The Vampire behind Meredith eyed me coolly, her raven hair as dark as ink. I had the distinct feeling she didn't like me either. But that wasn't much of a surprise.
“And?” I snapped, losing my temper. Just because I was a Hunter, didn't mean I was going to attack them.
“And Helsings killed many of my kind,” Meredith answered.
I eyed her with a frown, gazing over her warm-toned skin. She wasn't a Vampire. Perhaps a Werewolf...
“And Felicia's kind,” Meredith added, nodding to the V.
I folded my arms. “Well that might be true, but I didn't kill them personally. So get over it.” The adrenaline from the climb was still surging through me. If I was going to have to put up with Meredith's company, I wasn't going to let her think I was beyond defending myself.
She tsked, taking out a towel from the box and throwing it at me. I caught it before it hit me in the face, rubbing it over my skin, drying off the worst of the water.
“We should give her a chance,” Reece said, getting to her feet. “The Videns told us what she did.”
“I don't care what she did,” Felicia hissed, baring her fangs. “She's a filthy Hunter. We should end her now before she gets a chance to attack us.”
“Why would I attack you?” I snapped. “That's ridiculous.”
Elise nodded, throwing a pleading look at Felicia. “She's outnumbered here. Plus, she's friends with Selena Grey. So she must be good.”
Felicia looked away, not answering.
I sighed, figuring I was never going to convince some of them to accept me.
Meredith jerked her head toward the door. “Off you go. Get your reward.” Something in her tone concerned me, but I didn't let it show. I was just happy to be escaping that room.
I exited and headed straight into Hawke's quarters without knocking.
He was waiting for me, sitting at the small table with an array of sharp tools laid out before him.
I stilled, eyeing them warily. “What's that?”
He glanced up. “This is what we use to do our tattoos. Come here.”
I didn't move, shaking my head. “I don't want a tattoo.”
“It's either that, or lay with me. Those are the only rewards on offer.”
I grimaced. “Neither sounds appealing.”
He chuckled a dark laugh, surprising me. “Pick the tattoo, do us both a favour.”
I sighed, stepping closer, taken-aback by his attitude. Not that I wanted to screw him, but I was slightly surprised he didn't desire me like that. My looks had been my only strength my whole life. It made me feel powerless around him and I knew that was a serious problem on my part. I realised how little I thought of myself. Of my own capabilities. But I'd done that climb, even if I hadn't done so gracefully. I'd proved something. That I was more than just a girl with a pretty face.
A wooden chair sat before the table and I slid into it, eyeing the metal tools and a hammer beside them.
“What would you like and where would you like it?” Hawke asked, seeming to relax at my choice.
I considered that, gazing at Hawke's tattoos for inspiration. “Are you any good at this?”
“The best,” he announced with a small grin.
“Who did your tattoos?”
“The previous leader of Nox Clan.”
“What happened to him?” I asked in a low tone.
He gave me a dark look. “I killed him and earned my place as leader. It's the only way to take over a clan. Unless you want to set up your own.” He snorted as if he'd made a joke.
“Nice...maybe I'll kill you and take over then,” I said lightly.
He roared a laugh. “I'd like to see you try.”
I rolled my eyes.
“If you wish to take over a clan, you must challenge a leader to a fight. If you kill a leader outside of a formal duel, you will be sentenced to death by their clan.”
I nodded, picking up one of the tools and turning it over in my palm; it looked like a sharpened piece of bone. “I'll stick to being a lowly clan member for now then.”
He smiled, taking the tool from my palm, his fingers grazing mine. “So...what will it be, girl?”
“Mercy,” I corrected. “I don't appreciate being called girl.”
“Fine, Mercy,” he said, getting to his feet abruptly. He moved around the table, brushing my damp hair from my neck. “Tattoos are the highest form of honour here. You only earn them by completing trials. Everyone you see in this prison has been branded with their achievements. It is best to have them on show, to prove your strength to others.”
I nodded, tempted to shrug his hand off where it lay on my shoulder. I thought about what I wanted, unsure of what to have branded on my skin. I didn't really like the idea, but it was better than the alternative. I'd sworn never to give my body to a man again. No matter what I felt for him. Despite how easy that had once been for me. I wasn't that girl anymore. And with that thought, I had an idea for a tattoo.
“A lily,” I said. The symbol of virtue. Not that I had much of that anymore, but I was turning over a new leaf. And Dødstårn was as good a place as any to reinvent myself.
“Alright,” he said, taking up the hammer from the bench. He drew a small copper bowl closer, digging the sharp bone into his arm so blood spilled into the bowl.
“Gross,” I muttered.
“This is how it's done. Don't worry, my blood is clean. In a way, it is your blood anyway after last night's feed.”
I pursed my lips, not answering as he dipped the tool into the blood.
“How about here?” He ran his finger over the back of my right shoulder.
I shrugged. “That's fine.”
“This will not be pleasant,” he murmured. “Brace yourself.”
He pressed the needle-like bone to my skin then tapped the hammer against it.
I gasped, lurching forward, biting down on my lower lip. “Jesus.”
He laughed before repeating the motion – bastard!
I winced, digging my nails into my palms as I braced against the pain. He tapped away and I tried not to release a groan as he did so.
“Why a lily?” he asked.
I considered whether to answer, deciding against it.
“Talking is a good distraction,” he prompted.
I sighed, giving in. “It's a symbol of purity.” I cleared my throat. “And chastity.”
“Uhuh...” He tapped the hammer on the bone tool again and I flinched. “So you're a virgin?”
He clearly had no qualms about asking me personal questions. I shook my head in answer, but didn't elaborate.
“So you're not a virgin...but you'd like to be?” He chuckled.
“Something like that,” I muttered, feeling awkward.
“We are all different people in Dødstårn,” he said, echoing my earlier thoughts. “None of us are who we were when we entered this prison.”
“What did you get arrested for?” I asked.
“We don't talk of our crimes here, you should learn that quickly. Not many like to admit to their misgivings.”
“I'll admit to mine if you admit to yours,” I offered.
He chuckled. “Alright, Mercy. But I already know what you did. The Videns have been watching you and your friends for some time.”
“Friends?” I echoed quietly. “I don't think they'd call me a friend.”
“You helped them. So perhaps you're wrong.”
I thought on that, shrugging again. “I didn't make up for my part in the V Games. Not enough anyway.”
He laid the sharp tool against my shoulder again and I tensed, awaiting the strike of the hammer. He did it quickly and it seemed I was growing more used to the pain.
“That's for them to decide, isn't it?”
I fell quiet as he continued his work, then asked, “So? What are you in for?”
“Hm,” he grunted. “I killed a Watcher...amongst other things.”
“What?” I swung around and Hawke removed the tool quickly,
frowning at me. But I couldn't help it. I'd never heard of someone killing a Watcher before. Was that even possible?
“How?” I demanded.
He smirked. “I killed many Hunters in my time. I was wanted for many years. I knew they'd catch me eventually. So I came here myself. Straight to their court and slaughtered the first one who saw me.”
I shook my head. “I don't believe you. It's not possible.”
“I beg to differ,” he said, firmly turning my head away and resting the bone needle to my skin again. Pain blossomed over the area, but I didn't flinch this time.
“The key is in removing their armour. I managed to pull his jackal mask off and drive a blade into his skull. It wasn't easy, but I pride myself on doing things that aren't easy. I would not be a clan leader otherwise.”
“How long have you been here?” I breathed.
“A hundred and sixty seven years. But I was given seven hundred, so that's not much of a comfort.” My gut clenched. Hawke had been in this prison longer than I'd been alive. The thought made me ill to imagine.
“Do you want to get out?” I asked, feeling immediately foolish for asking such an obvious question.
However, his answer surprised me.
“No. I am content here for now. There is much life to be had in Dødstårn once you learn the ropes. The trials are tough, but they make you stronger than you ever thought possible. Normal life does not often provide such challenges. Sometimes I think there's more in here than the outside world...but then I remember the fresh air...the scent of forest trees...the taste of true freedom, and I am not so sure. But mostly, I am happy.”
“Truly?” I asked, turning to him again, finding it hard to believe.
His eyes shone as he nodded. “Truly, Mercy. And you may find happiness here too, in time.”
✭☠ ✭
The tattoo stung like hell, but Hawke had showed me it in a hand mirror and it looked pretty good. Little tendrils curled out of the base of the lily, making it look more feminine than many of the tattoos I'd seen on the rest of the clan.
I spent the rest of the day in Iris's pod. Which was mine now, I kept reminding myself. I found some clothes to change into consisting of black trousers and a fitted crop top. There wasn't anything that would cover my midriff, so I guessed Iris had been pretty body-confident. I only felt a little guilty over her death. I had to remember this place was brutal. And any of my fellow clan members would probably have cut me down for pure entertainment.
Hawke bellowed through the cave, “Food!” and I bolted upright in bed.
My empty stomach drove my actions, but I was far from being one of the first out of the pods as I reached the cave floor, nearly knocked off of the ladder by the guy bunking in the pod above mine.
I scowled at him as he landed beside me, but he ignored me, jogging quickly away and following the masses as they headed after Hawke out of the cavern.
I hurried to follow, spotting Tykera and Jameson's old friend, Harlen, pushing through the crowd to get to the front. I fought my way toward them, joining Tykera's side as we headed into a narrow passage. What the hell was going on?
We entered a long cave, stretching out before us. Running down the centre of it was a huge wooden table; it seemed to have been carved from an entire tree trunk, the knots and gnarls of the bark still in place. Members of the clan were placing bowls in front of the seats, but as I surveyed the room, it was clear there wasn't enough for everyone. Perhaps enough for half.
Tykera took my arm, dragging me toward the table as people battled to take a seat. Hawke was already at the head of the table, slurping a bowl of blood like it was about to go extinct. Those who claimed seats were being dragged back by their arms and hair. Fights broke out and I tried to tug free of Tykera as she steered me toward a couple of unclaimed seats, my heart pattering out of control.
Harlen sat down beside us in front of a bowl of blood. Before I could even pick up my spoon, someone grabbed my hair and yanked me backwards onto the floor.
I gazed up at Meredith with a gasp of fury. She stepped over me with a smirk, dropping into my seat.
I scrambled upright as Harlen threw a hard punch into a guy's gut as he tried to wrestle him out of his chair.
I took a step back, gazing around at the madness. Some of the bigger men weren't challenged at all, even some of the fiercer-looking women. Tykera included. She tucked into her food, eating fast before throwing me a glance.
“Fight for your food or you won't eat,” she hissed.
I gazed up and down the row before me, stumbling aside as one man was hauled out of his seat, holding onto it with one foot as another guy slammed his fists into his head.
“This is insane,” I breathed.
Meredith was halfway through her broth and my grumbling stomach urged me forward.
“Fight or go hungry,” Harlen shot at me with an encouraging look. He nodded to Meredith then offered me a wink, mouthing, “You can take her.”
Willing myself to move, I grabbed hold of Meredith's hair, using the same tactic she'd used on me.
She yelled, falling backwards and I took hold of her shoulders, yanking her from the seat.
“Bitch!” she screeched, jumping up and throwing herself at me.
I stumbled back as she used her teeth and nails to fight me. My heart pounded, my stomach growled, demanding I fight back. She was like an animal, raking her fingernails down my arms.
With as much strength as I could muster, I shoved her away then slapped her hard. She stilled in shock and I pressed my advantage, throwing a hard punch into her stomach. With a yell of effort, I threw my weight at her and she stumbled over her own feet and hit the ground. I stepped back in surprise at what I'd managed to do. Her golden hair pooled around her on the floor, her face pale as she gaze up at me.
Eyes turned my way as I dropped into her seat, grabbed the spoon and started eating.
Bloody crazy clan people.
Hawke's eyes were on me, a smile on his lips. His bowl was empty, stained red from the blood that had filled it. Not one person had tried to remove Hawke from his seat, but the speed at which he'd slurped down that blood suggested he was fair game like the rest of us. I was vaguely annoyed with him for getting the sustenance: he'd already gotten plenty from me and no doubt all of his harem were on tap any time he liked.
“Holy shit, girl,” Tykera said, slapping me on the back as she finished her broth.
I shovelled mine down. It was overly salty and I couldn't tell whether the lumps were meat or veg. Whatever it was, I needed it. My stomach settled a little as the food made its way down.
Those who hadn't managed to get a meal skulked from the room, heads hung low, Meredith included.
“What if you never get a meal?” I whispered to Tykera.
“Than you starve,” she answered.
I raised my brows. “Is food scarce then? Where does it come from?”
Harlen leant forward to answer, his eyes keen. “The Watchers lower it into the prison once a month. We have to fight the other clans for it. If we do well, there's enough for all of us, but Tenebris took most of the haul last month. They fight dirty. Hawke encourages us to battle with honour, but it's not that easy when you're starving your arse off.”
“When's the next shipment?” I asked, gazing down at my empty bowl.
“Next week,” Tykera replied, her eyes dark. “Our clan have struggled this month. We won't be strong when the fight comes. Tenebris have gotten the majority of the past three rations. They're well-fed, so they're strong when we battle.”
“It always goes that way,” Harlen said. “A clan will get the majority for months until one of the other clans get so hungry they fight for their lives in the Harvest.”
“Harvest?” I asked, unashamedly running my finger around my bowl and sucking the remnants from it.
“It's what we call the ration battle. It's brutal. We lost sixteen clan members last month.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, not liking
the sound of that. “Does everyone have to fight?”
“No. Every leader puts forth thirty warriors.”
I clucked my tongue, glancing at Hawke. “He could fight himself.”
“He always does,” Tykera whispered, gazing over at Hawke with a proud smile.
“Oh,” I said in surprise, following her line of sight to Hawke. He was chatting with a few men and women on either side of him, the tension in the room now thoroughly forgotten as conversations broke out all around us. I spotted two men who had fought brutally for a seat now laughing together over something. I guessed there wasn't much point in holding grudges in a place like this. It seemed like every day was going to be a fight for survival. I prayed I was strong enough to weather out my sentence. How many people died here, never living out their time and going free?
I thought of the Vs who hadn't gotten any food, my stomach twisting. “What happens to the Vampires if they starve? Don't they turn rogue?”
“Yeah...” Tykera chewed on her lower lip. “If that happens, sometimes Hawke takes pity on them and gives them blood from his harem. But other times...” She shrugged. “We have to put them down.”
“He lets that happen?” I breathed.
“He has to,” Tykera reasoned. “If he feeds all of the Vampires, they wouldn't bother fighting for food. It's the way it is here, Mercy. Everyone gets the same chance. It's fight or die, that's the rules.”
I pressed my lips together, thinking of the Harvest. I hoped we did better in the next battle. I didn't want to witness this clan getting hungrier. They already seemed worn down. I could see it in their bloodshot eyes.
“Do we get this slop for every meal?” I asked. It might have nourished me, but I didn't fancy living on it for the next sixty years.
“Every meal?” Harlen teased. “Blondie, you have so much to learn.”
“What? Is this it – one meal a day?” I balked. It had hardly been enough to sate my empty tummy.
“We're down to our last rations,” Tykera explained. “If we do better in the Harvest, we get more meals. That's just the way it is.”
I frowned, my eyes drawn to Hawke again as he got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, his abs flexing. Did no one like wearing clothes around here? I turned away, finding both Tykera and Harlen watching him keenly.
Hunter Trials Page 5