V Games_Fresh From The Grave Read online

  ALSO BY CAROLINE PECKHAM

  THE VAMPIRE GAMES

  V GAMES

  V GAMES: FRESH FROM THE GRAVE

  THE RISE OF ISAAC SERIES

  CREEPING SHADOW

  BLEEDING SNOW

  TURNING TIDE

  WEEPING SKY

  FAILING LIGHT

  THE RISE OF ISAAC NOVELLAS

  FALLING FIRE (PART ONE)

  FALLING FIRE (PART TWO)

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  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Published by Caroline Peckham 2017

  Copyright 2017 Caroline Peckham

  All rights reserved

  Caroline Peckham has asserted her right under the copyright, designs and patents act, 1998, to be identified as the author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  To my parents for always believing in me and supporting me every step of the way on my journey to becoming a full-time indie author.

  To my sister for all her hard work, proofreading and picking holes in my stories to make them the best they can be. And for writing your own books so that we will always be the biggest fans of each others work even if no one else reads them!

  To my friend Victoria for mulling over ideas with me and always putting up with my writing ramblings.

  To Kathleen for your continued support of my dreams, believing that I'm not actually crazy and could one day make this a reality!

  And to all the fans who have loyally stood by my books as well as all the new ones who decided to take a chance on them. There are no authors without readers and I'll never stop being grateful for your support.

  “Hope is the thing with feathers

  That perches in the soul

  And sings the tune without the words

  And never stops at all.”

  -Emily Dickinson

  V

  games:

  Fresh From The Grave

  CAROLINE PECKHAM

  Preface

  In the twisted underworld that surrounded me, I found my thirst for survival growing like brambles in my stomach, 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.

  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 believed I wasn't.

  Varick

  Pain of two kinds were fast becoming the only things left to me. Both powerful in their own right, but it was clear to me which was worse. The turmoil I was going through internally was outweighing the physical torture twofold.

  And for someone who, up until recently, had very few emotions to deal with, I wasn't coping all that well. I was left with a desperate fear for Selena's life, and the knowledge that if anything happened to her now, it would be due to my rash decisions.

  My skin prickled with the memories of the evening I'd taken Selena to Brice Edgewater: the winning bidder on the V Games who had secured a night with her. I couldn't find it in me to regret his death, even though it had placed me here. There was no part of me that could have let that night unfold. And from what I knew of Selena, I would guess she'd rather have died than let Brice take what he wanted from her.

  Still, I agonised over the details, my decisions. Had Selena escaped unharmed? Or had the Helsings found her before she could call the Norwegian coastguard for help?

  The only comfort was Jameson in a cell across the dimly lit corridor; a friend who had been returned to me against all odds. Jameson with his dark blonde hair, shaved at the sides and falling loose from his usual tight braid. He looked just the same as I remembered, that air of mischief still hanging about him. Not even the Helsings could have dulled his spirit.

  “Some clothes would be appreciated!” he barked at a woman in white overalls who paid him no attention.

  I sighed, moving onto my knees and blinking heavily as my head spun. I was growing weaker by the hour, pumped full of silver, drained of the blood I'd recently drank with so many tubes and needles, I couldn't have counted. I was losing all sense of myself. The only thing that kept me sane was the thought of her.

  Safe...she had to be safe.

  “Varick, you look like shit,” Jameson said with a dark grin.

  “At least I have clothes on,” I growled, managing a weak, mocking smile in return.

  He barked a laugh. “At what point is the thirst going to steal away your wit? Because I'm looking forward to that.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me why it is I'm sitting across from a man I haven't seen in over two hundred years?”

  Jameson pressed his forehead to the silver bars – bars which would have burnt my skin off like acid if I'd touched them myself. “Long story.”

  “I'm pretty sure we're not going anywhere any time soon.”

  A scream rang out from the direction of the laboratories, making us both snap around. My stomach churned at the thought of what was happening to the girl.

  “What's that?” Jameson breathed.

  “They're making new Vs.”

  Jameson recoiled from the bars. “Waste of life,” he muttered then shot a glance at me. “No offense.”

  “The truth doesn't offend me,” I muttered bitterly. “The Helsings are replenishing the numbers lost in the game.” My own fate was already sealed, no doubt. The Helsings would starve me for a while then chuck me back onto that island for god knows how many seasons of the games. Until I learnt my lesson. Fell in line again...

  A storm surged inside me, wild and tempestuous. I couldn't let them use me any more. I was done playing by their rules. Which would have only left me with one, rather morbid option if Selena hadn't been in the equation. But if I killed myself, I couldn't protect her. Not that I was doing anyone much good stuck in this godforsaken cell.

  I clambered to my feet, my anger giving rise to strength. I started pacing, thinking, plotting. But all I had were tenuous threads of ideas that all relied on me getting out of the Helsings' dungeon in relatively good health.

  Not likely.

  Jameson watched me move, his light eyes wheeling left and right. “Orders, Captain?” He smiled, lifting his chin.

  I rolled my eyes. “I'm not your captain any more.”

  “But you're doing that thinking walk. It always leads to a good idea. So I'm awaiting orders.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Still...I'll wait.”

  I let out a growl of frustration. “I don't have any answers!” I rounded on him but he remained calm, watching me, still waiting. Jameson was a year older than me, yet he'd taken to my rule as captain easier than most. After my father had died an
d left the ship in my charge, Jameson had sworn to cut down any man who opposed me. We'd grown up together on that ship and we'd always had each others backs. But the fact that his loyalty remained intact after all this time was a surprise to me.

  I ignored his watchful gaze as I continued to pace up and down like a caged tiger, going over the facts in my head.

  Selena was still alive, that much I was relatively sure of. The Helsings would have gloated about her death otherwise. So they probably didn't have her. Not yet anyway.

  I'd lost any sway I'd had with Mercy Helsing seeing as the last time I'd seen her, I'd blackmailed her. Abraham was a business-minded man; he'd be mulling over the best way to regain control over me to suit his needs. Katherine wouldn't take an interest; she never came down to the dungeons. And Ignus, well he was the one making sure I got what I deserved for betraying his family. But overall, he seemed more interested in Jameson than me.

  I turned around to find Jameson grinning his head off.

  “There it is,” he announced and my brow grew taut in frustration.

  “There what is?” I demanded.

  “That look in your eye. The one you get when you've got a plan that's going to save our arses.”

  My mouth lifted for a moment as I truly registered the fact I had my friend back. Him and his ridiculous, infallible confidence in me.

  Jameson stood, showing off his entirely naked body. “Admit it, you missed me didn't you?”

  I grimaced, stepping toward the bars and peering in the direction of the staff who were feeding the Vampires further down the corridor. “Get this man some clothes, will you?!”

  Jameson started laughing and the deep, rolling sound was so familiar, it lifted my heart a little.

  I shook my head. “You never did take life or death situations that seriously, did you?”

  He touched a scar on his chest that looked like a scrape of claw marks. “The gods are smiling on us, Varick. We're still here. Against all odds. Bloody immortals, can you believe it?”

  “I don't know what your life has been like since I last saw you, but immortality hasn't exactly been a barrel of laughs for me.”

  “Alright...so there's been a few kinks. But we'll iron them out.” He scratched his head like a mutt with flees. “So what's the plan?”

  Before I could answer, Mercy appeared, all golden hair and bare legs wrapped into a tiny black dress. Jameson's eyebrows lifted. “And who are you?”

  Mercy's sea-blue eyes swivelled from me to Jameson, giggling as she took in his nakedness. “Oh my...did my brother not even give you some underwear? Poor little wolf boy.” She grazed her fingertips across the bars and Jameson's gaze cooled.

  “You're Mercy,” he guessed, his eyes flitting to mine as I nodded in confirmation.

  “Mhmm,” she hummed, winding her fingers around the bars and glancing over at me. There was a sourness in her expression that would make lemons taste sweet by comparison. “Still standing, Varick?”

  “Evidently,” I muttered, my shoulders tensing.

  A man scurried toward us, carrying a tray of blood-filled vials that made my throat ache. Mercy snapped her fingers at him. “Get this man some clothes, before I tell my father you're letting our assets freeze to death in these cells.”

  The man nodded, murmuring an apology before running off. I watched the blood disappear with him, my breathing growing shallow.

  Mercy tutted, swaying her hips as she moved toward me. “Oh dear, how hungry you must be...”

  I kept my lips pressed together, unsure exactly of what Mercy thought of me now that I'd played mind games with her. After I'd threatened to reveal to her father that she had a thing for Vampires. For me.

  “And to think, we could have been friends. If only you hadn't lied and cheated, helped the little winner escape...”

  “As far as I was aware, she was free to go after she won the games,” I said in a harsh tone.

  “Not until Mr Edgewater had had his way with her.” A dark scowl took over her face. “But you had to go and interfere.”

  “If stopping a man from raping a girl is a crime against your family, then maybe you need to have a long, hard think about their morals.”

  Mercy's lips pursed. “My great, great grandfather started these games. And there are certain traditions we are supposed to uphold in his honour.”

  I shrugged, moving closer to the bars, keeping just enough distance from them that my skin didn't brush the silver. Jameson gave me a curious look over Mercy's shoulder.

  “So why are you here?” I asked, unable to keep my eyes from her neck. I could hear her pulse rising, the throb in her veins calling to me like I was under a spell.

  She flicked her hair, baring her throat to me – all on purpose of course. She was dangling herself in front of me like a feathery toy above a cat. “I came to meet the mutt.” She jerked her head in Jameson's direction, but didn't spare him a glance. He was pulling on clothes that had been passed to him through the bars.

  “Where did Ignus find him?” I thought it was best our previous friendship was kept a secret. I didn't need the Helsings using him to hurt me. The people I cared about in this world were very few and far between. But all of them seemed to be either on this island or floating off shore to it.

  “Ulvic Hund's got a pack. And my brother found a way to keep them in wolf form.”

  “And what use is that to you?” I asked as Jameson huffed.

  “I'd rather you didn't talk about me like I'm not here.”

  Mercy turned to him just as he tugged down the white t-shirt over his ripped midriff. She let out a soft sigh. “Gosh you are pretty, aren't you?”

  Jameson cocked his head, resting an elbow on the bars to show off his bicep. “How pretty do I have to be to get let out of this cage?”

  She laughed, resting her fingers within an inch of his arm. “I've learnt a thing or two about pretty immortal men.”

  “Oh?” Jameson leaned in closer and Mercy did the same.

  “They lie to get what they want.” She shot me daggers and I glowered at her without remorse.

  Jameson lifted a brow at me.

  “So go on, tell me a lie,” Mercy purred, slipping a finger under Jameson's chin.

  “Alright, you're turning me on right now.”

  Mercy slashed out with her nails, ripping his cheek open in three ribbons of red. Jameson barked a laugh, moving backwards with his tongue pressed into his cheek.

  Mercy stormed away, shooting me a final glance before hurrying from the dungeon.

  “That girl is every shade of crazy,” Jameson said, watching her go, rubbing his face.

  “Please tell me you don't actually have a thing for her?” I scowled, my hatred for Mercy rising to the surface.

  “Are you kidding me? I mean, she's hot, but I'd be safer trying it on with a hungry V than a Helsing.” He shoved his hand into his jeans' pocket. “Speaking of which...” He took out a vial of blood and chucked it to me. I launched forward, throwing my arm through the gap between the silver bars, hissing as they grazed my skin. I caught the vial and yanked my hand back, my skin quickly healing over the acid-like burns on my wrist.

  “Where'd you get this?” I demanded, dragging out the stopper in two seconds flat.

  “Pinched it off that guy Mercy shouted at.”

  “Appreciate it,” I said in surprise, tipping the vial up and savouring every last drop that slid down my throat. I shut my eyes, a burst of energy sparking inside me. The fog in my mind lifted a little, handing me back a piece of myself.

  “Can I hear that escape plan of yours now?” Jameson lowered his voice, his expression tense.

  I licked my lips, tasting the lasting metallic flavour of stale blood on them. I didn't want to think about where that supply had come from. But I had to take what I could get.

  My mouth tugged up at the corner. “Alright. But it's pretty basic.”

  “I'm listening.” Jameson looked like a puppy wagging its tail.

  “If
you can pickpocket blood for me, I'm guessing you can get your hands on a key card. All we need is another well-timed distraction.”

  “Never thought I'd be playing thief with you again, Varick. Strange world, isn't it?”

  A smile hooked up my mouth as I thought over all the improbable things that had occurred in the last few weeks. “The strangest.”

  Selena

  “Damn, damn, damn.” I punched the console in the cabin of the yacht, splitting my knuckles open and achieving nothing more than a throb of pain.

  “Work you piece of crap.” I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath to try and remain calm.

  What was there to worry about? I was only in the middle of the north sea, with no fuel, no food and no way to ever make it back to land alive.

  I hid my face in my palms; they were icily cold, all the warmth of the castle having fully abandoned me.

  I tried calling the coastguard for the hundredth time, jabbing my finger against the button on the radio. Static crackled in my ears; a sound I was growing to hate.

  My thoughts turned to Varick – as they did constantly since I'd left shore – and claws shredded my insides. I couldn't leave him behind, not after he'd sacrificed so much to save me. But how was I of any help to him now, floating around in the north sea?

  The moon tormented me with its quiet observation of my predicament. I needed the sun. I needed the light of day to give me some long-awaited clarity. “Everything always seems worse at night,” that's what my Mum used to say. “Wait until the morning before you make big decisions.” So, considering I was currently in the arctic circle where night didn't give way to day for another six months I was, in a nutshell, screwed.

  I tried not to overthink my attachment to Varick. I wanted to brand it as a simple desire to give back what I felt I owed him. But deep down, I knew there was something stronger than that forming inside me. The echo of conversations we'd had followed me everywhere as I moved around the yacht to keep warm.