A little over a week had gone by, meaning my weeks, as I had calculated them, would start on Monday, so it would be my 14th week. I had gone alone into the Board of Education, as Damon was busy tending Mariella, and men had been mostly downstairs.
A few times, Adam or Charles had been there. They had been terse, polite, and busy, with no time to be with the kids. Bonds were still closed off, and I could still feel pretty much everyone in the hive, so I knew Mariella was not in good shape, and her fetuses were just fine. Not one of them belonged to number one, but to others.
It was Sunday as I finally opened the hatches from the ovens, letting the rest of the warmth seep fully into the walls and warm our wing up a bit more. I had made a hell of a lot of food today, and I had sent it downstairs so the men had something to eat. And I still had no regrets. The girls and I were just fine.
Taking care of the children and our shops was also manageable. Mariella's three girls had gotten their placement from one daycare center, and we had taken them twice now, and they loved it. Mine were still being appraised, as they had wanted to see Sadie's rage, and once they had seen it, well, let's just say I could smell their fear.
I had now ready-made big roasts, seven of them, three full carcasses from the pit. Even though it was autumn and chilly, the pit was warm enough, and it was not too rainy, so I had maximized our cooking. We had gotten more berries as the girls went to pick when the kids were napping, and, as said, we had no trouble.
I could sense there was no fear of me. No one was afraid of me, nor angry with me, but they were now focused on Mariella and taking care of her. I was not sure what next week would bring to me, but whatever it would be, I was ready. I had used a lot of my time to suppress my nasty side and buried it as deep as I could, and being with the kids somehow helped and gave me motivation.
Of course, they were again so eager, as they learned that Mommy had more siblings in her tummy, more playbuddies, and they were so eager big siblings, and they were always there as the babies were awake and doing stuff. And as the men had not logged much, I could do more, as the system had no updates on our pregnancies, and I was not sure how Mariella's recovery would go. I had certainly done a number out of her.
I retrieved a large tray from the fridge, laden with tiny profiteroles, mini quiches, smoothie cubes, and meatballs on sticks, along with various other small nibbles. I also brought my bottles: one of white wine, one of Palma, and one of Coke.
Nights were my time for self-reflection, and after a few sleepless nights, I felt no distress syndrome. It was, quite amusingly, a liberating experience. My mind felt unusually free, not because the spells had ceased, but because I felt I had unleashed something, untangled some knot, which in turn motivated me to continue my self-reflection. I also found myself remembering my difficult times, striving to approach them with a clinical detachment.
Naturally, I hadn't informed Damon or Mariella about my surveillance. I had recorded my entire session and intended to show it to Magnum and Colin once my stint in this pocket universe concluded. It was time for me to reveal my own darker side. A wicked smirk curved my lips as I recalled how intensely Colin reacted to my "killer side"; my little expose might just give me some intense time with Anaconda.
I carried my basket of treats to my special lounge. I had transformed one of the rooms with a fireplace into a perfect lounge or living room, complete with deep leather sofas, soft armchairs, and my own enormous armchair from my Moscow castle.
It was a faded dark brown, so I had placed one of my handmade blankets in it – knitted from tiny squares with a real silk backing, making it wonderfully warm and exceptionally large. May had started a fire earlier, and she and the others had gone to watch TV or nap until the babies, should they wake, would need them.
I placed my bottles and trays of treats on a side table, then went to my bookcase to retrieve my bags of blood: demon king blood, wind elemental, and a mixture of Salvatores. I grabbed a clean set of glasses and returned to my chair. Neither the Salvatores nor even Wulfe had seen this chair, as I had created this lounge over the past week.
As I propped my tired feet on the footstool and leaned back, I sighed, gazing at the dark golden borders high up on the ceiling. It was a boring, off-white ceiling, but the borders were rather nice.
I reached for my first bottle of Palma and opened it, savoring its tangy, lemony aroma as I poured it into my large crystal glass. It was ice cold and simply perfect. As I replaced the cork, I remembered my human days and the new directive mandating bottle caps remain attached to the bottles – a policy I found utterly useless, as they were easily snapped off, a futile attempt by some greenwashers to make the world hate plastic.
Suddenly, a soft, slightly amused voice from the doorway said, "Did you know that tray of yours is not exactly what I want my baby mama to eat?"
My chair faced away from the door, so my back was to it, and I hadn't noticed Damon entering. He, in turn, noticed my reaction as I nearly jumped in my chair, spilling my drink slightly.
"This is just my night snack. I've made plenty of other food," I managed, my voice regaining its strength.
Damon walked into my lounge, flopped into another chair, and remarked, "I see you've found another nice chair. That one looks so fuckable."
His dark grin made me blink more rapidly.
"I must say, you were okay most of the time, but fine, I can give you real feedback so you know your weaknesses and how to improve," he continued.
I blinked even faster, trying to comprehend what he was talking about. He reached over, took my tray, selected only my meatballs on sticks, sent the rest away, and took my wine. Then, opening my Coke, he poured a glass for me, and, almost clinically, his voice steady, began to appraise my work regarding Mariella.
"Now, most of your work is usable, but let's start with your creepiness factor. It began well, strong, but then it kind of flopped when you started to reminisce and made it too personal, almost turning yourself into a victim. I understand what you were aiming for; Wulfe and the others are still digging into those memories, and you've certainly buried them deep. However, we need to find another way to approach this. From my perspective, you need a telepath involved. Then, they can access the memories, eliminating the need for you to relive them. We could also package them more refinedly, meaning there would be trigger words, much like in that Captain America movie where they used specific words to trigger the Winter Soldier."
I was flabbergasted. I had been quite certain the men would be angry with me, scared, or perhaps furious about what I had done to Mariella. But I certainly hadn't expected Damon to waltz in a week later and start pointing out my mistakes. And damn it, he was right.
He stapled his fingers, then stated, "And you need to give me those dentals. I am the main teeth vampire, and you have some serious oomph on them. As well, these crystals, Wulfe will want them, as he is the strongest wizard. Despite your ability to turn them off, magic can sometimes slip up, and you being a siphon, there's no telling how it affects the crystal, especially if a spell is layered and you siphon off a whole layer. Your idea of referring to Damien as brother-in-law added a very nasty, creepy layer, but you could describe more about what you're aiming to do. That mirror, again, we need to check it. According to Wulfe, the spell that makes it lie so much is not simple nor easy, and again, he knows better. Eat up, you need calories. I have the radar open."
I popped a few meatballs and one quiche he had left into my mouth, chewing them slowly. I was just thinking about the utter surprise of my life. He wasn't angry; he was now professional, and also the pack leader, as well as my mate.
Weird, so damn weird, and I just tried to understand the whole damn system. I drank a few more glasses of Coke, and he nodded slightly.
Looking at the ceiling, he said, "You are right, damn boring ceiling."
With my mouth empty, I blurted out, "Aren't you worried about Mariella? Want to heal her? Aren't you pissed off or angry with me? I was a monster, more or less."
He smiled, a genuine smile actually, and said softly, "That side surely needs some work, but you are no monster. Mariella is sedated, and I wanted you to do this to her; she was once more becoming pretty wild with her lust. I have no tolerance for her jealousy. A nice idea of teaching the Salvatores to heal her with love, not lust; I'm sure it can be arranged. You surely can do impressive damage, even more than I could do, in a relatively short time, so yeah. Your mind needs work, and those memories will be wiped out. Wulfe and I now have clear points to chase."
He took a breath, then snatched my elemental blood bag. After opening it, he gulped down a large portion – not the whole bag, but a significant amount – groaning happily and licking his lips.
He then continued his explanation. "This is a simplified version, but we are extracting as many of those memories in large chunks from Mariella's mind as possible. We can use them as our search parameters. Imagine you're looking for something in a very thick book, over a thousand pages with small print – there's an enormous amount of material. Now, we'll use whatever chunks we get from Mariella as parameters. We'll put them into a spell and target your mind. Our spell will then begin searching all over your memories, your mind, for these chunks, and eventually, we'll hit the jackpot. And you, my buttercup, won't be able to do a thing. Your blood is also quite useful. Wulfe modified his spell because we put Mariella's stomach in stasis, which preserved as much of your blood as possible. This again gives Wulfe an idea of what you did."
My expression turned irritated. My grand plan had backfired, and spectacularly so. I couldn't understand what, how, or why I had missed something. For someone with an ego as large as mine, this was difficult to accept.
He pondered for a moment, then continued in a more serious tone, "But, as you know, there's always a 'but'. It takes us time to fix Mariella as well, ensuring this lesson stays with her. That, in turn, gives you time to be on your own. And you, my snowball, have been rolling for quite some time, so I can guess you're in quite an interesting mood once we get moving."
I nodded and said, "I've reminisced a lot about old times, both good and bad, and I've slept just fine. There's been no hyperactivity, no distress syndrome. You see, with my memory, things accumulate and then they just rot there. But when I get to do some actual work, it helps. Like working on Mariella, and I have to admit, there's bad blood between us. It's been that way for a long time, and I'm not sure if I'm done with it yet. However, whatever I let out allows me to sleep, to remember, without turning me into a hyperactive mess. And that's just a fact. It's one fact that I know you have issues with. Despite tolerating what I did to Mariella, you might change your tune and get pissed off with me, but I can say right now: there is no regret here. Not an ounce. And never will be. "
He was quiet, thinking things over. He gulped the bag empty and said, "Well, I should go and check on 'ella and see what dentals are needed. Charles is sleeping because he is spewing a lot, and he has really taken his protector side, so just for you to know."
Now his tone was much colder. I smelled the air, let pheromones tell me what my predator side suspected.
I said softly, "I am not disappointed, but try to remember I can literally smell lies. Your little plan was a nice story, but you are not going there, as Mariella is still in a bad state. And do not lie about Charles. I can feel him, and I can also feel his irritation at having had to deal with Mariella when he wants to be with me."
Damon did not reply but just walked away. I went to the kitchen, took some more treats and drinks, and returned to my chair for some thinking time. What Damon did was not surprising, but that blatant lying. Why does he even bother?