I let the monster in me take over, battling off weaker Vs with a whip of my hand as I squeezed Dontanion's oesophagus with the other.
He smashed my arm away and a crack sounded my wrist breaking. I barely registered the pain, using my other arm to fight as my wrist healed. It only took a few seconds before I could use it again. I took hold of a balding, haggard V and wrenched his head clean off before he got close enough to bite.
Black and blue blood coated my arms and the sticky smell of rot filled the air.
The teenage V sprang onto my back, digging her heels into my sides as she took hold of my head. I reached up, snatching a handful of her hair and dragging her forward, throwing her to the ground with a heavy thud. She was trampled as several Vs ran over her to reach me, her cries resounding around the space.
Dontanion came at me again from the side, having held back to heal from the injuries I'd inflicted.
I roared my fury, dispatching a weaker V in the path between us by punching a hole in his chest. Dontanion lunged forward, wrapping his arms around my neck and yanking backwards with all his strength. I stumbled, nearly hitting the floor. Several of the weak Vs were beneath me, still alive, reaching for me with slashing claws-
I found my feet, kicking out at the animal-like Vs.
Dontanion spoke in my ear, his muscles tensing as his hands tightened on my throat. “The Helsings will have to scrape you off the floor when we're done with you.”
I smashed my heel into the V biting my ankle then, with all my might, threw myself backwards. I staggered as Dontanion collided with the wall and a loud dong reverberated throughout the container.
His grip loosened and I turned, keeping a hold of his arm and ripping it off in one clean yank.
He cried out, but his screams abruptly halted as I snapped his neck and he dropped to the ground in a heap.
I turned, ready to fight every single V in the container if that's what it took. But the remainder of the Vs had backed off, giving me a wide arc of space. The girl with straw-coloured hair had found her feet, glaring at me, but seemingly done fighting.
“Anyone else?” I snarled, glowering at them.
No one answered.
From the broken bodies on the floor, I guessed I'd killed nearly ten of them.
It took a moment for me to realise we'd stopped rocking and a screeching, metal on metal sound filled the space.
A crack of light appeared at the end of the container. A door fell to the ground with a deafening clang and moonlight spread over us.
A circle of sand surrounded us, ringed by a ten foot wall. Atop it, a row of men were standing on the ledge behind a thin web of silver fencing. They gazed at the carnage inside the container, looking to me then muttering anxiously between themselves. I stepped out cautiously, gazing around.
I was in an enormous, vacant amphitheater. Above me, high walls met with an empty circle of stone seating, stretching up toward the night sky.
Before I could see any more, a stone door opened in the wall before me.
“Inside!” one of the men barked, waving a metal control to warn us of the silver shot they could inject into our heads. Every single one of the Vs complied, shuffling forward, slinking into the dark doorway ahead of us. I kept my distance from the others, leading the way forward.
As I passed under the guards, I heard one of them saying, “That's the one the Helsings were using as a slave. Didn't think he'd survive the trip.”
I growled my discontent, gazing into the darkness, meeting the eyes of more Vs. Tens of them, divided into large cages like those back in the castle, minus the sunlamps. Above us was a walkway of silver where men were patrolling, their boots clanging on the bars. The stone door slid shut as the last of us entered the corridor.
“Into the pens!” a man ordered from above, shining a torchlight down on us. I squinted up at him, tasting my lips, wishing I could rip his throat out.
I knew there was no point in fighting; we were being herded like animals in a well-devised system to keep us in check.
I moved between the cages, not recognising many of the Vs that stood behind the bars. I feared what that meant. The Helsings had spoken of collaborating with other Hunters for years. Ignus had pushed for the idea, wanting to hold the games on a larger scale. But more Vs meant more contestants. And that terrified me.
I moved into a cage where a handful of weak Vs were already present. They were sniffing around the cell, searching in vain for blood.
The door slid mechanically closed behind me. I tried to estimate how many Vampires there were within the cells. A couple of hundred, perhaps. Way too many for a regular game on Raskdød.
One of the emaciated Vs in my cell started chewing at the silver bars, searing its gums until they bled. A pang of pity went through me at the sight. I aimed a sharp kick at its side, forcing it away from the bars, finding that she was female; a girl with ebony hair and large eyes, so bloodshot it was hard to tell what colour they used to be. But it killed me the way she held traits that could have belonged to Selena. She was small and pale, her body nothing but bones.
I shut my eyes for a moment, trying not to panic. Trying to imagine any way out of this hell. But there was no point; I was destined to play the V Games. And it wouldn't be long before I grew so hungry that any offer of blood was going to test my willpower to its limit. Innocent girls or not, if I lost the final human part of myself, I'd be as much of an animal as the Vs surrounding me. And no one would be safe from me.
No one.
Selena
Two thoughts flitted through my mind as Ignus led me into a clinical-looking room, his hand clamped around my wrist, the heat of it more repulsive than a V's touch could ever be. First, that I might soon be dead. And second, that if Varick really wasn't on Raskdød any longer, then my efforts had been for nothing.
Ignus guided the trainee Vampire through the door, walking to a wall and tethering her chain to a hook embedded in it.
A woman and a man entered the room, both of whom were armed with syringes and what looked like cattle prods.
“What are you going to do to me?” I backed toward the single bed in the plain-walled space, raising my hands in surrender. I didn't want to discover what the sparking ends of those rods felt like.
Ignus considered my words, rolling up his sleeves, making me more nervous than ever. “I think we'll get it over with. I'll have to make sure you suffer a little, considering the enormous amount of trouble you've caused my family. But I have too much to do today to spare you more than an hour of my time.”
The backs of my legs hit the bed. I trembled from head to toe, thinking of Reason and Mekiah. What would they do when they found out Varick was no longer here?
Ignus snapped his fingers at the woman who was tall and burly, her jaw nearly as square as Abraham's. She moved toward me, raising the syringe in her hand.
“The serum will paralyse you from the neck down,” Ignus informed me casually, a small smile pulling at his lips. His boyish features were twisted; it seemed a demon lived in him and I could see it gazing at me through those powder-blue eyes. “But you'll feel everything.” He licked his lips as the large woman approached me, raising the cattle prod in her hand.
Panic rose in my chest like a storm rushing in from the sea and colliding with the shore.
“Wait!” I begged, moving around the bed and putting it between me and my aggressive-looking assailant. “Please, there must be something I can do!”
Ignus shook his head. “Nothing I'm afraid. You fought well in the games, but we told you the rules once you'd won. You broke them. You could be at home now with your family, living out the rest of your life. But you chose to disobey.”
“How could you expect me to let that man put his hands on me?” I demanded, side-stepping as the woman tried to follow me around the bed.
Ignus regarded me coolly. “A small price to pay for freedom.”
“Easy for you to say,” I growled, retreating and my back hit a trolley.
It rattled with metal implements and I stole a glance at it. All manner of torture devices were laid out on it and bile rose violently in my throat.
I couldn't let this happen.
I couldn't die.
I wasn't ready.
“I'll do anything - please!” I hated to beg, but fear gripped my heart like an iron fist was clamped around it. And there was something else rising in me, a flicker of longing, of desperation to see Varick freed. Alive.
The large woman dashed forwards and I lunged for a scalpel on a trolley behind me. I had it in my hand in moments but the cattle prod rammed into my side before I could do anything more. The blade clattered across the floor as what felt like a thousand volts of electricity coursed through my body.
I was immobilised, twitching and jerking on the floor. Then the worst happened: a needle sank into my neck.
Tears escaped my eyes as terror invaded every part of me, just like the serum seeping through my veins, making my body weigh a tonne.
I was twisted awkwardly on the floor, unable to move, unable to see through the curtain of hair that had swept over my face.
Strong arms lifted me onto the bed and my heart rate increased to a rapid beat. My body was useless, the only part of me that was still in my control was my face.
“No, no- Ignus!” My eyes found his and I prayed using his name would reach past his cold exterior. Beyond him, the Vampire was watching me, her eyebrows drawn tightly together. In that moment, it seemed she had more pity for me than any of the humans in the room.
Ignus moved toward me, tilting his head to the side as he surveyed my body. “The fingers first,” he instructed one of his team.
I wailed, trying desperately to move as the burly woman picked up something from the trolley.
She took my hand in hers, pinching my index finger between her meaty digits. She slipped my finger into a clamp and I screamed, terrified of what was about to happen.
Through my panicked state, Varick came to mind. I let him fill up every part of my thoughts, the feel of his body surrounding me, how I'd felt so safe in his hold.
“Don't,” a girl's voice cut through the room. One I knew, I was certain.
Ignus halted the woman who was holding a very sharp knife by my finger. Everyone's eyes slid to the Vampire tethered to the wall and with a jolt, I suddenly recognised her. Kite.
I'd been thrown off by her pale arms, entirely void of the colourful tattoos that had once stretched over her body. Oh god, how could they have done this to her?
“Excuse me?” Ignus said, his voice cutting.
“Don't hurt her,” Kite said, her voice tinny as it reverberated through her metal muzzle. “Not yet,” she said quickly.
“Why would I wait?” Ignus folded his arms, offering more time for Kite to speak. Why was he giving her that courtesy?
“I...have an idea,” she said. “One I think will please you.”
My features twisted. That wasn't like Kite. She was one of the most defiant people I knew. What had Ignus done to her to make her so subservient? Vampire or not, surely she hadn't lost the will to fight back?
Ignus raised a brow, seeming to enjoy Kite's efforts with him. “And what's that?”
“Let her play the game again,” Kite said and my heart jumped.
“The game?” Ignus questioned and whilst he mulled it over, I gripped onto the idea with all my might. Varick was on his way to a new island. A new game.
The possibility that I could live to see another day was overwhelming and I clung onto the thread of hope with all my might. Maybe I could still find Varick, still save him.
“Yes- let me play!” I blurted, glaring at Ignus and no one else.
The woman holding my finger seemed impatient but Ignus held up a hand to stave her off, regarding me.
“What did you say?” He shifted closer, his eyes alight with curiosity.
“I'll play the game. Let me play again. I won't survive twice. You'll still get what you want.”
“Why play if you're so certain of your death?” Ignus chortled a laugh that held no humour in it at all, though he was clearly enthralled.
“At least I'd have a chance at living,” I admitted, my breathing shallow. “And if I don't, wouldn't you rather see me die like that? This way no one else will witness my death. Don't the spectators want their pound of flesh too, for what I did to their friend?”
Ignus considered my words. “True,” he said at last.
I clutched onto the lifeline. “So let me play,” I insisted.
Ignus's eyes rounded. “The Vampire...” he looked thoughtful for a moment and my gut clenched. “Varick assisted you in getting off this island, did he not?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my lungs dragging in ragged breaths.
He grinned and there was something so vicious in it that I couldn't grasp what he was picturing in his head. Her turned to Kite with a look of satisfaction. “What an idea. I knew I chose well when I picked you.”
He wafted away the woman who looked disappointed as she dropped my hand. Ignus turned to me, smiling. “Reuniting you with Varick would be my absolute pleasure.” He sucked in his cheeks, looking like a kid in a candy store, facing the others in the room. “Send her to the Isle of Lidelse on the next shipment.” He moved to Kite, snatching her chain and marching toward the door. Kite glanced over her shoulder, meeting my eye for half a second. I mouthed a thank you, but she gave no response. I wondered if she'd done it for me at all, or if she really had wanted to please Ignus.
As they exited the room, I was left at the mercy of the two meatheads. I prayed they would stick to Ignus's orders, because they both looked hungrier than the Vs in the game.
I was crippled by fear as the balding man moved to a cupboard, humming as he drew up another syringe and walked to my side. He lifted my wrist, pressing the needle into my veins.
“You're a foolish girl,” he muttered. “Trading one hour of suffering for a week of torture. Not very clever, are you?”
My eyelids drooped and I battled against the dragging feeling that was tugging me down into sleep.
“I won once,” I whispered, my lips barely moving as I faded away into the black.
His voice followed me and I drowned in his arctic tone. “Soon, you'll wish you hadn't.”
Ulvic
I waited for Ignus in the smoking room, doubts spilling through my gut at the entire plan. Had Mekiah and Reason made it inside the castle? Were they with Jameson now?
I always felt on edge in the Helsings' home. Despite the fact I'd been doing business with them for years, I was aware they held all the cards when it came to me and my little island of Werewolves. It was practically funded by them with all the business we'd conducted together over the years. So I had to tread lightly. And God help us all if they found out what I was planning.
I was perched in a cherry-wood armchair, sipping on a glass of whiskey I'd taken the liberty of pouring for myself. My palms were slick with sweat. I wasn't much of a rebel, but I'd do anything for my wolves. Their nature fascinated me. All the appearance of humans with the instincts of a wolf pack. My father had never understood my interest in them; after all, we as Hunters were designed to kill them. But then again, my father had only ever understood high-powered rifles and bullets dipped in Wolfsbane. It was no wonder we'd never gotten along.
I'd been a curious child, spending my free time dissecting small mammals, understanding the workings of their bodies. And whilst my father was laying claim to driving the Werewolf species into extinction, my flare for science was blooming. And when he was finally satisfied that the species was eradicated, I suspected otherwise. To me, it seemed clear that by the law of averages, there must have been at least a handful of the animals left in the world.
My father was brash, never thorough. So him bragging about the annihilation of the species with his Hunter friends meant little to me. In fact, it inspired a challenge in me to hunt down the last of the species. To examine them, study them. Learn about the Hunt
er-Werewolf war that had been underway for centuries.
When I came across Reason, my first wolf - just a teenager living on the streets of Sedona, Arizona - I expected a powerful urge to kill her. My father had trained me in the traditions of Hunters, but he had never let me accompany him on a Hunt due to my youth. I was brought up on stories and fear-mongering as my father tried to instill in me centuries of hate. But it didn't work.
I was different. Curious. And, ultimately, when it came to meeting a Werewolf face to face, entirely unaffected – if you discounted being over the moon.
No instinct rose in me, no urge to kill the young girl in ragged clothes and bare feet stained red from the desert sand. For whatever reason, the Hunter blood didn't make me want to kill Werewolves. I was an anomaly, a disability that offended my family name. And I might have gone unnoticed if I hadn't had a servant with me. For years I travelled with him, seeking out the last remaining wolves and bringing them back together, not knowing that all along my servant would betray me. The boy fed the information back to my father, and it was of no surprise to me that he subsequently disowned me for it. I abandoned the servant boy and fled with my pack.
At first, we lived on the road, moving from one country to the next. I wanted to set up a base, but I had no money since I'd been cut off from my father's inheritance. So I skimmed, I scammed, I stole here and there, all over the globe, just enough to get by. Until I met the Helsings.
Ignus tracked me down in Romania. My father had made a deal with him to find me and, most likely, kill me. A deal which must have cost my father a hefty price. After he'd found out about my work, his pride wouldn't let his only son dirty the family legacy.
After nearly an hour's wait, the door opened and I snapped out of my reverie, finding Ignus striding into the room. A painting of him hung just over his shoulder in a gilded frame. The image resembled him, but there'd always been something off about it. Something missing. And with a jolt, I finally realised what it was.
In the painting, Ignus was smiling, just like he was now. But the thing that was missing was that spark of mania in his eyes.
V Games_Fresh From The Grave Page 9