Varick
Summer, 1803
“You're a free man now, brother.” Jameson slapped me on the shoulder, giving me his usual cocky smile.
It was all well and good to be arrogant in hindsight, but we'd come within an inch of death today. My neck had had a date with a noose – it wasn't the first time I'd diced with death, but it had certainly been the closest I'd come.
Jameson, my first mate and most trusted crewman, took the English sons of bitches by force. Blew them to hell with our Brigantine. Course, it was that very ship I'd stolen from the men who wanted me to dance the hempen jig for it, not to mention the endless list of other accounts they'd arrested me for. In fact, if they hadn't wasted so much time reading my misgivings to the observing crowd, I'd be buried deep in hell right now rather than sailing my smug arse into the sunset.
“Make haste Jameson, they'll be after us within the hour.”
“Aye, Captain Varick, what's our heading?” Jameson manned the tiller, his eye set keenly on the horizon.
I breathed in the glorious sea air, tasting the briny tang of freedom on my tongue. “Anywhere that has enough ale and women to serve the crew with my gratitude. Not every Captain would be as lucky as I to have such honourable men at his back.”
“No, but that might have more to do with the fact you burned the map to Melwick's gold.” Jameson ran his tongue over his teeth. He'd been as involved in that idea as I had, and the smirk that pulled at my mouth was soon mirrored on his. We'd made my life invaluable to the crew. For without me, the treasure was lost.
I tapped my temple.“Insurance, James. Only a fool wouldn't have it.”
◐☼◐
I blinked slowly, my senses sharp as always, bringing back the scent of the sea from my past, dragging it into my nostrils. An empty space sat in my chest, neither expanding nor contracting, appearing like it always did when I recalled that life. The one I truly belonged to. Not here, kept like a guard dog, fed scraps to keep me strong. Only one full body a month. It was no way for a V to live.
There was a time I could have taken humans whenever I wanted, to feast on the sweet nectar of their blood at my own whim. But now...the world had changed. My kind was forced into hiding lest we be hunted to extinction. Not that I particularly cared for the others. We were all damned. We deserved this hellish life one way or another. And I wasn't going to waste a moment feeling remorseful for the way the other Vs were treated. My prerogative was sating my own needs. Blood first and foremost, always.
In a way, life was simpler now. My needs had been reduced to a singular desire. The thirst was cruel but it could be euphoric too. Only when it was quenched, however. The fact I spent half my time starving made sure most of the men in the castle avoided me. A good move, considering how irritable the thirst made me.
Ignus's mother, Katherine, approached me, her lemon-scented locks carrying to me even over the stagnant air of the holding cells. Like all the Helsings, she was blonde, willowy and fair-eyed, her features sharp and strong. She carried an air of grace and refinement, but the Helsings were probably more bloodthirsty than I was. “Varick, Ignus will be accompanying you to shore today. His father wishes for him to learn the ropes.”
She reached out a hand and her silver-tipped nails dug into my wrist, singeing my skin like acid. I ground my teeth, my canines aching for the kill. But she had me under lock and key. We both knew it.
Katherine stepped closer; she was twice my age in terms of our appearance, but in reality I had over a hundred years on her. The Helsings lived longer than most humans, but they were yet to achieve true immortality. Of course, to them, Vampirism was an abomination. A disease they'd fought to eradicate for thousands of years. And yet now they abused their victory over our species. I couldn't quite decide if I'd rather they had annihilated us all, instead of manipulating us for their personal uses.
“It's a shame you're a damned creature of hell, Varick.” She reached for the shining cross at her throat, stroking her thumb over it in a slow movement. “You must have been such a handsome man once. But I suppose you had a black heart, even then. Only damned souls would have been cursed with an eternity craving the taste of blood.” Her slightly upturned nose twitched in disgust and I fought the urge to crush her slim neck. My fingers itched all the same.
“There's more than one way to be evil,” I said simply, eyeing the pendant she wore.
Hypocritical little witch.
She moved closer still, her body brushing mine so my overactive senses reeked havoc on me. The sweetness of sugar seeped across my tongue, the flavour of a tea she'd recently drunk. A whisper of lavender soap from the last time she'd washed her hands. But beneath all the sweetness was something bitter and foul. Garlic oil rubbed onto her neck and wrists. It had no other effect on me apart from repelling me from her blood, but the scent was overwhelming and one taste would have spoiled the freshness of the desirable liquid that resided in her veins.
Simply put, when it came to the Helsings, they needed all the repellent they could get from me. Their blood was royal and pure; the first time I'd smelt it, the thirst had nearly driven me mad. For months they'd kept me locked in their cells, designed to contain someone like myself. Starving me into insanity before gifting me blood at long last. I was broken, then trained like a damned animal, and every day since I'd had to fight the sickness in my gut. The torture of being so close to their heavenly scent and yet forced under their thumb, unable to acquire a single taste.
“You'll make sure Ignus returns to Raskdød safely, Varick, do you understand me?” Her tone was stern, her eyes piercing. I had enough strength in my little finger to snap the woman's long neck, but her power over me was absolute.
Dipping my head in agreement, I waited for her to depart. She remained in place, her eyes trailing across my folded arms. “He's my only son, Vampire. You will protect him at your own detriment if needs be.” Her eyes burned into mine as she extracted a slim, silver remote control from her pocket. Horror spiked in my chest but, as usual, I didn't show a single sign of fear as her thumb pressed one of the buttons. The metal capsule in my head responded, sending a shot of liquid silver into my veins. I roared in agony, smacking my head back against the wall to try and dislodge the device. I clawed at my long, dark hair, battling the fire in my body.
It always took six minutes to heal fully from a shot. Six minutes too many. That was what kept me in check. That vile contraption which stole my free will, my ability to sink my teeth into Katherine's pale neck and let the blood flow freely over my waiting tongue.
“You'll do as I say,” her velvet smooth voice sailed to me.
Every fibre of my being ached to defy her. And one day, I would. Mark my words. There was years of ancient revenge waiting to be unleashed on the Helsings, pounding through my veins. And perhaps one of the few things I shared with the other Vs, was my infinite desire to destroy every last one of them.
The war between Vampires and Hunters ended long ago, culminating in the creation of this hellish island. The atrocities committed here on not only Vampires, but humans too, were barbaric. Although I knew that, I never felt the guilt weigh heavily on me. I guessed I must have been a black-hearted man, but it was hard to connect with my past to now, to recall who I'd once been. The Vampire curse had amplified my cruelty, my desire for pain and suffering. I'd experienced the victory of a kill in my human life, man against man, sword against sword. But now, all that blood spilt by my hand swam in my dreams, surrounding me, reminding me of how much of it was wasted to the sea.
I licked my lips, the hunger rising like acid in my throat. It'd soon be time for me to feed. But I had work to do before I'd be given such a reward. The damn Helsings had me right where they wanted me. Not quite hungry enough to lose my mind, but desperate enough that I did as they said without question. All in the hopes of being fed.
At last, my vision refocused and my body fought off the silver. I was on my knees, my gaze landing on the red high heels before me. Probing fingers slid into my hair. The bitch was petting me like a dog.
I ground my teeth, inhaling slowly. “One day, Katherine, I'll rip your little blonde head off. I'll drain the blood from your neck, then I'll hunt down your family and suck the life from them too.” I glanced up and she extracted her hand from my hair, her eyes haunted. “Every. Last. Drop.”
“Get out,” she hissed, recoiling from me.
Regaining my feet, I gazed down at her trembling hands. She tried to hide her fear, but I could smell the sweat sliding down her neck, I could hear the quickening of her frantic heartbeat. My eyes slid to the slim control clamped in her hand. “One day you'll be careless. Just one, fleeting moment and I'll have you. All I need to do is be patient.” I smirked at her and she turned swiftly on her heel, hurrying away from me.
A soft groan sounded from one of the cells. The girls were growing weak; it was almost time for the first game of the season. They were cattle to the slaughter, each possessing a value that only paid out in their deaths. I searched for the guilt again, but it didn't come.
As I headed up the spiral staircase, I discovered a man in a suit waiting half way up. He was anxious, jittery, wringing his clammy hands together. His scent made my throat constrict: fear caused the cortisol levels to rise in his veins. A human's flavour was at its best when their body was calm, their heart beating slow and steady. But sometimes the only way to achieve that was through my Charm. Blinking slowly, I locked my eyes on the balding man and spoke, “Calm,” I commanded and his pale, green eyes become unfocused, his breathing slowing.
A bead of sweat travelled from his forehead, following the arc of his long face, down to his chin before dripping to the floor. My ears rang as it dropped onto the metal, my senses flooded with the vile secretions of this bony human.
“Speak,” I demanded, though I suspected I knew what it was he wanted. It was what all the spectators wanted, the men who visited the island to watch the games.
“Which women are the most desirable to you?” he asked.
He didn't mean sexually, though more than one of these men had tried to pay me off to get close to the girls.
They may have been marked for death, but that didn't mean I'd allow their abuse beforehand. Even a cretin like me had some morals. Not that the girls showed any appreciation for it.
“I can offer you something more than money,” he breathed, the sheen on his forehead diminishing as my Charm took effect.
“I'm not to be bribed,” I said simply, bored of this conversation already.
“Blood. Human Blood,” he insisted and my spine straightened.
“Blood?” I questioned and he nodded blankly. “Where would you acquire such a thing?”
“I had a gallon brought with me.”
“You've visited the island before,” I stated, my eyes roaming over him. Yes, I knew this man. He had attended the games more than once, though he'd never approached me directly before now.
“Yes. I'm aware you have no interest in money. But I'm also aware that the Helsings keep you starved, to keep you in line.” His words flowed freely. No lies could be told under my Charm, despite the fact his words were practically blasphemy against the Helsing family. No one who came here should undermine their power. At the very least they would have this man banned from the island if they found out, and perhaps even...
My eyes slid to his neck. They'd had me put men to death before, only once or twice in all these years, but for crimes worse than this. Should I risk the deal or simply confess this man's sins to Abraham in the hopes he'd bid me to carry out an execution?
I tasted my lips, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump. It was mouthwatering, my instincts urging me to feed.
I released him from my Charm and he inhaled sharply, the fear flooding back into his body. I regarded him with disappointment. I'd rather my next meal was someone cleaner than this. And bottled blood wasn't worth betraying the Helsings for.
Sighing, I shouldered past him, knocking him to the ground as I continued my path upstairs. If there was one thing my time under the Helsings' rule had taught me, it was self control. I wasn't like my brothers and sisters out in the game: starved, craving blood, even feeding on each other in their desperation for nourishment.
My skin crawled at the image of them in my mind: haggard, emaciated, their features skewed and animal-like. They were a solid reminder of what I would become if I were left without food for long enough. More monster than man. And the Helsings wouldn't hesitate to throw me into the games if I ever outgrew my usefulness to them.