A Game of Vampires Page 2

  “You will be a king amongst men, if only you want it enough,” he had told me the day before his passing. His liver had rotted in his gut. He had sworn that a particular mix of gin and botanicals, was the cure to all disease. An excuse to drink daily from morn til dusk, more like. I had never been blind to the delusion we'd been selling. The potions were mostly water, riddled with herbs so the patient truly believed they were drinking something of worth. The worse tasting, the more they seemed to believe it did them good. Fools. I would not be tricked so easily. So when the other servants had spoken of the Vampires on this island, I was skeptical to say the least.

  I had been most reluctant to leave my dear Evangeline behind – I'd not had a chance to say goodbye. Belmont had sprung this trip on us at the last moment. But I would only be gone a week. Then I would return to her arms. I would buy us freedom one day. But time was running out before she would be forced to give up her virginity. I couldn't bear the idea of her innocence being stolen by some lech like Belmont. Someone who didn't appreciate her.

  I saw what other men did not. I saw her kind soul. I'd recently watched the way she'd cared for the pregnant cat her mother kept to chase mice. The fatter it had grown, the more useless a hunter it had become. But Evangeline had made sure it was fed and let it sleep upon her bed at night until it had its kittens. She was no less than an angel in my eyes. And I would find a way to the money that would free us one day.

  I'd been slyly stealing jewels and trinkets from around Belmont's house for weeks. But that wasn't my end game. No, Belmont had plenty of value that I wanted. Including an emerald broach belonging to his late wife. And whatever was in his safe. A safe which was currently onboard the boat. I'd recently figured out that the only way I could get inside it was with a key. A key which hung around his thick neck. But once I set my eye on a prize, I had to possess it. No matter how difficult that feat might be.

  I gazed up at the moon, carrying two large bags and another stuffed under one arm. The other staff were equally laden. Why Belmont insisted on bring half of his house with him for one week in this place was a mystery to me.

  I hurried along the wooden pier. Other boats were docked there too, but none as fine as ours. A motorised vessel, the most modern on the market. Belmont may have been an old kook, but he was a damn rich one. One of the wealthiest men in London as I understood it.

  “What time is sunrise?” I called to one of the maids.

  She laughed, sharing some secret joke with the others. Belmont had evidently heard me, standing tall at the end of the pier, leaning his weight on his fine cane of gold. A cane, which I knew had a secret blade stashed beneath its jewelled pommel. One twist and the knife came free. I had sharpened it on more than one occasion.

  “Ignorant boy,” Belmont addressed me. “We are in the Arctic Circle. The sun does not rise here for another six months.”

  My gut twisted at that. I didn't much like the dark. It was one of those fears I kept hidden from people. From everyone but Evangeline, of course. When I'd told her of it, she hadn't snickered at me, or jested. Especially once I'd explained why. As a toddler, I'd had to sleep in a dark cupboard in my mother's room. She'd had no money for a larger living space. I knew that. But the cupboard had left its mark on me. Especially the nights I'd called out to her and she hadn't come. When she'd been selling her body to make ends meet. I didn't blame her. She'd done what she'd had to for us to survive. But it was her death sentence in the end. One of the men had refused to pay and when she'd demanded the money, he'd beat her to death. The old alchemist who lived next door had heard her screams, but it was too late. He'd taken me in. The first and last kindness I'd ever received from a stranger.

  Belmont led the way up a myriad of stone steps, winding toward the towering castle up on the cliff. The moon bathed its walls in a milky glow and stars peppered the black canvas beyond it. As we drew closer, a chill crept up my spine. I had not ventured beyond England before, and the tingle in my veins spoke of my anticipation. This castle seemed fit to house Frankenstein's monster. I couldn't imagine what awaited us inside its cavernous walls.

  As we crested the hill, with Belmont panting heavily, I caught sight of a dark courtyard ahead, lit with fiery stakes in the ground surrounding a stone fountain. The contorted bodies of the beautiful effigies within it were almost erotic and I naturally averted my gaze as we gathered in the yard. A slit of light cast across our group as two immense doors parted before us. A shadow stepped into the amber glow and a fiercely large man with broad shoulders appeared. The light cast a halo behind his head, illuminating his starkly blonde hair. His eyes were as blue as sapphires, and no warmth transpired from them until they rested on my master.

  “Welcome, Lord Belmont. Do come in out of the cold.” He ushered us forward and I followed obediently with the other servants.

  “Abraham Van Helsing,” Belmont said in his gravelly tone. “You look as well as ever.”

  “The games always serve to invigorate me, Belmont. As you well know.”

  “Quite, I have anticipated my return for many months.” Belmont moved to Abraham's side and we followed them down a hall of grey flagstones, lit by torches set into brackets on the walls. The eyes of ghostly portraits followed me; all marked with the Helsing name, the final of which pictured Abraham himself, set onto the wall beside a woman of golden hair and a face so fine it could have belonged to a goddess. The woman herself appeared at the far end of the corridor, her appearance even more striking in real life. I dipped my head as Belmont bowed his own. But my eyes crept up to absorb her once more. She was near-regal in a dress of gold satin and jewellery that would have made Queen Victoria herself rife with envy.

  “Madam Helsing.” Belmont took the woman's fair hand, laying a kiss on the back of it.

  “Please, do call me Katherine,” she answered. “My mother-in-law is Madam Helsing.”

  Abraham chuckled softly, looping an arm around his wife's slim waist. They looked hewn from stone, too beautiful, too perfect. It unsettled me and it took a moment for me to understand why. I had been a master of deception most of my life. And it struck me that this alluring couple were not what they seemed. This was an act I'd played well, to sell the alchemist's fraud potions. No doubt, these Helsings were hoping to grow more familiar with Belmont's money than they were with him.

  “Varick will show you to your rooms.” Katherine snapped her fingers harshly and from the shadows of a nearby stairwell, emerged a man. My heart pattered unsteadily in my chest. This man was not like any I had ever seen. His hair, though clearly long, was tied back with a dark ribbon. His skin was pallid, almost translucent beneath the amber glow of a nearby torch. He was tall, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. But none of those things frightened me quite so much as his eyes. Eyes of molten glass. Bottle green. They spoke of a hunger that had nothing to do with food. More like murder.

  I felt some of the servants shrink back behind me, but I kept my shoulders squared toward him, my head tall. I would not let him see me frightened. It was a tactic I was more accustomed to employing with street dogs, but something in this man's manner told me he was as rabid as one of them.

  Belmont cleared his throat. “Is he quite obedient?”

  Abraham laughed in a deep, rolling tone. “He is as placid as a rabbit until I tell him to be otherwise. Aren't you, Varick?”

  Varick's eyes slid slowly from Abraham to Belmont. “Yes, sir.”

  Katherine smiled, her eyes narrowed on Varick as he gestured for us to follow him. Belmont led the way forward, somewhat reluctantly.

  Varick took a torch from the wall, heading into the dark stairwell. A winding stone staircase led us up several floors and we emerged in a grand corridor of wooden floorboards and a thick red rug running across its centre. Gas lanterns illuminated the place better than the floors below, giving this part of the castle a more homely feel. Especially when we were led into a grand room of Georgian décor. It was tastefully done, the large four-poster dripping in soft blan
kets and pillows. I didn't imagine the servants' quarters would be so fine.

  We placed Belmont's bags down and the maid, Julie, started unpacking them. She was often appointed to organising Belmont's personal space, whether at home or away.

  “When do the festivities begin?” Belmont asked Varick as he drifted toward the door, clearly meaning to leave. His eyes were fixed firmly on Martha as she worked, that hungry look returning to his gaze. He turned his head to face Belmont, his movements slow, concise, as if he had all the time in the world. “The ball will begin in two hours. You will have a chance to meet the girls and place your first bets.”

  “Wonderful,” Belmont answered, rubbing his hands together. “Is there a good haul this year?”

  “As always,” Varick remarked. He blinked slowly, his gaze shifting to me. It seemed as though cold hands were slithering around my throat. “I will wait in the corridor. When your servants are ready, I will show them to their rooms.” He headed out of the door before Belmont could ask another question.

  “Vampires,” Belmont muttered, starting to unbutton his moleskin. John rushed forward to take it from his shoulders.

  I laughed and Belmont straightened, his attention wheeling to me. “Something funny, boy?” I'd been working for him for nearly six months, but he liked to pretend he didn't know my name.

  “Vampires?” I questioned rather boldly. “There's no such thing.”

  Julie shot me a look through her dark ringlets.

  Belmont looked amused for a moment. “Go and ask Varick yourself, if you don't believe me.”

  The other servants looked to me, daring me to do it. I puffed out my chest, walking out of the room, appearing much braver than I felt. Vampires? I was no fool. I wasn't going to fall for Belmont's misguided beliefs.

  Varick was standing across the hall, his arms folded. His shirt seemed much too thin for an icily cold place like this island. Even with the fires burning about the place, they didn't rid the chill in the air. But that didn't make him a Vampire.

  He sucked in one cheek as he eyed me, his eyes seeming bloodshot up close. He didn't say a word, evidently waiting for me to speak first.

  I cleared my throat, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop my fidgeting as I approached. “There's some strange tales about this place,” I said, trying out the tone I'd used on customers in the past. Chatty. Friendly. Charming. I had the gift of the gab. It appeared this man did not agree as he simply gazed at me with a coldness in his expression that ate at my insides.

  I pressed on, moving closer still. “Lord Belmont seems to be under the impression there are Vampires living here. And that you are one of them.” I started to laugh, but at Varick's narrowing gaze, I fell quiet.

  His mouth curled up at one corner, twisting into a cruel smile. “It's almost embarrassing how little most humans know of the world. But I suppose I was like you once...” He glanced away, seeming to be done with the conversation already.

  I took another step closer, tilting my head in a mocking kind of way.

  He raised a brow, taking in my expression. “I can't decide whether you are truly ignorant, or simply a fool.”

  “I'd rather be neither,” I said quickly, affronted. But I wasn't done hunting for my answers yet. I needed him to deny Belmont's foolish beliefs so I could have some peace of mind. Admittedly, I was having doubts myself right then, looking into the cold eyes of a man who, it was hard to deny, did look rather hungry. But for blood? Surely not.

  “Say it, go on. Tell me you're a Vampire.” A chuckle was forming in my throat but Varick seemed the least bit amused.

  “I am a Vampire,” he drawled, standing upright.

  I was tall, but this man was unnaturally so. I gazed up at him, a lump forming in my throat.

  “Liar,” I dared, barely a breath of a word.

  At speed, he gripped my throat, twisting sharply around and throwing me back against the wall he'd just been stood against. He pressed himself close to me, opening his mouth and baring fangs. Actual fangs, glinting and sharp.

  I recoiled. His strength was phenomenal. I gripped his wrist which was as cold as ice. My street fighting skills would prove me no good against this man.

  Varick's upper lip curled back. “I am ordered to offer courtesy to the Helsings' guests. You are just a lowly servant, and I am hungrier than you can imagine. If you wish to keep your blood in your veins, do not address me so impertinently. This is not a place to make enemies. Least of all with me.”

  I nodded wildly, realising my feet were nearly an inch above the ground. My breath was being choked out of me second by second. “Y-yes – yes,” I managed under the pressure of his grip.

  He released me and I hit the floor on my arse. As he stepped aside, I heard snickering, spotting the other servants gathered in the doorway across the hall. The door was half-closed and as Varick turned his gaze their way, they slammed it shut.

  Varick released a growl, turning to me and yanking me to my feet. I brushed down my coat, shame flowing through me, my pride badly wounded. I never took to losing very well.

  I dipped my head to Varick, muttering an apology before walking back across the hall.

  “I will show you to your room,” Varick spoke before I made it to the door. “Your party sounds rather busy making fun of you.”

  I gazed toward the door, unable to hear such a thing myself, but Varick's expression assured me he could detect it. Another Vampire trait, I supposed.

  I was still in shock from the truth. Vampires? How was it possible? Such creatures defied the natural order of things.

  I cleared my throat, gesturing for Varick to lead the way. He took a torch from the wall, heading back into the stairwell, and down, down, down we travelled until we were surely beneath the castle. The air was frigid now and I clung in vane to the heat of the torch Varick was carrying, gathering my thin coat tighter around me.

  Varick glanced over his shoulder, his brows lowering. “Your master did not prepare you for this place. That is perhaps a cruelty in itself.”

  “Well...maybe you can enlighten me?”

  Varick's mouth twitched as if in amusement, but the mirth was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “I already have the job of explaining it to the girls. I do not wish to do so twice.”

  “Then I shall remain blind?”

  “It depends if Lord Belmont allows you to attend the game. If he does not, you shall leave this place as ignorant as you are now. A blessing, I assure you.”

  “I do not see ignorance as a blessing,” I muttered, not intending him to hear.

  “You will,” he answered smoothly. “If you are truly inquisitive by nature- and judging from your behaviour thus far, I have reason to assume you are- then you will do well to keep your nose out of things here.”

  “My behaviour? What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded as we arrived in a corridor of what seemed to be cells, hidden behind plain wooden doors. Surely I wouldn't have to stay here? I'd freeze to death before tomorrow.

  “It means you are a questioner. That you will not let things simply be.”

  “And why should I?” My backbone had been reinstated since Varick's recent attack. I wasn't sure why I was pushing him, especially considering we were now alone in a quiet part of the castle. Perhaps I was a fool after all.

  Varick rounded on me, gazing down his nose. “You may wish to change the things you see here. Help those who appear in trouble. But you cannot. There are two types of people who walk into this castle. The living, and the dead. To remain amongst the living, you must keep your flapping lips sealed.”

  “Why are you helping me?” I narrowed my gaze.

  He spat a dark laugh. “I am giving you the warning every servant gets in this place. Eyes down, mouth shut. Unless you want to know what it feels like to have all of the blood in your veins drunk. Many of my victims stay awake until the very last second.”

  I backed up, my spine hitting the cold wall.

  His lip curled back in a snarl. “Th
is way,” he growled, heading past the cells.

  A girl's voice rang out from behind one of the doors. “Hello? Is someone there? Please – help me!”

  I halted, fear trickling into my blood. Varick gave me a look that reminded me of his warning.

  Eyes down, mouth shut.

  I hesitated a moment longer as the woman started to beg, louder and louder. Then other female voices joined her. Many English, but some were foreign. French, Spanish. I even detected some Latin prayers.

  Varick surveyed me, and I suspected he'd planned this, taken me here on purpose. A test of my cooperation.

  I dropped my eyes, pressed my lips together and kept walking. But my soul ripped in two as I did so, as if God himself had smote me for my cowardice.

  Words surged inside me. Full of shame and hate. I would bend them into a letter for Evangeline when next I had a moment's peace. Words were becoming like comfort food to me. She had encouraged me to express my emotions through ink, but sometimes they were so powerful they may as well have been written in blood.

  Varick led me up a stairwell and we finally arrived in the servants' quarters. He gestured to a wooden door and I headed inside, finding a series of bunk beds laid out across the room. I would have to share with the other men in Belmont's entourage. Not something I would enjoy. I despised most of them.

  I sighed, taking one of the bottom bunks and dropping my bag onto it, glad to be free of Varick's presence as he shut the door. I took out some rolling tobacco and papers, needing the sweet release of nicotine. Three smokes later, I had started to write a letter to my dear Evangeline.

  I fear putting my true thoughts into words, dearest Eve. I cannot tell you much of this place I am visiting with Lord Belmont. But I will tell you of the biting cold, the echoing corridors and the screaming wind. Sometimes it is not the wind which cries. But I daren't write about that. I have been warned by a man more fearsome than a hangman's dog. And yet, it is not he I fear most in this place. It is the beauty...the money. It almost has a smell, my Eve.