Varick
There was a time in my human life that I went six days without food. Our supplies ran short on a voyage from Norway to Sweden. Hunger like that was agony, it near drove you mad. When you're pushed to your very limits, all those instincts born through thousands of years of evolution come rising to the surface.
I was reduced to an animal, my mouth salivating at the thought of fresh meat, the crunch of bread between my teeth.
Now, I'd take that kind of hunger any day to abate the pain that tore at my throat. I was a slave to the thirst. Before I'd drank from Mercy, I'd been plagued with violent visions, tearing at the necks of those girls out in the game. Especially her. Selena. The pain had eased to a dull ache, barely noticeable and giving me some of my old self back.
I'd watched Selena on the twelve foot screen in the auditorium, shredding the arms of my velvet seat with my nails whilst she took on five Vs. Five.
Never in the history of the games had any girl taken on so many and survived. The money poured into Selena's bids, skyrocketing. She was the favourite again. And I was, for now, on the side of every man in this room.
Selena's camera briefly took up the central screen, the volume emitting from it. She was cradling the red-haired girl in her arms, singing a soft, lulling song that reminded me of my time at sea. I shut my eyes and let the past in. It was always waiting, haunting me, the life I'd once loved. The memories remained crystal clear. I could practically hear Jameson's voice, shouting over the roar of the churning sea.
Autumn, 1803
“Batten down the hatches, men! She'll be on us before dawn!” Jameson leaned hard to the right as he swung the helm, countering the tilting hull.
The night had been unbearable. Not even I could sleep when the north sea tossed and turned us like a cork in a bottle.
My open shirt blew around me in the freezing wind. There was no time to finish dressing, I'd barely managed to fasten my sword to my hip as I'd run to the tiller to help.
“Captain, the storm'll be upon us in less than an hour,” Jameson informed me, sweeping back the dark blonde locks that had come loose from his braid.
One of my crew, a newbie by the name of Pud Jessops, retched full-bodily over the stern side, coughing his guts up into the sea.
“Why'd you recruit the weed?” I sneered. A man needed two things to survive aboard a ship: a strong stomach and sturdy sea legs. This boy didn't seem to have either as he stumbled backwards, nearly falling on his arse.
“Forgive me, Varick. The boy's a cousin of mine. And he may be a weak hand on deck, but he knows more tales of the sea than you or I. He's a born storyteller, and in them days without woman or rum to entertain the men, I figured it'd do us no harm to have some other form of entertainment.”
I rolled my eyes at the comment, but let Jameson have his way. He much too easily bought into the idea of mermaids and beasts of the deep for my liking. I believed whatever my eyes proved to me, no more and no less. But if he needed his stories to find excitement in the seven seas, then so be it. I, on the other hand, found passion in gold, women and blood.
Jameson could have his fish-tailed fantasies, but I would lay with real women and search for true satisfaction. Of course, love wasn't my goal. I wouldn't be so cruel as to let a woman fall for a pirate who spent less time on land than a seabird. I was a free spirit. And no one would tie me down.
Jameson, however, had a woman waiting for him at every port. Lovelorn and doe-eyed at the sight of him, as if they really believed he only had eyes for them. If they knew what a womaniser he was, they probably wouldn't have given him the time of day.
But if there was one thing I'd learnt from my time at shore, it was that women were trouble. They gossiped, they plotted, they schemed to win the most eligible men. It was our gender that were the fools, writing them off as simple-minded creatures. But in a partnership, they often held all the cards, they just didn't let their husbands realise it.
I had a strict no-women rule amongst my crew. I'd heard of ships that kept women aboard, no doubt for the type of entertainment that Jameson so clearly craved. So I'd let him have his story boy. Better that than bringing a temptress onboard.
Selena's scent still reeked havoc on my senses, her saliva, her skin. It was a narcotic, tempting me to take more. Driving me to insanity. Yes, women still had the upper hand. I was their slave. Especially to a girl like her. Only, they didn't win if I took an interest in them. When I'd had my fill, I'm not sure I won either.
I was caught in a never-ending cycle of craving, sating and despising myself.
Some of us were different. Some of the Vs could suppress their emotional responses. But I'd never taken council from a V. No one had taught me the ways of coping with my new self, it had come to me through practice alone. But look where that had landed me. At the hands of the Helsings. Watching this twisted game they played to fund their cause. Why didn't they just kill us all and be done with it?
I half concentrated on the screens encompassing the far wall. Six girls now remained from the twelve that had started this round. More than I'd expected by this point. I wasn't sure whether that was to do with the Vs' weakness or the girls' strength.
Either way, one had to win out. I just hoped Selena came back to me. Because if I had to sit here, witnessing another V drain her body, I'd be at breaking point. I didn't understand the new emotions I was feeling toward her. I'd convinced myself it was to do with her blood, but a niggling voice in the back of my mind told me it was something more than that. Though what that was, I couldn't quite comprehend.
Ignus caught my eye from the front row, glancing over his shoulder with a dark grin. That kid was as screwed up as they came. And no wonder, considering he'd rarely left this island. His parents were practically brainwashing him, forcing him to be the good little heir they needed to ensure this island had a future.
Rotten luck for me, seeing as I was cursed with an eternity of serving whichever Helsing happened to reign here. Unless I could escape. But two hundred years had passed since my last attempt, and the mere memory of what they did to me still haunted me.
Midnight had rolled past and I hesitated to go to Mercy's room, not wanting to take my eyes off of Selena. Many of the men forwent sleep at this stage in the game. No one wanted to miss the next death, even though the Helsings had an alarm system hooked up to their rooms that warned the men if Vs were getting close to any of the girls.
As the hours ticked by, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Rising from my seat, I headed toward the east tower. My pace was slow; I was in no hurry to meet with Mercy again. But how I behaved with her tonight was key to my survival. And perhaps Selena's too.
I knocked on the door and she wrenched it open barely a second later.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, taking my wrist and encouraging me inside.
“The men were asking my advice,” I lied and she huffed, dropping onto her bed in her slinky nightgown.
“Well you'll have to make up for lost time.” She grinned, beckoning me with her finger.
My throat tightened with revulsion. I moved to the bed, taking her wrist and drawing it to my mouth.
She tugged it free, shaking her head. “My neck today.”
I suppressed a shudder as she took my arm, guiding me forward and shifting the golden locks from her throat. I bent low, tempted to take a deep bite, but resisted, putting my plan into action. “I can't hurt you,” I said softly, drawing away with a feigned expression of pain. The only pain I was feeling was the sickness in my stomach. I hated this girl right down to the pit of my soul.
“Oh,” she breathed and I heard her heartbeat rise, felt the heat radiating from her blood.
I backed away, rubbing my eyes. “It's too much Mercy. The way I feel about you. It's all too sudden.”
“Oh Varick, it's my blood. It's let you love me at last.” She raised her arms, wriggling across the sheets with her joy.
“I think you're right,” I said with a taut frown.
“Come, drink more,” she offered, tilting her neck toward me, but I shook my head.
“No, I wont. I can't.”
She stood, hurrying across the room just as I laid my hand on the doorknob. Damn.
My escape had been so close.
She offered her neck to me again and I knew I had no choice. Not that drinking her blood was in any way a misery for me. I had no qualms about sinking my teeth into this wretch. But the fact that she enjoyed it made me uneasy, not to mention the fact Abraham would have me hung, drawn and quartered if her found out.
I sank my fangs in all the same, taking what I wanted and what she gave willingly. She cupped my neck, pulling me to her, and despite the delicious drink running down my throat, all I could focus on was her hands on me. My skin itched with how much I wanted to push her away, but I remained in place.
Today, being well fed already, it was easier to stop. Combine that with my general ill-feeling about this whole thing, and I was probably only at her neck for half a minute.
“It's too much for me, Mercy. I need time to process these feelings.” I wrenched open the door and Mercy gazed on triumphantly as I slipped away.
A grin crept onto my mouth as I wiped the blood from it, heading back toward my room.
Hook, line and sinker.