The Salvatore Saga, Part Four: My new Life

As Charles secured Mario in his seat and I had secured Mona into hers, Damon and Mariella were already sitting in the car. Mariella sat in the backseat with the babies, keeping them company, while Damon sat next to me, letting me drive. I guess he was testing me, baiting me to see if my famous road rage was still there.

Of course, it was, but I had learned to suppress it, keeping it hidden in my mind so not even Wulfe could read it clearly. I wasn't going to let Damon boss me around because of my road rage. Even though the new me felt more, I was also wiser now and thought a little more before letting anything spoil my enjoyment.

It was early winter, so the roads might be slippery, and the weather was unpredictable. I had a big SUV under me as I was going to pick up a big load of produce, organs, meats, fruits, and whatever else I had ordered. I had paid for my order in full, and Damon wasn't too happy about it, but that was his choice.

I knew we still had unresolved issues, but we hadn't sorted them out during our previous shouting match. Maybe someday I might talk to Damon privately and address some of my concerns, but not yet.

I got into the driver's seat. This was actually one of my work cars, so it was ultra-secure and had a few bells and whistles if needed. I started the car, and as we drove out of the yard, the fussy babies started to calm down.

Mariella asked, "How long have they been this fussy?"

I replied, "About five days or so, but they grow and develop much faster than human babies. We get new data all the time, and according to Colin, Number Four, Nine, and Ten they are tired from the hard growth, have colic as they learn to eat solids, and everything might be overwhelming. Wulfe has been keeping a strict eye on them to ensure no new powers emerge."

Mariella then asked, "Are they bloodthirsty? If they grow fast, their bloodlust might increase too."

I nodded and said, "They consume three times the blood they did initially, so yes, that is another factor to consider. We are in for a very interesting time ahead of us, one that might turn into a nightmare from time to time."

Damon grunted, his slight frown indicating that Dr. Damon was now pondering this on the surface.

I was focused on my driving when I told Mariella, "Music helps them too, but it has to be rock or upbeat. No love ballads. I'm not sure why."

She smiled. Damon, my ever-loving husband, I thought sarcastically in my mind as he said to me, "You keep yourself under control, I'm surprised. But then again, you really love to drive, that I can feel. What's with this order? Can't we go through our normal channels to make it easier?"

I replied, "Well, it takes a week to ten days for them to get our orders ready because many places have cut down, and there is less meat available from those farms due to others buying as well."

Damon nodded, aware that we only bought from select farms where the meat had to be grown strictly to avoid tainting it with certain plants and herbs, making it expensive. Even though we bought a lot, we weren't enough to sustain those farms alone, and they had to cut down.

I was considering starting my own farm someday, as I was wealthy enough and had money and shares stored in safety deposit boxes worldwide. If the pack didn't want to be part of it, which would likely be a non-profitable venture, I thought it could still be an option.

As I drove, I thought about a lot of baby-related stuff and realized that maybe, just maybe, I was making progress in controlling some aspects of my behavior, like road rage. It didn't consume my mind like a red haze all the time, and I could actually think of other ideas. But I knew I was still volatile when it came to my rage, having learned that over the years, and couldn't identify all of my triggers.

After the incident with VENOMS, which had reset my mind, I refused to put myself under strict control like before. Maybe because I wanted to feel something. I had been in a place devoid of feelings and emotions before, and I didn't want to go back there. But nobody could predict what the future held for me.

Meanwhile, Damon and Mariella were discussing a few recipes, but I didn't join in as I wasn't in the mood to share my ideas. Whenever I tried something new in the kitchen, there were always eager spies around, some quite assertive like Charles. If he teamed up with Number two and Wulfe, then it was clear I was the underdog, though I was still good at distracting them. 

As I drove on, I noticed a hare, a cat, or something dead on the side of the road. It was nothing new; animals got killed under cars every day. But as my mind wandered, I started to ponder life and death.

Death would never be final to me. All those times I used "death" as an escape felt like just naps, but being trapped in a medical ward for months on end, being tested and withering away, was not fun. Most of the time, they did not permit cremation. I found myself weak in the middle of a forest, hoping for luck to smile upon me, or else be under a pile of rotting corpses and a sea of maggots. Not fun. I hate maggots.

Damon's soft voice echoed in my mind, "Oh, baby, I had no idea. Wulfe, Adam, Charles, none of them knew."

I answered out loud, "Nope, it was just my way of escaping. I could have snapped at any time, but I didn't want to become a killing machine. So, I chose a harder route for myself."

Damon assured me, "Not anymore. I will make sure of that. I've told Wulfe, and he will ensure you do snap in time if it comes to that."

Mariella chimed in, "Every single worker in those places knows that subjects are being tortured. There's no use in saving them. We'll change you. Your martyrdom is coming to an end."

I hesitated. "I don't want to feel that pleasure. It feels like I'm losing a part of my soul. It feels wrong because it is wrong. It has nothing to do with my vampire side and everything to do with..."

Damon interjected sharply, "Continue. What were you saying? Do you know something?"

I sighed and continued, "It's part of my rage. Krycheck's little gift to me. I found in Krycheck's diaries back then when Jake and Rob..."

My voice trailed off. Damon said softly, "So they imprinted pleasure for killing into your rage. I can help with that. It might still feel good, but I think I can dilute that feeling somewhat. After all, I am an empath, a telepath, and a surgeon. We might come up with a little brain surgery."

I was somewhat surprised and unsure of what to think about the situation.

I quipped, "I gave you one chance for a lifetime surgery, and now you want to cut into my brain? Was it that fun?"

He just grunted and explained, "My idea is to put a piece of my brain into yours. It is magically manipulated, acting as a rage and emotional regulator that should help with that feeling of the wrong kind of pleasure. Believe me, baby, I know."

I nodded and mentioned, "Damien, right?"

His nod was subtle, but it confirmed my suspicion, as he had felt Damien's twisted elation each time he hurt me, and I understood it. My mind had a tendency to find reasons for things, so maybe there was a reason for this too. But was I just grasping at straws with my theories? It was possible. God, I needed to change my thoughts, think about something other than death, dying, and suffering.

Our drive lasted 30 minutes until we arrived at the local market, where a huge truck was already parked. A few other cars were also parked nearby, with humans walking in and out carrying boxes or bags from the truck's open doors. They seemed to be collecting their orders.

Even though it was late autumn, there was not much snow on the ground, and the trees were bare. The chilly air nipped at the cheeks of those outside, who were wearing beanies, gloves, and warm jackets. Winter was definitely setting in. 

I parked my car as close as possible because my order was large and it would be easier to load. It would definitely fit in my car, but it would take some time to get everything in. I wanted to check out what else was being offered.

I told Damon and Mariella, "No need for you to get off, I'll go check in and they will start loading my order soon. It's quite massive, but my trunk is isolated so the car won't get cold even if the trunk is open."

Damon grunted and replied, "Fine, let's see, but for now, we can sit here and keep an eye on the babies."

I nodded, exited the car, and walked up to the truck. A tall man came out from inside and hugged me. He looked like a young Mel Gibson and was another ex-flea called Jackson. He then called on men to start loading my order, and about 12 men began carrying heavy-looking plastic boxes to my car, stacking them inside.

Jackson had been a remarkable soldier, having suffered an injury that resulted in him losing seven centimeters of his spine. It was a walking miracle that he could even move, considering the severity of the injury. He had a top-notch experimental semi-biological spine implant, with metal spine and tissues that grew around it. Additionally, he had experimental implants for his spinal cord. Although the injury was severe, Jackson was a true miracle.

I asked him, "Why do you work? Don't you receive a pension and compensation? Why work long days on the farm?"

As we watched the men working, he replied, "I invest most of my money in the farm I inherited from my uncle. It's a lot of work, but it keeps me busy. The doctors have advised me to stay busy. It's still a work in progress, and I need to keep making new connections so that my spinal cord might be fully my own one day."

Mariella observed Mimi chatting with a man and sensed Damon's jealousy and possessiveness through their bond. However, he managed to control his emotions. She had been browsing her phone when Damon's feelings distracted her from celebrity gossip sites. Mariella had an idea.

Since Missy was a bit wild, she suggested to Damon, "Why don't we play a prank on Mimi? We can drop hints that a celebrity is here, like America's Sweetheart, and then you can act as the perfect husband when the paparazzi arrive."

Damon, with a cruel smile, agreed to the plan. After a few taps, Mariella had informed five magazines about the American sweetheart's presence. Little did they realize the dramatic consequences this would have in the long run. 

I hopped into the truck and began looking over the extras that were there. Jackson and I had been chatting for a few minutes when new clients arrived. I decided to pick up some more items, including fresh fish and seafood, which always gave a real boost to the magic. I planned to use them for Salvatores. Among the items, I also found a bag of freeze-dried scorpions and spiders.

Jackson approached me as I examined them and mentioned, "I have an oriental friend who always insists on putting these in my trucks just in case someone wants to buy them, but I have no idea who would eat them."

Curious, I opened one bag, took out a scorpion, crushed its tail, and swallowed it. A few moments later, a heat spreading to my right flank confirmed that these were the real deal, so I decided to take them all.

Damon noticed paparazzi arriving ten minutes later. He felt a surge of alert from his protector radar as Mimi's enzymes spiked. Cursing under his breath, he peeked into her thoughts and saw her eating scorpions.

Mariella asked, "What's wrong?"

Damon grunted. "It's time to step in as a husband. She's eating scorpions again. I thought Jarod had convinced her that it's not healthy to eat them raw."

Getting out of the car, Damon headed to the backseat where Mona was fussing. He picked her up in his arms. She had grown and held herself better. He hummed to her, rocking her gently as he walked towards Mimi. 

I was still sorting through my extra items when Damon's voice next to my ear almost startled me. "Now, baby, didn't Jarod tell you that eating bugs is not good for you? There are more harmful effects than benefits from them. Plus, you have a tendency to develop immunity, so I suggest you avoid doing that again."

I turned around, surprised to see Mona in his arms, still fussy and with a slightly angry expression as she observed the unfamiliar place with new smells and sounds.

I smiled at her, "Oh, has mommy's little princess come shopping with me?" I said to her.

Damon then said, "You take her. I'll check what else we need, and I'll pay for these extra items."

I nodded, took Mona in my arms, and as I hopped down, the paparazzi swarmed me. I cursed internally, and I could see a slight smirk on Damon's face as he noticed. Damn it! I hoped, truly hoped, this wouldn't backfire on me, but it appeared our esteemed pack leader had not read the threat reports. Hell!

I kept my expression calm as Mariella exited the car, went to Damon, and kissed him, too.

Jackson approached me, as the paparazzi surrounded Damon and Mariella, and asked, "Oh, who is this little princess?"

I replied, "Her name is Mona, and her father is an idiot. I hope this won't come back to haunt me, but oh well, too late for that."

I didn't have time to explain further as Damon walked up to me and kissed me, ensuring it was all captured on camera, while Mariella proceeded to question poor Jackson. He shared about his injury and his farm with reporters eavesdropping. Well, at least he would get some publicity, but on the negative side, the dangers of being associated with me.

If things took a turn for the worse, I would have to provide him with additional protection, as I refused to let any of my old friends fall into enemy hands. I stood there in the crisp autumn or winter air, with Mona in my arms, Damon by my side, unaware of what might unfold from this. This was not the time or place to start educating him.

Damon remarked to me, "That guy is a freaking miracle. I mean, an injury like that..."

I grunted and replied, "In the field, if he had been with me, he was almost like Jake or Rob to me, but his injury took him out. He is lucky to be able to walk and act, but I can see in his eyes that he misses the action. He hasn't entirely given up on that life. It's a pity, as he should embrace life instead of living in the fantasy of what he could do."

Damon remained silent and quickly went to Jackson to settle what we owed him, which was a lot. Damon had bought most of the surplus that he got with him. I noticed that he gave Jackson his business card and instructed him to contact him for orders and supplies, as he was the one in charge of them.

It was time to head home. Of course, the paparazzi continued taking pictures, and there was nothing I could do about it. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and only time would tell if things would take a turn for the worse.