Jameson
I sat at the breakfast table, quietly shovelling food into my mouth whilst the others hashed out plans to kill the Helsings. Most of them sounded like death wishes to me. And the longer I sat there, the more I couldn't bear it. The idea of this lot heading off to die, throwing away the freedom we'd all fought so hard for, it was just too much.
I was tired as hell of losing people I cared about. Apparently life wasn't all daisies and sunshine. And yeah, I'd known that before. But I guess I'd never really lost someone I loved until now.
I felt Cass's eyes on me, but tried to ignore her. She moved into the seat beside mine and I was pretty sure every hair on my body stood to attention.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Just swell, Firefly.” I continued to eat, not wanting to look into those emerald eyes of hers. They'd be my undoing. What would she think of me if she knew what I'd done to my pack? Shit...what Ulvic had done.
Guess I couldn't fight the guilt anymore. It was swallowing me more and more every minute that passed.
Thames and Kite started coming up with outrageous plans to kill the Helsings, making each other laugh.
“I say we mail Mercy's head to the Helsing castle before her parents go to this new game,” Thames suggested and Kite laughed wildly.
“Do you think they'd still go?” Kodiak asked, suppressing a grin as he looked between them.
“Of course they would,” Kite said. “I didn't see either of them shed a tear at Ignus's funeral. And they actually liked him.”
Thames cackled loudly.
Their words sank into my brain and an idea suddenly hit me. The Helsings were at home, tucked up in their castle. Varick had said the new game was being held this week. But not today. Not now.
Like a shot, I looked up at Cass, locking eyes with her.
“What?” she asked, seeming alarmed by my expression. And god, she looked hot. So hot, that I couldn't resist my next move. Not after the reckless decision I'd just made in my head. And this could be my only chance. So I was either about to get the biggest slap of my life, or the biggest thrill. Ready or not.
I didn't give her a moment to think, lurching toward her. Our mouths met and the rest of the world melted into a greyish blur. My heart did something new like it had fallen off a bike and rolled top speed down a hill. She didn't fight me off which was a definite bonus. And when she wrapped her arms around my neck, I was pretty sure I had an aneurism. I dragged her against me and my hands slid up the back of her top, her skin silky smooth and as cool as marble. She was unbreakable, powerful and in that moment, she was entirely mine.
Someone loudly cleared their throat and I was only half-aware that it was Nadine.
I pulled a hand free of Cass's vest, pushing my fingers fairly roughly into her hair as I stopped kissing her. I held her in place, her bright eyes in line with mine, my body seeming to experience an earthquake located solely in my chest. I remembered how broken she'd been in the cells back in the V Games and soaked in the way she looked now; practically glowing.
“Don't ever lose your light again.” I released her, glanced at the shocked table with a nod of goodbye and left without looking back.
If I looked back, I'd stop walking. If I looked back, I'd never be strong enough to do what I was about to.
Next stop: supplies.
I headed to the outhouse where Brendan kept his weapons. Yeah, so maybe I'd snooped around last night instead of going to bed. I wasn't gonna be told where to park my arse for the night.
Sorry Darrell, I've been breaking your rules ever since I arrived.
I strolled across the manicured lawn, the sun beating down on me, reminding me of what I was giving up.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered to myself. The decision was made. I wasn't backing out now.
I found the outhouse on the outskirts of the rose garden; an old red brick building with a padlock on the door. Not even a single man there to guard it. Picking up a reasonably sized rock from the ground, I bashed it hard against the lock. It broke in two, falling onto the grass. Yanking the door open, I stepped into the dark space, flicking a light switch.
Guns were hanging in brackets on the walls – including some seriously high-powered shit. Grabbing a large duffel bag from under the racks, I moved around the room, loading it with ammo, a rifle, and two hefty handguns. The rest of the space I saved for grenades. I wasn't about to change my style. This was going down one way and one way only: explosively.
At the back of the weaponry was a door. I pushed it open and raised a brow. Food was stockpiled on shelves, the place smelling like flour and almonds. I gazed at the tinned food, figuring I should probably bring something to eat. Then my eye was caught by a large bag of M&Ms next to a row of alcohol.
Oh hell yes.
I snatched the M&Ms up, chucking them into my bag followed by two bottles of rum and an ancient scotch whiskey layered in dust. Sorry Brendan. You snooze, you lose.
Beyond the food were other household supplies. I grabbed a role of duct tape and threw it into the bag.
Zipping up my duffel, I was filled with one of those feelings. A sort of sixth sense that told me nothing was going to be the same after I stepped out of this building. It was muddled with the loss of a life I could have rocked the hell out of. With Cass. Varick. All of them. That life was still possible, still salvageable. Just not for me.
I headed back to the manor, my heart weighing as much as a brick, but a new feeling of purpose guiding me forward. Some decisions are made by that feeling. Those were the important ones, I knew that much. So I had to go with it.
I found Mercy in the basement as Varick had said. The place smelt like mould and mildew, the walls crawling with gross creatures. Slugs...snails? Whatever, they creeped me out.
I snatched the key from a hook beside the door and hummed whilst I jiggled it in the lock and ripped the door open.
Mercy looked like hell. A big, stained grey jumper swamped her tiny body and her hair was lank. I leant against the door frame, tutting. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
She sprang to her feet, her features twisting into a snarl. “What do you think, idiot? My yacht got blown to pieces and now I'm stuck here!”
I burst out laughing, pleased my trap had worked so well.
Mercy picked up a tray from her bed and threw it at me. I ducked it, grinning.
Oh, so I had a feral little Helsing to wrangle.
Fun for me.
I shut the door as I stepped into the room, placing my bag down in a calm manner. “So...here's how this is gonna go. You're gonna save the screaming and the pleading and the blah blah don't hurt me blah, and come with me.”
She folded her arms, glaring at me. “I'm not going anywhere with you. Where are the others? Where's Varick?” Her bottom lip quivered a fraction.
Oh good. I was scary. Didn't think I'd been that for a while. “Yeah...Varick's not coming to save you. No one is. Why would they?” I looked her up and down. “You're the reason a lot of people are dead. Including most of my family.”
“Me?” she breathed. “I didn't do anything to your family!”
“Uhuh,” I said vaguely, stepping toward her. “See, to me, you Helsings are all the same. Mummy and Daddy might have been the ones to do it, but they're not here, are they?”
She put her hands out to try and stop me from approaching. A really useless tactic if we were both being honest.
“I didn't touch them,” she repeated, her eyes widening in fear.
“But an eye for an eye would be fair...” I gazed at her, giving her my most ferocious stare.
She cowered which was totally satisfying, but I wasn't actually about to kill Mercy. Not yet anyway.
Taking out the duct tape from my bag, I gestured for her to comply. “Hands out.”
“No,” she gasped in horror, hitting the bed as she backed up.
“Come on, are you really gonna make me pin you down?” I raised a brow suggestively and she opened and closed her mouth twice before lifting her wrists for me to bind. “That's the spirit.”
I bound her wrists together, tighter than was necessary then ripped a single strip of tape off for her mouth. Gently, I pushed her hair behind her ears to make sure it didn't get caught in the tape.
“Where are you taking me?” she blurted as I lifted the tape to her mouth.
“I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, Baby Helsing.” I pressed the tape to her mouth then dragged her toward the door, slinging the bag over my shoulder.
It was way too easy kidnapping Mercy. I walked freely through the halls, listening for movement about the place, exiting the manor and heading east toward the boathouse. Unlike on the Helsings' island, no one was trying to keep me from leaving. So finding keys hanging in a cupboard in the boathouse was a piece of cake.
I took the smallest boat with a cabin that would be big enough for the both of us for half a day's journey. And on our merry way we went, whizzing out onto the azure sea, the sun beating down on us with a decent effort at trying to heat the world. Not quite effective. But my Werewolf blood was keeping me cosy enough. As I watched Brendan's island shrink into the distance, I said a silent apology to Varick. He was gonna be seriously pissed at me for this. But if I could save him and the others from a fight with the Helsings, I had to do it.
I'd placed Mercy on the floor, unbinding her wrists and tugging the tape from her mouth. She didn't exactly have anywhere to run to. Plus, I needed to get that gross hoodie off of her before I implemented Plan B.
“Arms up,” I instructed, but she didn't comply. I sighed wearily. “This will all go much more smoothly if you just do as I say.”
She clenched her jaw, glaring at me, her arms locked around her body.
Right. If she was going to play hardball, so was I.
I wrestled her to the floor, using my knees to pin her down whilst yanking the hoodie off of her. She trembled beneath my weight and I tried to ignore the writhing feeling in my stomach. I felt like a bloody rapist with the way she was looking at me, so decided to extinguish the flames on that fire. “Er, I think stealing you away on a boat to have my way with you would be a bit tragic, agreed?”
She visibly relaxed which only served to make me feel more like a prick. Also, a very unwelcome note of irritation passed through me that this girl gladly gave her body up to psychotic men who bet on the V Games, but apparently, to her, I was a worse option than them. Good to know.
I discarded the hoodie, taking her wrists and pulling her up into a sitting position. Her arms didn't pepper with goosebumps as I expected, so apparently Hunter blood was as decent as my own at fighting off the cold.
“Right. Now for the fun stuff.” I grinned in an attempt to make this less weird. But who was I kidding? That only made it more weird.
I reached for the duffel bag, longing for some music to take away the agony of the silence between us. I settled on humming- something I often did but definitely made me sound more like a psycho as I started duct-taping grenades to the girl's body. And even more so because I was humming Yesterday by The Beatles. Yup. Creepy. But still, I persisted. Figuring it didn't really matter what Mercy Helsing thought of me at this point.
Mercy didn't fight; I guess she knew I was stronger. And that I wasn't going to pull the pins on these grenades whilst we were on a boat in the middle of the ocean. That would have been a wasted opportunity.
I left her arms free of grenades but bound them behind her back. Then I stood, admiring my handiwork with a nod. Three rows of grenades were wrapped around her body, suicide-vest style. I met her eyes at last. They were blazing. With fury? Fear? A mixture of both?
“Relax, Baby H, you're in good hands.” I dropped onto a seat, checking the coordinates were set in correctly to the autopilot. If there was one thing I was great at – but to be fair, I was great at a lot of stuff – it was boats. Never had lost that ability, even when ships had turned into automatic things with buttons and levers. My pack and I had spent months in coastal towns, on islands. Ulvic had never held me back in my interests. Good of him.
“What are you going to do?” she rasped.
I rummaged in the duffel bag for my M&Ms, ripping open the bag and kicking my feet up on the console to one side of the cabin, angling myself toward her. “I'm gonna eat these. But just the red ones. Don't like the others.” I placed a random M&M in my mouth, tasted that it wasn't red and spat it in her direction.
She scowled at me, her cheeks turning scarlet in anger. I repeated the process, not looking each time I reached in, placed one in my mouth before spitting it in her direction.
On the fourth go, an M&M landed in her lap and she bit down on her lip as if she were about to scream at me. She flinched as I put another in my mouth, but this time I bit down. “Red one.” I grinned.
She shook her head. “What is the matter with you?”
I shrugged, swivelling side to side on my chair. “Nothin'.” I spat the next M&M at her; it bounced once and rolled into her shoe.
“They aren't different flavours!” she screeched at me.
“Then how do I know which ones are red?” I countered, crunching down on one.
“You're insane. Where the hell are you even taking me?” she demanded, her back straightening. Bit late to get angsty now I had her all taped up in grenades.
And anyway, the only answer she was going to get was one of my shit-eating grins.