Jameson
Raskdød: the Helsings' playground.
Darkness enveloped us. Spending most of the day on a small boat with Mercy had been...interesting. Perhaps I should have taped the grenades onto her closer to the time we'd be disembarking...
Na. The look on her face every time she bumped into something had been priceless. I tethered the boat to the dock behind one of the Helsings' yachts. When it was secure, I led Mercy out of the cabin and dragged her onto the pier.
She gave up fighting as we reached the winding stone steps that led up to her castle.
“You brought me home?” she questioned, her eyes fearful.
I ignored the dumb question, keeping her close as I marched her up the steps. Passing through the huge stone courtyard atop the cliff, I gazed around for signs of life. A handgun was tucked into the back of my jeans, the cold, lumpy feel of it reassuring. Not that I was planning on living much longer. Course, if I could manage chucking Mercy into the arms of her not-so-loving parents primed to blow, I might manage to escape certain death. Not likely. But I'd made my peace with that. My death would save a fight between the Helsings and my friends. No more living in fear. This would all be over for them.
We reached the huge entrance, the wooden doors tall and arching, studded with metal spikes around the edges. I tried the door handle and it opened, making a loud groaning noise as I yanked the heavy thing wide enough for us to enter.
Silence and darkness greeted us. My heart beat angrily against my rib cage.
I raised a brow at Mercy, but she said nothing.
The corridor was quiet and icily cold. Either I was about to walk into an ambush, or no one was home. I wasn't sure what I hoped for more at that moment. Shit, I needed to man up.
Guiding Mercy through the empty, cavernous halls, I tugged her through a large set of doors, finding myself in a huge auditorium. Our footsteps clapped across the dull tiles as we weaved between poker tables. The enormous screens around us were off, but the memories of the V Games suddenly clung to me. Death and money lived in this room. Nothing else. Nothing but us and a plan that seemed more likely to fail by the second.
Tugging Mercy toward a control panel tucked in one corner, I figured out the system and got it running. I needed to make my presence known, and fast.
Hot damn, no expense spared here.
Spotify. Easy.
I picked out a song and hit play, directing it to broadcast across every screen in the castle. If the Helsings hadn't figured out I was here yet, they sure knew now.
Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison rang through the room. Mercy's eyes were wide and watery as she looked at me, quivering as I took hold of her waist, my thumb trailing casually over one of the grenades on her chest. “Sorry babe. Party's dead. But I think I can liven it up.”
I practically lifted her as we headed from the room and just as I stepped through the doors, dragged a pin free from a grenade at the base of her spine.
Mercy squealed at the ticking sound, fighting against me, but I ignored her, ripping the grenade off of the duct tape and launching it behind us as the doors swung closed. The explosion shook the whole floor, but I didn't stumble, lifting Mercy against my hip with one arm as she screamed bloody murder. Dust cascaded over us from the ceiling and my heart rate spiked with excitement.
I gazed around expectantly at the doors in the corridor.
Nothing.
Well if no one was going to show up and stop me, I was going to have some fun ripping this hellhole apart from the inside out.
I followed the sound of Pretty Woman down the corridor past paintings of the island; from the towering lighthouse to the colossal ebony tower where the final round of the games were held. I twirled Mercy around as I danced us in the direction of another door.
I dropped my mouth to Mercy's ear as she moved rigidly in my arms.“Loosen up. You're kind of killing the mood.”
She tried to head-butt me and I caught her arms, forcing her to spin away just as Roy Orbison growled, “Mercyyy.”
I kicked the next door open, plucking a grenade from her hip and throwing it inside. “Pretty woman, stop a while,” I sang, shifting Mercy behind me as flames blazed from the room. I swung her against my hip before two-stepping her down the corridor. “Pretty woman, talk a while. Pretty woman, give your smile to me.”
As we reached a stairwell, I threw her over my shoulder, figuring a scream or two could help bring her parents our way. “You're crazy!” she shrieked as I carried her upstairs, taking them two at a time as we circled upwards.
I purred in time with the song, setting her down. “Your family host death games for young women, and you think I'm crazy?”
I kicked another door open, my handgun raised. Nothing there. Just a guest bedroom for the games, practically vomiting luxury. Guess it was bye bye castle.
By the time we'd sung and danced our way to the next staircase – or more like I had – the floor beneath our feet was shuddering precariously.
Inside the next room was a huge four-poster bed and a giant crossbow on the wall that looked as though it were carved from ivory. A family painting hung beside it; Ignus and Mercy were children, standing in front of their parents whose hands rested on their shoulders. Nice legacy, suckers. Such a shame I was blowing it all to shit.
I dipped Mercy low, reaching for another grenade on her back, smiling in her face as I detached it and chucked it into what I was fairly sure was her parents' bedroom.
I fled down the next stairwell, dragging Mercy after me, figuring taking the place out from the foundations wasn't a bad idea. Plus, I thought I'd enjoy seeing all those Vampire cells go up in flames.
Bright lights illuminated in the underground prison, but the V cells were empty. I frowned, looking to Mercy. “Where are they?”
Her face was gaunt as she answered. “Daddy sent them to a friend's game.”
I grimaced. How many psychos were there in the world?
Moving into the laboratories, at last, I found people; workers, scientists, every manner of bastard.
“Keep back!” They'd barricaded themselves in an examination room. Pretty stupid if they had any idea what I'd come armed with. But I guess they weren't to know.
I waved through the window, pressing Mercy's face to the glass as I yanked a few grenades from her ribs. They started shouting and shaking their heads. I smiled, tucking one into the gap behind the door handle and placed the others on the floor. Amongst the mass of scientists, I recognised a few of the pricks who'd worked on the Werewolf collar I'd been subjected to. I pointed at them with a wink, singling them out.
Keeping a tight hold of Mercy, I ripped the pin out of the grenade lodged behind the door handle. With a quick grin that would be the last thing those arseholes ever saw, I ran with Mercy past the empty cells. I laughed as we reached the stairs and an ear-splitting BOOM sounded the whole prison going up in flames.
Bricks shifted from the walls as I ran, chucking Mercy over my shoulder, dodging the rubble as the stairway tore apart from the blast.
I reached the next floor, adrenaline fuelling my muscles. I had to get out fast if I was going to live through this.
Keeping a tight hold of Mercy's legs, I ran flat out toward the entrance, my boots pounding against the trembling flagstones, the grey walls looming on both sides of us. Generations of Helsings glared down at me in painting after painting, witnessing the destruction of their estate. Ruined by one, single Werewolf with a truck-load of gall and a grin on his face. This was going to be my legacy: pissing all over theirs.
I reached the huge, arching wooden doors as a roaring sound bellowed from somewhere behind me. Ripping two more grenades from Mercy's stomach, I flicked out the pins and chucked them over my shoulder. They skittered and bounced with a tinkling, metallic sound. I didn't wait to see the rest, flying past the huge stone fountain in the courtyard and running for dear life as half the castle came crashing down. The song was still just about playing on repeat as a final, earth-quaking boom took hold of the island, and the lyrics abruptly cut off.
I paused to catch my breath, turning to find the whole east wing of the castle caved in, dust billowing into the sky and shading the moon.
I dropped Mercy roughly to the ground as I laughed, a stitch ripping into my side from how hard the laughter was coming. I'd never felt so good.
She sat in the dirt, shaking, sobbing while I gazed at the devastation, hands on my hips. When the groaning of the castle subsided, I glanced down at her, reining in my amusement. “Hurts doesn't it?”
Her brows lowered, her tears stopping as she gazed up at me; a lost lamb. Slowly, she nodded and I held out a hand for her. Hesitantly, she took it, and I dragged her up beside me.
“Guess Mummy and Daddy aren't home,” I remarked.
“So what are you going to do?” Her hand shook in mine and I tilted my head at her frightened expression. For the first time ever I saw her as an actual human being, not just a mindless, uncaring vegetable who went along with her family's sick philosophies.
“What do you think I should do?” I folded my arms, giving her a chance to run, fight, anything but continue to stare at me like she was a cub I was about to drown.
She faced the burning castle, her lower lip quivering, her wide eyes dropping to the single grenade left attached to her chest, right over her heart.
She reached for it, her fingers tracing the rivets on the metal. “I think I've been blind. For a very long time.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She gazed up at me, her eyes watery again.
Emotion wasn't really my thing. And I certainly wasn't going to stand there comforting a Helsing. Hand her a hot cup of tea and talk out our differences. No way. The girl needed some sort of help. But she wasn't gonna get it from me.
Still, her hand hovering over that pin was making me feel strange things. Guilt maybe. Okay, not quite. A touch of remorse? I could show mercy to Mercy, couldn't I? Probably. Maybe.
Nope.
I ripped the pin out.
She gasped, flailing for the grenade, but I caught both of her wrists.
“One,” I counted, glaring straight into her cerulean eyes. If I had to die, I could do it taking down the Helsing castle and a Helsing right with it. Not a bad way to go out. I'd be a hero. Remember that hot Werewolf who saved the day? Yeah, I liked the sound of that. “Two.”
“Stop stop stop!” she screamed, her eyes alight with terror. “Please, please, Please! I'm sorry!”
“Three,” I breathed in her face and it took her several seconds to realise I'd pressed my thumb to the trigger, halting the blast.
Na, I wasn't suicidal after all. But having Little Miss Helsing nearly pee her pants in front of me had been worth it. I ripped the grenade from her body, casting it into the water fountain in the stone courtyard. Perfect shot.
The eerie-looking stone women were torn apart in a bright, fiery, watery display. We were far enough away to watch the courtyard take the hit and the arch that led into it crumbled, sagging like it had given up on life.
Mercy slumped against me and I slid an arm around her shoulders. “That must have sucked for you.”
She took in two, slow breaths then rasped, “I hate you.”
I had to admit, the chick had balls.
I guided her away from the smoking wreckage of her home, leading her down the pier. Her legs were shaky and I had to hold her up more than once. Suppose that was a natural reaction to what she'd just witnessed. Did I give a shit? Not one.
Figuring some celebration was in order, I planted her down on the edge of the pier, her legs hanging over it as I hopped into the boat and grabbed the two hundred year old whiskey I'd nicked from Brendan. Same age as me. Almost like it was meant for me. Definitely wasn't though.
I ripped out the cork with my teeth, spitting it into the sea as I dropped down beside Mercy.
“Want some?” I offered her the bottle and she flinched away from me.
Oh yeah. Course she doesn't.
Shoulda repented or something before it came to all this. I wasn't a goddamn martyr but it was sure gonna look that way. Varick would get it. He knew what I was like. Always spreading myself too thin, smiling when other people frowned. Burying worry and growing positivity in its place. It had worked for a long time. Kept me sane. But I had to face it now – the admission was not going to be easy – but being a Werewolf sometimes sucked balls. Hard. Years of complaints I'd bottled up and stomped on were about to come surging up like a tidal wave.
Turning into a wolf hurt like a bitch. No, scrap that. It was like someone taking a razor blade to your spine then bending your ribs out of shape one by one. Then there was the whole 'pack leader' bullshit I'd had the misfortune to come under. Sure, Ulvic had never gone as far as he had recently, ordering me to kill my pack. But that was the icing on a generous helping of dog-shit pie I'd swallowed for years.
Obedience: one thing that had never come easily to me.
I'd battled Ulvic's will from the start. He was a friend, always took us fun places, bought us nice shit. Seemed great. Until you wanted to spend a night with a hot chick in Barcelona and he laid down the law with a single word. No.
Might as well have said, Sit, Jameson. Beg, Jameson. Don't shit on the neighbour's lawn, Jameson.
Holy shit, why had I put up with being treated like a dog for so long? Oh yeah, 'cause I'd god damn had to. Else it was...
You're not leaving the pack, Jameson. You have a responsibility, Jameson. You're an Alpha, Jameson.
“Because you said so!” I roared at the sky, serving me with an alarmed look from Mercy. Girl probably thought I'd lost my mind. And she wouldn't be far off. I pointed at her with the bottle, having a sudden realisation. She'd been under the thumb, too. Not like me. She'd had a choice. She just never took it. “Why'd you never say no to them? To your folks?” I demanded, fury leaking through my veins. She'd had a choice!
She just shook her head and I hunted for the evil in her. I longed to see it like when a baddy winks at the camera in an old seventies film. But it wasn't there. She looked fragile and broken and scared.
I pulled myself up to kneel, facing her, the bottom of the bottle bumping the wooden slats between us. “Why?” I breathed in her face, knowing she'd taste the acrid flavour of the alcohol on my breath. “Tell me why.”
She took a shaky breath, slowly, carefully prying the bottle from my fingers. She took a sip, grimacing as she swallowed. “I used to like it,” she admitted in a dark tone, her eyes never breaking contact with mine. Not even to blink. “When I was old enough to understand the games, understand why we had so many guests all the time. When I was old enough to watch...” Her lips parted then sealed. Parted then sealed.
“How old were you?” I growled.
“Fourteen.” Her voice was growing in strength. “Daddy let me watch the game in the auditorium with the other men. I'd felt so alone up until that point. I'd never even left the island. Ignus never spent time with me growing up, he had his own interests. Suddenly my life was fuller. The men showered me with attention. The funny thing was, it wasn't the blood that I noticed. The death...the screams. It was the way the men cheered at all of it. The way they took pleasure in it. And I felt...” Her eyes finally dropped from mine, shame lighting her cheeks. “I felt like I was part of something.” Her shoulders sagged and it took an age for her to look up at me again.
I didn't say anything, scouring those baby blues of hers. Hunting for the devil.
“It wasn't until a few years later that I started entertaining the men's advances...my mother always encouraged me to spend time with them. Chose my clothes...prepared me, I guess.”
“How old are you?” Her face was youthful. She didn't look a day over eighteen.
“Nearly thirty now,” she replied, touching her cherub-like cheek exactly where my eyes were pinned. “Stopped aging at eighteen. But Mother says when I reach fifty, I'll age again for a while.”
“Hm,” I grunted, my boot grinding against the wooden slat. “And you screw the men because...?” I raised a single brow. “Mummy says so?” I knew I was belittling her, but I still didn't see why the girl would go along with such a thing.
She shrugged her small shoulders, but I could tell she was fighting back more words.
I gestured for her to drink again and she did, a sigh parting from her wet lips when she was done. “At first I enjoyed it. It made me feel useful. Mother said it kept the men in line. Stopped them from getting violent or something. I dunno. Now I think it was just another service to offer them. Like the luxury rooms, the free booze, the food. I was just another delicacy they could have as part of their...experience.”
I grimaced, she grimaced. Part of me wanted to hock up the spit that had formed in my throat. Instead, I settled on calling them a bunch of psychotic c-words.
Mercy's eyes had welled and shame had engulfed her expression. She took several more sips of whiskey before she made an effort to talk to me again. In the meantime, I dropped into the space beside her, resting my hands behind me as I tilted my chin up to the sky. The crescent moon was a cat's smile tonight. It reminded me of Cass. I wondered what she'd say if she knew what I'd done tonight. Proud? Disappointed? I hadn't exactly achieved what I'd set out to do. By all intents and purposes both me and Baby Helsing should be splattered across the walls of the castle by now along with Abe and Kathy-kins. Kinda glad that wasn't the case though...
Mercy passed me the bottle again and I happily took it, knocking back a shot that burned all the way down to the pit of my stomach.
“Since the last games, I keep thinking...” Mercy raised a hand to her hair, running her fingers through it absently.
“What?” I asked, softer than I'd planned.
She looked to me, those sea-blue eyes asking for my forgiveness. Me. A goddamn drunk Werewolf who'd just blown up her family home. Life was full of unexpected U-turns.
“I think I've given nearly every piece of myself away. And the centimetre I still have left keeps evaporating, a fraction at a time. And...a part of me wishes you'd let that grenade go off while I still had something to hold onto.”
Her words yanked and tugged at my heart, wringing out an emotion in me that didn't belong anywhere near a Helsing. Pity. Because I knew her feelings all too well.
“Shit,” I sighed. What was I gonna do now? Tie a boulder to her ankles and push her off of the pier? Unlikely.
This was not how I'd planned on our trip going. I should have been living it up with Emerico in Werewolf heaven by now. This wasn't supposed to be a weekend bonding trip with the Helsing chick. It was like we were in bloody rehab. Apart from the alcohol. And the bombs. And the loaded handgun stuck in the back of my jeans. Yeah, apart from those things.
Clouds drew over the sky and Cass's 'moon smile' vanished. God, what I'd give to see her now. When I'd kissed her, I'd felt a pull toward something I'd never dreamed I could have. She filled me up, welding my cracks together. And a voice had whispered in my ear that that was how it was supposed to be. The one? More like some-one. I'd never considered that a person could affect me in a way that would make me want to spend all of my time with them. Sex or no sex. That girl had a hold on me I wasn't sure how to shake.
Logic talked me out of the strange pit I was falling into. Intense situations bonded people in weird-ass ways. Cass and I had been stuck in cells next to each other, forced to kill, forced to keep living side by side. That didn't equal love. And it certainly didn't give me cause to change my ways. That time together had expired. I'd been hung up on girls in the past. Girls who kept me at bay for a while, made me work for their attention. But it wasn't like that with Cass. She genuinely didn't want anything to do with me. Maybe she wasn't even capable of doing so. But seeing Varick with Selena made me doubt that. So perhaps I was just dealing with the first time I'd ever actually been rejected by a girl. I let out a groan as I thought of that kiss. Well done, dickhead. She probably gargled mouthwash for twenty four hours after that.
Could've pushed me off though...
A lightning bolt tore through the clouds right above our heads and barely a minute passed before the rain followed, washing down on us. Neither of us moved for a long time, letting the rain soak in, chasing away the heat the alcohol had provided.
After an age, I shifted my arm, dropping it behind Mercy, almost touching, but not quite. It was a gesture. A truce. And slowly, daringly, she dropped her head onto my shoulder, her blonde locks plastering to my shirt. I felt a sort of vague brotherlyness – not a word but whatever - toward her. Perhaps Ulvic had been right in picking me as an Alpha. The instinct to protect rose in me. Problem was, once I took someone under my wing, they rarely came out. Which meant I was gonna have one helluva lot of explaining to do when we got back to The Sanctuary.
Varick, you are not gonna believe this one.