Wolf Games: Island of Shade (The Vampire Games Book 5)

by Caroline Peckham

  Below us the forest hummed with life. And above, the moon peeked through thick clouds in the wake of the storm, barely lighting the world in a milky glow.

  Silas reached the steel gate, tugging some vines away from the door. Jameson kept a watchful eye on the surrounding trees, looking out for the fearful creature.

  Silas lifted a little hatch on an old keypad in a glass box, quickly typing in a code. The red light blinking on it turned green and the gate clunked open.

  “No way!” I gasped, elation filling me, anxious to get inside.

  “We've used the same codes for years,” Silas said. “In fact, when I get to the institute I'm going to make it a priority to update our security.” He stepped through the gate and Jameson and I followed him onto a metal walkway. A huge drop laid beneath the grate of the walkway, reaching all the way down to the forest floor. Before us was the treehouse, made from steel with a small door leading inside.

  Silas hurried to the door, wrenching it wide with a screeching sound as the rusted hinges protested. Inside, the place was impossibly dry and completely isolated from the wind, but it was clear no one had been there in a very long time.

  A single bed was built into a wall and a huge console took up one whole side of the space, overlooking a glass window. The tree trunk was hidden behind a ring of steel.

  Silas ran to the console, tapping several buttons before slamming his hand against it. “Shit. The power's been cut.”

  “Can we get it running?” Jameson asked, moving to his side. He picked up a radio, holding down the button, but no static sounded across it.

  “Maybe it's controlled from the institute...” Silas said thoughtfully. “There could be a fuse box though. If we could find the power source, we might be able to get it running.”

  Jameson nodded, starting to search the place. I slipped outside, leaving them to it, feeling awkward after what had occurred between Jameson and I. On reflection, kissing him as a distraction had been a stupid idea. No, scrap stupid. Downright shameful.

  You're supposed to be over him, Cassandra!

  Now I'd gone and opened a can of worms that needed welding shut. And Jameson was probably feeling smug as hell about it. My hands curled into fists. What the hell was the matter with me?

  I gazed at the view around me, blowing out a sigh. The wind was warm, but not as humid as it had been down in the forest, whipping around me and helping to dry my sodden dress at last. The grate of the circular walkway pressed into my bare feet as I moved. Chattering caught my ear above, and I gazed up into the tree canopy, spotting a small family of monkeys on the branches. My gut lurched sharply. Clinging to the tree trunk above the cage, an enormous shadow sat watching me, its eyes glinting. I stilled, my gaze travelling from the monstrous creature to a large metal box beneath it.

  In a surge of movement, the beast released its grip on the tree, dropping onto the cage above me with a metallic clang. I instinctively ducked, my heart beating out of tune. Its skin was ape-like, its back curved over and inhuman, but its face was that of a Reaper's. The only difference was its eyes, penetrating and slit up the middle like a snake's.

  It dipped a bony finger through the cage, trying to reach me. “Taste...”

  I relaxed when I was sure it couldn't get through the bars. It scrambled across them, its monkey-like feet allowing it to move with great skill. The creature dropped onto the bridge before the door, yanking on the gate. Its tongue whipped out, black and slimy, running up the bars.

  I shrank away, fear darting through me.

  It can't get in.

  I rushed back inside, finding Jameson and Silas pulling the place apart to find the fuse box.

  “I think I found it,” I said and they paused their hunt, following me outside.

  The Reaper had moved back to the tree bough, hugging onto it, just above the box.

  I pointed, gulping down the lump in my throat.

  “Shit,” Jameson growled, gazing up at the predicament.

  “It's a Reaper,” I said, turning to Silas. “Look at its face.” I shuddered as it scurried up the bough, moving into the foliage and disappearing from view.

  “It must have been feeding on the wildlife,” Silas breathed. “They're not usually attracted to animal blood.” He gazed at me with dread in his eyes. “I don't like to think what it's capable of.”

  “I can handle it,” Jameson said, rolling his shoulders.

  “Don't be an idiot,” I said.

  “Hey! Hey! Boss! Is that you!?” a man's voice carried from the bridge. I spun around, spotting a guy dressed in black, a gun strapped to his hip, a balaclava covering his face. Behind him were two more survivors from the cruise ship, including Nurse Rakefield who'd cared for me after my transformation into a Hybrid. The other woman was another guard. She had a pistol in her hand and another tucked into a weapons belt.

  “Jesus.” Silas hurried forward to let them into the cage.

  The shadow of the Reaper swooped over us and I cried, “Watch out!”

  The Reaper hit the bridge and it swayed violently, creaking beneath its weight. A machine gun went off and someone bowled into me. I hit the floor as bullets sprayed overhead, finding Jameson pinning me down. I wriggled out from beneath him as he tried to drag me inside.

  Silas hesitated to open the gate, ducking low as he shouted out to his employees, “Run!”

  The Reaper moved fast, dropping onto the wooden slats of the bridge and scuttling across it on all fours. If any of the bullets had hit it, they had clearly done no damage.

  The guard fired again, but the chamber rang empty. The Reaper launched into the air, dropping atop him and ripping into his neck with sharp claws. Nurse Rakefield screamed to high heaven, stumbling back into the female guard. She shoved her forward, screaming, “Go!”

  The guard pushed Rakefield twice more before she got her moving. With hurried movements, they clambered past the frenzied Reaper, sprinting toward us.

  The Reaper lifted its head, blood dripping from its slack jaw as it spotted Silas opening the gate. It turned in a heartbeat, running on all fours toward us.

  “Hurry!” Silas barked, holding the door wide.

  My heart did cartwheels. I prepared myself for a fight, crouching low. Jameson was at my side, his shoulders tense, having given up trying to move me into the treehouse.

  The guard shoved Rakefield ahead of her and she slammed onto her knees before us, trembling like a leaf. The guard dove after her and Silas slammed the door, just as the Reaper collided with it. A metallic dong rang out from the impact. The Reaper drew itself up to its enormous height, gazing directly at Silas, blood oozing from its black lips. “Taste,” it growled before skulking back to its prey, feasting on the man's body.

  I shuddered, dropping down and helping Rakefield to her feet.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said as she took me in. “You're alive?”

  Silas took hold of the guard's arm to get her attention. She had a long, hazel ponytail and enormous amber eyes, giving her the appearance of a deer. The muscles in her golden-brown arms and the weapons attached to her belt said she was not as innocent as her face suggested.

  “It's good to see you, sir,” she addressed Silas; her voice had subtle Latino inflections.

  “And you, Lorena. Are there other survivors?” Silas asked. Despite being shirtless and caked in filth, he somehow assumed the role of boss as easily as slipping on a glove.

  “Many were in the water,” Lorena said. “I'm not sure how many made it to shore. There were more of us...but...” She looked to Rakefield who started crying.

  Lorena guided Silas away, moving out of earshot of Rakefield, but Jameson and I would have been able to hear her even if she was still on the other side of the bridge. “I had to put Avery down. A Reaper ate most of the skin from his bones before it morphed into him. I made sure it met its end, too.”

  Silas rested a hand on her arm. “You've done well. I won't forget it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She bowed h
er head, her eyes trailing to the bridge. I followed her gaze. The Reaper was gone, making the hairs on my arms bristle.

  I turned to talk to Jameson, but he wasn't there. Spinning around, I hunted for him, then a clanging of noise made me look up. Jameson was climbing through a metal hatch in the cage roof, dragging himself out atop it.

  “Jameson!” I shouted in alarm, but he didn't listen, lunging upwards and climbing the steep tree trunk. He dug his nails into the bark, shimmying up towards the fuse box.

  “You're insane!” Silas barked at him.

  “Yeah, remember to put that on my gravestone, will you?” Jameson said through his teeth, climbing higher. “Right beneath hero and mastermind.” He wrenched the fuse-box open, gazing inside for several seconds before flicking a switch. “And just before 'legend with a mega-ripped bod'.”

  Lights came on in the treehouse followed by a whirring sound as the computer started up.

  “We're saved!” Rakefield cried as Jameson let go of the tree. His boots slammed into the cage above, rattling the whole structure. He slipped back through the hatch, swinging it shut before dropping to the floor beside me. He grinned triumphantly and I fought a smile. “That was stupid, but...thanks.”

  “The Reaper just fed.” Jameson stretched casually as the group hurried inside, leaving us alone. I moved to followed, but Jameson caught my arm. “Hey, about that kiss...”

  My blood heated up by fifty degrees. “This isn't the time, Jameson.”

  “Why not?” He gazed at me with a puppy-dog look.

  I rolled my eyes. “Just forget it happened.”

  His jaw ticked. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was struggling to do so.

  I dipped my head, feeling bad for snapping at him. “We're never going to be together, Jameson. I understand that. But I can't do casual with you. It's all or nothing. So it's nothing.” The admission made my heart beat out of rhythm.

  Jameson made a noise of frustration in his throat.

  A crackling sound caught my ear: static from the radio. All thoughts were forgotten as I darted inside, spotting Silas holding it to his mouth.

  I held my breath, waiting, all hopes of rescue pinned on this moment.

  “Site D, come in. This is Silas Madigan, requesting immediate assistance from this outpost.” He let go of the button, waiting for a response.

  Tense silence ran through the space.

  Rakefield clung to Lorena, looking desperate.

  Another crackle of static followed.

  “Come on,” Silas said under his breath. He pressed the transmitter again. “Site D, come in. This is Silas Madigan, I'm trapped out on the island with a group of survivors. We need immediate assistance.”

  Another bout of static, then a cool, musical tone filled the air. A voice that chilled me to my core. “Ah Mr Madigan, you sound like you're in quite de predicament,” Rockley Jones answered. “I'd be happy to assist you, but I am quite busy at de moment.”

  Silas's face remained perfectly composed, but his jaw clenched tightly. When he spoke, he did so in a deadly tone. “If you've hurt any of my people, Mr Jones, you will pay.”

  “A somewhat useless threat, considering you're out dere and I'm in your institute. Especially if you want me help. I'd thought you mighta been killed in de sinking of your vessel. It comforts me some to hear you're alive and well, old friend. And I suppose dat means dere are more survivors?”

  Silas paused, his eyes catching mine.

  Jameson roamed closer, his shoulders tense. “Tell him to go to hell,” he growled.

  Silas thought on that before shaking his head and lifting the radio to his mouth. “What do you want, Rockley?”

  “Ah, finally dropped de formalities? Now we can talk frankly.” Rockley cleared his throat. “The deal is dis. You give me your location and I'll send a rescue team to pick you up. All you have to do in return is hand over de redhead quietly. I'll transfer funds to your company for the damage done to your ship, enough to sustain your little experiments, and we part as good friends.”

  Icy fingers crept up my spine. Silas avoided my eye, turning his back on me. I felt Rakefield and Lorena's gazes turn to me, assessing.

  Jameson shifted closer to Silas, his stance threatening.

  “No deal, Rockley,” Silas snarled. “By the time I get to my institute, you better be long gone on that helicopter, or I'll make you regret ever stepping a foot on this island.”

  Rockley's smug laughter followed. “So she is alive den?”

  Silence spread through the room and I slowly approached Silas, his back firm with tensed muscle.

  Rockley spoke again. “Let de game of cat and mouse begin, Silas. But remember, I'm de one with de claws.”

  Silas dropped the radio, crushing it under his shoe. He turned sharply around, fury lining his symmetrical features. I wrapped my arms around him and he stiffened in surprise.

  “Thank you,” I breathed in relief and he softened, pulling me closer. He had given up his one opportunity to be saved. For me. And words couldn't quite encompass what that meant to me.

  “I'm not giving you up,” he murmured, close to my ear. I knew Jameson would have heard it. And I didn't care one bit.

  Mercy

  Swiftly after Colt had revealed who he really was, we'd been interrupted by Lynch calling his name from downstairs. I was glad to have time alone to think about what I'd learnt, away from Colt's watchful eyes. The eyes of a brutal killer...

  I was suddenly more frightened of Colt than I'd ever been of Lynch. The guy was a mass murderer, who specialised in torturing and mutilating Hunters. For what? Fun? He was a Hunter himself. Or at least, half of him was. If his mother really had been in his father's resort, maybe she'd been human...

  I couldn't remember the details of the murder cases that well. All I knew, was that they'd happened over a period of years, causing panic to rise amongst the Hunter community. The Watchers were called in to help track down the culprit. And when Accolt had admitted to his father what he'd done, Rockley Jones had reportedly called in the Watchers to arrest him. But when they'd shown up at his home, Rockley was out cold and there was no sign of Accolt. He'd been in hiding ever since.

  Surely Alfric Hund had known who he was? So why would he employ him? He'd said himself he despised blood traitors. Questions continued to circle in my mind, driving me nearly insane. I decided to spend the time testing my leg by putting a little weight on it. Now that I knew who I'd been left at the hands of, I wanted out more than ever. The strange thing was, despite everything I knew about Colt, he had never revealed his violent side to me. Which kind of stumped me. If he really was a Hunter-killer, why had he shown me any kindness at all?

  The door swung open barely a moment after I'd tucked my leg back under the covers. I'd been so distracted thinking about Colt, that I'd not noticed the footsteps approaching the door.

  Lynch strode into the room. His presence sent a wave of recognition through me. Not because of who he was, but what he was. Today, his aura was the exact same shade of the men who'd attended the V Games. The kind of people whose souls were bound for hell. And because of that, they didn't care how much suffering and pain were dealt at their hands.

  Lynch gripped his Harley Davidson belt buckle, tugging his jeans a little higher over his hips. Something about the action made me uncomfortable.

  He released a slow, measured breath. “Colt showed you his face?”

  I nodded. There was no point in lying. Colt had probably told Lynch what he'd done anyway. Why would he protect me now? I'd exposed him. I knew who he was. And if I ever got free, he'd assume I'd turn him in to the Watchers.

  Would I do that? I didn't really know. It was hardly my first thought when it came to escaping. All I really wanted to do was get out of there. But after that? I wasn't sure. I didn't have a home to go to anymore. I didn't feel wanted at The Sanctuary. So I doubted I'd have anyone to tell.

  My thoughts were getting carried away. I focused back on Lynch as he a
pproached me, making the floorboards creak beneath his cowboy boots. They were a deep, tan leather with spurs on the back of them. Seriously?

  “Well you've gone and pissed the kid off,” he said, smoothing his moustache down with his finger and thumb. “Guess I'll have to take care of you from now on.”

  I thought of the jagged piece of tiling I'd stashed beneath the bed. I did not want his hands on me. Could I get to it in time if I needed to protect myself?

  I nodded, not trying too hard to hide my discontent about that fact. “Well, Colt already changed my bandages today.”

  Lynch's eyes trailed over me for a moment, then he shrugged, heading back to the door. “Tomorrow then.”

  The door clicked shut behind him and I let out a slow breath. His presence weighed a tonne. It was strange that a man like him made me fearful now, after I'd spent so many years flirting and manipulating men like that. It was something I still knew how to do. Something I'd learned from a very young age. Too young, perhaps. It was only in the wake of my parents' deaths, and in the events leading up to them, that I started to see my upbringing in a different light. Which, despite my situation, made me uncomfortable falling back on those 'skills'.

  I sighed, making a quiet decision. I'd already placed weight on my leg. That would have to be good enough. Because I was going to get the hell out of there before Lynch laid a single slimy finger on me. Before I had to implement old tactics that would make me feel like the girl I used to be. Instead, I'd run. And I'd do it tonight.

  100 years ago

  I finally looked sixteen! One year, two weeks and three days after I saw Ignus put that mask on Varick and I was surely old enough now to be allowed to watch the V Games.

  I rarely saw Varick. Daddy had used him as an assistant in the last V Games, even took his mask off when he'd been around the spectators. I'd occasionally caught a glimpse of him in smart trousers and a dark robe, following Daddy down a corridor. Nowadays, it seemed Daddy only took him around the castle late at night. But I'd given up trying to follow them after Mother had caught me sneaking around after bedtime. Eight o'clock sharp. It was a joke. Ignus never had a curfew. Even before he'd aged.