V Games: Fresh From The Grave (The Vampire Games Book 2)

by Caroline Peckham

  “Shh,” I hushed, but Reason just rolled her eyes.

  “He's a wolf, Selena. He can hear every word you're saying. Whispered or not.”

  My neck prickled with that thought and I immediately buttoned my lip. I didn't want to wind up my new ally before our plan had even taken place.

  “Ulvic, when we return, perhaps Reason can be given her own room?” Mekiah's voice reached to me, his shoulders bunched.

  Ulvic ran a hand through his hair. “Give it more time.”

  “We've given it time,” Mekiah snarled and Reason glanced at me, hopeful. She jogged forward, joining the conversation.

  “Promote Nadine to Beta,” Reason said, clutching Ulvic's sleeve.

  Ulvic shrugged her off. “Not a chance.”

  “But all the males like her. She's the most beautiful. Right, Mekiah?” Reason nudged him.

  Mekiah's eyes were like stone, his lips firmly sealed.

  “Come on,” she pleaded. “You despise me, why keep putting yourself through it?”

  Mekiah's gaze was steadied on the way ahead. “Don't exaggerate.”

  Reason's eyes went skyward and my heart went out to her. Mekiah was hardly a friendly face to go to bed to every night. She probably had an inch of space to herself with his big, bearish form taking over the mattress.

  “Another moon cycle,” Ulvic bargained and Reason sighed.

  “You said that last month. Things haven't changed. We aren't meant for each other, isn't it obvious?” The way she looked at Ulvic made me think there was something between them. At least, on her part anyway.

  Mekiah walked off ahead, breaching the tree line as we arrived at the rocky shore, meeting a bay between two jagged cliffs. The rickety pier seemed even more at risk beneath Mekiah's heavy boots as he marched carelessly toward the bobbing catamaran.

  “Ulvic.” Reason halted him, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Don't do this to me.”

  Ulvic sighed, cupping her cheek, father-like. “Another cycle, Reason. And I won't ask for another.”

  Reason hung her head, giving in, Ulvic's word seeming absolute.

  I followed my newfound allies onto the boat, my curiosity about their relationship vanishing from my mind as I envisioned the day ahead.

  There was a real chance I could see Varick today. A chance I could save him. But what state would he be in? Surely the Helsings were taking their pound of flesh out of him in punishment. The thought did terrible things to my insides.

  As the boat rocked out into the bay and the morning air sailed down into my lungs, I made a silent promise to myself. No matter what happened today, I was going to survive to see the end of it.

  I sat inside the cabin with Ulvic who dropped his large bag beneath the control desk. It clunked with the weapons he'd hid amongst his clothes. But the most powerful weapons he was bringing, he'd said, were the two people standing at the bow of the boat, gazing out at the water.

  The chill didn't seem to effect them like it did Ulvic and I, but the temperature in the cabin soon rose to a comfortable level.

  When I'd churned over all the possible scenarios that awaited us on Raskdød, I forced myself to talk to Ulvic about anything other than the day ahead.

  “Why do you want those two to be together?” I asked, leaning against a window as I gazed out at the calm, grey sea, stretching toward the horizon.“They don't seem to like each other very much.”

  Ulvic glanced at me. “Love and hate are very closely woven threads.”

  I shrugged, trying not to notice how his words resonated with my own feelings for Varick. My seething hatred for him had given way to something much softer, but equally as passionate. I hadn't let myself dwell on him for more than a few moments before my body felt like it was about to come apart at the seams.

  Get to shore.

  Get Varick out.

  Get away.

  These were the only three things I could allow myself to focus on.

  “I may look like a young man, Selena, but trust me, I am far older than you. And I know a thing or two about love.”

  I rolled my eyes – a move I soon regretted, considering how childish it made me seem, thereby confirming his words. “How old are you?” I probed.

  “A hundred nearly,” he said casually.

  “A hundred?” I echoed in shock. “But you look about my age.”

  He smiled at me, at ease as usual. “A trait of being a Hunter.”

  It made me think of Abraham and his wife, Katherine, who seemed to be in their forties physically. Did that make them older than Ulvic? If it did, that must have meant they were at least twice his age, if not more.

  The horizon darkened like a curtain was being dragged over the sky: the polar night was awaiting us. Black and impenetrable.

  I stood, slipping out of the door and turning my face to the sun. Ready or not, I was going back to Raskdød. A place that had taken more from me than I ever could have imagined. But had also given me one, sweet, blossoming gift. And I was going to fight for it with my life.

  Cass

  The wolf didn't seem to recognise me, but I was certain it was the very one that had saved me out in the game. I wasn't quite sure of how to convey that to him as we sat in a pool of a stranger's blood, our backs to each other. I sensed from his posture that he felt as guilty as I did, which gave me hope.

  Ignus had left a couple of women to observe us, who jotted down notes from time to time on our behaviour. Neither of us had moved a muscle in what seemed like an entire lifetime.

  But eventually, I stood, feeling a little more human after all the blood I'd drank.

  The blood: the most incredible nectar to ever have passed my lips. Nothing compared to the taste. My favourite foods from my previous life paled by comparison. But the guilt ate at me, chomped at my heart like an animal eating me from the inside out.

  I grimaced, disgusted with myself as I turned to face my victim. If I was even capable of crying any more, the tears didn't come. There was a hole in my chest instead. A vacant space that grew with each horrible hour that passed.

  I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, regret dragging at my insides.

  I was a V.

  A monster.

  And Ignus Helsing was Frankenstein, having stitched me together, bringing me back to life as a twisted version of myself.

  The black wolf whimpered, laying his head on the ground – in one of the only spaces clean of blood.

  I moved toward the man we had collaborated in murdering, bending my knees and reaching into the tattered remains of his coat. There was no ID. I wasn't sure what I'd expected. Whoever this man was must have been easily disposed of. Someone the Helsings wanted dead. Or someone they didn't care about.

  What was left of his face was a picture of horror. I would have vomited had I still been human, but instead there was just a violent pain in the pit of my stomach. I closed his eyes, shaking my head, wishing I could take it back. But I hadn't been myself. I'd had no control. My body had acted before I could stop myself.

  I lifted my head, gazing at the wolf. He let out a soft whine in acknowledgment and, at last, I was sure he recognised me.

  “Hey,” I whispered. My voice was different to before. Smoother, more enticing. Every time I spoke, it surprised me to hear it. “Do you remember me?”

  The wolf stood, dipping his head in affirmation. He padded over, sitting before me with a low growl. It wasn't at me. I sensed the anger in him, because it lived in me too. This wolf wasn't normal: I knew that much from the games. He'd saved me and my friends more than once, so trusting him now was easy, despite the vicious feeding frenzy I'd recently witnessed.

  I guessed I wasn't much of a meal in his eyes. I was a dead, rotting piece of flesh. No doubt the least appetising creature to cross his path all day.

  I ran my blood-stained palm over his soft muzzle and he shut his eyes, moving into my touch. The women beyond our cell were furiously making notes on their tablets, the tap of their fingers like g
unshots in my ears.

  “Will you ever shut up?!” I roared at them.

  The wolf barked his agreement, moving around me like a cloak, his tail on one side, his snarling jaws on the other. Apparently, we were now a team. And that suited me just fine.

  The girls paused, sharing a glance with one another before continuing their note-taking. Though, I was certain their fingers made less noise this time.

  The wolf unwound himself from me, padding back and forth. I sighed, hoping Ignus would decide to leave us together.

  Since waking up with Kite at my side, I'd rarely seen her. She seemed more willing to cooperate with the Helsings than me, but I had no idea why. Her hate for them had run as deep as mine. But perhaps turning had changed her. Being a Vampire suited her. She had been cold and bloodthirsty as a human, now she just had the body to match.

  “What's your name, boy?” I muttered mindlessly to the wolf. Of course, I didn't expect an answer. But talking to him gave me something to do other than focusing on the corpse two feet away from me.

  “Jameson,” one of the women answered from across the room, a small smile on her lips. An expression she shared with the other girl made them both giggle. They were young, perhaps only a few years older than me. What had brought them to this hellhole? Why were they taking pleasure in all of this death?

  I stood, pacing toward the bars, moving back and forth like a tigress. “What's so funny?”

  They just laughed again and one of them headed to the control panel, pressing a button on it. The wolf whimpered and I snapped around, finding him bowing his head like he was in pain. I moved to his side, taking hold of the heavy collar around his neck. I hissed as my hand met silver and reared away in pain.

  The damn Helsings had thought of everything.

  The wolf started writhing on the floor, snarling and snapping. Then his body seemed to split in two and I backed away in horror, unsure what to do. In moments, fur evaporated into skin and a man appeared in the beast's place, huddling on the floor, panting, completely naked.

  My eyes were wide as I swivelled to face the women beyond the cage, then back to the man. I crawled away, desperately afraid that I would hurt him, that the thirst would rise uncontrollably in my throat as it had before and I'd rip him apart.

  He lifted his head toward the girls observing us, a loose blonde plait falling past the shaven sides of his head. One of them snorted a laugh, hurried to the edge of the cage and dangled something through the bars. A pair of boxer shorts hung from her index finger.

  Jameson rose to his feet, his back to me, but his entirely naked behind on show as he moved toward the girl. Her eyes were pinned much lower than was appropriate and that was her first mistake. In a flash of movement, he simultaneously took the boxers from her hand, and crushed her wrist with the other.

  “It won't be so easy typing on that little computer of yours with only one arm, will it?” he said through his teeth, dragging her forward so her pretty face was squashed against the bars.

  “No-no please!” she begged, her voice breaking. The other girl ran to the control panel, but the collar around Jameson's neck was too big now, and he lifted it over his head with his free hand, dropping it to the floor with a violent clang.

  “Chantelle!” Jameson's victim screamed to the other girl.

  I watched in horror and awe, unsure how to act.

  He yanked her closer through the bars, pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered something my heightened senses picked up, “Remember I spared you, buttercup.” He released her forcefully and she dropped to the ground, flying backwards on her feet and elbows to escape.

  Jameson tugged on the navy boxers, turning to me with a crooked smile that took me by surprise – which was saying something considering our current surroundings.

  “I'm still cute without fur, right?”

  “What?” I said breathlessly (though I had no idea when I'd actually taken my last breath).

  He gestured to his bare torso, looking for approval.

  “Did that collar do something to your head?”

  Why was he acting so casual? Like we weren't chained up in hell, surrounded by the blood of our recent meal.

  His smile dropped into a scowl. “Just trying to lighten the mood, firefly.”

  “Don't call me that.” I gave him a scathing look, gathering my legs to my chest, my fingers twitching with the memory of a lighter and petrol and oh so, so much fire.

  He raised his palms in a truce. “Let's start over. I'm Jameson...the wolf that saved you,” he added in a cough.

  I broke a tiny, imperceptible would-have-to-locate-it-with-a-magnifying-glass smile.

  Jameson grinned, showing teeth. “There, that's more like it. Seeing as we're in here and they're out there, I think being friends would be a very good idea.”

  “Yes,” I sighed, looking at the vacated space beyond our cage, expecting to find a rush of angry personnel hurrying into the room at any moment. “I suppose if they wanted us to rip each other apart, they would have put on a show for it.”

  Jameson's dark blonde brows pulled together. “They still could.”

  I shrugged.

  Jameson's eyes narrowed; they were light brown, almost gold beneath the bright lights. “Well we'd better show the Helsings that we're not going to do what they like.”

  I ran my tongue across my canines, slitting it open – a habit I was unwillingly forming which was starting to frustrate me. “Sounds like a plan that will keep them testing that collar on you.”

  He opened his arms wide, looking confident enough to take on the whole world. “Well they can test it on me all they like, firefly, because the more they shift me around these cages, the more I learn about this place, and the more likely they are to make mistakes. Mistakes, that will lead to our escape.”

  I wasn't so hopeful, but his positivity did drag my mood up a fraction, despite all the countless reasons to be miserable. So that was something.

  I pulled at the laces on my shoes. The Helsings had been so kind as to dress me in jeans and a shirt, paired with converse trainers, like I was as normal as the next person. Oddly, I craved the ball gowns of the games. The Helsings had made me into this gothic creature and I wanted to embody that, to cling to the idea that this was all for show, and soon I'd wake from this retched nightmare. These clothes were too normal, my skin too cold, my hands and mouth smeared with the blood of my victim. And all of those things were a stark and vivid reminder that this was all too real.

  I curled in on myself again, ducking my head into my knees.

  Strength, I need to find strength.

  Death had seemed like an easy way out before. Now I was staring it in the face and it was staring right back at me, keeping me on this earth, half dead, half nothing. Cass was gone, burnt to embers like one of her fiery victims. But the new me was worse, colder, crueller. Everything I'd never wanted to be, I was now forced to be for an eternity.

  Jameson sat beside me and I realised I didn't crave his blood. I looked up, breathing in, smelling nothing.

  He gave me a lopsided smile, evidently guessing what I was thinking. “Varick said Werewolves are off the menu. So we're good.”

  “You know Varick?” I asked in surprise. It was the first time I'd had a moment to think of anyone but myself. And my mind took an immediate U-turn to Selena.

  “Yeah, old friend of mine. He's all kinds of messed up down here. The Helsings are giving him hell and a half since he helped Selena off the island.”

  “She escaped?” I breathed in utter relief – and, okay, a dash of jealousy, too.

  “Apparently.”

  “And Varick helped her?” I narrowed my eyes. I knew she'd warmed to the Vampire, but I never thought there was a chance in hell he'd actually pull through for her.

  “He's got it bad. Not that he'll admit that any time soon.”

  My mouth pulled into a disbelieving sneer. “Vampires can't feel anything.”

  Jameson's eyes widened in mock-awe. He
tapped my forehead, irking me. “Oh shit, really? So you're all dead inside? Is that why you're curled up on the floor like you're about to cry?”

  My eyes narrowed to slits. “Screw you.”

  “Just saying.” He smiled lightly, easily, like we were on a dinner date, not sat in a prison cell surrounded by blood and a very dead guy we had torn apart like animals just moments ago.

  “How long have you been a V?” he changed the subject, evidently sensing my dangerous mood.

  “Oh, all of about two days now.”

  “Is it as fun as you expected?”

  I just glared at him in answer, making him laugh. My heart melted a little. I was so glad of the company, even if the guy was a bit of an idiot. But, I had to admit, a pretty idiot.

  I shut my eyes, relishing the way my throat had unclenched at last. The feeling was accompanied by a nagging guilt for what had caused it. But I couldn't help but be relieved. Since I'd woken from that hellish coffin, I'd been desperate, scalding myself repeatedly on the silver bars of my cage in my desperation to reach blood.

  Jameson evidently misread my posture as defeat as he said, “Don't worry, we'll get out of here. I've been in stickier situations than this.”

  “Like?” I cocked up a brow, giving him my attention.

  He rested his head back against the wall and my eyes were drawn to his skin; not a goosebump lay across his arms, and even though I didn't feel the cold, the look of this place had all the warmth of a disused cellar.

  “Varick and I used to piss off the aristocracy port to port. I stole a ruby from a Duchess's neck once. Plucked it straight from her throat right in front of her Duke of a husband who had an entire entourage of men following him. I was caught, stood against a tree, ten guns pointed at my head. Varick flew in out of nowhere, grabbed hold of the Duchess – ready to watch me die for her bloody necklace – and put a sword to her throat.”

  I inhaled, shifting closer to Jameson as he told the story. He was so energetic, gesturing with his hands, grinning wildly at his own stupidity.

  “Varick demanded they let me go and the Duke waved his hand, letting me charge off into the trees. Three loud shots later, I was sure Varick was a goner. Which was pretty soul-crushing even though we were always one bad decision away from being hung. But we were young, idiots I guess. And so, so bloody lucky. You wouldn't believe it.”