The Hybrid Series | Book 3 | Vengeance Read online

  “No, I wasn’t able to catch more than a brief glimpse before you pulled me through,” Zeerin said, in answer to my previous question. “I could see only that it was big and inhuman, but I am sure you worked that much out for yourself.”

  Another roar rang out on the other side of the stone, reducing me to a shivering wreck once more. Zeerin was ready for it and covered his ears, but still he couldn’t quite shut out the effect of the thing’s cries and he sank to the ground. There he sat with his back propped against the wall while he muttered to himself, his eyes closed as if that could somehow save him from the horrors of the reality the Slayers had created for us. It couldn’t. There was more to come than the monster at our door.

  There came the rush of an inferno blazing into existence from the opposite end of the room. The air turned hotter, unbearably so, and flames spread around the stone chamber, forming a circle round us. Zeerin was forced to move away from the wall, possessing just enough reason to recognise the threat the fire posed.

  “Is this what Hell looks like?” he mused out loud.

  Prickly heat closed in, sweat running down my pelt, itchy and uncomfortable. If I’d been fully lupine the sweating wouldn’t have been a problem, but my body was still mostly humanoid, my skin not transformed enough to completely lose the glands reacting to the overheating. Steam rose from my body, my fur plastered wetly to my entire frame, adding to the discomfort. But my insides remained icy cold with fear, my instincts screaming at me to keep running between each agonised cry assaulting and ravaging my mind, leaving nothing but a terror stricken mess.

  The door began to crack, the creature surely only moments away from breaking through. I doubted the fire would provide much of an added barrier to protect us, but no further chance at escape was forthcoming. And even if we could find a means of opening the other door, the fire blocking the way was a problem – we couldn’t simply pass through unscathed.

  “Come on,” Zeerin mouthed at me, the sound of his voice drowned out by the creature and the roar of the flames. He grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly to my feet, somehow fighting the effect of the dread cries in a bid to survive the encounter. Though how he expected to come out of it alive – or still undead, instead of one of the truly dead – was beyond me. If he was feeling any discomfort from the flames he didn’t show it, no sweat beading across his skin like there would have been for a living body. But he was far from fireproof.

  I was too lost in the terror to offer any resistance when he forced me to run with him towards the other end of the room. Our feet passed over another pressure pad and the door to freedom slid upwards.

  There was still the problem of the fire. It continued to blaze around us, the flames refusing to allow us safe passage. Zeerin didn’t even slow when we reached the fiery wall. He showed no signs of hesitation as he ran into it, and his momentum gave me no option but to follow.

  My world turned to fire and intense heat. Twisting flames leapt and seized my fur, making it one with the blaze and fuelling its growth. But the fire’s hunger was insatiable and it was not satisfied with merely devouring my pelt.

  Nerves were soon screaming in protest against its barbed tongue, skin stripped away to reveal patches of the red tissue beneath. I roared in agony and swiped at the fiery parasites with my clawed hands, until I became aware of Zeerin rolling around to put out the flames clinging to his own body. I had just enough sense left to follow suit, beating the fire into submission. Finally I lay still.

  My body was shaking with pain rather than fear now. The transformation took hold with barely a conscious thought. Damaged cells became healthy once more, replicating so that new skin stretched across raw flesh.

  Singed fur receded as if it had never been. My muzzle shrank, the deadly bite of my lupine jaws turning to the blunt weakness of my lesser human form. The bones at the end of my spine ground together as my tail was sucked back into my body without a trace, and my claws became harmless nails once again.

  Sounds dulled as my ears rounded and slid back down my skull. I didn’t notice much difference to my sense of smell though, with the fear inducing stench as overpowering as ever.

  Within moments I was fully human again, my body whole and unmarred – not even scars remained to mark the wounds I’d sustained. But as always there was a cost for using my shapeshifting powers, my hunger growing stronger still and tiredness creeping back in.

  It had gone ominously quiet behind us. The creature didn’t seem to be trying to break through to the fiery chamber anymore and it was no longer voicing its pain and hatred. And in the absence of the terror it had induced, I felt drained. That icy grip of fear had been the sole thing keeping me going through the encounter, and without being allowed to feed or rest, I didn’t think I had the energy to go on any further.

  The door we’d come through had slid back into place at some point while I was transforming, blocking off the chamber once more. I wasn’t sure if that was why the dread thing had gone quiet, perhaps possessing enough intelligence to look for an easier way to get at us, or maybe the Slayers had a way of controlling it and they’d called it off. Whatever the reason for it retreating, I felt sure it couldn’t be good.

  “The Slayers owe me a new coat,” Zeerin said, interrupting my thoughts. He’d come out of the flames in surprisingly good shape. There were only a few burns on his clothes and his pale skin was mostly intact.

  I didn’t reply so he changed the subject.

  “I would say that was a lucky escape, but I suppose the Slayers would have planned it as part of this game you say we’re trapped in. We should keep moving, in case they send the creature after us again.”

  “No,” I growled. “I’m done.”

  His eyes hardened, giving him the kind of look that would brook no arguments – a face he’d worn often in his time as pirate captain, no doubt. “It’s not safe to rest here with that thing so close by. For all we know, the doors to the chamber will open again and allow the creature to run through. We have to keep moving.”

  “I’m done,” I repeated, turning to the nearest camera. “Do you hear that, you sick bastards? I’m done running and I’m done with your twisted games. I’m going to curl up here and sleep for as long as my body needs to, and I’m not moving till I’m ready to move. Send that thing back in and watch it rip me apart if that’s what you want, but I won’t get up to run or fight for your amusement. I’m done!”

  With that, I eased my aching body to the ground and closed my eyes. The stone was far from comfortable to lie on but I was so tired that it didn’t matter, sleep taking hold within minutes. I gave myself over to it, no longer caring about the dangers the dungeon held or what else the Slayers might be planning. It felt too good to close my eyes and embrace the pleasant warmth of slumber, and I soon sank into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Poisoned Offerings

  I awoke to find I was still in one piece. My muscles were stiff from lying on the hard stone but the weary ache was gone, and I felt more alive than I had since being captured. The hunger still raged in its empty pit and my strength hadn’t completely returned, but at least I felt more able to fight my way through the dungeon.

  My mouth was drier than ever. It felt like the heat had robbed me of what little fluid I’d had left. I needed water, the sooner the better. Would the Slayers grant me any? Or was I going to be stuck with this discomfort right up to the end of the sick game? I hoped for the former. The thought of carrying on without made me want to whimper, but my throat was too dry even for that.

  Zeerin had his back to me, apparently standing guard over my sleeping body. I could see his head was down, and he had one arm upwards, towards his chest. Minutes must have stretched into hours without incident, and in the absence of any dangers he appeared to have become lost in thought.

  It didn’t take much brainpower to guess what he was holding. The amethyst pendant hanging round his neck – what else could it be? I shifted position so I could see his face. It was inde
ed the pendant he held lovingly in his hand, his eyes fixed on it while his fingers stroked the stone. There was a tenderness there I’d not encountered in any of the other undead I’d met, but there was also pain in those ocean coloured discs. He didn’t seem to notice I’d finally woken, too distracted by his memories and heartache.

  My curiosity rose again. I pulled myself upright, into a sitting position so we could talk. “What was her name?”

  Zeerin didn’t move. I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he whispered “Lady Charlotte.”

  “Lady? So she was some kind of noble woman?”

  “What does it matter now?” Bitterness crept into his voice. “It was another time and she is probably long dead, unless she too succumbed to the curse of undeath.”

  “You still regret becoming a vampire, even after all this time?”

  There was a brief pause. He lifted his head and turned to look at me, his eyes full of longing. “We’re all born mortal. You make your peace with that and you do the best with what you’re given. But to learn there’s a chance at immortality… Can you really fault me for choosing the life of a monster to escape Death? It is perhaps not the choice I would have made, had I truly understood what was being offered to me. But I was young and arrogant. I’d already turned pirate and risen to the rank of captain, and to then be promised greater power and immortality – what man would have said no? It was too attractive an offer to turn down, and I thought little of the price it might come at.”

  “So what made you become a pirate?”

  He turned his head and I caught a flash of his fangs. “Ah, so full of questions. Why can’t you leave a man be?”

  “Sorry, I just find the stories of all you older vampires fascinating. You’ve lived through things we can only dream of these days. And what else is there to do down here, other than talk? It’s better than listening to the voices of our hungers screaming for the hunt, in a place where there is nothing to hunt.”

  “Very well, but we should resume our progress through this ‘level’ while we talk.”

  “Deal,” I said, getting to my feet and wincing. My butt had gone to sleep on the hard floor and it took a few minutes for the discomfort to ease off, but walking helped. I fell into step beside Zeerin, prompting him when he didn’t begin the tale on his own. “Come on then, why did you choose a pirate’s life?”

  He sighed. “How to explain to a landlubber? I suppose the real question is: why did I become a seaman at all? If you’d ever experienced the terrible conditions we faced on board and the dangers of the ocean herself, you would wonder why any of us chose that life. But I did start off as an honest sailor, sent to sea when I was no more than a boy. That was probably the most exciting moment of my childhood, after hearing so many glorious tales from the men who came ashore to restock their provisions. The way they told it, I was going to grow up with the freedom only the sea could offer, and such wondrous sights awaited – sights I could only dream of on land.”

  There was a wistful look on his face, as though he’d become that boy again, full of hope and adventure. Then it turned to a grimace.

  “No one ever talked about the hard truths of life on deck. The beatings we faced if we broke the rules or the tough rations we had to live on, and the diseases that decimated many a crew. Life on land was no easier back then, and it’s not that our superiors were particularly cruel or unfair, but there is only so much a man can take. Eventually it wears you down.

  “I was sixteen before I was considered a seaman and entered into the normal ten years of service. By the time my ten years were up I was free to do as I wished, but life at sea was all I’d ever known, and I was never the settling down type. Taking a woman as my wife and starting a family was not for me. The sea was my mistress and no matter how many days I spent on dry land, always she called me back, fickle though she could often be. I saw my fair share of men plucked from the deck and dragged into her watery embrace, down to Davy Jones’ locker. I even accepted that was likely to be my fate someday. And yet, I couldn’t resist her allure for long. She promised a life without responsibilities and I could never say no to that.

  “But then things changed. Good sailors were no longer in high demand, once the War of Spanish Succession came to an end, and soon the slave trade was the only real area a seaman could find work in. Wages dropped as we went from being rare breeds to be taken care of, to common pests easily replaced. Captains were no longer concerned with our health and wellbeing, many taking the view that our deaths were a blessing. Fewer bodies meant less money to spend on rations and pay, and if the crew grew too small to man a ship, there were always more sailors looking for employment.

  “Life on deck became a festering cesspit of filth and disease. Death took many forms as he stalked us one by one, claiming those the sea didn’t drag down first. The damned crews were little better off than the slaves the ships carried. In those conditions, you might ask why any of us didn’t turn pirate.”

  I nodded, pretty sure I’d have made the same choice in his shoes. Aughtie’s gargoyle-like features appeared in my mind’s eye. All those English lessons where I’d have done anything to get away from her, the tyrant of my high school years. And that was without any lashings as punishment. He’d done well to last so long under the strict regime he was describing. I’d probably have gone looking for a pirate ship to escape to long before he had!

  “The night they came, the sea was wild. Her angry waves crashed against the ship’s hull, buffeting us this way and that as if to remind us we were no more than helpless mortals caught in something far greater than any man could ever be, our fates no longer in our own hands but seized by an untameable force. Only a fool would ever think he could take control of our watery mistress, and that night was to be a harsh reminder of our place in life. She pulled so many of us into the deeps that we began to imagine we were being attacked by the great kraken itself!

  “When the grinning skull appeared in the blackness, could you blame us for fearing the supernatural was at work? There we were, desperately battling the ocean’s fury in a fight to keep our ship above water, and that ghastly apparition appears in the night, gaining on us so easily we thought they must have made a pact with Davy Jones himself. The flag was designed to strike terror in the hearts of honest sailors who found themselves prey. But seeing it lit up by the lightning overhead, and then by cannon fire as our captain ordered us to sink that cursed ship, it sent most of the men into a blind panic. It didn’t seem possible that it could navigate the sea’s wrath when we were struggling just to stay afloat, and we feared not just for our lives but our very souls.

  “I’m sure their ship must have taken some damage, but in that moment it seemed like our cannons couldn’t touch them. Men started throwing themselves overboard, choosing to give themselves over to the mistress they’d served all their lives rather than let these demons have them. Next thing we knew, the pirates had boarded us, and the next lightning flash showed the seas to have turned red with blood. And yet, violent encounters like this were not most pirates’ preferred way of capturing other vessels. I know all too well the bad light in which history has painted us, but choosing the life of a pirate didn’t mean instantly setting yourself on a darker path. Most of us weren’t the bloodthirsty killers of stories but good men, who chose a life of crime over the suffering we faced through an honest living. So, when those of us still alive surrendered, we were shown mercy. And then came the first choice which changed my life.

  “You see, many pirates during that time started off as sailors like me, suffering the horrific conditions of the slave ships. And as I said before, a man can only take so much before it begins to wear him down. As I knelt there and listened to the pirate captain talk, with the sting of my most recent lashings still fresh on my back and the hatred for my superiors burning in my soul, the life he offered grew more and more attractive.

  “The threat of the inevitable hangman’s noose was no deterrent. We all knew our lives in the slave t
rade would be short, so why not turn to piracy and a life free of the oppressive captains we served under? Then we’d know the true freedom life at sea had once promised, and we’d be far richer than any honest sailor could ever hope to be. It was a choice between a short, miserable life with little gold to show for it and a probable, agonising death to disease at the end, or a short, merry one with gold and women aplenty and a quick, clean death at the gallows. And I knew which life I wanted.”

  “Live fast and die young.”

  He smiled, his eyes flashing. “Aye.”

  There was obviously more to his tale, but it seemed I would have to wait for it. We’d reached another T-junction, this one with another chamber just visible along the right, while the left gaped dark and ominous. There was a female scent coming from this room, faint under the constant stench, and giving little clue as to who she might be. We turned to it by some unspoken consent and for a moment I dared to hope it was either Lady Sarah or Selina. But as we drew nearer, I soon realised the scent was not one I’d come across before, and it was human.

  This chamber had been left open, the girl inside chained to the wall so she couldn’t simply run off. There were also three bowls lying nearby with some kind of liquid in them, though only one looked like water – the other two had the artificial colours of man-made drinks, one bright green and the other red. On the wall above the offerings was another message.

  Food and drink if you will pay the price; trade one discomfort for another.

  The room was otherwise empty. We stepped inside and waited for the door to seal us in again, but no mechanisms sprung into action, and no new enemies appeared for us to fight. That did nothing to ease my nerves. Surely there would be some test of strength or cunning for us to pass.

  My eyes fixed on the message again. What was this price it referred to? I was so desperate for a drink that I wanted to rush over to the bowls and gulp each liquid down, but the words suggested that I would have to undergo some fresh torment if I wanted to quench my thirst. And then there was the girl. What was a mortal doing down here? The Slayers claimed to be a faction fighting ‘evil’ to save other humans, so why would they trap one of their own in the dungeon with us? She was a stranger, so it wasn’t to get at me like when Lizzy had been captured back in my hometown. It was doubtful she was anyone of consequence to Zeerin either. If I was right in thinking he’d spent most of his existence at sea, he probably didn’t have many dealings with humans anymore. So why would the Slayers throw someone who was no more than prey into the lion’s den, so to speak?