Chapitre 132: 12. Memories.
As Damon saw that message in Mimi's mind from Damien, a wave of unease washed over him. The words felt like a heavy weight pressing against his thoughts, haunting him. Damien's image, eerily resembling his own, sent shivers down his spine. The evilness in Damien's expression was unmistakable.
Urgency gripped Damon's heart as he turned to Mariella. "We must go, everyone, to Ireland," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "We need to find a way to remove these triggers, and Wulfe might be able to help. But it will take time. Mimi won't understand now, but I'm too dangerous for her. I just know it."
Mariella hushed him, her touch teleporting them to their bedroom in Ireland. She knew he needed release, so she seduced him, their bodies intertwining in a desperate attempt to unload the burden that weighed heavily on his mind.
Meanwhile, the news spread like wildfire, reaching Adam and Charles through the pack bond. Doubt crept into Adam's thoughts as he questioned whether Damien had left triggers within Damon or Charles. They all posed a threat to Mimi until this crisis was resolved. They had to prepare.
Charles sighed, knowing Mimi all too well. He anticipated her tendency to blame herself, to knot herself fully in guilt. Getting her to see that it wasn't her fault would be a relentless battle. The grip of Damien's haunting past still lingered, and these unexpected reminders were far from pleasant.
A week passed, and the fury slowly subsided. Wulfe, finally free from his previous mission, arrived to address the triggers. He wasn't thrilled about their existence either, but he understood their necessity. Finding them would require time and patience.
Mariella diligently prepared potions, anticipating their potential need. She also delved into her thoughts, trying to conjure up useful spells. The atmosphere was tense as they all awaited the resolution of this lingering threat.
After ten long days, Wulfe finally arrived to see them. He settled into a worn armchair in their lounge, exuding an air of boredom like a restless teenager. Unfortunately, it happened to be Damon's favorite chair, but Damon chose to sit in a different one, trying not to take this little stunt the wrong way. Wulfe, being a vampire, wanted to subtly remind everyone who was in charge now.
With a quiet voice, he surveyed the room and spoke, "Those triggers, yes, Adam and Charles, it's likely that you have some, too. The only ones free from them are the girls, Lepard, and Demon, as they have never lived with Damien. To unlock them, you'll need a potion, a spell, and time. The potion will induce symptoms, lasting a week, but it will 'color' those triggers, so you'll know which sentences will elicit a reaction in my unicorn. It's up to you whether to use them or lose them."
Mariella questioned, "What do you mean? Can't we remove the triggers?"
Wulfe glanced at her and replied, "No, it's up to you to learn them and be aware of them. Removing them won't do any good. He used Damon's telepathy to imprint them in her mind, and it's irreversible. So, while you have power over her, you also have responsibility."
Damon sighed, knowing that this newfound control would become another weapon against her. Given his cruel nature, he would undoubtedly wield it against her at some point. Lepard remained silent, contemplating the situation.
Finally, he spoke up, "Can we override them? Imprint them again, but turn the bad into good?"
Wulfe smirked, relishing his role as the teacher, encouraging his students to think and find solutions.
He responded, "What do you think? You need to elicit a strong enough reaction to override the old one. Since you're a sex pack, it could be physical, like finding a trigger that will instill powerful fear in her and turning that fear into a need to passionately kiss someone. It will be a form of programming, but you'll be protecting her, asserting your dominance."
Wulfe locked eyes with Damon, who nodded in agreement. It could be done, but it would require time and patience.
Damon cursed in his mind, frustrated by yet another obstacle in his plan to uncover the past and reconnect with Mimi. Reflecting on his past mistakes and realizing the immense challenges ahead, it sometimes felt like it was all too much to bear.
Mariella gently stroked him, her fingers gliding on his arm, providing a comforting touch. As she stood close to him, a sense of solace washed over her. Wulfe, on the other hand, regarded him with disdain, his gaze filled with contempt. It dawned on Damon once again that he was seeking comfort in Mariella's presence when his focus should have been on helping Mimi. They needed a potion and a spell, and then they would have to devise a plan for creating new imprints.
Damon tried to gather his thoughts, attempting to assess the strength of the imprint and find a way to lessen its impact on her. Maybe it wasn't always beneficial to program her to be passionately triggered every time, but rather to elicit less intense reactions. He caught himself once more, the mere thought of Mimi's passionate allure tempting him, potentially shifting his mood towards Mariella. This internal struggle twisted him into knots. Could he always take Mimi's seduction?
Wulfe glanced at his watch and addressed Mariella, "Come on, princess, let's go make some potions. Afterward, you'll have a rough week with symptoms. It's all part of the lesson. A little suffering might do the world some good. This castle is dreary, lacking a sense of home. Something's missing."
Mariella rose, refraining from commenting. She knew exactly what was missing: Mimi and her influence. Leading him into her potion lab, she felt a sense of pride in her work. However, Wulfe's expression seemed dismissive as he approached her spell table. Placing his hands on it, he closed his eyes and uttered incantations, causing new symbols to materialize, most of which Mariella had never seen before.
"You haven't seen it, have you? Well, maybe she'll show it to you someday. But it's already mine. She gave it to me," Wulfe explained with amusement.
Mariella responded, "What are you talking about? I have no idea."
Wulfe looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and said, "Bridgette's spell table. Did you know that Mimi had given her room in the past? There was a magnificent spell table there. But my unicorn gave it to me. I use it for serious matters. It was made by the original witch. You can feel the power emanating from it. And it's mine."
Mariella remained silent, realizing once again that she had withheld yet another secret from them. But then again, the past had been difficult, and they had never been able to fully regain what they once had. She had been a jealous, spiteful person, making things unpleasant for Mimi. In the end, she couldn't blame Mimi for distancing herself.
Wulfe's voice echoed through the room as he spoke, "The past, it has its grip on us all. It is just lessons upon lesson, and the question is: will you learn or not?"
Mariella looked at Wulfe, her senses tingling with a strange feeling. There was something off about him, or perhaps her intuition was telling her that there was more to his story. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She hesitated before asking, "You knew Bridgette, right? You are probably older than Bran and Samuel."
Wulfe's mysterious smile remained plastered on his face, his secrets hidden behind his enigmatic expression. He began to move around the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor. Mariella watched as he effortlessly collected jars and bottles, his movements quick and efficient.
The room filled with the smell of various substances and herbs as Wulfe mixed them together. Mariella could sense his magic growing, rising like a tidal wave, almost suffocating. She had to steady herself, maintaining control over her powers. Wulfe worked in silence, not bothering to explain his actions.
Mariella could feel the power emanating from the potion he was concocting. It was a power she had never experienced before, and even though she was strong in her own right, she couldn't help but feel small in comparison.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she finally asked, "What are you doing? What is the purpose of that potion?"
Wulfe's voice cut through the air, his words laced with a sense of determination, "To reveal what is hidden in evil intentions. You need to be specific when putting purpose in a potion, so it does what it's supposed to do, and nothing else. If I were to simply state that it would reveal what is hidden, you would be flooded with old memories and suppressed feelings. Hence evil intentions, Damien. And if someone else has done something similar, well, prepare yourself. The Salvatores might be mighty confused for a while."
Mariella continued to watch Wulfe, her gaze fixed upon him. It had been quite some time since he had last taught anyone about witchcraft or potion-making. He had been a teacher once, one who challenged his students to think. But times change, people change, and he had changed. Being a vampire brought its own set of dark times and loneliness.
He thought about his unicorn, the one he worshipped in his own way. He wanted to make sure she received something good, but this pack he had encountered fell short of his expectations. He had given them chance after chance, trying to make them see the wonder and beauty of his beloved creature. But it felt like trying to teach a dog to talk, an impossible task.
This potion he was brewing was complex, far beyond what Mariella could attempt to make. He didn't bother explaining his process, knowing that she would bombard him with a torrent of questions if he did.
After only four intense hours, the potion was finally complete. Wulfe carefully filled twelve small glass bottles with the potent elixir, each one emanating a faint chill as Mariella clenched them in her hand.
"They will experience symptoms like fever and body aches for a whole week," Wulfe explained. "It will also render them delirious as their inner demons emerge. You'll have your hands full, as drugs won't help them sleep through it."
Mariella nodded, placing the cool bottles in an energy cradle to carry them all.
Without hesitation, Wulfe teleported away, unwilling to sit idly by. His unicorn needed him; he could sense her neurotic state. But he would assist her, offering solace and support until those fools got their act together. She meant more to him than he had ever anticipated.
As a vampire, he craved dominance and power, yet with her, that need dissipated. He desired to understand her, and she reciprocated, forming a bond unlike any other. No one would ever take her away from him; that much he knew. Though there may come a time, far in the future, when he would depart from her side. He had glimpsed his death, a moment where his spark would fade, but she would be there, steadfast until the end. However, the future was fickle, and prone to change, so Wulfe refrained from dwelling on it. Knowing too much about what was to come was not beneficial.
Wulfe ascended to the roof and settled beside his unicorn, reassuring her, "My unicorn, don't let your mind become entangled. I am here now. Let's talk. Talk to me. You know it helps."
Meanwhile, Mariella distributed the small bottles to Salvatores, who had secured beds for themselves.
With a determined smile, she addressed them, "It's going to be a rough week. You'll experience sickness, delirium, and sleeplessness. But the five of us will do our best to care for you. Cheers."
Damon smirked skeptically, downing his small bottle in one gulp. Immediately, he grimaced and exclaimed, "Tastes like straight alcohol! Is he trying to get us drunk?"
Soon enough, Damon collapsed onto the bed, moaning and cursing. The same fate befell Salvatores, Adam, and Charles as they consumed their own bottles. The castle was soon filled with the cacophony of groaning men, their mutterings incomprehensible.
To Mariella's surprise, her empathic radar remained silent amidst the chaos. It was peculiar, but she and the wolves, along with the boys, tirelessly assisted anyone in need. Whether it was helping them to the bathroom or attending to their needs, they were all cannulated and attempted to be fed. However, in their confused state, the cannulas were soon torn out, leaving Mariella feeling frustrated.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone