“Perhaps you need a little more reinforcement here,” I remarked. “A ram could knock down this door in two seconds.”
Kaitlin shrugged. “An army would have to reach my door first. And if they did, I would be ready.” As the door swung open, I came face to face with a canon of gold and inlaid emeralds shaped into shamrocks.
“Jesus,” I muttered, running a hand into my hair.
“Come, you must be tired. How far have you travelled?” Kaitlin asked as we headed through a dark room of wooden furniture with a roaring fire before the hearth. The only daylight in the room came through the arrow-slits high up on the next level. It was accessible by a wooden staircase, circling the room. It creaked underfoot as we climbed, and as we reached the third level, Kaitlin directed us between several rooms.
“As captain, you have your own.” She passed me a brass key and I took it in hand, thanking her.
“I'll have baths drawn up for your men, and a feast will be made in your honour.”
“You're too kind, Kaitlin. I wish I had a home to welcome you into to return the favour.” A dull sigh parted from my lips as I thought of my childhood. My mother had been an English maiden, a servant girl to a grand estate on the Kentish coast. She'd met in with my father after he visited Redwood Manor to meet with the Lord of the house. My mother was a victim of abuse, not even my father had divulged the details to me. But he recounted driving a sword into the man's neck after he found him beating my mother. He told her he could drop her at a pirate port of her choosing to start a new life. And whilst he sailed her to the West Indies, they fell in love. And my mother never parted from him thereafter.
As Kaitlin left me to rest in my room, I tried to conjure an image of my mother. But all I had was the descriptions from my father. An angel of hazel hair and lake-green eyes. Eyes, which I had supposedly inherited.
“Every time you look in the mirror, you see her,” my father would tell me, but it had never provided much peace of mind.
I moved past the four-poster bed, hung with crimson curtains, walking to the vanity stand where an oval mirror was perched. A woman's brush and powder pot sat beside a Flintlock pistol. Typical Kaitlin. Perhaps she'd forgone her own quarters for me tonight.
A beard took over my jaw. Days at sea, with a rough course to sail, gave me no time to shave. But when I docked, I always took care to trim it back. The men said I resembled my father with a sheet of stubble and that was something I used to my advantage. After all, they had been his crew previous to his death, so I would use all the tactics I could to maintain command over them.
My eyes were deepest green, so dark that at times they appeared black. I had my father's thick ebony hair and the cut of his jaw, but she lived on there in my eyes.
A year after I was born, she'd been killed in a battle with a pirate known as Mad Melwick. Though she'd been in the Captain's quarters, soothing me as a battle raged on between the two ships, a cannon ball had taken out the hull where she remained concealed. The resulting shrapnel had ended her life.
My father had found her, with me still held tightly in her arms, just an infant. Even I hadn't avoided damage, a slither of a scar across my forearm was a reminder of what had happened that day. My father had hunted Melwick until his revenge was taken from him in gold and, most importantly, blood.
Gold which was now hidden on an island in the north sea and only I had the knowledge of its whereabouts.
It took a while for me to relax enough to sleep. I'd grown accustomed to the rocking of a ship to lull me into resting. Here, the world was still, calm. Not at all what I was used to. But eventually, sleep came for me.
Cannon fire woke me- a single shot. My hearing rang with the proximity of it. It took a moment for me to realise I wasn't aboard my ship.
Screams tore through the tower and I was suddenly on my feet, my sword in hand.
The door burst open and a woman walked in, her eyes a deep grey that seemed to go on forever. Beautiful didn't come close to describing her. She shone like starlight, her features were sharp and flawless, the only mark on her was a smear of red around her lips.
“Drop it,” she commanded in a silky soft voice and my fingers opened on the hilt of my sword. It clamoured to the ground, but I wasn't afraid, my mind awash with her calming presence.
“I've been looking for you for a very long time, Varick.” She moved toward me with easy grace, her hips swaying in a dress that was far too flimsy for the brutal weather on the Irish coast.
“Looking for me?” I questioned, trying to focus my thoughts. But each one I had slipped away before I could grasp it.
She slipped a finger under my chin, coming eye to eye with me. “You have the smell of fate about you, Varick Cartwright.”
“Fate?” I echoed.
She laughed softly, the sound like a sweet song in my ears. “There is so much we have to talk about.”
I blinked heavily, nodding my agreement.
“But first, you have to die.” Her hands clasped my neck and with a sharp crack, the world as I knew it ended forever.
I was dragged back to my senses by a snapping of teeth. Sitting upright and pushing the hair from my eyes, I gazed across the cells to where Ignus and Ulvic Hund were standing, prodding at that damn wolf again.
“Finally,” Ignus gasped. “How much of that stuff did you give him?” He rounded on Ulvic.
“You said you wanted him to remain this way for as long as possible.”
“Yes, yes.” Ignus waved a hand. “No matter. We can be sure it works now. But I'd like you to develop a quicker antidote.”
Ulvic hesitated, then bowed his head. “As you wish.” He shifted to the side and I craned my neck to see into the wolf's cage. “Forgive me, but why do you want him this way at all?”
Ignus grinned, the kind of evil smile that would make any normal person run for the hills. “I would like him obedient in both forms. There is much a wolf can't do, that a man can. And now that Varick has betrayed us, we'll need another monster on our side.” He rapped his knuckles against the bars. “Hear that, wolf?”
“I have a name,” a voice snarled from within the cage and my ears pricked up. I knew that voice.
Making my way to the edge of my cell, I tried to get a better look, my heart thundering in my ears. I must have been imagining it. It was impossible that he was here.
“Who cares?” Ignus marched away and Ulvic hurried to follow.
When they were out of sight, I hissed across the corridor, “Hey!”
Two hands took hold of the bars in the wolf's cell and a face came into view. His hair was overly long, but still hung in a loose plait down the back of his head. His light eyes found mine, eyes I never thought I'd see again.
I shook my head, trying to figure out if the Helsings' were playing some twisted trick on me.
“Jameson?” I breathed in disbelief, blinking hard to try and shift the vision.
A hopeful smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “It's good to see you again, brother.”
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V Games (The Vampire Games Trilogy Book 1) Page 30
