V Games (The Vampire Games Trilogy Book 1)

by Caroline Peckham

  He dropped onto the bed, laying down beside me, resting a hand on his heart and shutting his eyes.

  My own heartbeat seemed to spike rather than be calmed by the slow music. I dragged my gaze away from his still form, but he patted the space beside him, encouraging me to join him.

  I shuffled down the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. My white-walled prison. Though the bars kept changing, I hadn't been free since I'd walked into the women's penitentiary back in the east of England.

  “So what else do you feel?” I asked in a quiet voice. It felt odd to be lying there on a bed beside the same man who had earmarked me for his lunch the first day I'd encountered him. But I was drawn to this human part of him, curious as to who he once was.

  He cleared his throat, his hand remaining on his chest. “It's hard to explain to someone who's never been dead.”

  A confused smile tugged at my lips. “Well, try.”

  He sighed, closing his eyes again. “Nothing leaves you the day you become a Vampire. Memories...the things you like...don't like. They're all still there...just, faded. The thirst takes priority over any other need. And the longer you go without it, the more it consumes you. The less the memories mean. My emotions became detached from my past until all that was left was hunger...rage.”

  I shuddered. “That sounds awful.”

  “Yes...” His tone was bleak. “But blood restores some of my humanity. Until my next feed anyway. Everything fits together again for a while. I remember exactly why I loved the sea, not just that I once did.”

  “You were a captain, right?”

  He snorted. “If you can believe that.”

  I stole a glance at his expression, trying to work him out. This wasn't the hungry beast I'd been in the room with just minutes ago. “How long will it last?” I needed to know. He'd had a taste of my blood, so what was to say he wouldn't want more? And I wanted to be prepared to offer it again.

  “If I'd had a full feed...maybe a week.” He shrugged and I wrinkled my nose.

  “A full feed...as in, if you'd killed me?”

  Gingerly, he nodded and I had my answer.

  “How many people have you killed?” I breathed and he sighed heavily.

  “Too many.”

  “Do you feel bad about it?” I whispered, my skin prickling.

  His brow became taut. “Do you?”

  The question hung in the air, slicing through to my soul. I'd never once felt guilt for what I did to my stepfather. Perhaps that was messed up, but when you'd spent years under the roof with someone who drove terror into your heart on a daily basis, their loss was nothing but a relief. Marie's death, on the other hand, was a heavy weight I would have to carry around with me forever.

  “You don't kill bad people,” I commented, deflecting the question.

  He blew out a breath. “I take what I can get. Either that or become one of them.”

  “The Vs?” I questioned, shuddering at the memory of their emaciated bodies, their bloodshot eyes and decaying skin.

  “Mm.”

  “Have you ever been like that?” I whispered.

  “Once,” he replied in a low voice.

  I didn't press him further; his body had become rigid. I supposed whatever it felt like for him to be hungry, the Vs out in the game had it worse. Much worse.

  “How old are you?” I asked as the Johnny Cash song ended.

  “Three hundred and something. Stopped counting about fifty years back. It does things to your head...seeing life pass by like that. I try not to remember how long I've been this way.”

  A harsh knock came out the door, silencing the next question that sat on my lips. I wasn't sure I should have asked it anyway. Varick no doubt wouldn't share with me whether or not he truly wanted to be a Vampire. But I couldn't help but wonder, did he choose to become this or was the choice made for him?

  “Get on the floor,” he commanded in a rough tone.

  I gave him a questioning frown as me made his way to the door. He shot a snarling look in my direction and I hurried to comply. Whether he felt more human or not, he sure didn't look it at that moment.

  I dropped to my knees as the door opened.

  Ignus stood there with his arms folded and a slim metal device in his hand. “Have you fed yet? Our winner is anxious to get his hands on her.”

  Varick placed a palm on the door frame, refusing him access. “None of your business, Ignus. She's mine to do with as I please. And the deal is, she's mine for the night.”

  A sick feeling filled my gut. What would happen to me if they took me away from Varick? Vampire or not, the Helsings were in control here.

  “Get it done, Varick. Or hand her over. She's yours to eat, not torture.”

  “And what do you care?” Varick snarled.

  Ignus tilted his head to the side and his bright blue eyes landed on me. His gaze roamed over my body as if searching for wounds. I had no doubt it was to confirm Varick was feeding from me, not to check that I was okay. “I have need of you. Ulvic-”

  “I get my twelve hours!” Varick roared, making me wince. He smacked his hand against the door frame and a chunk of wood snapped off, careening in Ignus's direction. My chest bubbled with hope. The boy seemed frightened, perhaps Varick did hold power over him.

  Ignus took a wary step back, holding out the silver device in his palm. “Remember who's in charge here, V. You've got a sweet deal on Raskdød. Or would you rather we sent you into the games?” He jutted up his triangular chin, but the fact he was nearly a foot shorter than Varick did nothing to help his attempt at intimidation.

  Ignus looked to me again, his mouth twisting grimly. He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but thought better of it at the last moment, turning on his heel and heading away.

  Varick slammed the door, his shoulders heaving with deep breaths.

  I stood, moving toward him and placing a hand on his spine. He whipped around in a flash. “We'll be left alone until tomorrow.” Varick sat me down on the bed with surprisingly gentle hands.

  I nodded, unable to unravel the snake that had coiled around my throat and strangled me into silence.

  “You should get some rest.” Varick began pacing the room, running a hand through his long hair. He pushed the bandanna free, shaking it loose so a tangle of dark hair fell around his face.

  I sighed, dropping back onto the soft pillows. My mind was a whirlwind, but the last week had taken a lot out of me. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt safe.

  I yawned broadly, rolling onto my side and finding Varick watching me from across the room. “Stop staring,” I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy. The angular planes of his face were tempting in my drowsy state; half asleep, my fingers flexed at the thought of reaching out to feel them.

  A grin tugged at his mouth - a perfectly human smile. Well, if you discounted the fact Varick looked like an Armani model with the temperament of an angry polar bear. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  Varick

  It was the first time in god knows how many years that I actually missed sleeping. Standing guard while Selena slept, curled up on the bed like a cat. It made me want to tear my tongue out just so I could stop thinking about her blood. But my thirst for her was battling with some other emotion now. I craved her, not just her blood. And perhaps those lines were starting to blur...

  The only thing that made her scent more bearable was the fact she'd been bathed, using the same lavender soap of the Helsings. A smell which made my skin crawl with abhorrent memories.

  I recalled the cell I'd been kept in; the iron bars, the sunlamps suspended above me, flashing sporadically whenever one of them visited me. The way my skin peeled as it seared beneath the unforgiving light...

  Pressing my fingers into my eyes, I forced the images back, but my damn mind was sharper than ever, flooding me with them. The way my skin had decayed on my bones, my jaw had ached with the thirst. It had been torture of the highest form and all it took was removing blood from my diet for
a few weeks. I was a slave to it, as I was to them.

  That was, until I met her. Selena had a streak of fierceness in her that could serve us both well. I just had to figure out a way to stop Brice Edgewater getting his hands on her, without the Helsings killing her for it.

  I gazed at her still form, wondering what it would be like to experience such peace again. To be able to switch off my mind and escape for a while.

  My memory of sleep was strange. When a need no longer became necessary, it was easy to forget exactly how it felt.

  I moved towards Selena, creeping onto the edge of the bed and laying across from her. I was a pro at keeping silent, and if she woke, I could move before she even spotted me.

  I watched her in fascination, desperate to know what it felt like to dream again.

  I shut my eyes, trying to turn off my thoughts, to encourage the tug of tiredness, drawing me into oblivion. Strange, to be free of such a thing. Was it a curse for a human to spend nearly half their lives unconscious, or was it a sweet blessing that a creature like me could no longer indulge in?

  Immortality may have been worth the absence of sleep, of hunger. But not the absence of time. The days meant nothing. Each merged into one, an endless strip of forever that had my name etched into its path. I was here until whatever doom befell the earth. So long as the Helsings didn't end me first. And sometimes, I considered angering them enough that they would. Perhaps I'd rip off Katherine's head and let her husband rain down hell on me.

  It was a dreary thought, but one with which I'd flirted more than once. Without time, life had lost meaning. The things I'd once wanted had lost their allure. My friends were gone. My family. All that had remained was me and an eternity of serving a family I despised.

  But then she showed up. The little survivor. And I now had a purpose again: to get her the hell off this island. No matter what the consequences.

  I'd had more than one noose around my neck in my human lifetime. Literal and figurative. And she escaped harm in the way I used to: by the skin of her teeth. That seemed like a handy trait to have in my new 'ally'.

  ◐☼◐

  Winter, 1803

  “We sail for Melwick's gold,” Jameson muttered to me in my quarters, spinning a dagger in his hand.

  I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “It's too soon. We aren't ready.”

  “The crew need a reason to believe in you again, Varick.”

  I bashed my fist down on the table between us and Jameson automatically pushed my tankard closer, encouraging me to take a drink. I knocked back the dark rum, wiping the residue from my beard.

  We'd been days at sea. A storm had taken four of my men and snapped the mizzenmast. We were travelling on bitter determination alone, and I was sick and tired of Jameson suggesting we head for the gold.

  “They have a reason,” I snarled. “I'm the son of their last captain. A great man. He owned half the islands in the north sea.”

  “He owned them once, Varick. Now they're in the hands of our bloody English King.”

  “The aristocracy think they own everything,” I spat. “But do you see the king himself sailing north to lay his claim?” I topped up my rum from the bottle. “I'm more of a king there than some fat blueblood.”

  Jameson barked a laugh.”Perhaps if he spent more time sailing than eating, he'd have put an end to piracy by now.”

  “Lucky for us.” I grinned and he tapped his tankard to mine.

  We drank until my head swam, then Jameson made his way from my cabin, singing old sea songs as he staggered across the deck.

  After a while, the sound of Pud's voice caught my attention and I headed onto the deck, finding the majority of my crew gathered around the boy. He was propped up on a barrel, drinking ale as he told his story.

  Jameson shot me a grin, joining the crowd. I leant back on the stair to the tiller, listening to Pud's tale.

  “-had white teeth, so sharp they could cut through skin and bone. And their beauty was unequalled to anyone I'd seen before. The women were pale-skinned and their bodies bewitchingly desirable.”

  The men cheered and I rolled my eyes. Pud's drivel was keeping the men merry, had been for months now. So I let him stay. Despite the fact he was about as useful onboard as a rat in the kitchen.

  “Even the men lured you in with their eyes. As soon as they spoke, a calm washed over me. My body was no longer mine. They drew me into their arms and I went willingly, letting them take what they wanted from me.”

  “No one would want your skinny arse, Pud!” Jameson hollered from the crowd to a mass of roaring laughter.

  “They wanted my blood!” Pud shouted over the noise and the clamour fell to quiet mutterings.

  “They bit my neck, I have the marks to prove it!” He twisted his head to the side, pushing back the locks of curly blonde that had grown so long in the short time he'd been with us.

  Even squinting, I could see nothing on his neck, but some of the men disagreed, pointing and gasping.

  I'd had enough, walking out into the crew, slowly clapping my hands. “A good tale, Pud. But I think blood-sucking humans are beyond any stretch of the imagination.”

  “It's the truth, Cap'n,” Pud said, straightening his spine. “I'd swear it on my mother's grave, I would.”

  “No doubt you would,” I remarked. “Selling your mother out for the sake of your stories seems a little low, however.”

  The men eyed me with sour expressions. I stared them down until they diverted their gaze, shuffling around like mistreated dogs.

  “Get back to work,” I commanded, turning and heading back to my quarters.

  “They spoke of you, Captain Varick!” Pud called after me and I paused, glancing over my shoulder with a snarling expression. This boy was asking for trouble.

  “They said the son of the Sea King will soon be theirs.”

  I snapped around, marching toward Pud, my crew hastily getting out of my way. I grabbed him by the scruff, dragging him from the barrel with brute force. He screamed in alarm, huddling protectively at my feet. “No please! I only speak the truth.”

  “Enough, boy! Tell your stories if you must, but leave me out of them. The next time I have to tell you, you'll be skewered on the end of my sword.” I snatched his collar, pulling him up to face me and a whimper passed his lips. He was barely a man, not more than fourteen. At his age, I'd been the mate to my father. I'd learnt how to run a tight ship, how to command a crew's respect. This boy clearly hadn't had such guidance.

  Dragging him to his feet, I landed him upright, brushing off his shoulders. “If you wish to stay onboard, you'll learn to do more than weave a good tale, Pud. Tomorrow you'll rise at dawn and come to my quarters. I'll teach you what it takes to be a part of my crew.”

  I released him forcefully and he gazed up at me with fear and respect in his eyes. The men around him observed me with similar expressions and I knew I'd done my job.

  Tomorrow, I would treat the boy as my father had once treated me. And in doing so, I'd remind my men why they followed my orders.

  My eyes flickered open and I jerked backwards on the bed, fully conscious. But surely I had been conscious moments ago, too? Sleep wasn't possible. But my memories, they had been so vivid...

  Selena still slept beside me, but my movements had stirred her.

  My tongue suddenly burned for more of her blood. She had returned to me the ability to sleep. How was that possible? I'd drained entire bodies before and never managed to become so human.

  I stood, lifting a hand to my heart which was only slightly slower than it had been immediately after drinking from her. How long would her blood keep me this way? The amount I'd drunk should already have worn off a little.

  I moved to the bathroom, eyeing the shower with longing. Would I feel it on my skin? Would the water heat my blood and soften my muscles like it used to?

  I rushed into the stream, forgetting to remove my clothes. It had been so long since I'd attempted such a thing. My body didn't sweat. I wasn
't a slave to the secretions of a human any longer. The closest I had come to feeling – truly feeling – water on my skin had been out on the island. When it didn't snow on Raskdød, it rained. Bloody poured. And I'd stood in quiet determination out on the eastern cliff, letting it wash over me, trying to feel it again. My body was continually cold, but I didn't feel it the way I had as a human. I hadn't been uncomfortable, but at that moment, I'd wanted to be.

  I'd wanted to feel what the sea spray felt like on my cheeks, the way the wind bit my skin and brought the blood to the surface. I recalled standing on that cliff in a violent storm, beneath the black clouds and above the frothing, angry sea.

  The rain had soaked my clothes, my hair, plastering it to my body. The drops had run down my neck, my spine, and still I'd felt nothing. Not a shiver or the rush of adrenaline brought on by a thunder crack. I might as well have been one of the rocks, ravished by the elements, its state unchanging in a thousand years.

  What life was that? Even if I'd thrown myself from the edge, I'd have lived.

  As I stepped into the heated stream of the shower, a breath of hot vapour rushed over me. The lavender soap stung my nose and I quickly removed it from the shower, tossing it into the toilet so I could bear its vile scent.

  The hot water distracted me quickly. As it flooded over my body, it soaked into my shirt, my jeans. I sucked in a breath, the steam rising in plumes around me and with a jerk backwards, I realised it was scolding.

  Selena was suddenly there, shooting out an arm, turning down the heat and hissing as her own skin grew red beneath the stream. She swore between her teeth, yanking her arm back. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “I can feel again.”

  I shut my eyes, recalling the sun in southern France, sailing through the azure waters of Greece, chasing the sunset in Portugal. I'd been free once, more than I'd ever realised.

  A noise of grief passed my lips as I finally felt the loss of it. So many years had gone by and never once had I grieved the life I'd left behind. Selena had given me the chance to regret again. The chance to miss it with all my heart. No blood had ever given me that.