Chapitre 339: 18. Try.
Damon reached out with all his strength, his fingers trembling as he felt the suffocating blackness deep inside him. The air was heavy with the scent of burning sulfur, a sinister reminder of the darkness that consumed him. Determined, he answered the fire with fire, plunging himself into the abyss at the core of his being.
As he descended further into the darkness, a surge of power awakened the dormant volcano within him. The ground beneath him quaked, reverberating with the rumbling force of his unleashed abilities. In that moment, Damon felt himself fading into the background, his essence merging with that of his alter ego, Damien.
Amidst the transformation, Damon's awakening was accompanied by a disorienting sensation. His senses sharpened, and he realized the dire situation that lay before him. Now in control, Damien harbored a deep desire to protect Mimi from being possessed by a demon. The irony was not lost on him—the once evil twin was now driven to become her savior.
With a twisted satisfaction, Damien reveled in the newfound power. This scenario had played out countless times in his mind, and now it was his opportunity to reveal himself. Uncertainty loomed over whether Mimi would remember any of this, but Damien was certain that doubt would linger in her mind.
Observing Mimi intently, Damien tapped into Damon's telepathic and vampire abilities. He manipulated the room where she was held captive, altering it to suit his purpose. The sound of whispers filled the air, a chilling reminder of the shed and the sinister devices that had plagued Mimi in the past.
Time was of the essence, and Damien was determined to remind Mimi of the darkness she had once encountered. The stage was set, and as he watched her, anticipation and a twisted sense of pleasure coursed through his veins.
Damon's expression contorted, his once familiar features transformed into a hardened, cruel visage. His eyes bore into me, stripping away any sense of humanity. Rising from his seat, he stretched leisurely, encircling me with predatory intent.
"Fine, let's get this over with," he uttered with a chilling nonchalance.
As he sauntered towards the wall, the room revealed itself, shrouded in dimness. With a flick of the switch, the fluorescent lights illuminated one by one, bathing the space in an eerie glow. My heart quickened, sensing the ominousness that pervaded this place.
Damon activated three white shuttles and approached me with deliberate steps. Standing before me, he settled into a chair, leaning his torso against the armrest. His languid gaze fixated upon me.
"It's time for the truth to be unveiled. You'll remember this place and the six torturous weeks you endured. I've longed for this moment, planning for contingencies in case I were to perish or lose my position. Baby, let's engage in a little mind game. What if I were to confess that I am not Damon but his twin brother, Damien? What if there were two of us living within this vessel? This is not a mere mind game, but a harsh, unforgiving reality. Damon embodies goodness, while I, Damien, embody wickedness. What he repairs and nurtures, I dismantle and destroy. It's all about balance, you see."
I stared at Damon, a mix of astonishment and madness swirling within me. The notion seemed utterly absurd, and yet, in this malevolent place, I struggled to comprehend its purpose. Could this be a manifestation of vampire dementia, this duality?
Attempting to calm Damon, I noticed a shift in his scent. Gone was the alluring fragrance of passionfruit, replaced by the stench of damp dog. Its pungency only intensified my apprehension. Damon regarded me with an emotionless gaze, treating me as nothing more than a slab of meat.
Carefully, I spoke, "Alright, I'm in. Now, which one are you, Damon, or the other one?"
His eyes locked onto mine. "Damien," he replied lazily. "I am Damien, my dear."
Another memory surfaced: a marriage certificate bearing a misspelled name. I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, seeing through the deception.
Maintaining a calm demeanor, I uttered, "Damon, don't be foolish. I remember the marriage certificate with your name misspelled."
Damon's unwavering expression mirrored his determination. "Denying the truth is a formidable force, baby, but let's move forward," he declared. "First, I believe I'll escort you to the shuttle, but before we do, allow me to enlighten you. Sark, present in that facility, employed me - it wasn't a figment of your imagination. I subdued Damon, allowing me control over his body. The same occurred during the party. Incidentally, Bran is aware of my existence. He beckoned Damon and administered some kind of vampire elixir, leading to our agreement: Bran desired the party."
I stated. "Well, that's a convenient explanation, Salvatore. Blame it all on Bran. Yes, I'm familiar with your penchant for women. You simply crave physical pleasure," I retorted.
Damon peered at me silently and confessed, "It's always Damon who engages in such pursuits, not me, Damien. I have no desire for sexual encounters."
I was taken aback, yet the agent had assured me that delusions could be potent and persuasive in the victim's mind. I needed to remain composed, but Damon's gaze, the scent in the air, and the ambiance of the surroundings intensified the throbbing pain in my palm.
Damon continued, "We have ample time, so let's proceed." He produced his phone. "Hmm, what might I discover here? Ah, Mr. Sark. As I mentioned, I work for him occasionally whenever I can subdue Damon sufficiently. What if, baby, I were to sell you back to the medical facility?"
I was stunned and speechless. Damon displayed the phone screen, revealing the names of Mr. Sark and several other pharmaceutical companies. I remained silent.
Damon's piercing gaze locked onto me, his words hanging in the air like an ominous cloud. "I don't know what memories will linger within you. I hope every single one I want you to acknowledge my existence. However, I won't reveal myself to Damon. That's where you come in - you have a task to convince Damon about me. I possess the ability to manipulate him, to burden him with guilt, and to weaken him. But your genuine love for Damon poses the greatest threat to me. It weakens me to my core, so I will do everything I can to ensure that you two don't bask in such blissful moments together. As you can see, you don't detect the scent of passionfruit, which is a telltale sign of my true intentions. Perhaps Damon is only good when I am not present. Have I corrupted him as well? Now, here's another revelation: the Darling side, as you refer to it, is actually the essence of Damon. I confined it within a cage long ago, but ever since you entered our lives, that core has broken free. It is now unleashed to such an extent that I can no longer contain it."
Speechless, I struggled to find the right words. The entire story seemed absurdly unbelievable, and I desperately wished it wasn't true.
Damon's voice persisted, calm yet foreboding. "Next, I shall relish in it. Remember the shed session. Recall what compelled you to come to Australia in the first place. Relive the fear and the darkness within the shuttle. Think back to your battle with peritonitis."
Memories surged through my mind, overwhelming me, and I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. The shed session flooded back into my consciousness.
Damon continued, his tone steady. "Now, it is up to you, Mimi. You simply believe that this is not real. Do you understand? I don't believe you desire a shuttle, but baby, I am prepared. First, I will contact the Sark, and he will compensate you handsomely. However, it will take some time for him to arrive. As you can see, there are jelly tanks waiting and shuttles poised for your treatment. You are bound, trapped, and utterly helpless. Remember 12.11. Believe that this is a falsehood. Wake up. Fight. Remember. Nicodemus coined you."
Damon's anger toward me was already clear when the scent of a wet dog permeated the air. It was overwhelming, pushing me to the edge. I focused on the recollection, panic surging within me as I heard Damon's voice on the phone, his call placed on speaker. The phone rang once, then again.
And then, the voice that answered was chillingly familiar - "Sark," the voice said.
Damon's voice filled the room, his tone confident and authoritative.
"Damien here, sir," he replied. "I have one Mimi Salvatore for you, and I'm going to handle her for a little while until you get here with the team, sir."
Sark's voice came through the phone, tinged with approval. "Well done, Damien. If there were any way, you could stay afloat at all times, you would be my number one man. It'll take two days for transport, and it's good to prep her; you'll weaken her. I've got a new reproductive drug for when you want to have kids with her, so let's see if we can get her pregnant now," Sark said.
"Yeah, no rush; I've got a couple of modified surgical units," Damien continued, his voice filled with a sinister edge. "I'm playing with her. She's terrified of them. She lasted last time six weeks."
As I listened, a wave of disbelief washed over me. Damon, standing nearby, was absorbed in the conversation. I could almost feel the greasiness of his fingers as he held the phone to his ear.
He leaned in closer, his words urgent: "You have to believe it. If you want this not to be true, start small. Come on. Lose this phone in my hand. Get rid of those shuttles."
Desperate to escape this nightmare, I focused all my energy on getting rid of the phone, and suddenly, it vanished from my sight. The shuttles that had been present a moment ago also disappeared, as if wiped away by some unseen force.
In that instant, a surge of strange rage coursed through my mind, a foreign and unsettling feeling. I fought hard to regain control, to quell the creature that had taken hold of me. With every ounce of my being, I concentrated on the memory of 12.11, harnessing my white-hot rage to push back against the invasive presence.
Slowly, I felt the creature recede, its influence waning as my anger grew stronger. I focused on my fury, summoning more and more of it, determined to reclaim my mind. I remembered what had happened.
I had driven through the darkened night, the rhythmic hum of the engine accompanying my weary journey to South Carolina. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my eyelids as I navigated the desolate roads.
As the first light of dawn began to paint the horizon, I found myself in South Carolina, the air thick with a faint scent of salt from the nearby coast. The anticipation of confronting Nicodemus, my elusive target, coursed through my veins. If I could bring him down, perhaps I could finally find respite and indulge in a well-deserved vacation.
Whispers of Nicodemus being the prime target fueled my determination, prompting me to prioritize his pursuit. I relentlessly pursued him for three long weeks, chasing leads that always seemed to lead me astray. Like a game of cat and mouse, he constantly slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but frustration.
A nostalgic memory flickered in my mind, reminiscent of an old computer game called Carmen Sandiego, where I would chase after a cunning female criminal. In a similar vein, Nicodemus was rumored to be one of the most formidable demons, the mastermind behind the enigmatic coins. He held the key to it all.
I hoped that by capturing Nicodemus, the lesser demons would scatter like frightened mice when their leader was vanquished. Yearning for the comfort of home, I sought help from Magnum and others, but their obligations prevented their involvement. This opportunity, however, was too enticing to let slip away.
Desperation compelled me to contact Dresden, who scoffed at my audacity. "You're out of your league, little girl," he had scoffed, belittling my capabilities. "Leave Nicodemus to me. I'll handle that bastard."
The backlash I faced for seeking his help still stung, but I refused to be underestimated.
Finally, I arrived at the factory, bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun. Its abandoned halls echoed with emptiness, the only sound being the faint rustling of leaves outside. Doubt crept into my mind, fearing that this might be yet another futile endeavor.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain jolted through my thigh, causing me to yelp in surprise. My eyes darted upwards to find a tranquilizer dart protruding from my flesh. I plucked it out with a grimace, feeling a dull ache spreading through my leg. Limping, I made my way back to the car, the weight of disappointment heavy upon me.
As I made my way to the far end of the factory, the pungent smell of machinery and metal filled the air. Suddenly, the effects of the medicine on the dart hit me with a jolt. I stumbled, desperately trying to maintain my balance. Emerging from the shadows was a figure resembling Donald Sutherland. Collapsing to the ground, I was dragged across the cold factory floor, the rough texture scraping against my skin.
Initially, the drug paralyzed my entire body, leaving my mind clear and aware. The man introduced himself as Nicodemus and lifted me onto a table in one of the dimly lit rooms. His gaze locked onto mine as he placed a coin into my trembling palm.
"I am Nicodemus, and though you have pursued me, you possess the strength to be the vessel for my beloved. But your strength means it won't be easy," he uttered ominously.
As he spoke, I felt the weight of the coin sinking into my hand, but I fought back with all my might. Summoning my rage, I pushed the intruder out of my thoughts. Nicodemus observed this display for a moment before retrieving a case from his pocket and extracting a syringe filled with a substance. He measured me carefully while the coin slipped out of my palm unnoticed.
With the syringe, he said, "You are the perfect match for my wife. However, you must slumber for several months to let her nest in your mind. This is the same concoction Constantine administered, but a triple dose with slight alterations."
Jamming the needle into my flesh, he closed my hand around the coin once more, firmly clasping it in his fist.
Try as I might, I couldn't pry open my hand, and the drug intensified its grip on me. The coin slowly sank deeper into my hand as my futile struggles grew weaker. I remember passing out, feeling the coin just sinking deeper and deeper in my palm, and hearing and feeling a malevolent female presence in my mind.
A sudden surge of determination coursed through me, and I desperately yearned to escape this chair. With the coin still lodged in my hand, I waged a fierce battle, channeling my rage as a source of strength. Closing my eyes, I focused on the sensation of the coin gradually rising from my hand until it finally slipped away.
When I finally dared to open my eyes, the ordeal was over. I was liberated, free from Nicodemus' clutches and sinister plans.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone