulvic let out a small murmur of ascent.

  “So, my son, I will put aside my disappointment with you. I will grant you a fresh start, a chance to prove yourself worthy of the Hund name.”

  Seeing as Ulvic was not loudly objecting to this idea, I grew slightly worried. He could hardly say no, considering his father would probably have had us all shot if he did. But the silence that came from him made me concerned that he was actually deliberating his father's offer. Which put me, Mercy and the other Werewolves in a very bad position.

  “I can't agree to anything if it means my wolves will be harmed,” Ulivc said eventually. “That includes the two already in your company.”

  “I suspected as much.” Alfric waved a hand and suddenly Lynch released me.

  At a nod from Alfric, Lynch promptly produced a key and unlocked the cuffs on my wrists, taking them away. I hesitated for half a second, then dropped into a seat and helped myself to a plate of roast potatoes, stuffing two into my mouth at once. “Luffly home you haff,” I said around a mouthful of salty potato.

  “His nose is broken,” Ulvic noticed at last, his eyes widening. “Why is his nose broken?”

  “Larkspur.” Alfric snapped his fingers and Lynch immediately marched from the room. His eyes roamed over me. “I do not make it a habit of mine to dine with Werewolves.”

  “I don't make it a habit to dine with arseholes, yet here we are.” I gestured to the grand feast.

  Alfric surprised me by letting out a small, croaky laugh. Ulvic's face turned ashen at the sound, so it probably didn't mean anything good. “I'll have them sent home,” Ulvic said quickly, leaning toward his father.

  “Oh no,” Alfric tutted. “That won't do at all. In fact, Ignus Helsing sent me quite the detailed letter about his shipment of the two wolves.” He reached into his pocket, unfolding a piece of parchment. Seriously? Parchment?

  He cleared his throat before reading it aloud in his gravelly voice. “Lord Alfric Hund, it has come to my attention that your son, Ulvic, has turned against his birthright as a Hunter. He is lost in his ways and I fear he will do something very foolish if I do not intervene. Forgive me for the news that will reach your ears after this, but I feel it is my duty to teach him a lesson in betrayal. My own heart has been compromised by his actions.” Alfric paused, his eyes roaming over Ulvic with a look of disgust.

  Ulvic's lower lip quivered, but his eyes were glassy and hollow.

  Alfric cleared his throat, continuing, “I have sent a shipment of two Werewolves to you whom were loyal to Ulvic. I learnt a great deal about these wolves from your son. And it came to my attention that they are not simply captives of Ulvic's. They are obedient. Wholly at his command. It is only my lasting love for him which will spare him now. I will send him to you soon. Although, I cannot vouch for the condition he will be in. Sincerest apologies for the help I once offered your son. You paid me well to hunt him down, and I was turned against you by his charm. I once believed you the villain in his story, but I see now that Ulvic has a way of crushing those he loves the most. Regards, Ignus Van Helsing.”

  Ulvic stood up, his shoulders bunched, his chair nearly falling over. He looked broken, his eyes glossy with hurt.

  Alfric waited for his response, glaring up at him.

  “You don't know a-anything,” Ulvic hissed.

  “I know enough,” Alfric said, folding the letter up and placing it back in his pocket. “I know you had an affair with Ignus Helsing, I know that you betrayed him during the V Games on the Isle of Lidelse, and I have surmised that you were involved in the breakout that led to the events on Øyafrelse which resulted in the deaths of over twenty Hunters.”

  Ignus's shoulders rose and fell, rose and fell.

  Ulvic was one confused guy. I didn't know whose side he was on anymore. I didn't think even he knew, either.

  Ulvic's eyes slid to me, then to his father, before sinking back down into his seat. “If you are willing, father, I wish to make up for some of my past grievances.”

  I watched him closely, hunting for the truth. Was this just another lie to save his own skin? Or was it to save us too?

  “Good,” Alfric said, taking a bite from a chicken leg on his plate. He chewed with his mouth open and I watched with undisguised disgust. I could be a pretty messy eater myself at times, but that mouth action was something else...

  Lynch reentered the room, slamming a glass of murky-looking water before me. “Larkspur solution.”

  I picked it up, sniffed it to make sure there was no poison in it, then downed it in one.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I snapped it back into the right position, gritting my teeth against the pain. The Larkspur soon soothed the ache, but it would be a few more minutes until I was fully healed.

  Lynch backed up into a corner, standing guard by the door.

  “I'd like a de
monstration of this 'command' Ignus spoke of in his letter,” Alfric said, picking his teeth with the bone still in his hand.

  Ulvic hesitated, looking to me then back to his father.

  Alfric sat up straighter, pointing at me with the greasy chicken bone. “Show me,” he demanded.

  I took a deep breath, gazing at Ulvic with a pleading stare. I was usually above begging, but I didn't want to be turned into the Hund family jester, doing tricks on command.

  “Up,” Ulvic growled suddenly and the command ran through me like it was my own decision. I was on my feet in half a second, my chair screeching as it flew out behind me.

  Alfric didn't look remotely impressed. “That's not proof of anything. Lynch, fetch the new girl.”

  Lynch headed out the door.

  We waited in silence, the only sound filling the air was Alfric grinding meat off of chicken bones.

  Lynch pushed a young girl into the room. She was small, thin, undernourished. Her eyes were too large in her hollow face. Her hair was concealed beneath a red shawl, tied at the nape of her neck.

  “Ulvic, command the wolf to hurt Nancy,” Alfric growled. Dread simmered in my chest.

  “No- Mister Hund, sir, I'll work harder.” Nancy struggled against Lynch's grip on her arm, but he didn't seem to notice.

  My spine grew rigid. “I'm not hurting anyone,” I snarled.

  Everyone in the room ignored me.

  Ulvic hesitated, avoiding mine and Nancy's eyes. “That's unnecessary,” he lowered his tone, angling his face toward his father.

  “It is entirely necessary. I must see that your Werewolf will do as you say.” Alfric's eyes slid to me. “I can see that he isn't keen.” His eyes lit up. “And Nancy has been useless as a maid. I have given her several warnings.”

  “I don't wish to h-hurt the girl,” Ulvic said earnestly.

  Alfric's hand slammed down on the table and his tone grew to a formidable boom, “You will do as I say or I will not waste a moment more of my time entertaining you and your mutts! I will cut off their heads and have them mounted on my walls, Ulvic!”