by Iris Walker
And then the first one came barreling through like a bullet. It was a vampire, but not like any that she’d seen in the grand hall. This one was decrepit, gray, and moved like a wild animal. Black teeth glistened underneath rotting lips, and those red eyes burned brighter than ever, showing that there was nothing behind them but the urge to kill. He rammed into Mr. Shadow-Man’s bars like he was the big bad wolf, trying to topple the whole building. It only took a couple tries for him to lose interest.
And then he turned his sights on Megan. A whimper escaped her lips and she clamped her hand over her mouth, pushing into the brick wall behind her until the sharp ridges cut into her skin. The vile vampire had locked in on her and thrashed at the bars with everything he had. Spittle frothed from his mouth – red, foaming blood – and sprayed into the air each time he cried out. Clay stood, his feet scraping against the grimy rock. “Hey!” he bellowed. For a split second, the creature froze. Then, he quirked his head to the side like a velociraptor and slammed his body against Clay’s cell. More followed, scrambling over each other, slamming their rotten hands into the cell bars and gnashing their jaws, glistening blood running down their chins. Megan was shaking like a leaf, hands pressed to her ears hard enough to make them ache. The bars shivered, groaning and creaking in place, and for a moment, Megan thought that they would get through, and that she’d be ripped apart. And then, she heard another noise, one that sent confusion and panic fresh in her mind: laughter. She forced her eyes open, each rabid creature glaring red daggers at her, desire oozing from their faces. “Wait, wait, wait,” a devious voice called. “It’s my turn!”
Megan’s chest tightened as the vampires turned their attention to the sound, at the end of the hallway. The whole prison held its breath for one short, tense moment before blood and bone exploded into the air like a water balloon. Megan flinched, drawing in a sharp breath. She didn’t even know what had happened until she saw the body drop, quickly crushed by the other gray, rotting feet that trampled it. Something had taken its head off. Clean off. Entirely off. More laughter echoed in the hallway, rising over the grunts and hisses of the rabid vampires in front of them. “The one on the left!” another voice called. Megan watched as another creature’s head was taken off. A spray of putrid blood lashed her, and she fought the urge to gag. Another body fell.
“Get me another brick, you fool,” a voice snapped. The vampire at the front of the pack, with long, greasy hair, was wrenched back by another projectile, this one missing slightly and taking off her arm. She shuddered, and then wrenched her spine around and snarled with newfound anger. “Clean shots only,” another voice complained.
Megan watched with petrified horror as the vampires were picked off, baseball style, with bricks. Bone and blood covered the walls, dripping down in tiny rivulets. Hunks of brick exploded, dust and debris lashing at Megan’s skin, at her eyes. She forced her arms free from her death-grip fetal position and tried to remember how to operate her fingers. They were frozen. Useless. Somehow, she managed to clutch the mattress, pulling it up over her shoulders. Jesus, the underside smelled like… well, like what you’d expect a medieval vampire prison to smell like. More shards of brick and rotten vampire hit the mattress like a hailstorm. She sunk further, pressing underneath the dark cocoon. It temporarily muffled the noise of gruesome torture only a few feet from her. But that meant that she could hear her own breath, hitching, gulping, shuddering inside of her lungs, her heart doing somersaults inside of her. Someone was crying, and she realized that it was her, whimpering every time a chunk of debris smacked the mattress shield. She was only sixteen, and she was smack dab in the middle of brutal, sadistic acts of war. She figured, at that point, that it was okay to break down. God, the therapy she was going to need after this. If there was an ‘after’ for her.
One by one, the vile vampires were picked off. Blood and rot stung her nostrils, invading her lungs and snaking into her mind until she thought she might heave all over the cell. If there’d been anything in her stomach, she definitely would have. The hisses abated, until the only sound was the steady drip-drop of blood. Megan drew in a shuddering breath and snuck a glance at the hallway. Crushed, broken bodies littered the corridor, splayed out and covered in gore. She made eye contact with Clay, who was exactly as shell-shocked as she was, pressed against the back of his cell with terror plain on his face.
“Alright, let’s see the rest of them,” a voice said. A fresh wave of panic rolled over her and she gripped the mattress harder, as though it could somehow protect her. Steps grew closer, squishing through the graveyard of limbs that littered the prison passageway, until three figures came into view.
Vampires. But not the decrepit animals that had thrashed against the cell bars. No, these were closer to those that had dragged her and Clay through the grand hall. They wore all black uniforms, tight fitting, some sort of meshy armor thing that looked like it had been stolen from a Marvel movie. A woman, with short blonde hair and a pinched, fierce face stood next to two male vampires, both dark haired, average looking Joe’s. They were closer to Darian’s court, but not quite there. These vampires had a younger, ragged look to them. Like they were still thrilled by everything, not smoothed into stone by time. And by the looks on their faces, they were sure having fun. Blood spattered them, and the longer Megan looked, the more she found. The woman raked her eyes over their two cells and let her fierce gaze fall on Megan, who was still cowering behind the mattress. A little laugh bubbled up out of the vampire before she turned to the other cell. The other vampires looked at Megan with the same curiosity and interest, their red eyes flaring in the dim prison. It made her want to crawl into a hole. “A wolf…” the woman purred, another patronizing laugh slipping out.
“Two wolves,” one of the men said, crouching down in the sea of body parts and locking gazes with Megan. “What are you in for, love?”
Ice prickled underneath her skin as she watched the ruthless predators, circling in for the kill. “Hey!” Clay barked.
The other vampire turned, quirking an eyebrow at Clay. The woman wound her hands around the bars and pressed up against them, studying Clay with an evil glint. “You’ve still got some energy in the tank. That’s more than most in here.”
“How about you open this cell door and find out?” Clay threw back.
What are you doing? Megan thought, frozen behind her mattress.
The vampire whose eyes were trained on her smiled, and then stood, addressing the woman. “You can have your fun with alpha over there, but I think we’ll stick with the omega.”
The woman gave a noncommittal glance back and shrugged. A fresh bolt of fear ripped through Megan, and she watched the other vampire saunter to her cell, leaning on the bars and studying her with a violent glint. She drew in a shuddering gasp and shook her head slightly, frozen in panic. The smell from the dead bodies and the fact that they’d been pulverized in front of her was still fresh in her mind, and each time her eyes swept over the carnage, she felt another wave of wooziness. Her heart was beating so fast that she was positive it was going to explode. Cardiac arrest might not be a bad way to go, though, compared to what she faced. Either way, she was sure of one thing: she would rather starve to death in this grimy, disgusting cell, surrounded by rotting bodies, than have the vampires in front of her open the cell door.
“What do you think, Charles?” the vampire asked. “Been itching for a wolf hunt?”
“No!” Clay barked, standing and facing the female vampire, only inches away from the creature’s face. “Not her. Take me.”
The blond woman laughed again, a patronizing, honey-drenched sound that set Megan’s teeth on edge. “You’ll be a bit too busy for that.”
Somewhere, keys rattled, and Megan’s muscles clenched as she pressed further into the cell, shaking her head in a manic, pleading motion. “Please,” she whimpered, her eyes blurring from the tears. She wasn’t sure what she was asking them to do. Please don’t kill me? Please do it quickly? There wasn�
�t much coherence to her train of thought.
“Go check out the armory, Charles,” the other one said with an exhilarated smile. “See what we have to work with.”
“No,” Megan moaned, clutching the mattress even tighter.
With a clunk, Clay’s cell was opened, but he wasn’t let out. Instead, the blond vampire woman stepped inside and closed the door again, latching it. She handed the keys off to the other vampire with a small smile. “Here’s to the spoils of war,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement. Megan watched in horror as the vampire unlocked her cell and then tossed the keys back to the woman in Clay’s cell.
Megan’s eyes were locked on the predator advancing, stepping towards her with the intention of scaring her further. She scrambled back, until both of her shoulders collided with the corner of her cell and another whimper escaped her lips. A glimmer of black caught her attention, as the vampire Charles returned. Icy fear set in when she saw a crossbow and a few knives bundled in his arms, his red eyes flashing with anticipation. Megan’s eyes widened, and she choked on a sob. “No, no, please!” she cried. The mattress was ripped away from her, and a burst of cold air seeped into her skin. She hadn’t realized how sweaty she was, underneath the makeshift shield. She was burning and freezing and drenched in a sickly fever-sweat.
“Tell you what, little wolf,” the vampire murmured, crouching down only a few inches in front of her. “We’ll make it fair for you.” Her eyebrows drew together in a panic. His hand shot out, impossibly fast, and then she was on her feet. Her knees gave out, but his grip was iron, painful against her arm as he hauled her up again. The only noise was the sledgehammer pulse lodged between her ears, pounding like a hummingbird. He leaned forward, and she could smell the stale blood on his breath, the rot in his teeth. He inhaled deeply, parting his lips to speak as his eyes flared once more. “Sixty,” he said with a grin. Megan stood frozen for a moment, locked in gazes with the monster in front of her, not understanding what he meant. In the corner of her vision, she saw Charles loading a bolt into the crossbow.
And then: “Fifty-nine.” Her eyes widened, her whole body wracked by another tremble of fear. “Fifty-eight…” the vampire hummed, releasing her arm and glancing down the hallway.
A head start. They were going to hunt her. They were going to draw it out and enjoy the kill, watching the hope fade from her eyes as they closed in on her. But as gruesome, as sadistic, and as futile as it was, there was nothing to do but play along. Nothing to do but put space between herself and the monsters because this was her one and only chance. This was a deadly game of Foxes and Hounds, and she was on the losing side. Megan’s heart hitched inside of her chest, her muscles twitching into action.
Each gallop sent stabbing pains through her feet, but it wouldn’t slow her down. It wasn’t even on her mind. She was barefoot, tearing through the remains of the prison, shards of bone and arrows and rubble cutting through her feet. Her breath ripped through her lungs with each gasp. And the worst part? “Thirty-two!” the vampires called, following some distance behind her. The numbers echoed in her mind, a haunting, heart-stopping sound.
She rounded another corner and slipped, her legs crumpling underneath her. The ground rushed up to her, jarring her shoulder and sending a sharp pain through her arm. The stone corridor was slick with oily, vile blood. The drains couldn’t keep up with the volume of it. Megan choked in another breath and scrambled to her feet, stumbling closer to the entrance of the prison. But she was far from freedom. She saw the door, fifty feet in front of her, and a spark of hope raced through her. “Twenty-seven!” the sinister voice echoed.
Megan’s feet pounded against the carnage, and she tore closer to the door, which had been propped open with a large, iron crate. Twenty feet. Ten feet. She was almost to the stairs when something grabbed her ankle, white-hot claws shredding her skin and stopping her in place. She keeled forward, smacking the bloodied ground with both hands. Her eyes snapped behind her, and she saw a gray, decrepit vampire, claws wrapped around her ankle. Megan shrieked and kicked at the fiendish creature with all her might, her foot connecting with bone that was too soft and skin that didn’t fit over its skeleton. It didn’t take long to wrench the creature off, and with a final kick, Megan shoved the monster over, realizing why it didn’t take long to fight the vampire off. It was missing both legs, and one arm.
Megan felt a wave of burning nausea rise up, but she was ripped back into the present as she heard the voice of her pursuers call out fifteen. Megan scrambled away from the monster and hauled herself up the crumbling stairs, through scattered limbs and slick blood, falling forward and using her hands to stabilize herself as she crawled to the exit, to the castle. “Ten!” the vampires taunted.
She broke into the hallway, the stony tomb that led to the prison, and crossed the death plateau to the large stone doors, propped open, leading to the castle. It was dusk, and the deep cornflower light came through the windows, illuminating the massively tall ceiling and the tattered remains of Darian Xander’s stronghold. Megan thought that the prison would have been the worst of it. She expected that the castle would be the same as it had been the only other time she’d seen it, when Darian’s vampires had dragged her and Clay down to their cells. But she was sorely, sorely mistaken. Deep purple curtains were shredded, burned, hanging in tatters from their places on the walls. Paintings, the beautiful, stunning works of art that had lined the hallway were now ripped or covered in blood. There had been artifacts displayed on pedestals, most of them toppled over, the vases smashed, the armor sets scattered.
And the violence.
Screams bounced off the walls, horrible moans of suffering and terror. She looked down the hallway, where a woman was being attacked by two vampires, her clothes hanging in shreds, her skin marred with bites and slashes and deep, purple-black bruises. Another couple of people were further down. At the end of the hallway, she glimpsed a strongblood, running, fleeing, only to be cut down by an axe that was thrown by someone standing out of view. Megan pressed her hand to her mouth, before realizing that it was coated in rotten, putrid blood.
“Seven!” her assailants called.
Megan’s eyes turned to her left, and she saw the end of the hallway, the large window that was as thick as her forearm; impenetrable. The only place for her to go was to the right. Into the maw of the beast. Megan started running, her feet silent against the long Persian rug that lined the entire hall. It was bunched up in places, and in others, her feet squished against thick red blood.
“Three!” the voice called.
Another whimper spilled out of her as she sprinted as fast as she could. She passed the woman being ripped apart, her screams gurgling, overpowered by the vampires’ laughter and other noises that made her skin crawl. Devouring. That was it; they were devouring her.
“Two!”
Megan didn’t look back. Another person scrambled into the main hallway from a side turn, just to the right of her. She barely dodged the terrified human, who fell, scrambling backwards, his hands outstretched. Megan’s eyes blurred with tears, and she had no time to glance back and see what pursued him. Ahead of her was the grand foyer, the large, chandelier-adorned entry way. Golden light suffused the room. She was so close. “One!” the vampires called, sending a fresh stab of fear through her.
Megan’s feet cleared the rug, and slapped against the smooth marble, just as a crossbow bolt whistled past her, only inches away from her ear. She screamed, every nerve in her body igniting at the visceral terror brought on by the crossbow. She broke into the foyer, and sprinted to the other side, crossing the space. In the direct middle, there was a perfect circle of blood. Another drop careened down, sending ripples across the surface of the puddle.
Her eyes tilted upward, a reflex.
A severed head hung by dark hair, still, lifeless. Another drop fell to the ground with an echoing plip. Megan’s face screwed up in terror and despair, and she crossed over to the other staircase. If she could ju
st get to the main corridor, she could find an exit, a place to hide. Just as she rounded the corner behind the massive, curling staircase, she was met by the vampire who had freed her from the cell. “Think again, little wolf,” he said with a malicious grin.
She gasped and pedaled back, just as another bolt whistled past her. Megan’s only choice was to go straight, past the foyer and down to the back of the castle. Further inside. Further from freedom.
She scrambled until her feet caught another rug. Smoke choked the air here, stinging her eyes. There was a large tapestry, embroidered with the most elegant scenes of battle and triumph. Three vampires were throwing torches onto it, laughing and hitting each other on the arms. She neared them and they turned to her with malicious grins, and then their eyes flicked further down the hallway before they returned their attention to their indoor bonfire, deciding not to take the fun away from their compatriots. Another bolt whistled past her, and the vampires erupted in laughter as she sprinted past them.
Each breath was a stabbing pain inside of her chest, white hot from her lack of exercise and from the panic that clutched her lungs. She tasted blood in her mouth, sharp and metallic in the back of her throat. She glimpsed a courtyard to her right, past the arched windows of the hallway. She recognized this section of the castle; behind her was the foyer, the main doors, and ahead of her was the grand hall, along with four wrapping staircases that led to the upper floors. Her assailants were corralling her, forcing her closer to the grand hall. She broke past the hallway and into the large open space that reached four floors up. It was a massive conglomerate of marble and ancient wood, a castle fit for Camelot. Each time her bare feet slapped the marble, she was painfully aware of the noise, echoing high into the space, bouncing off the lofty ceiling and dissipating into the air as another scream tore through the large area, and Megan’s eyes flew up just in time to see a human flung from the third floor. She tore her gaze away, but that didn’t stop her from hearing the thud.
