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

by Caroline Peckham

  The metal rungs were moist with vapour and icily cold. I kept my chin high, facing the way ahead as I climbed, not thinking of anything but reaching the top.

  One obstacle at a time.

  I hauled myself over a lip at the top and Twlya's hands gripped my shoulders, helping me up.

  “Alright, girl?” she asked, her chocolate eyes boring into mine for a moment. I nodded, but before I could answer a force collided with her from behind. Twyla shoved into me and I fell back.

  My stomach lifted as I fell, scrambling for purchase. But I was falling, falling, the air rushing past me.

  With a crack that juddered its way through my entire body, I hit the cage floor at the base of the ladder. Thames and Eesha were half way up it and Veta hurried to help me.

  I groaned, waving her away. Something was broken. Something important. I couldn't move. My spine felt like it had shattered. But where was the pain? At any moment I was going to feel it.

  I was paralysed, from the injury or from shock, I wasn't sure which.

  Panic invaded my heart.

  “Veta,” I panted. “Help me.”

  She dropped to her knees, opening her pack and taking out a bottle of V blood. Gently, she held it to my lips. Before I'd finished drinking the disgusting sludge, screams sounded from above.

  “Drink now, help later,” Veta urged, ignoring the screams.

  I nodded, drinking more of the blackish blood, trying not to focus on the taste of iron and something rotten beneath the tang.

  Slowly, I regained movement in my hips. Veta helped me sit up and my heart rate settled slightly, my panic easing a fraction. I gripped her arm, so grateful I couldn't find the words to encompass it.

  “You do same for me.” She smiled; her teeth overlapped in several places, but only seemed to add to her gothic beauty.

  I placed my hand on the ladder again and hot blood dripped onto my palm. I looked up, trying to see through the thick mist.

  “Twyla?” I called. “Thames? Eesha?”

  No one answered so I hurriedly stepped onto the ladder, moving upwards with caution. As I reached the top, fingers slithered into my hair. I screamed as I was dragged over the ledge with inhuman strength, flailing as I tried to get a hold of my stake.

  Blood dripped through the mesh beneath me, soaking into my dress. I kicked at the V who had hold of my hair. It was small, hunched over, its bones seeming to protrude from its shoulders.

  I kicked out again and a sharp snap sounded something breaking. The V released me with a wail and I scrambled away, spotting Veta climbing over the ledge.

  Across from me, Thames was crumpled in a heap, blood spilling from a wound on her chest.

  The V ran at me, screeching wildly and I readied my stake. I let out a shout of defiance, running to meet it, swinging my arm forward. My stake sunk in on target and the V fell dead before it could land a blow.

  I panted, dragging my stake free as I turned to help Thames. Veta was already there, cradling her in her arms and I saw the jagged skin torn across her chest. It looked fatal, but she was still alive and Veta was managing to pour the V blood into her mouth.

  Thames spluttered a moment later, gasping dramatically as she knocked the bottle away from her mouth. “Yuck!”

  “You don't forget I help you,” Veta said, standing and tucking her bottle away.

  Thames rolled her eyes, standing, but a small look of admiration passed through her features as she gazed at Veta.

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  “Bitches ditched,” Thames said, pointing ahead.

  I nodded, unsure how to respond as I moved forwards. The cage was enclosed so the only way onward was laid out before us. Our footsteps sounded as dull, metallic thuds as we walked but there was nothing we could do about it.

  A shadow came at us through the mist and all of us raised our stakes.

  “Hey, this way!” Twyla appeared. “I found a way across.”

  “Was that before or after you left me to die?” Thames accused.

  Twyla gave her an appraising look. “After. And I thought you were already dead so no apologies needed, right?”

  Thames laughed manically as Twyla turned, guiding us forward. Pounding feet gave away an oncoming V and I crouched low, ready to fight.

  As the snarling, screaming V appeared from the fog, its features twisted with starvation, Twyla released a stake from her crossbow. It shot through the air, cutting the Vampire down before it got within ten paces. As the V fell, the cage rattled from the impact and we cautiously moved around it. I prayed there weren't more close by, drawn by the noise.

  “Christ,” I breathed.

  “I stay with you,” Veta said, smiling.

  The mist thinned a little and the other side of the canyon became visible. It was only fifty paces away. All we had to do was cross straight over a caged bridge. Eesha must have already been on the other side.

  “Go,” I urged, starting to jog, wanting to be done with this day. Longing for the comfort of a warm bed and hot food.

  As one, we started running, sprinting toward the finish line that was so near, I could almost feel the relief awaiting me.

  With a creaking, wrenching sound of metal on metal, the bridge rolled.

  I screamed, crashing into the side of the bridge as I was thrown into the mesh. It was spinning on an axis and I only had a second to focus before it spun again and I flew into the side. My hands were cut from the wire and blood was trickling down from my eyebrow.

  Thames muttered curses about the Helsings as she regained her feet. We hurried onward, grouping closer together. Nearing the other side of the canyon, my stomach lurched as I noticed the final stretch of the bridge had no roof. I kept a wary eye on the gap above us as we ran, worried the cage was going to roll again at any second.

  We'd moved ten more steps before it happened. The tunnel rolled with a mechanical clicking sound and this time, I clung onto the mesh for dear life.

  As the roof of the cage suddenly became the bottom, I found myself hanging above the canyon, my hands sweating and my strength failing by the second.

  The other three had managed to stay on the walls either side of me, able to use their boots to hold on, too.

  I cried out as my arms burned, knowing I was going to drop. One of my hands came free and I screamed.

  “Hold on!” Thames shouted at me.

  I clamped my eyes shut, groaning with all the effort I had, flailing to get my other hand back in place.

  With a gasp, my fingers came unhooked, my strength failing me.

  “Selena!” Twyla cried out.

  I was plummeting, down, down, down, certain rocks awaited me below, ready to provide me a violent end.

  I hit something hard. Too soon. I wasn't dead. The cage had rolled, and miraculously, I'd missed the gap by mere inches. I practically started sobbing my relief as I held onto the wire, spinning wildly as it righted itself once more.

  I rose on shaky legs, stumbling forward, desperate to reach solid ground.

  “Go, go, go! Before it happens again!” Thames shouted and we started sprinting.

  Someone's hand was on my shoulder, forcing me on, but I didn't need any encouragement. I was the first one onto solid ground, practically flying toward the safe zone. There were a few more feet to go, slipping through a metal gate where four helicopters were lined up. Girls were crammed into each of them and I spotted Eesha inside the closest one, gesturing wildly for us to join her.

  I hurried to get inside, climbing in next to her. She might have abandoned us, but I didn't care. At that moment, all that mattered was that another day in hell was over. And I'd survived.

  We waited in silence, catching our breaths. As our helicopter filled up, it rose into the sky and I blocked out the sight of the open door, the wind tugging at my dress. We'd made it with time to spare, helicopters still waiting below for the rest of the contestants.

  A sickness filled my stomach at what was yet to come. That had just been t
he start. And the game was far from over.

  Selena

  I was distinctly reminded of prison as I ate with my new accomplices in the canteen. Twenty six had survived the first round and many were divided into groups like ours. I was agitated, wanting to slip away to my room and avoid spending too much time with the girls. I couldn't get attached to them. I didn't want to experience the loss and the pain of the last game ever again.

  My eyes strayed to a girl across the table with auburn hair and pinched features. She was trembling like a leaf, gazing at a plate of food she hadn't touched.

  “Is she alright?” I breathed to Thames who shrugged.

  The door suddenly burst open and two broad men in riot gear appeared with guns slung over their shoulders. “Jennifer Luftwait, please come with us to the Redeeming where you will have the opportunity to increase your rating.”

  The auburn-haired girl wailed, launching out of her seat and springing away from the men. They charged her down and everyone else in the room seemed to freeze, watching as she was pinned to the ground. The men dragged her up, pulling her across the room as she sobbed and begged for mercy.

  My heart skidded across my chest. I could hardly breathe as Jennifer was manhandled out of the room.

  “I heard her rating dropped to a one,” Twyla said, scowling.

  “What do you think happens in the Redeeming?” Eesha whispered.

  “Don't want to know,” Veta said, standing and heading away.

  My gut twisted violently as I tried not to picture all the terrible things that could await Jennifer.

  When the tension in the room began to subside, I couldn't find it in me to join the discussion around me about tomorrow's round. All I felt like doing was curling up in a ball in the dark, so I soon made my excuses and slipped away.

  A long soak in the Jacuzzi tub banished the cold from my body, but despite my best efforts at trying to feel more normal, my mind wouldn't let me escape the games. My newfound friends, though useful to have around, were all capable of doing things to survive that could equal the death of another contestant. And I couldn't lose sight of that.

  When we were chucked out onto the battleground tomorrow, I would be more than willing to spend time with them. But we weren't friends. This wasn't some holiday camp where lifelong memories would be made. Well, not the kind I wanted to relive anyway.

  My thoughts were drawn back to Varick, as they often were. Why had I placed myself in danger for someone I hardly knew? Someone who, for all intents and purposes, wanted nothing more than blood to appease him. My blood. Another girl's. Did it matter? It mattered to me. Thinking of Varick drinking from other girls, knowing the cruel way life would spring into his body, reminding him of his humanity, was painful. Every drop brought him closer to clarity, which must have been pure misery. Aware of what he was capable of, but only after he'd done something terrible.

  A new feeling was nagging at me, too. Above all my desire to save Varick, to give back what I owed him, there was something stronger driving me. I missed him. Truly, I knew he was the only person that could banish my fear. Who would make the world seem light again.

  When I was warm and dry, sliding beneath the thick quilt of my bed and scrunching my toes into the soft sheets, I succumbed to the feeling. It seemed the longer I was absent from him, the more my heart pined. Silly really. I hardly knew anything about him. And I didn't need to be reminded that he wasn't human, that he craved my blood intensely, and that he may not have even thought of me since I left Raskdød. But, no matter what, tomorrow I had to try and find him.

  Minutes slid by as I lay in bed, anxiety ticking through me. The evenings were the worst time of day; somehow even worse than the games themselves. The anticipation, the nightmares crawling over my skin of what could lay ahead tomorrow. The rounds were always terrifying, but my imagination beforehand reeked a worse kind of havoc on me. Being in the game pushed all the anxious thoughts away; I had to act in the moment, to survive. And surviving was something I was growing increasingly good at. Even though I knew whatever I did would haunt me thereafter.

  Eventually, I stood, needing to distract myself with something, sliding from beneath the comfy sheets into my beautiful prison. Silk and silver greeted me around the room. Luxury gazed at me from every gilded mirror, every plump cushion and iron cast bust of the Helsings' faces placed in each corner of the room. I was like a forged painting amongst the finery; looking the part in every way until someone scratched the surface and the paint came off on their finger.

  The white slip I was given to sleep in was nothing short of revealing. And that gave me the creeping feeling that I wasn't entirely alone in this room. Perhaps the Helsings eyes were on me now, the spectators' too. I prayed their invasion of my privacy stopped short at the games, but despite the warm air, I wrapped myself in the silken robe left hanging on the back of the door, hiding away just in case.

  The words 'gilded cage' sprang to mind as I began to pace the room, waiting, thinking, anticipating. How many times would I step into the depths of Hades and return unscathed? Tomorrow I could be torn to ribbons, the painting scratched, my reality exposed. Just a girl who played a game and lost.

  My tablet buzzed and I snatched it up from my bedside table, finding a video from Typhon with the message:

  Avoid the Redeeming at all costs.

  The video played and my hand began to tremble as I watched from a spectator's perspective, gazing down into the pit in the amphitheater. Jennifer was at the heart of it, a stake clasped in her palm. At Abraham's word, the doors opened and a whole horde of Vs swept into the arena. In moments there was nothing left of her but her lifeless eyes projected on the screens, the crowd cheering all the while.

  I could barely draw down breath, dropping the tablet, overwhelmed with terror. Marie came to mind as she often did; the girl I'd killed in the previous games. Her wide eyes and parted mouth, horrified at what I'd done. I pressed my fingers into my eyes, fighting back the image of her broken form crumpled on the floor in swathes of yellow silk. If she were watching now, would she want me to survive? Or would she pray I befell a terrible death, to feel the pain she had when I'd driven my stake into her body?

  It came to me then, in a moment of absolute clarity; that if our places were traded, and she were here now, still battling the Helsings, then I might hope that she'd survive. Not just for her sake, but for everyone's. To have a chance, albeit a small one, of getting revenge. And I knew then, that this game wasn't about winning. It didn't matter if I survived it, what mattered was that, whether I died or not, I had to strike a blow to the Helsings that would shatter the game to pieces. That defied their infallible hold over us and reminded everyone who was watching that we were people, and this was wrong. Because if the spectators stopped watching, the games were nothing. Achieving that seemed like an insurmountable task. But one which I clung to with everything I had.

  I picked up my tablet, sitting on my mattress, legs folded and holding the camera up to my makeup-free face. With my thumb trembling over the button, I pressed record.

  “My name is Selena Grey and I'm a contestant in the V Games. But you already know that, because you're watching. Always. I'm not going to plead with you, I'm not going to cry and beg and ask you to release me. But I am going to remind you of something. I am a prisoner. Your prisoner. Not the Helsings', not the Vs'. Yours. You pay to see me fight for my life, every day. You bet on whether I'll live or die. And the weight of my life can be counted down to the penny by how much you've placed on me. Perhaps you think you're merciful, because you're betting on me to survive. Perhaps you think you're supporting me by believing in my ability to live against the odds.” I brought the camera closer so my face filled the screen, my eyes bright and fierce, my jaw set. “But you're wrong. Absolutely, unequivocally wrong. Every cent you bet isn't for me, it isn't even for the Helsings. It's funding an idea. An idea that you're in control; that money gives you the right to disregard morality. But you'll soon learn who's really in
control.” I stopped the recording, my hands trembling like mad as I placed the tablet down. I could scarcely believe I'd gotten through the speech without my voice quavering or my eyes watering, but somehow I'd done it. And now that video was sailing away to the inboxes of every spectator and was available for every contestant to watch, too.

  I just sparked the idea that we were fighting back. And I hoped that it would make the impact I wanted it to. I hoped the spectators didn't see it for what it was: a bluff.

  I curled up in bed, my breathing unsteady, a smile growing and growing on my face. After a while, I checked my rating, finding it had risen to a 9. The more defiant I was, it seemed, the more the spectators liked me.

  A knock at my door made my heart trip over itself.

  Standing, I grabbed my robe and gathered it around myself before pulling open the door. I was cautious at first, unsure of who to expect.

  Twyla stood there in a black slip, her robe hanging open around her. “Hey rebel, can I come in?”

  “You saw the video?” I blushed, stepping aside to let her in.

  She sauntered into the room, looking around at the space as if comparing it to her own. She turned to face me, giving me a half smile. “Everyone's either seen the video, or gonna see the video.” She sank onto the edge of my bed. “But I reckon you knew that, didn't you?”

  I nodded, chewing the insides of my cheeks. “I want to rattle them,” I admitted, glancing cautiously around the room, praying that cameras weren't feeding this back to the viewers and undermining what I'd just done.

  “I think we're safe from them here,” Twyla said, picking up on my fears. She patted the bed and I felt like she had more of the power in this room than I did. Walking over, I dropped down, tucking my legs up beneath me.

  “It was stupid, wasn't it?” I blurted, doubt crashing into me at full force. My defiance had caused me endless pain with my stepfather in the past. But it simply wasn't in my nature to roll over when told to obey. Not any more anyway. Even when I knew there would be consequences.