Hunter Trials Read online

  ALSO BY CAROLINE PECKHAM

  THE VAMPIRE GAMES NOVELLAS

  A GAME OF VAMPIRES (SERIES PREQUEL)

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  THE VAMPIRE GAMES: SEASON 1

  V GAMES

  V GAMES: FRESH FROM THE GRAVE

  V GAMES: DEAD BEFORE DAWN

  THE VAMPIRE GAMES: SEASON 2

  WOLF GAMES

  WOLF GAMES: ISLAND OF SHADE

  WOLF GAMES: SEVERED FATES

  THE VAMPIRE GAMES: SEASON 3

  HUNTER TRIALS

  HUNTER TRIALS: COURT OF IMMORTALS (COMING SOON) 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 2018

  Copyright 2018 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.

  CONTENTS

  MERCY

  MERCY

  MERCY

  SILAS

  COLT

  COLT

  MERCY

  MERCY

  SILAS

  COLT

  MERCY

  MERCY

  KATE

  MERCY

  MERCY

  EPILOGUE: KATE

  COLT

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  KATE

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  MERCY

  LINKS TO ALL OF CAROLINE PECKHAM'S BOOKS

  I stood on the edge of a cavernous abyss, high up on a mountainside, gazing down into my fate: an impossibly wide hole in the ground, cut into the rock. Snow surrounded us on either side and snowflakes tumbled down into the void, vanishing in the darkness.

  The night sky was concealed behind a thick curtain of clouds, the moon just a vague silver glow on the horizon overlooking a black sea. We were somewhere north, high up in the Arctic Circle. The exact location was a secret, but what did it matter? I'd never get out of this place.

  Two Watchers in black armour and jackal masks stood at my back. Beside me, another three were holding Colt at the edge. Mortifer stood behind us in her grand headdress of steel chains, her voice biting into my ears as harshly as the Arctic wind. “Accolt Jones and Mercy Helsing, your fate awaits you at the bottom of this pit.”

  The Jackals nudged me forward, urging me to jump.

  Fear bloomed through me.

  I clung to them, digging my heels in as a dusting of snow toppled over the ledge and was swiftly swallowed by the black void.

  “Are you crazy?” I gasped. “We'll die!”

  Hands pressed into my back.

  I held on for dear life, but the Jackals were shaking me off and with a sharp shove, I was thrown over the edge.

  I screamed to high heaven.

  My heart flew upwards.

  I couldn't draw breath as I fell, crying out.

  I'm about to die. I'll hit the ground and my body will be dashed to pieces.

  Darkness consumed me. I was falling towards hell itself, the drop never-ending as I continued to plummet, my arms and legs wheeling as I tumbled through the air.

  I braced myself instinctively for the collision with a stone floor, my heart thrumming in my ears.

  But it never came.

  I hit a net, bouncing upwards just as Colt slammed into it beside me. As I fell back onto the net, we rolled toward each other fast, our weight bending the net in the middle until we smashed into one another. His hands locked around my wrists, his breathing wild.

  “Holy shit,” he gasped in my ear.

  Adrenaline made my whole body quake. But we were alive. And that was the only solace I had to hold onto.

  Firelight bloomed, flaring across the walls, illuminating bloody hand prints on the rock.

  War drums pounded in my ears accompanied by the chanting of a hundred men and women. The gravelly warble of throat-singing rumbled beneath it all, the clamour so loud it drowned my senses.

  As Colt and I tried to scramble out of the net, hands seized us, hauling us from it. I stumbled as my feet hit a stone floor and I trembled from head to foot. Heat surged through my veins like liquid fire.

  I gazed at the two men holding me, dressed in plates of armour, their bare skin on show beneath a sea of sprawling tattoos. Colt was dragged forward by two similar men and I held onto the tiny comfort of his presence.

  Thank God I'm not alone in this.

  We were escorted along a stone passage of black rock, curving overhead, glistening in the firelight of torches in our escorts' hands.

  The drums grew louder until it was impossible to hear even my own heart beat pounding in my ears.

  We entered a vast cavern where the source of music became clear: four masses of people were divided by chains ahead of us, arcing in a crescent across the back wall. Above each of them sat on raised thrones were four people, crowned in different headpieces. Three men, one woman.

  I was thrown to the ground and my knees were skinned on the rocks. Colt was shoved down beside me and one of the escorts started tearing the clothes from his body. It was only a second longer before hands ripped at my own clothes. I had no chance of stopping them as they tore away everything but my underwear.

  The shredded remains of our clothes were tossed into a fire pit between two of the large groups, so big it illuminated the whole cavern in an amber glow.

  My hands were icily cold as I pressed them to the ground, trying to get up. I caught Colt's eye, his back arched over, his chest and legs bare. His body was firm with muscle, his arms and back decorated with tattoos. He gave me a dark look, his silver eyes calculating the situation.

  I remained kneeling, waiting from someone to speak.

  The drums hushed and the chanting died away as a woman stood from her throne. She wore a black dress beneath plates of armour on her shoulders and chest. Ebony war paint was smeared over her cheeks. Her arms were defined with muscle and a tattoo of barbed wire curled around one of her biceps. Her hair was as dark as the raven which was perching on her shoulder, watching me through beady eyes. The woman's eyes were sparkling blue and atop her head was a jagged piece of metal, curved into a crown with an emblem of the sun at its centre.

  All heads turned to her, including those of the other crowned men on their thrones. On closer inspection, I could see the groups distinguished by each 'king or queen'. The men and women standing before the woman had sun emblems blazing on their armour, s
ome had tattoos of it on their foreheads and bare throats. Before I could take in the kings, the woman spoke.

  “I am Arabella, ruler of Vita Clan. Speak your names and Immortal birthright.”

  Colt got to his feet and my throat tightened as he straightened his spine, readying to speak. “Accolt Jones. Son of Rockley Jones. Half Hunter, half human.”

  Silence fell. The men and women eyed him, all looking fierce like vikings with their braided hair and metallic plates of armour. Many had black soot painted on their faces, making their appearance even more frightening.

  Eyes swivelled to me and I pushed myself up to stand, stumbling a little. Everyone surveyed me like I was a fresh piece of meat. They could see the weakness in me. And I stood straighter to try and hide it, keeping my eyes on Arabella as I spoke. “My name's Mercy Helsing. Daughter of Abraham and Katherine Helsing. I'm a Hunter.”

  “Helsing?” someone hissed amongst the crowd, then further muttering broke out.

  I fought the urge to wrap my arms around myself, feeling too many eyes on my near-naked body. But I was used to that from my past, and I had to try and show strength to these people.

  “Silence!” Arabella cried, her voice commanding authority.

  The cavern quieted.

  Arabella glanced at the crowned men, introducing them one by one as they stood in response to their names. “Solomon, leader of Lux Clan. Viden of owls, he has four hundred and sixty three deaths to his name.”

  My heart beat out of tune. How many deaths? Jesus Christ.

  The man had a giant tawny owl resting on his arm. He got to his feet, a thick black robe falling from his back. His chest was bare, his gleaming ebony torso defined with muscle and riddled with scars. His face held a thick, trimmed beard, and a neat scar ran from his left eye to his jaw. His hair was long, shaved on one side, the other knotted into braids. His eyes were like fire itself, gazing directly into my soul.

  Arabella continued, “Hawke, leader of Nox Clan. Vampire, born a Viking prince, he has eight hundred and eleven deaths to his name.”

  I gazed at Hawke and he stared evenly back at me, his black eyes drinking me in as his nostrils flared at my scent. He was pale, but not hungry like the Vampires in the games. He was clearly well-fed. His hair was dirty blonde, half-shaved and braided like many of the others in the room, his chin rough with stubble. He wore two black leather straps across his wide chest, the Nox emblem blazed on his slim iron crown and was tattooed over his heart. It resembled two serrated blades, bending into crescents away from each other; between them was the top half of a skull. I frowned, wondering how a Vampire was able to get a tattoo with their healing abilities.

  “And Bain, leader of Tenebris Clan. Siren of fifty maidens, he has nine hundred and thirty two deaths to his name.” Bain gazed down at me, half his face concealed by a broken piece of an animal's skull. His hair was jet black, cut short at differing lengths, his eyes like death itself. The bony mask had one horn curving up over his head to form his crown. A sharp X was cut across it to match the one on his bare shoulder. He wore a plate of armour over his chest and an enormous axe hung at his hip. His gaze haunted me the most, something about him chilling me to my core.

  Amongst his Clan were many women, all thin, wasted away and some were bruised and scarred.

  Arabella drew my eyes back to her as she went on. “If you survive your first trial, the Clan leaders may step forward to claim you. You will live and breathe for your chosen Clan. You will abide by your leaders' rules without question.” She snapped her fingers at our escorts and they hurried forward, picking up armour left at the edge of the fire pit. They threw them at our feet and Colt immediately grabbed his, pulling on the trousers and armour he'd been supplied with.

  I moved forward to collect mine, tugging on tight trousers with a doublet and a plate of armour that fit snugly to my chest.

  One of the men took my arm, hauling me toward the fire pit and turning me to face Colt.

  “Leaders, send forth your opponents,” Arabella demanded.

  From each of the Clans, a man stepped forward. All were brutish, thick with muscle and holding weapons fit to chop off limbs.

  Colt eyed them, his shoulders rolling.

  “Choose your opponent, Accolt Jones,” Arabella commanded.

  Colt's jaw was set as he gazed between his opponents. My heart stuttered in my chest. Was I about to watch Colt die? Was he ready for a fight like this?

  Colt nodded toward the man who'd stepped forward from Nox Clan. He was tall, but thinner than some of the other contenders. In his hand was a serrated blade, big enough to run right through a person.

  A man rolled out a selection of weapons on a mat before the fire pit. Knives, small axes and a large machete.

  “Choose your weapon,” Arabella commanded.

  Colt stepped forward, eyeing the selection. He was just a foot away from me and I tried desperately to catch him in my gaze, but he kept his eyes down-turned. Eventually, he picked up the machete, weighing it in his palm with a stiff nod.

  How did he look so damn calm?

  My heart was going a mile a minute. I was half a second away from turning and throwing up in the fire.

  Colt moved back a few steps, keeping his eyes on his opponent, angling his feet side-on.

  “To be proclaimed winner, you must kill your opponent!” Arabella cried.

  For a second, my heart literally stopped beating.

  I was going to have to do this, too. And I wasn't even a trained Hunter. How the hell could I win a fight like this?

  “Step within two paces of each other, Accolt and Hareem,” Arabella ordered and the two men approached each other, weapons held aloft.

  Colt didn't even tremble. I was probably more frightened than he was.

  “Fight!” Arabella cried and the whole crowd started chanting again, the war drums pounding in my ears.

  Hareem came at Colt fast, slashing his knife left and right. Colt parried both blows, thrusting an elbow into Hareem's face. He stumbled back and Colt pressed his advantage, launching forward with the machete and swinging it towards his neck.

  I gasped, clapping a hand to my mouth as Hareem barely blocked the blow, their weapons colliding mid-air with a clash of metal.

  Colt ducked another attack, sweeping out Hareem's legs with expert skill. Hareem hit the floor, rolling fast to regain his feet as Colt's machete slammed into the ground, missing him by inches.

  Colt's arms rippled with muscle as he lifted the weapon again. Dashing forward, he charged Hareem down. Colt whipped the blade toward his midriff and Hareem turned sharply, narrowly avoiding it before ripping his own knife up Colt's arm.

  Colt hissed between his teeth as blood poured from the wound, but it wasn't his fighting arm. He threw his other shoulder into Hareem's, knocking him back a few paces. As he stumbled to regain his footing, Colt grabbed his throat, throwing him with inhuman strength to the ground. Hareem rolled over as Colt dropped down atop him, sliding the machete under his neck.

  My heart stuttered in my chest.

  Hareem cried out as Colt took hold of his long hair, yanking his neck back and dragging the machete across his throat. He didn't stop there, slicing it all the way through even though Hareem was long dead. He severed the head from his neck, standing and holding it aloft toward Arabella.

  The crowd were crying out, some in rage, some cheering. I was ready to vomit, eyeing the fire pit again.

  Colt threw the head into the fire and I cringed away, unable to believe what I'd just seen him do.

  Colt's deep bronze skin was speckled with blood, his teeth gritted as he gazed up at Arabella, awaiting her next command.

  “Leaders, you may step forward to offer Accolt a place in your Clan.” She gazed around at them before staring down at Colt. “If no one steps forward, you will be exiled to the ring of silence in the northern wing of Dødstårn. But only death awaits you there.”

  No one moved and Colt sagged, panting with exertion.

 
I released a quiet noise of anguish, taking a step toward Colt before I was yanked back.

  Come on. Please. Someone move!

  “Accolt Jones, I offer you a place in Vita.” Arabella stepped down from her throne, moving through the mass of her Clan before arcing around the fire pit toward him. She held an iron poker in her grip and she dipped the end into the fire where the symbol of her Clan soon blazed to life.

  “Where would you like to be marked?” Arabella asked and Colt turned, offering her his right shoulder. She lifted the brand, pressing it against his skin and he groaned through his teeth as his flesh hissed.

  When she retracted it, a red mark was scorched into his skin, the symbol of the sun.

  My heart picked up as Arabella led Colt into her Clan, returning to her throne. Colt glanced back at me, giving me an encouraging look, but it did nothing to still my rampant heart beat.

  I was left alone, about to face the same trial as Colt and fear bled through me in waves.

  I'm going to die.

  The man beside me shoved me forward as Arabella addressed the room again. “Leaders, send forth your opponents.”

  From her Clan, stepped a huge Vampire; he was all muscle, nearly twice my height it seemed.

  Not him. No bloody way.

  From my right, the man with an owl on his arm, Solomon, sent forth a slimmer built Vampire a double-headed axe in his grip. My stomach writhed.

  To my left, a female V stepped forward from Tenebris Clan. She was bigger than me, her arms muscular and her hand curved around a spear. The Vampires were no coincidence; they wanted their revenge on a Helsing.

  My throat dried up as I turned to face my final choice from Nox. Another V, a girl. Skinny and only an inch taller than me. She had a small knife in her grip, but there was a fierceness in her eyes that unsettled me. But she was my obvious choice, the only one to match my build even a little.