Mercy
I adored the rain; it sounded like applause, like an invisible audience was somewhere close by, cheering me on.
A man whose name I'd already forgotten shifted me closer on his lap. Above me, rain was starting to patter against the glass roof of the casino.
The resort was grand, beautiful, adorned with the kind of modern luxuries I wished my home could provide. The Helsing Castle seemed barren by comparison. I wasn't looking forward to returning to it. Perhaps that had to do with the fact I'd never left Raskdød for more than a few days in my lifetime. And only ever to visit some of the other Hunters; the local ones. Daddy never let me sail south, toward Asia or the Americas where the sun shone brightly down on the world for days on end. Daddy didn't approve of the sunshine; night equalled Vampires. And he thrived on their constant presence, despite his hatred for them.
My hatred had waned. I had been brought up on a strict diet of dominance and, ironically, zero mercy. The Vs were under our control and Daddy often reminded me that that was a mark of our family's heritage. The Helsings were notorious amongst the Hunters for placing Vampires under our heels. Many of them quit the Hunting game after that, but some remained loyal to our family and provided games of their own.
“Let's go to my room,” said the man -Fredrick? No it was weirder than that. Felix? - whilst nibbling on my earlobe. I giggled lightly, pushing him back, containing my disdain. I didn't want anyone in my room tonight. Hadn't done since I'd arrived on the Isle of Lidelse. Things were different here. Clearer. And I knew that it had to do with Varick. Pitiful as it was, my heart beat only for him. He'd been present my entire life and during my teenage years, when Daddy had encouraged me to entertain the spectators, I'd started to really notice him. Even though he remained in the shadows as much as possible, said few words, kept his lip buttoned as much as he could, I saw him. And I didn't just see him, I saw him first.
Selena Grey; sweet, pretty in an understated way with her ebony curls and large, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. She had caught his attention. No matter what I'd done, what I'd worn, what I'd said, how I'd acted, Varick had never looked at me the way he looked at her. Or any girl for that matter.
I'd come to the conclusion a long time ago that he really couldn't feel desire for a woman any more. It wasn't hard to believe when I watched the other Vs in the game. But Varick wasn't like them. There was some humanity left in him, a pain laying dormant in his eyes that I'd noticed the moment I'd paid attention to him, but even he hadn't known it. Until she showed up.
I was under no illusion I was prettier than her. But prettiness wasn't being accounted for apparently. And I'd practically based my personality on my looks. Vain, yes. But it gave me purpose. I'd lived under one roof my whole life. My parents and brother were so busy in their dealings that I'd had to adapt. I'd had to find a way to validate my existence. And the shorter my skirts got, the more attention I'd received.
But never from him.
I could stand completely naked before Varick and his eyes could scour me head to toe, and still no affection came my way. I wasn't an idiot, I knew that was why I liked him. You always want what you can't have. But like had grown to obsession and obsession into...something more. Something that made me look at Selena Grey and wonder; if I was more like her, would he actually see me?
Felix shifted me on his lap again so he could take a sip of his Martini. How was it possible to be draped over a different man every single night and still feel entirely invisible?
At first, Varick had provided me with a challenge. And when he'd eventually started to reciprocate after he'd drank from me, I fell into my obsession like a skydiver without a parachute. Inevitably I'd hit the rocks. He'd played me all along. I may have been cruel at times, but he was crueller. He'd discarded me like all the men who'd had a night in my bed. And now I was stuck here, watching the games, watching Selena and Varick together, and my heart was breaking. Fracturing and morphing into something I didn't recognise.
But I'd finally come to a conclusion that made sense in my head. He didn't love her. Probably didn't even really care about her. She smelt good. She was the damn cure. And his protection of her was due to the fact he couldn't decide what to do with that information. Frankly, neither could I.
After Varick had betrayed me and helped Selena escape from the castle, I'd gone straight to Mother with the sole intention of revealing to her that I believed Selena was the cure. The cure was a legend in our family; supposedly, my great, great grandfather had wiped out pockets of Vampires across the world who had been trying to procure it. Who knew why?
To me, it was surely something to be encouraged rather than eradicated. After all, didn't we want to rid the world of Vampires once and for all? Wasn't that the point? But my mother had opened my eyes that day. I'd found her in the weaponry at home, sharpening some of her favoured blades. I'd never seen her fight a Vampire, but I knew she was capable. Daddy had told me stories of how he'd fallen in love with the beautiful warrior he'd met in Italy, hunting down Vs together.
I'd been angry, hurt, furious with Varick and my temper always brought out the worst in me.
“Why not kill them all? Every last Vampire on this island?” I'd bitten my tongue on the words, Varick included. Much as I'd spouted my hate, I didn't want him dead. Not by a long shot.
My mother had sighed, continuing to sharpen her blade. “Because the Vampires provide us with this lifestyle. Do you and your brother want to move from your home? Because that's what would happen without the games.”
I'd almost revealed my suspicions then, about Selena being the cure. But her words had unfolded in my mind like the petals of a flower. We could have wiped out the Vampires. We had them in our fist. But the games made us money, gave us power. Without them, we'd have to do what most of the other Hunters had done and return to normalcy. Live a human life and rejoin the world. And the cure threatened to force us into doing just that.
So I still hadn't said anything. Partly because of my secret fear of joining the real world, and partly because of wanting to keep Varick. No doubt, he'd see out a season of the games then Ignus would bring him back under the thumb and things would go back to how they used to be.
Human, Varick would leave the island. Human, he could be with Selena fully. And I simply couldn't allow that.
At heart, Varick was a good man. He didn't like killing, never had as far as I'd witnessed. Even after he'd murdered a spectator who'd broken into my room in the middle of the night and tried to force himself on me, Varick hadn't enjoyed killing him. I could tell by the grimace on his face, blood leaking down his chin. I'd watched, of course. Varick may not have liked it, but I had. And the stupid thing was, the spectator had lost his life over something I probably would have given to him if he'd asked for it.
Slut, whore, whatever. I'd been called worse. I heard the way the men talked about me. Who cared? My body was an asset that made my family money. And I'd learned long ago to retreat into a place in my mind where I couldn't feel any of it anyway. So what did it matter? They weren't taking a part of me really. They just thought they were.
Varick, on the other hand, had reached into that secret part of me. A place that had belonged only to me until he'd pressed his mouth to mine and made promises I'd foolishly bought into.
I stood, shaking off the hands of Frank – wait, did his name even begin with an F? - to his groaning protests. Men were slaves to what lived in their boxers. It was too easy to manipulate them. Half of them were married. Gold bands were either boldly wrapped around their wedding fingers, or just a white line remained there, hinting at the truth. At least some of them had the decency to slip the thing off before they came to the games. Perhaps decency was the wrong word, though.
I headed to my room with Frank following me. He wasn't completely hopeless in the looks department. A few too many pints had stretched his gut out, but apart from that he had a full head of hair and a straight set of teeth. I'd been with worse...
I gave him my brightest smile, preparing to shrug off his advances.
Not tonight.
One more night without company, then I'd start acting myself again. It wasn't like the men didn't have other girls to distract them this time. A strip club lived in the depths of the hotel and, though I hadn't paid it a visit myself, I'd heard it was all kinds of screwed up. Strippers dressing like the contestants, throwing themselves at the men.
“Come back tomorrow, baby. It'll be worth the wait,” I purred to Frank. It was all too easy. Rehearsed. Lines I'd used a thousand times and always had the same effect.
But Frank was drunk, stumbling toward me, his hands sliding around my waist and straight down to my butt.
I suppressed a grimace. Mother had played this game when she was younger, before she'd met Daddy. She'd taught me how to use my Hunter strength when things turned sour. But with the way I was feeling, I almost wanted Frank to force himself on me. I wanted Daddy to ask for his head. I wanted Varick to be the one to end him. But that wasn't going to happen now he was stuck out in the game, so I reached behind me for the door, sliding my key card into the slot.
“Night night.” I gave a girlish laugh, opening the door a crack so I could slip through. I slammed it before he could follow and his fist bashed against the door in frustration.
“Hey!” he barked, banging louder.
I shut my eyes for a moment. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three-
The banging stopped. “Slut,” he muttered before his footsteps pounded down the hall.
I did something then I hadn't done in years. Literally, years. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done it. And I knew the reason behind it had nothing to do with Frank.
I cried.
Tears soaked my cheeks and I chucked myself onto the bed, sinking my head into the silky pillows. My heart was pining for someone who wasn't even human. And if I ever admitted to anyone that I cared for him, I'd be cast out by my family.
Hunters. Despised. Vampires.
It was as simple as that. We were a lion pride, banding together against our prey. We were expected to act for the good of our family. In every action, every word, every movement. I was a Helsing but my heart was loudly contradicting that.
In my youth, I'd spent a lot of time trawling the internet, watching romance movies and chick flicks. I craved girl friends. I'd never had one, discounting my mother. And she was hard as nails by comparison to the girls in those films. The only things she'd ever taught me were how to seduce, how to paint make-up onto my skin to enhance my features, what to wear, how to walk, how to talk.
Men were not like they were in films. They didn't fall hopelessly in love with one girl, they weren't loyal, they weren't protective. And yet I'd found a Vampire who was all those things, just not to me.
I coiled my body around a pillow. The men never stayed the night after they'd gotten what they wanted from me. So every day I woke, alone, with myself. A person whose body had been given to so many, yet whose soul had never been touched at all.
Better that than waking up with one of them, I assured myself, my fingers digging into the plush pillow. I just wasn't sure how many days I had left in me that I could wake and face my own reflection.
My beauty was starting to look like a disease. A slow-growing cancer that swallowed a chunk of me every day. How much time did I have left until it took over? Until the inch of myself that remained in this body festered and died, so all that was left was a pretty shell. A shell to be picked up and admired by anyone who fancied.