Wolf Games (The Vampire Games Book 4)

by Caroline Peckham

  I swung sharply around, throwing my weight back and crushing him to the wall again. His calloused palms gripped my chin, aggressively wheeling my head to the side. My neck craned too far and I gasped in pain. He pressed his finger and thumb over one of my eyes, trying to peel one of my eyelids wide. In a panic, I turned, took hold of his shirt and threw him in the direction I hoped the stairs were.

  The loud thuds and yelps that followed confirmed I'd aimed well.

  I peeked through my lashes, finding him face down on the floor below, his back still rising and falling with breath. He was out cold, with potentially a lot of broken bones. Guilt niggled at me, but I fought it away. This man worked for the people who'd kidnapped me.

  I won't feel sorry for them.

  Figuring I couldn't leave him there to be discovered, I jogged back down the stairs and lifted him by the shoulders, making sure not to look at his face. I hauled him all the way down to the dreary deck I'd come from originally. I was conscious of time, but didn't have a choice.

  I pulled him along by one arm, heaving him like a sack of potatoes. I reached a rusted door and tried the handle. It opened, but only when I rammed my shoulder against it. A loud screech of rusted hinges sounded, echoing on and on down the corridor. I took slow, deliberate breaths. When I was satisfied no one had been alerted by the sound, I heaved the guard into the dusty room full of bunk-beds.

  I returned to the corridor, dragging the door closed and headed back to the deck above.

  All was quiet. I moved along another corridor, silently checking rooms. Empty. Empty. Empty.

  What if I'd made the wrong call? What if they weren't down here?

  There were plenty of other levels to check, but how long did I have before someone came looking for me?

  There was one final door at the end of the hallway. I almost considered leaving it, but a soft hissing sound reached from beyond it.

  I tried the handle, finding it locked. Voices carried from a nearby stairwell and I panicked, throwing my shoulder against it. The lock broke and I rushed inside, shutting it behind me and pressing my back to it.

  “Where's that layabout gone? He was supposed to cover for us.” The men started cursing the guard who was undoubtedly the one I'd knocked out, but I was hardly paying attention. Before me, in a large metallic chamber, was a coffin-sized glass tank. It was frosted with condensation as metal pipes on the ceiling blew freezing gusts of air into the room.

  Goosebumps crawled up my arms as I moved toward the tank, my breath misting before me. I pulled my sleeve over my hand and rubbed the condensation from the top of the tank, gazing down into it.

  My breathing hitched as I caught sight of an infant. A girl with hazel hair and a face so beautiful, she simply had to be related to Silas. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, but she was too still for that to be the case. She was dressed in a tiny black gown, almost too big for her small body and lay on a bed of silk with frozen white rose petals scattered around her.

  I extracted my hand from the icy glass, feeling like I was intruding on something very personal.

  I shouldn't be here.

  The voices beyond the door confirmed the guards were still there. So I was trapped. And I didn't know how long even my Werewolf blood could fight off the cold. It was well below freezing and from the way my lungs were beginning to labour, I didn't think there was much oxygen in the room.

  I crept back to the door, figuring I had no choice but to hide out to see if the guards left again. I sat by the door, slowing my breathing so as not to devour the oxygen in the room. Ideas sprang to mind, from attacking the guards beyond the door, to holding the little girl hostage and demanding to see the Immortals from The Sanctuary.

  Time ticked on and I was starting to grow panicky when a commotion reached me beyond the door. I sprang to my feet, preparing for another fight as the door flew open.

  I came face to face with Silas. He didn't look furious as I expected, but terrified.

  The two guards gazed over his shoulders, looking at me with baffled expressions.

  Silas pointed to a camera above the door and my throat constricted with my stupidity. I hadn't even checked for CCTV. I'd figured the ship was too old for it; I hadn't seen any cameras elsewhere. But it looked like this room was well-protected.

  “Leave us,” Silas ordered the guards, stepping into the room and slamming the door.

  I took a wary step back, unsure of his mood. “I didn't mean to come here,” I said, but without apology. I had meant to run off, after all. There was no point in denying that.

  He nodded slowly, his jaw hardening. I wished I could read his thoughts in that moment, because his stoic expression gave away nothing.

  “I was trying to find my friends,” I admitted, figuring there was no point in lying now.

  Silas sighed, walking past me and gazing down into the tank through the gap I'd made in the condensation. It was already starting to cloud over again.

  “Who is that?” I breathed.

  He didn't answer for several seconds then quietly murmured, “My sister.”

  “Is she..?”

  “Dead? Yes.”

  My stomach knotted. “Oh...I'm sorry.”

  “She had cancer.” He turned to catch my eye and my heart pounded out of rhythm. “My father set up IDAHO shortly after. His quest for immortality has always been in her name. And one day...perhaps we can bring her back, perhaps we can...”

  “Can't she come back as a Vampire?” I asked, unsure if I should have aired the thought.

  His voice was choked when he answered, his eyes tearful. “Children can't be turned into Vs. My father tried everything he could. But nothing worked. Her body....he's looked after it. It's perfect really. My father refers to her as his little Sleeping Beauty.” He rubbed the condensation from the tank again. “I think she's more like Snow White. Sleeping Beauty didn't die in her fairytale. But Snow White did... she just needed the cure to her poison apple.”

  I kept my further thoughts to myself. Death was final for most. But I couldn't argue against Silas and his father's reasoning. Of course they wanted her back. But even if it could be done, was that right?

  “What's her name?” I asked.

  He hesitated before answering, “Emma... she's three.” His shoulders went lax as he looked down on his sister. I could feel the grief weighing on him. It filled the whole room.

  “I should go.” I backed toward the door.

  “Stay,” he insisted.

  I pressed my back to the wall and instantly regretted it as icy droplets soaked into my clothes. I remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

  “I know why you ran,” he said. “I'd have run, if I were you. Actually, I'm surprised you haven't done so sooner.”

  I didn't answer, uncertain if I was in trouble or not.

  “I know you want to see your friends. And you will, tonight. I told you that.”

  “I don't just want to see them, Silas. I want to take them and leave this place. I don't want to take part in some trial.” I couldn't fight the bitterness in my voice; the only thing holding me back from shouting was the silent presence of his little sister's body.

  He sighed, turning to face me. “We're not even near land, Firefly. We have no lifeboats aboard this ship. They were rotted through when my father purchased it. So how do you expect to leave?”

  “Perhaps I'll take Rockley Jones's helicopter,” I said in a calm, accusatory tone.

  Silas stood up straighter, a flare of anger in his eyes. “He's an investor, not a friend.”

  “Do you know what he did to people in his resort?”

  His Adam's apple bobbed. “Would you hate me if I told you I tried to avoid learning the details of such things?”

  I considered his words. “So you turned a blind eye to his theme park so you could take his money guilt-free?”

  “Not me, my father,” Silas growled. “And yes, I admit that I avoided it. But what would you have had me do, Firefly? I'm not a sold
ier, or some hero. I didn't have the means to force the Hunters to stop their games. But you...” He walked towards me, admiration filling his hazel eyes. “You and your friends, you did the impossible.”

  “I guess you and your father would make deals with people like Rockley,” I said, my tone as icy as the room we were standing in. After everyone who'd given their lives to stop the Hunters' games, it was an insult that Rockley Jones was still continuing business as usual. He'd gotten away with everything he'd done.

  Silas sighed. “The Hunters still have power, Firefly. You may have hit them hard, but they have families, daughters, sons, cousins. There are more than just those who attended that game. As a business, my father cannot afford to sever ties with the people who fund us. I mean, Christ, look at this place. We barely have the means to live comfortably, let alone keep our projects going. All the money we have funds our laboratories, our work.”

  I went to argue, but my eyes fell on the tank again. This was all for one little girl. A father and son, battling to bring her back from the dead. But how many people had died in her name?

  The grief in his gaze was enough to halt my argument. He was a desperate man. And desperate people did desperate things.

  “How old are you?” I asked, suddenly curious. Selena's father had been a captive of IDAHO for years and years. But Silas didn't look a day over twenty five. Had he known him?

  “Nearly eighty,” he replied. “Since the invention of the Reapers, I've been able to live at this age for an extended period of time. IDAHO was founded just after Emma's death in 1962.”

  Silas moved away from the tank, leaving hand prints in the mist. “But somehow, her loss doesn't get any easier. They say time heals all, but that's a lie. Time eases the pain, but the scar remains on your heart...”

  I felt the urge to comfort him and tentatively looped my arms around his shoulders. He pulled me tight against him and the remaining space between us closed.

  “I don't trust you,” I admitted, pressing my forehead to his shoulder so I didn't have to face him.

  “Then don't,” he said simply. “But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop spending time with you.”

  Despite my reservations about him, the words oddly comforted me. Everyone went away. My ex-boyfriend cheated on me, Jameson dumped me, even Selena had her own life now. Silas was promising not to go anywhere, and seeing as we were floating in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to go, I believed him. And messed up as it was, I'd never felt needed by anyone. Silas looked at me like I was his most important possession. And something darkly twisted inside me thrived on that feeling. That here, of all places, I was wanted.

  He gently pushed me back. “Look, if you really don't want to do the trial, I'll get you out of it.”

  I stepped away, taking in his taut expression. “But you'll get in trouble.”

  He ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Maybe...but I'm more worried about you getting in trouble. I run this institute while my father is away, but when he returns, he's in charge. No questions asked.”

  I sighed, figuring it was best not to cause trouble until I could work out an escape plan. “I'll do it.”

  “You will?” His eyes brightened.

  I nodded, drawing my shoulders back as I made the decision.

  Can't be worse than the V Games...

  Mercy

  With the pain medication giving me relief from my wounded leg, I was able to start thinking about a plan. At first, I considered not even attempting an escape. I was injured, could barely walk and even if I got hold of a weapon, I wasn't going to last two seconds in a fight. But I couldn't just lie there and accept my fate. I had to do something.

  My captor came to me daily, wearing his usual neckerchief pulled up over his mouth and nose. His features were all dark, but his eyes were two silver discs. He rarely gave a response to my questions, or the curses I threw at him. He quietly, routinely and with confident hands changed my dressings and checked the splint that was holding the broken bone in place.

  I was looking at months of recovery if I was kept like this. When all I needed was a vial of V blood.

  After he'd finished his morning visit and left the attic, I pushed myself upright. A routine had formed between us, so I knew he wouldn't be back until lunchtime to bring me food. I always heard his footsteps pound down a staircase when he left, so I was sure he wasn't standing guard outside.

  That meant I had several hours of time to kill and today, I was going to do something with it.

  I flipped my sheet back, able to carefully move my injured leg now that the painkillers had taken effect.

  I hopped up onto my other leg, balancing precariously. I wobbled, dropping back onto my bum with a huff of frustration.

  I needed something to prop me up. I gazed around the room. It was sparse, but there was some old furniture stored in one corner. The far corner. At least ten paces from me.

  Darn-it.

  I pushed myself upright again. Ten loud hops would take me over there, but they also might gain attention from downstairs.

  I took a slow breath, then dropped to the floor, keeping my injured leg elevated as I half crawled, half dragged myself across the room.

  When I made it to the furniture, I found that most of it was broken and full of termites.

  I worked carefully through the pile, finally finding a table that seemed unaffected by the mites. I took hold of one leg, straining hard and snapping it off. My Hunter blood was useful for something, but I still didn't think I could win a fight with my captor.

  Leaning my weight on the table leg, I pushed myself upright, teetering for a moment as I found my balance.

  I hobbled to the door, pride surging through me. Step one was complete, but the next tasks wouldn't be so easy. Get out. Find V blood. Save the Werewolves. Go home.

  You're not a hero, Mercy.

  I leant my weight on the door handle, taking a slow breath. Gently, I turned it, a tremble juddering up my spine. It swung open, surprising me and I gazed into the dark hallway beyond.

  I took a tentative step forward, spotting a single light bulb illuminating a hatch in the floorboards. I crept toward it, crouching down on one leg and feeling out the grooves. I tried to prise the boards up, but couldn't get it loose. The light bulb above me started to swing and I gazed anxiously around, trying to figure out why. Footsteps pounded down below, making the walls tremble. I gasped, trying to get back up, but in my haste, pressed my weight onto the trapdoor and it fell forward. An extendable staircase dropped away beneath me, hitting the floor below with a loud thump.

  I caught the edge, stopping myself from falling, coming eye to eye with Ulvic below.

  A man came into view beside him with a haggard face and sagging skin. “Mercy Van Helsing,” he growled. He stepped onto the staircase and I remained in place. I knew this man. I'd seen him once before, visiting my parents' castle when I was a little girl. He'd frightened me then with his grimacing face; the coat he'd worn had had buttons made from small bones. My brother Ignus had told me they were the bones of the children who'd annoyed him. I didn't much believe that now, but back then I'd been terrified.

  I didn't recoil. I may have been weak, but Alfric Hund was an old man. Hunter or not. I didn't think he posed a huge threat to me, though the darkness in his eyes suggested otherwise. He climbed the stairway, using a black cane for support, the loud thump of it hitting each stair the only noise in the house.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked calmly. “You'll want to rest that leg, I imagine?” He poked his grey-haired head through the hatch and I shuffled backwards, my heart rate increasing to a rapid beat.

  “I need V blood,” I breathed, trying to work out whether Alfric was a friend or foe. If he believed I was still like my parents, I shouldn't have had anything to worry about. But I feared that he knew the truth.

  “I don't store the stuff,” he said and his rancid breath washed over me as he clambered through the hatch. “You'll have to heal the o
ld fashioned way I'm afraid.”

  The creak of the staircase announced Ulvic following him.

  “Not a scrap of patience, you young ones,” Alfric continued, his small eyes roaming over me, landing on my bandaged leg. He edged closer, looming over me as I sat awkwardly on the floorboards. “I've heard some rumours about you, Miss Helsing...I wonder which of them are true, hm?”

  He lifted his cane, dropping the end onto my injured leg and pressing down. The splint shifted and my bones moved. Painkillers or not, I screamed.

  “Stop!” I begged, trying to reach down to remove the cane, but he only leant his weight down on it, pinning me in place. I wailed, falling flat on my back, trying to stifle tears.

  “Father, this is unnecessary,” Ulvic said, climbing through the hatch. “Mercy is-”

  “You friend?” Alfric guessed. “Because no friend of yours is worth a cent. You keep the company of soulless beings, of disloyal Hunters...” He leant down to gaze at my face, his thin lips curling back to expose yellowing teeth.

  “She's not a friend. I already told you, she's Selena Grey's ally,” Ulvic said and my blood curdled in my veins. “She's worth something. We can give her to the Hunters who want revenge. We can start making our family name great again. Think how grateful they'll be if we hand her over.”

  I gazed up at him, trying figure out his angle. Was he bluffing? Or was that the truth?

  “You're the one who soiled our name, you're as treacherous as she is,” Alfric growled at his son.

  “And now I'm trying to make up for that,” Ulvic urged.

  Alfric wet his lips, gazing down his nose at me. He tapped my bad leg with his cane. “So it's true? You betrayed your family, did you girl?”

  I considered lying, but I didn't want to pretend anymore. Plus it was obvious Ulvic had told him the truth. And I was done staying safe within the shadow of my family name.

  “Yes,” I bit out, fixing Alfric with a cold stare, despite the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes from the pain in my leg.

  He lifted the cane, smiling satisfactorily. “Truths are far less painful than lies in my household.” He glanced toward Ulvic. “You'd do well to remember that, too, son.”