Chapitre 176: 16. Livin' La Vida Loca.
"Mimi, please stay still. I know it's not a comfortable position, but we need to drain as much blood from you," Number Eight's voice was tense as I tried to adjust myself.
I was more or less hanging upside down, my blood being drained while new Salvatore blood was being infused. The barbiturates and other substances in my system were causing me to sweat and feel achy. I attempted to find a better position, pulling my hands against me instead of letting them hang. Unfortunately, I had to let them hang too. This process drained most of the blood I had consumed, leaving me feeling cranky and uneasy.
I was completely naked, hooked up to monitors, with a C-arc and CT machine constantly scanning me. They were directing the large bubbles of air that had been dislodged into smaller ones, specifically into my arms so they could be removed. After this, I would still need to be on an IV because some barbiturates had been absorbed and could have an effect on me. The Salvatores had created a binder to counteract this, but I wasn't at that stage yet. First, the air and as much of the barbiturates as possible needed to be eliminated, prolonging my fucking suffering. I was cussing under my breath as I was hanging like a goddamn bat.
One small comfort was that I wasn't alone. Wulfe had gotten a black magic-imbued bullet in his hip in his mission and had undergone surgery. He was currently hobbling on crutches, as his healing had been slowed down. There was still uncertainty about whether Mariella was his protector or not, so they hadn't used her blood to accelerate his healing. It would take a week or even two for him to regain full mobility, followed by intensive physiotherapy.
He wasn't at the base but had gone to one of the pack's houses to recover and rest. He had not been in a good mood, to begin with. They had given him powerful painkillers, and considering the severity of his injury, it would be a true miracle for him to fully recover. But we were doing here literally miracles almost daily.
Of course, this situation had made him angry and irritable, so it was better for him to rest and recuperate. I had some concern for him when I had the time to think about it. I knew he would be fine, but it took just some time. However, my state was far from glorious, leaving me little time to worry about others. I was trying to hold on to my irritation of my state and try to be patient, let this ridiculous treatment work.
I had to simultaneously try to make contact with my division in the NSA and explain things to them so they could begin investigating and getting involved. Of course, Magnum and several salvatores were also talking to my handlers, eager to become agents themselves. It was all happening, without them even asking if I agreed or not. But it was not that fast and several Salvatores were trying to make me recommend them to be fast-tracked to agents.
I had a large cannula in my forearms, causing my blood to drain out. Sometimes, it would become frothy as the air escaped. I had a brutal headache and felt incredibly dizzy because the salvatores were constricting the veins and arteries in my neck and, same time making veins and arteries in my arms dilate, forcing air to go there instead of my brain. This caused that in my brain would go only tiny bubbles, minimizing the harm. Despite the pain, I had to let my arms hang loose.
I was suspended from the ceiling so that the blood could collect below me. They had used a few spells and energy to put me in this position. They explained that this was better than trying to direct air in my legs, as my blood pressure would force it into my brain. My blood was being drained out of so much of the particles of drugs and the whole drug would be gotten out. It would then be purified and used for other purposes, not given back to me.
Sarcastically, I thought the salvatores would probably drink most of it. Time didn't matter; I was hanging upside down like a bat, being drained of my blood. True vampire. Fine, I had learned to turn myself into mist, and now it was time to embrace my inner bat. I was not in so a good mood either...
At the same time, I had large cannulas in the arteries of my feet, pushing salvatore blood into me. They made it difficult for me to resist what they were planning to do to me. They controlled the size of my veins, allowing the blood to seep through at a controlled pace. I was losing blood faster than they were giving it to into my system. This meant that I was often lacking blood, but they were trying to remove barbiturates from my system. I just had to endure it.
It took a little over a day, during which I hung on that stupid rack for 26 hours. Finally, all the air was mostly eliminated, and it was time for a nice IV to bind the remaining barbiturates. This meant it was time for me to start my heart and breathe.
Number ten instructed me, "Lay down. Take it easy. We don't know how much of the substance is still in your tissues, ready to affect you as your circulation begins."
Being stubborn, I stood and said, "I'm fine. I can stand and walk a bit first. It'll loosen up my muscles a bit. I'm sore as hell, but at least I'm probably taller now, thanks to my stretched spine."
He chuckled.
I focused and took a deep breath. As my heart started pounding, I noticed that Number Ten was still near me. I could feel my blood starting to circulate, and the achiness became more pronounced, making me groan.
Suddenly, a tremendous wave of dizziness hit me, and I could feel Number Ten grabbing me, saying, "Whoa, whoa, I told you..."
Darkness took over, and I woke up in medbay feeling awful. My head was pounding, and I felt nauseous, shivery, groggy, and restless. So freaking awful as possible. I groaned as I fought to open my eyes, but the light was too intense. I quickly shut my eyes again, realizing that I had never felt like this before. I pulled the covers over my head, feeling chilly and tired, and tried to fall back asleep.
I nodded off and woke up to Colin's gentle voice, trying to wake me. "Mimi, dear, open your eyes. Come on, you must feel awful, right? Let's take some blood; it helps."
I wasn't sure if blood could be the answer to this. My hands were shaking, and the light still bothered my eyes.
Colin gave me a straw and said, "Sip carefully. Salvatore said that this might do the trick. You've been under for three days, and your blood is full of pieces of barbiturates and whatnot as you attacked their binder and destroyed it. So let's try this."
I didn't say anything as I took the straw and sucked. The slippery glass or silicone surface touched my lips, oh I missed old-fashioned plastic straws, this feeling in my lips was not nice and the taste wasn't great, but as I sucked, I got some blood, and it felt like pure heaven. Now the straw did not bother me at all. I continued at a steady pace, but too soon, the bag was empty.
Colin told me, "It's understandable that you need some blood, but let's not overdo it. That demon king was powerful, so it should be enough for now. Try to rest for a moment, gather yourself, and then we'll see if you're ready to function."
I lay back under my covers, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. I could feel my state being much better. I had once again poisoned myself more or less by chopping off those binders and letting the drug do its damage. Fucking stupid organ system.
I muttered colorful phrases under my breath when Magnum's slightly amused voice interrupted, saying, "I see you're awake and not too happy. Well, hummingbird, how are you feeling? I was going to ask you some questions about that guy, and now there are federal police investigating those bodies, so it seems they're involved, at least with the NSA, since some of the victims were Americans. And you being American, well, they have their reasons."
I replied, telling Magnum what that damn guy looked like. "He had a sparse beard, a weak chin, a lisp, and a really small, non-functioning dick. He seemed to have a strange desire to humiliate women, so he wasn't the most professional. Others had to remind him of the correct procedures, which suggests he may not be the top dog. But he answers to someone. He had ex-whores with him, and I could see surgical scars on their foreheads, so he must have performed some kind of procedure on them. He didn't tell me his name, but maybe you can get an idea."
Magnum tapped his tablet and said, "So we're looking for a guy with a lisp, possibly with an injury to his dick, maybe a surgeon or something if he operated on those whores. And if there are higher-ups, I would go to the board, a blonde guy. Was he human or not?"
I thought for a moment and replied, "Yeah, he was human, but he might be using something to enhance himself."
I focused, trying to reach Damon, but I couldn't connect with him. This meant he was most likely out of reach.
I said to Magnum, "They had animal drugs. I have no idea how difficult it is to obtain those here, but I smelled several types of the darts they shot Adam and Charles with. There was at least tiletamine, euthanasol, romifidine, detomidine."
Magnum grunted and said, "Alright, I'll have Alaric find out how easy or hard it is to find those drugs here. Maybe we can catch him that way. Are those drugs illegal here? We need enough evidence to make this a big case, so we can't rush in without a plan, hummingbird. This will require patience, and you might feel something coming from Damon or others, but you have to hang in there."
I nodded, feeling a bit better thanks to the blood meal, and I sat up. We would set them free and take down that damn guy, making sure the public knew about it.
I told Magnum, "I will make Damon and Mariella the stars of the show so that I can stay in the shadows. It helps with my work, as I don't want to be on the cover of every magazine. Now, what about you? Are you ready to be featured in every magazine? I can make it happen. We need someone to represent our organization, and you, my friend, are a much better cover man than me."
Magnum looked at me for a moment and replied, "Sure, I can be our representative. But why not you, American sweetheart? You have a history, and it would be epic for America's sweetheart to save the day this time."
I explained to him, "It's easier for me to stay in the shadows and not be interviewed on every TV show. Damon would definitely put me on the spot, being next to me and making us the perfect couple. No, it's better to give the press the real perfect couple. Besides, the entire world doesn't need to see my face and learn who I am. If I were recognized everywhere, I wouldn't be so lucky to just be killed off next time I find myself in a similar situation."
Magnum nodded, understanding my logic.
I then told him, "After this, I will go into sniper mode so you can handle the press and the aftermath. I'll try to make everything happen as smoothly as possible, but we have a long list of sniping to do. It's time for me to pitch in. Besides, the press will be bombarding us with interviews, and it's better if I'm not there to interfere and make them ask the wrong questions. I'm trying to sell Damon and Mariella's love story of the millennia."
Magnum grunted and suddenly showed me a picture on his tablet. "Is this your guy?" he asked.
I looked at the picture and nodded. He looked a bit younger, but it was definitely him.
Magnum said, "Jorgen Sorensen, the surgeon, was a prodigy at one point, but something happened and he disappeared from the radar. He lost his license to practice. Let me see what I can find out," he muttered as he tapped away on his tablet, delving into the background of this guy.
The name sounded familiar, and after a moment of thought, I said to Magnum, "Well, he was on our sniping list, so he deserves it. Let's see if he ends up in prison as a warning to others."
Magnum grunted noncommittally as he continued reading.
After a while, he began to read aloud, "He was a genius, with an IQ near Einstein's and unrivaled dexterity. However, due to a car accident when he was 12, he lost his penis. He was one of the first patients to undergo a penile transplant using a new technique, but it didn't work perfectly. He developed psychological trauma in his teens, harboring hatred towards females. He was institutionalized several times after attacking girls in school, even causing the death of one. His parents paid off the girl's family, but they died a year later in a car accident just as they were about to expose him. Oh, here's the kicker: the original surgeon who performed the transplant was Julian Sark. So, he either botched the operation or tried some fancy method that didn't really work. His penis has no sense of touch. It's like the skin on your back instead of fingertips. He also suffers from erection problems, and his hormones were affected because Sark's operation damaged his testicles, making him sterile."
I shook my head and said, "He's a crazy motherfucker. Well, not a fucker, since that part doesn't work, but crazy nonetheless. At least we have a target now."
Magnum replied, "We have to handle this carefully. We can't let his defense paint him as insane and therefore not responsible for his actions. We need to prove that he's sane, not insane."
I nodded, realizing it wouldn't be easy given his background, but I had a few ideas. I would have to involve Jarod and Miss Parker and they would need to speak with the NSA and Brazilian federal police about Dr. Sorensen's sanity. There would be no easy escape for him.
Magnum glanced at me and inquired, "Are you feeling completely alright? No pains or unusual cravings or anything? We need you to be on top of your game, hummingbird. It's not the time to pretend to be fine when you're not."
I nodded and replied, "I'm alright, or at least I will be soon. You know how my body reacts to those choppers Salvatores created for that drug. It's wreaking havoc on me."
Magnum acknowledged my response and said, "I'll make some calls about this guy. We need to get things moving. Try to recover as quickly as possible."
He stood up and walked away. I maintained a neutral expression, but all I could think about was how desperately I needed a strong dose of demon king blood. I had a stash in my office, so once Salvatores allowed me to move, that was the first thing I would do. Nothing else mattered, not saving my pack or preparing to hold this guy accountable. Only that bag of blood consumed my thoughts.
According to Magnum, it had been a week since we left the mission, meaning they had been there for a week already, but it didn't bother me. Blood was all I needed, and there was no alarm in my mind, no realization that I was an addict desperate for my next fix.
No, everything was fine, and the need for blood dominated my mind. I cleverly concealed that part of my thoughts from prying telepaths. If Wulfe had been around, he might have noticed, but since he wasn't, it was relatively easy to mask my craving for those bags of blood. I pretended to be perfectly fine and ready for this rescue mission.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone