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

by Caroline Peckham

  As the evening rolled around, I was taken to the amphitheater along with the rest of the spectators. I knew some of them by sight, others I'd shared a few conversations with so I wasn't entirely alone. Clearly Ignus had a lot to do because I didn't see him again until that evening, sat in a bottle green suit in a window box designed solely for the Helsings.

  I'd grabbed a rum and coke in a glass shaped like a skull and headed down the rows of seats, searching for mine. Seeing as Ignus had organised my trip, I'd found myself in one of the best seats in the stadium, looking directly down onto the sandy pit below.

  My heart had turned over as I'd considered what I was about to watch.

  I'd never sat through an entire game before. But my visits at the Helsing Castle often coincided with them, so I'd caught glimpses as I spent a couple of days on Raskdød, playing poker, trying to ignore the sound of screams from the projected screens.

  This was different. Inescapable. I had a front row seat to hell. And I didn't know if I could stomach it.

  Sipping on my rum and coke, I tried to douse my fears with alcohol. When the amphitheater was eventually full - and I'd downed three more drinks - we'd been directed to take out a gift beneath our seats.

  Reaching down, I'd found a small, white rectangular box. As I'd pulled the lid off, I'd discovered a mobile device inside.

  As the explanation rolled over the crowd through speakers of how to use it, I thumbed through the contestants' profiles, I knew these games were going to be different. I wasn't entirely sure how, but I sensed something forbidding taking root in my gut. Like something terrible was going to happen. Something I couldn't stop.

  Most of the spectators used fake names when they came to the island, and it was obvious as I scanned through them that that much hadn't changed. Ignus had named me simply as Hund, but I didn't mind my surname being used, seeing as, unlike most of the spectators, it didn't matter to anyone in the world that I was here.

  We watched as the girls woke up in rooms beneath the stadium, each fighting off a V in an initiation test. When Selena's test played, I found my way to her profile on my tablet, rating her as high as I could. A message came in from her soon after.

  Looking forward to watching the games?

  I guessed she was poking at me, seeing if I was still on her side. But by the time I could think of anything to reply, the game began. Twenty three girls were thrust into the air on robotic arms. And I spotted Selena, her face pale.

  Guilt planted itself in my stomach and I adjusted the white mask covering the top part of my face, shamefully wanting to remain hidden.

  Abraham directed a puffy-eyed girl, Amanda, to speak first. And after she babbled her way through a torturous twenty seconds of begging, I was beside myself with anxiety.

  On my tablet, I voted to up her ranking, but my vote was outweighed by a thousand. And when she plummeted into the mass of starving Vs, I shut my eyes. I wanted to claw at my ears, longing for the screams to stop. But I felt even worse when they did.

  The man beside me was calling out in excitement, standing up from his seat and throwing his fist in the air. I dragged in breaths one after the other. I'd seen blood before, I'd seen girls drained by Vs, I'd seen them run and fall, captured by their pursuers, but only on television screens. This was too real. Too personal. Yet the crowd seemed to be loving every second of it.

  I gripped the glass in my fist so hard that my knuckles turned white.

  My wolves...

  They were involved in this game somehow. Jameson, Mekiah, Reason. I'd have a heart attack before this was all over.

  Years of hard work, hunting each of them down. They were the most precious thing to me in the world and Ignus had taken them from me just like that.

  When the crowd quietened down, it started all over again, and I knew I'd vomit before the night was over. I'd never had a strong stomach; a trait my father had despised in me. But if one thing solidified the fact that I was different to other Hunters, it was how I felt now. Sat, watching a massacre unfold to applause.

  I may have been a lot of things, but bloodthirsty wasn't one of them. The problem was, no matter how desperate I was to save them, to stand up to the Helsings and fight for what I knew was right, I didn't know if I could do it. Because, I may not have been bloodthirsty, but I was a coward. And at that moment, both traits equated to evil.

  Selena

  Blood.

  So much blood. It would haunt me in my nightmares forever. Worse than anything I'd seen in the previous game; this was a massacre.

  I fell back on my instincts as I watched the girls drop like flies. Amongst the few who had managed to survive was a girl with curves worthy of Marilyn Monroe who had stripped for the crowd in her desperation to win their favour. Imogen, an Australian; she'd only said a few words, but enough to pick up on her accent.

  In the twisted underworld that surrounded me, I found my thirst for survival growing like brambles in my belly, coiling and winding around my organs.

  I thought I'd witnessed the darkest realms of human kind, but there I was, surprised again by the cruelty some people were capable of. And their eyes would soon turn to me. Finding mercy in them was surely an insurmountable task. They had none for girls who hadn't wronged them at all; had done nothing but been brought here and expected to be capable of battling Vampires without so much as a day's warning.

  The previous games seemed like a stroll in the park now. Fighting Vs was easy in comparison to what I was about to attempt: convincing nearly a thousand men that I was worth saving. When most of them probably believed I wasn't.

  I focused my attention on the eighteenth girl put to the test. Her hair was as red as Cass's, her skin peppered with freckles and her eyes two copper coins that glowed beneath the lights.

  By now, it was clear begging would do no good. It bored the crowd. They'd heard it before. They didn't want us to stand there pleading with them. They wanted a damn good reason to let us play their sick game.

  This girl seemed to understand that as she stood, shoulders pressed back, unwinding her hands from the maroon skirt of her saloon-worthy dress.

  Abraham called out her name, seeming enthralled by the whole process. “Rosaleen O'Callaghan.”

  She gazed directly at the drone hovering before her and spoke in her Irish accent with a confidence I'm sure had to be faked. “I'll play your game. I'll fight anyone who tries to stop me from winning.” She raised her arms and the camera zoomed in on a zig-zag of scars sliced across them. “I don't die easily!”

  Her rating ticked up from a four to a five and as she described her reason for going to prison - tracking down and killing two women for having bullied her at school - it rolled over to a six and a buzzer sounded that she was safe. Her shoulders dropped dramatically and I could almost feel the breath that left her lungs.

  The next girls copied her tactic, saying how they'd fight with everything they had, telling stories of their previous bad dealings, how they longed to be freed of their prison sentences, even wanted to play the game. After that, the crowd seemed to grow bored of the tactic and more girls fell.

  The two before me were saved, one by her beauty and obvious resemblance to a famous film star, the other by her boldness, hanging from the edge of the podium and telling them to drop her.

  Then there was only me. And I was certain the Helsings had left me till last on purpose.

  The spotlights flooded down on me and I wasn't ready, not even a little bit as Abraham called out my name, “Selena Grey! You have thirty seconds.”

  The timer reset itself and there I was, standing with my mouth agape, looking completely unprepared.

  There were no more boos, as I'd expected. Everyone was silent, waiting to hear what I had to say. What I could possibly offer in my defense.

  I cleared my throat and the sound seemed to echo on into eternity. “For those of you who don't know...I won the last games on Raskdød. I was given to the man who placed the highest bid on me, to spend a night with him
.”

  The only ones that spoke were the girls lined up behind Abraham, their eyes scouring me, some curious, others intrigued.

  My rating of 5 dropped to a 4 and I felt the plunge mirrored in my body.

  I thought of what the stranger, Typhon, had messaged me. The tip he'd given that seemed like the only thing I had to grasp onto at that moment. I tried out a fierce look and, thankfully, it translated on the screen. “I couldn't fulfill the promise to that man. Because...well-” It was hard to say even now, dangling above a horde of ravenous Vs, worrying this could go down entirely the wrong way. “He was a disgusting pig like the rest of you.”

  A collective inhale filled the air. I waited three seconds whilst my words sunk in. Some of the men started muttering furiously, others seeming surprised or even pleased.

  A spark of hope ignited in my chest. I rambled on, the timer rushing down to fifteen seconds. “You make me sick. The only reason I want to play is so you can watch me kill Vampire after Vampire, knowing that it's really you I'd rather be gutting.”

  A couple of wolf whistles were sent my way and men were talking animatedly between each other.

  “You can kill me any day, baby!” a voice reached to me and laughter rang out around the stadium.

  “You want a show?” I spat. “Then let me fight!”

  The timer rolled to zero and it took me eons to register that my rating had ratcheted up to a 7.

  Relief flooded me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I clutched my chest, gasping as the drone wheeled away from me and Abraham took the central shot.

  At last I registered how many of us had survived the ordeal. Just ten out of twenty three. Below us was a blood bath, the Vs scrambling over each other to drink from the fallen girls.

  Bile rose in my throat and I fixed my eyes on Abraham, trying not to look down again.

  “The games will continue tomorrow!” Abraham cried. “Please give a round of applause to our contestants!”

  A cheer went up from the crowd who seemed to be growing rowdier by the minute. Lights blared to life around the inner ring above the Vs and they screeched as their skin burnt beneath them. Sunlamps, I realised and a dark feeling settled over my heart.

  The Vs retreated into the alcoves beneath the amphitheater and I spotted several men atop the wall armed with crossbows and guns, making sure all of the Vs complied. The lamps were entirely effective though and soon, nothing remained but the bloody bodies of the fallen girls. As the doors slid closed, a clean-up crew appeared, moving the corpses onto stretchers and carrying them away.

  My fingernails dug into my palms, the metallic tang of blood assaulting my senses. And I knew I'd never be able to fully eradicate the scent. My body was committing it to memory, like a tattoo etched onto the inside of my skin. I was never going to truly leave this night behind.

  Varick

  I could feel it, the monster, teetering on the edge of my sanity. Urges were creeping into me I couldn't ignore. Blood, the thirst, always present but now entirely devouring. I'd always been walking that line, back when I was working for the Helsings, but it had been more than a hundred years since I'd succumbed to it completely.

  The fear of it was tangible. Now that I'd tasted humanity, I wanted more. More than blood? Sometimes it seemed that way, as I sat in the dank cells beneath the amphitheater, terrified of what I'd become the second a girl was placed in front of me. I didn't think I was strong enough to resist it. But I desperately wanted to be. Partly for me, partly for her. Though Selena would never see me like this, I still despised the idea of what she'd think of me. She'd seen a glimpse of my human side. And I wanted to remain that way, so wherever she was, when she thought of me, I was still true to that image in her mind. It was foolish, of course. What did it matter what I became now? It made no difference to Selena. And when I was lost to the inevitable, all-consuming hunger, it would no longer matter to me either.

  When the weaker Vs were guided into the amphitheater, I crawled to the back of my cell, disgustingly thankful that I wasn't a part of whatever was about to take place. Thankful to the Helsings; the sickest thing of all.

  But though I believed I'd escaped the first round, the music, the screams, the cheers, the blood, they all found me. My heightened senses wouldn't allow me to evade them.

  And all of it I could bear until two words echoed around the stadium in Abraham's booming voice. Two words that kick-started my heart like an electrode was wired to my chest.

  Selena Grey.

  Wrong. That was my first thought. I'd misheard him. But I was well aware that my hearing was impeccable, and I hadn't imagined that name, even if it had been resounding in my head for days on end. The sickness came next, like someone had my stomach in their fist, squeezing and squeezing.

  If I'd had an ounce of blood in my gut, I would have retched it up. Instead, I reared upwards, snatching the silver bars between my bare hands. It burnt like hell, through to the bone, but still I didn't let go. I wrenched and wrenched until the bars bent a fraction. My palms seared, but nothing compared to the rage in my body. I was slipping, losing myself to the monster but for an entirely different reason than I'd predicted.

  Selena.

  Selena is here.

  Two more seconds. Three. The bars almost bent wide enough to slip through. The better fed Vs in the nearby cages started cheering me on, some ramming into the bars themselves in a surge of defiance. But pure determination alone wasn't enough. I'd soon succumb to the pain.

  Inevitable.

  Pointless.

  Weak.

  I sank to my knees, gritting my teeth and suddenly Selena's voice caressed my senses. Not pleading, not breaking, but hitting back at the spectators and asking to be given a chance in the game. One more time.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  This wasn't happening.

  I roared my fury and some of the Vs joined in, angry at their imprisonment. Not for my reasons. Not for the girl who was standing before a crowd of bloodthirsty humans, asking for a chance to survive. As if she should have to ask at all.

  I was at breaking point, and as the last of my energy sapped from my body, healing the torturous wounds on my hands, I lost myself. My spark of humanity died. I felt it flicker out like a breath on a candle. Gone. Just like that.

  Darkness rushed in. Too quickly for me to do anything to try and stop it.

  The strength inside me wilted and a monster grew rapidly in its place like a weed.

  Selena

  As one, the remaining girls were lowered, our platforms moving backwards and sinking down to meet the wall at the edge of the pit.

  “Please, come join the other contestants.” Abraham waved a meaty hand at us like he was greeting a group of friends. All a sick act, like he actually cared we'd survived.

  I hurriedly stepped off of the platform, my legs as brittle as toothpicks as I headed around a narrow aisle that led me to the stage. The spectators were kept from me by a barrier, some jeering, some catcalling, most of them wildly drunk. From my vantage point above the pit, I could see a thin web of silver around the edge to stop the Vs breaking out.

  As I approached the stage, I spotted the rest of the Helsing family sitting on a wide balcony that had been built into the seating area, separated from the other viewers. I fought a grimace at the sight of them in all their finery. Beside them, standing like a statue at the back of the box was Kite, her muzzle shining under the lights, her eyes fixed on the crowd.

  Mercy met my eye, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear. Her gaze was cool and full of malice. I had no idea what I'd done to deserve such hatred, but it leaked from every pore on her perfect skin.

  As I passed Abraham, he leant away from the microphone, turning toward me, his sausage-like fingers curling into the crook of my arm. His strength took me by surprise as I lurched to a halt. And I was reminded of what Ulvic had told me about Hunters. That they weren't human; he may have looked, felt and smelt like one, but he wa
sn't. And I didn't yet fully understand what that meant.

  “I don't like cockroaches, Selena.” His face was smiling, but his eyes were not.

  I knew what he was implying, so I gave him the only response I could think of in that moment. “Neither do I. But you've got to admire their tenacity.”

  “Hmph.” He smiled for real then – which was eerier than when he hadn't been. Letting me go, he ushered the remaining girls toward the seating area. We took up the empty bench at the front of the aisle, the seat fitted with a velvet cushion.

  The girl, Imogen, who had stripped to win favour had put her pale, lemon dress back on. She sat beside me, her golden brown eyes void of emotion. I wondered what she was thinking, what all of them were thinking.

  I barely registered Abraham talking as I tried to process what I'd just been through. I kept my head bowed, mainly to avoid looking at the bloody arena below us. I needed time to prepare for what was to come. The Helsings had clearly poured a lot of resources into this place. But more money meant more horrors for us, no doubt.

  I glanced at the tablet strapped to my wrist, spotting messages streaming in from the spectators. Most of them were outrageously vulgar, but one caught my eye from Ulvic and I tapped the screen to open it.

  Anyone who looked forward to that bloodbath is sick in the head.

  I raised my eyes, searching the sea of masked faces before me, but they all looked the same. I couldn't locate Ulvic, but I took comfort in the fact that he was out there. His words confirmed he wasn't here by choice. So, if nothing else, I knew I had an ally close by.