Chapitre 443: 2. Highway to Hell.
This killing spree was demanding. It's not that I wouldn't mind doing killing sprees, but the schedule. These were the rare victims you had to kill, but the pricks rarely come out. So me and Magnum, who was on the European side running things, were working hard.
Damon didn't like it. He was just as keen to have some time together again as soon as he called me. Damon had his problems. He could torture me almost to death but also cure me of an incredibly bad condition. He was a complex creature whose most complex sides I could not bear to chase. The volcano or Damien was one. He wanted to play, to hurt, and he saw me as a victim, often talking about the shed session with relish and reminiscence. Creepily.
I was pretty sure that was not Damon, but I didn't yet manage to convince Damon of that. He seemed to think that it was just one nasty part of him. Of course, when you are as old as he, you get a sense of self; you do pretty awful stuff and just get numbed by it, so nothing feels and you just accept being a monster too.
Then we had a well, I call this side, the flanker. So then Damon talks in a very civilized way, calls me darling, and is often teaching me something. It's this side that comes out at weddings. This side also gives flanks and makes me dizzy, so I don't even really remember anything about my wedding. He is also the core of Damon, and the thought of that made me sometimes a little uneasy, as he was so different than I had used to. If that is the core of Damon, who the hell is Damon I am with? What part of him?
Is it normal that you get millennia old, so you split yourself into different sides and become a complex creature? Or was it just a vampire thing? Because Charles was as old as Damon, he had no sides, not that I was aware of, but still. He was born as a werewolf, so he was kind of unique, too.
Then we have the fuck machine. As the name implies, he fucks everything he can get his hands on. He might be mean to the girls, pinches and squeezes and fucks. Even so, all the girls only go to him. This is true damon, too. It is just what he does. He uses sex as some sort of release and he is doing it with strangers or others.
The side that takes care of me is Doctor Damon. He is a highly skilled physician who is responsible for fixing me up whenever I need it. I have come to realize that he does not take any protests or objections from me lightly. If he feels that I am being difficult, he will either sedate me or use chains to restrain me. Although this side of me does not appreciate it when I become unruly, I understand that he has to do what he needs to do to take care of me.
Doctor Damon has an in-depth understanding of my anatomy and physiology like no other doctor I have ever met. He knows what is best for me and has an almost supernatural ability to know when something is not good for me. I have no idea where he gets this ability, but he has it. He takes the time to explain things to me and sometimes even preaches to me, but I know it is all for my well-being.
Despite my tendency to go out of shape and rip all the tubes out of me, Doctor Damon remains calm and collected. He has seen it all before and knows how to handle me. I am grateful to have him as my doctor, and I trust him completely. But it does not make me any less demanding patient.
Then there's the shed session side. Also known as Damien. The smell of wet dog, the constant speech diarrhea, and the completely unemotional looking at me like a piece of meat can literally torture me almost to death slowly.
Damien is not Damon. My pretender side senses it, but I haven't yet got Damon to accept this. I have no idea who or what Damien actually is, but he is not part of Damon. He can manipulate him, make him hate himself, and get more power when Damon is not in love.
Our love is one thing that weakens Damon, but it is hard to remind him of that. Makes me sound clingy, bitch. You can't force love. This is a work in progress and sometimes it feels like it was my duty to try to save him from Damien, but then again, I feel so damn powerless at times.
I know there are prophecies, that state that a protector must be saved, and these are the ones that drive me to help and try to convince him. But I am no god. I have no power over him and it makes him sometimes very annoyed if I am trying to get him to see the truth.
Then there is the world's most wonderful lover: my best friend, my husband, my confidant, my security. The scent of passionfruit, a seductive, wonderful guy. And that guy's been gone for quite a while. He comes from time to time, but then again, something happens. He has to go, and he leaves his wallet and phone on the table. Maybe his ring, too. I don't actually remember when it was the last time when I fell asleep in his arms.
Then there's the annoying whiner. What are you doing, baby? Do you feel it, baby? Come on baby, I didn't mean it, baby. This side comes out after the party and is a pain in the arse to hang on to, curls up or almost hangs on to, keeps asking me what I am doing, he clues himself to me and asks do I feel his hard problem and when I do, but I am usually busy doing something and groan, then this one retreats offended somewhere and half an hour later the same.
But I suspect that is part of Damien or his act because he did this once. Started to sob and apologize after beating the hell out of and torturing me in medbay, metalizing me, and then when he left, a few minutes later, Damien talked to me in my mind. This side doesn't want to fuck. And Damien has himself confessed that he is not wanting to fuck. So I have in my hands somewhat of a complex creature.
In the midnight darkness of Delaware, I made my way toward a strip club where a prominent figure from a major pharmaceutical company liked to unwind. The neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow on the street. I was on the prowl, and it didn't matter where my prey liked to hang, so the strip club was no problem for me. The only thing that might be a little annoying was when owners usually came to offer me work. I was no stripper.
As I approached the entrance, two figures emerged from the shadows of the alley, blocking my path. Their presence sent a chill down my spine.
As one of them whispered to Dru, "Look, Dru, my love. Who are we meeting again?" his voice had a sinister edge.
From the shadowy alley, a tall, imposing figure emerged. The blonde hair and chiseled features could only belong to one: Spike. I let out a sigh as I noticed Drusilla at his side. The deranged vampire couple had caused me unspeakable torment in the past, but their actions had indirectly led to me having Damon in my life.
Despite the unease that still lingered, I stared them down with a mix of amusement and defiance. My vampiric senses were heightened and I could feel the power coursing through my veins.
"Now, you two, leave this place. I warn you, it won't end well for you. I may be in a good mood now, but that won't last long. If you value your lives, I suggest you flee." My words were laced with a warning - a warning that they would be foolish to ignore.
Drusilla's youthful face was etched with confusion, as her wide brown eyes cast a bewilderment at Spike. "Spike, my dear, why is she speaking in such a manner? Doesn't she know what we're capable of?"
Spike's face lit up with a grin as he adopted a more relaxed posture. Before I could even attempt to react, an imposing and overwhelming force seized me, leaving me completely immobile. Strong arms encircled my body, trapping me in a vice-like grip.
It was Angelus, a formidable vampire who had no soul, as depicted in the TV series. He could switch it on and off as he pleased, and as a vampire, life without a soul was much more pleasurable.
Spike, Angelus, and Dru were soulless vampires, a unique strain of vampires that was markedly different from Damon or the originals. Although they were immensely strong, they had vulnerabilities to sunlight, stakes, and holy water.
They could be seen in mirrors, but these soulless vampires were the ones that humans typically associated with the fictional creatures. I, on the other hand, was nothing like them, and I knew I never would be.
One rumor was that it had been one of the first elders, whoever they had been a long, long time ago, who had created this strain of vampires. I knew that Damon liked to kill these guys as they were really nasty and usually Vampire bitches were more or less these soulless kinds even if they fell for Damon but Soulless can't feel real love, only lust, passion, and need for blood, but no actual love.
Spike approached me, his voice dripping with amusement. "Mimi, meet Angelus. He's your captor now. So, you thought you could threaten us? Dru here doesn't take kindly to threats. It seems you're in need of a lesson, a long and painful one."
He looked at me without remorse. His green eyes were devoid of soul.
Despite what tv series made out of these guys, Spike had never had a soul nor did he want to have one, but as balance, it was hard for these guys to make new vampires. once again, it was not so easy that if you were killed by a vampire, you would rise as one. Those rumors were put to circle a long time ago, to ensure that vampires would starve to death.
Nick and Elias had taught me this when they had taken care of me. They had talked quite a lot about the different strains of vampires. Now vampire feeds blood, human dies when a few liters are taken and there is still blood left. And in blood, there is the life force, an energy that vampire feeds on.
But when a person dies, not that life force just goes away. No, it stays in the body until it rots, and that energy is turned into another form. In the old days, vampires were grave robbers. They sought out freshly died humans and drained their blood. To get that energy, and these rumors were put out to stop this.
When humans thought that victims of vampire bites could rise as one, they took precautions, like burning the body, severing its head, making lots of blood flow out, put garlic in there. A lot of these ways were to lessen or take away the life force that was left in that body, less life force for vampires to feed, fewer vampires.
It was the kind of balance that these soulless could not multiply too fast and it was only a few old enough creatures that could make new soulless ones, but when it was so rare process and quite hard too, only the worst, the most sadistic people got turned into these monsters.
Damon killed these, he had told me once, tried to teach me little about different strains of vampires and told me that these were the most soulless, they weren't strongest, no they were quite weak compared to Damon or originals but strong enough to be a formidable enemy for me, no matter how strong my wildcat was.
As per Damon, my wildcat, my vampire side leans more toward lustful, sex-hungry vampires than mere blood-hungry leeches, so sex will be part of my life, always and forever. I was a little surprised, but Damon knew what he was talking about and I was kind of a sex beast, too.
As the tension mounted, Drusilla drew closer. She had again a lace dress, this time blood red, her black hair was open and her voice was as irritating as ever. Her gaze fixated on me. "You're quite delectable, my dear, but first, you need to be pacified. Do you know what my blood does to vampires? It has a calming effect. Even a single drop can make them quite docile. One could say almost loopy. You are a vampire now too, hybrid, but I like to call you an abomination as vampires are supposed to be pure, not that kind of a mixed mutt like you, but you have your uses as our amusement and something else too. But I shall not yet tell you, life has to have surprises for you too."
She turned to Spike and whispered, "Darling, offer her a taste of my blood. It's much easier to control her this way. Breaking her neck would be too mundane. Let's make it more entertaining."
I knew I had been in worse situations before but somehow I was not in the mood to become their plaything right now. I had my missions and my kills, and I was somewhat irritated by these guys. But there was nothing I could do as Angelus was way too strong and his grip kept me fully immobile no matter how tried to twist myself. It was just not helping at all.
Spike's lips curled into a sinister smile as he pressed them against Drusilla's, their kiss filled with passion and intensity. In his pocket, he retrieved an empty syringe and needle, always prepared for such moments. Spike had blue jeans, a black leather jacket, white shirt. His eyes were dead, devoid of anything resembling a soul or humanity. Drusilla delighted in seeing how intoxicated each vampire became with her blood, so Spike often administered small transfusions.
Approaching me, he held the syringe, his intentions clear. "I've got these in stock, just for you. Drusilla enjoys watching her blood take effect, and if this doesn't work, Angelus is ready. As you may have noticed, he can break your neck to calm you down."
Spike moved toward Drusilla, gently inserting the needle into her heart, extracting a 20ml syringe brimming with her crimson essence. With Drusilla close behind, he approached me, her presence palpable.
"Spike, my love, take it slow. Let her feel the intoxication of my blood in her mind." Drusilla's delicate fingers brushed against my carotid artery.
Angelus adjusted his grip, tilting my head to expose the vulnerable artery. I felt the sharp prick as the needle pierced my skin, and the plunger gradually pressed. The effects of the blood enveloped me, confusion and dazed sensations consuming my being.
Resistance ceased, and my muscles grew weak. Thoughts struggled to form, but were swiftly extinguished. I became aware of movement, walking aimlessly, the destination unknown. The blood-induced sedation spread throughout, rendering me helpless.
Placed in a car, I found myself lying on my side. Drusilla's lap cradled my head, her tender touch stroking my hair and caressing my skin. Darkness steadily engulfed me until it consumed me entirely.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone