Ulvic
The word pampered didn't even begin to explain how I'd been treated since I'd arrived on the Isle of Lidelse that morning. Massages, the hotel's personal barber offering haircuts to the men, drinks at all times, from the finest champagne to hundred year old whiskey. Everything was free and offered on silver platters. The second my mind even drifted for a moment, I was given limitless options of entertainment whilst I waited for the games to begin. A sauna, a spa treatment, horse riding, tours to visit the V cells, live music, even a hot springs complete with underwater lights and a cocktail bar located in a cave beneath the hotel itself.
As the evening rolled around, I was taken to the amphitheater along with the rest of the spectators. I knew some of them by sight, others I'd shared a few conversations with so I wasn't entirely alone. Clearly Ignus had a lot to do because I didn't see him again until that evening, sat in a bottle green suit in a window box designed solely for the Helsings.
I'd grabbed a rum and coke in a glass shaped like a skull and headed down the rows of seats, searching for mine. Seeing as Ignus had organised my trip, I'd found myself in one of the best seats in the stadium, looking directly down onto the sandy pit below.
My heart had turned over as I'd considered what I was about to watch.
I'd never sat through an entire game before. But my visits at the Helsing Castle often coincided with them, so I'd caught glimpses as I spent a couple of days on Raskdød, playing poker, trying to ignore the sound of screams from the projected screens.
This was different. Inescapable. I had a front row seat to hell. And I didn't know if I could stomach it.
Sipping on my rum and coke, I tried to douse my fears with alcohol. When the amphitheater was eventually full - and I'd downed three more drinks - we'd been directed to take out a gift beneath our seats.
Reaching down, I'd found a small, white rectangular box. As I'd pulled the lid off, I'd discovered a mobile device inside.
As the explanation rolled over the crowd through speakers of how to use it, I thumbed through the contestants' profiles, I knew these games were going to be different. I wasn't entirely sure how, but I sensed something forbidding taking root in my gut. Like something terrible was going to happen. Something I couldn't stop.
Most of the spectators used fake names when they came to the island, and it was obvious as I scanned through them that that much hadn't changed. Ignus had named me simply as Hund, but I didn't mind my surname being used, seeing as, unlike most of the spectators, it didn't matter to anyone in the world that I was here.
We watched as the girls woke up in rooms beneath the stadium, each fighting off a V in an initiation test. When Selena's test played, I found my way to her profile on my tablet, rating her as high as I could. A message came in from her soon after.
Looking forward to watching the games?
I guessed she was poking at me, seeing if I was still on her side. But by the time I could think of anything to reply, the game began. Twenty three girls were thrust into the air on robotic arms. And I spotted Selena, her face pale.
Guilt planted itself in my stomach and I adjusted the white mask covering the top part of my face, shamefully wanting to remain hidden.
Abraham directed a puffy-eyed girl, Amanda, to speak first. And after she babbled her way through a torturous twenty seconds of begging, I was beside myself with anxiety.
On my tablet, I voted to up her ranking, but my vote was outweighed by a thousand. And when she plummeted into the mass of starving Vs, I shut my eyes. I wanted to claw at my ears, longing for the screams to stop. But I felt even worse when they did.
The man beside me was calling out in excitement, standing up from his seat and throwing his fist in the air. I dragged in breaths one after the other. I'd seen blood before, I'd seen girls drained by Vs, I'd seen them run and fall, captured by their pursuers, but only on television screens. This was too real. Too personal. Yet the crowd seemed to be loving every second of it.
I gripped the glass in my fist so hard that my knuckles turned white.
My wolves...
They were involved in this game somehow. Jameson, Mekiah, Reason. I'd have a heart attack before this was all over.
Years of hard work, hunting each of them down. They were the most precious thing to me in the world and Ignus had taken them from me just like that.
When the crowd quietened down, it started all over again, and I knew I'd vomit before the night was over. I'd never had a strong stomach; a trait my father had despised in me. But if one thing solidified the fact that I was different to other Hunters, it was how I felt now. Sat, watching a massacre unfold to applause.
I may have been a lot of things, but bloodthirsty wasn't one of them. The problem was, no matter how desperate I was to save them, to stand up to the Helsings and fight for what I knew was right, I didn't know if I could do it. Because, I may not have been bloodthirsty, but I was a coward. And at that moment, both traits equated to evil.