Capítulo 139: 19. Never Gonna Give You Up.
Mariella cursed after two weeks. She told the others, and Damon cursed harder. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. Mimi wasn't supposed to be thrown out. And again, it's been two weeks of gigs. Now it wouldn't be so easy to get Damon in a good mood again, because he had a bad conscience and then he just wanted to vent. She knew that she had done wrong when taking Mimi's marks off those two and they were angry about that too.
But Mariella came up with a solution. Her magic was ready and she would get Jewel Sark a body. If it would help Damon at all. But then Damon would have to take Mimi and smell her and mark her. If she's still fucked up, it's not that easy. As long as he can get the lady to stop working first. Now it would just be that much harder to get Mimi to give up the fleas.
Mariella had not even fucked much with Adam and Charles, but they had moved elsewhere with wolves as she and Damons had scented this entire room to be theirs. Mimi's little snide remark about the whole pack smelling like peaches had also hit and sunk as Mariella very well knew that in the pack, you are supposed to smell like an alpha pair, male and female, not alpha male and his beloved, and get rid of the scent of the alpha female. She did not know how to correct this situation fully and how long it would take for Damon to patch up things with Mimi. It could be quite a while.
Damon admitted, his voice laced with regret, "She was right. I was seething with anger, captivated by her irresistible, tantalizing scent. My vampire instincts yearned to claim her, but it would have been a dangerous path for her. Once again, my jealousy has tainted everything. I'm a terrible husband, both as a vampire and as a person. I'm uncertain if I should even marry her."
Mariella gently caressed his arm, attempting to find solace in her touch. She struggled to find the right words, to understand Damon's dilemma. With his vampire nature unleashed, being married to Mimi would have been a treacherous journey, devoid of any real pleasure. However, Mariella couldn't help but wonder how Mimi had managed to sense her intentions of utilizing Adam, Charles, and the wolves as an energy source for her energy grid. Did she possess some form of telepathic ability?
In another dimly lit warehouse, the faint glow barely illuminated my surroundings. The crackling of my radio interrupted the eerie silence. Pausing for a moment, I waited, wondering if danger lurked nearby. The radio remained silent, so I cautiously moved forward, shrouded in shadows. Retrieving yet another bomb from my pocket, I suppressed the shivers that ran down my spine as I crouched near the shuttle, carefully placing the explosive underneath. The scent of my own blood filled the air, an unsettling reminder of the pain I endured. The weight of the explosive charge in my hand felt burdensome, but I managed to secure it and moved on to the next target.
Suddenly, Magnum's voice pierced through my earpiece, urgency evident. "Flealeader, this is Gunsmith. Move out, Lurch is coming. Move out."
I cursed under my breath, swiftly placing another bomb before making my escape from Damien's warehouse. Once I was a safe distance away, I transformed into a sandcat and sprinted into the forest. After ensuring I was far enough, I returned to my human form and pressed the button on my detonator. Flames erupted, and a thick black cloud billowed from the warehouse.
Uncertain if I had eliminated all the threats and if Lurch was present, I spoke into my mic. "This is Flealeader. The target is taken out, but not sure if it's 100%. Did Lurch show up?"
I jogged back to my car, placing my bag in the trunk before getting inside. It was time to move on to the next mission. After about ten minutes of driving, my phone rang, but I didn't bother to check who was calling.
"Yeah, what's up?" I answered.
A chilling voice sent shivers down my spine. "Baby, baby, was it you who just killed me? Did you smell it? You were in those machines. I had moved them for cleaning and repairs, and you destroyed them. Oh, too bad, as I had so many memories... your screams..."
I ended the call, pressing the button on the console. There was no need to listen to this torment. These past two weeks had been rough, and though this mission had some measure of success, it was far from pleasant being a leader once again, or a killer, for that matter. I had adopted an attitude of focusing solely on my job, not here to win any popularity contests. It helped, at least a little.
The gigs had been utterly fucked for the past two weeks. Always had to kill victims who couldn't be saved, and worst of all, I could see traces of Damien's sadistic treatment in so many of them. And then he would call after each gig, sometimes threatening, sometimes just toying with me. I had killed multiple versions of him and obliterated his warehouses and anything else I could find, but it was an endless war with that motherfucker, more or less.
I don't understand how he always got my number, no matter what phone I had. But he kept calling. Every fucking job had gotten as tight as it could be. We were always saved at the last minute and luckily we didn't have to go to Lake Lanier. I just had to submit all the victims' photos and DNA samples I had taken to the authorities.
But then there were injuries, in my people, severe ones even, and few cases I was not sure if those humans could be back to work, or if would they want even to. I took care of their medical expenses and got their treatment in our hospital, but humans are fragile. And with some injuries, you can live with them, but it is a whole other matter can you be a field operative anymore? And then even if you can, it was sometimes big enough to scare for them. They understood leaving while they could, not coming to a name in plaque in Lake Lanier.
It had been a long time since I had established this organization, and despite us being scattered all over the world, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. My surroundings seemed desolate, and I couldn't help but wonder if my pack had noticed my emotional detachment, perhaps even wanting me gone, viewing me as robotic, a sociopath, or even a psychopath. I felt like an outsider, not truly belonging or feeling the same as them.
At times, they seemed so innocent, even Damon, with his gruff exterior and bad-boy persona. But deep down, I knew I was the tougher one between the two of us. It was a role I had to assume. Taking lives, especially those of innocent people, was never easy. I had mastered the art of doing it painlessly and efficiently, but it always took a toll on my fighting spirit.
Occasionally, the rage within me provided temporary relief, allowing me to release a tiny burst of pent-up aggression and clear my mind. However, it also consumed a part of me. It felt as if my humanity, my compassion, was slowly withering away, leaving behind only clinical detachment. I couldn't help but fear that one day I would feel nothing for these victims, other than a cold detachment, believing it was best to release them from their suffering.
Deep down, I knew I had a side that enjoyed taking lives, relishing in the power and control it brought. I feared that this side was slowly gaining control, overshadowing the person I once was. I questioned my ability to recognize the day when it would become gratifying to decide the fate of these individuals, to revel in their misery. I had no idea how strong this side of me had already become, as I desperately tried to suppress it. But in certain situations, there was no choice. I had to tap into that darkness.
The weight of my responsibilities, the burdens I carried, felt suffocating, pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. I wondered how in the world I would find the strength and energy to continue on this path. My faith in humanity had been shattered, and yet, I still saved whoever I could. It was never enough. The losses far outnumbered the victories.
I felt worn out, weary, and utterly exhausted by my existence. The weight of leadership, and the expectations of being strong and serving as a role model, were crushing me. But I kept it all to myself, concealing my inner turmoil. Ironically, if Jake or Rob were still alive, they would see through the façade. But to everyone else, I appeared fine. Magnum had changed, transformed into someone softer, embracing life and love. It was a bittersweet reality.
It was not easy as I had to use my rage and there were so many new people here, who had never witnessed my rage, so they were afraid of me. Even Magnum had no guts to come and tell to me to cool it. There was no one brave enough and seeing my people being afraid of me, took so much wind out of sails, telling me so clearly that I was not human. I did not belong there.
Sometimes, I felt like a monstrous creature lurking in the shadows. But then again, when I no longer felt that way, did I become a monster myself? Damien's incessant calls echoed in my ears, stoking the flames of my rage. The anger simmered within me, making me short-tempered and wreaking havoc within my organization.
I desperately tried to focus on the next mission, ensuring the safety of my team and preventing any injuries. If someone did get hurt or faced danger, I would willingly step in, ready to take the hit. The pain was inconsequential, overshadowed by my seething fury. It was almost as if I had become numb to it.
After each mission, I would retreat to the privacy of my office, where I meticulously extracted the bullets lodged within me. The medical team was already burdened, attending to the wounds and injuries of our human counterparts. I didn't want to burden them further, so I took it upon myself to remove the remnants of battle from my body.
With the aid of a full-body x-ray, I could pinpoint the exact locations where the bullets had pierced my flesh. It was a solitary task, but one I had grown accustomed to as the lone wolf of the team. I didn't hire anyone for this mission; everyone volunteered willingly. Thus, it wasn't for me to decide who stayed or left. I always emphasized the voluntary nature of our work, urging those who felt the burden was too heavy to step away and reclaim their lives. Lives were at stake, and there was no room for indecision or monotony in this line of work. You were either in or out; there was no middle ground.
I sat behind my mahogany desk, engrossed in my work, when a gentle knock interrupted my concentration. God knows I had paperwork to do to be dealt with, too. My office was not too big, and it was utterly cluttered with bags of drugs, a few guns, and my tactical gear, some of which needed to go the check, there were papers in the printer, and kill lists, and my email was full as shit. I was trying to see who I could send to scout again a few places in Michigan.
"Come in," I muttered, my voice barely audible.
As the door creaked open, a wave of sweet clover fragrance wafted into the room, instantly capturing my attention. I looked up and was taken aback to see Colin standing in the doorway, a warm smile gracing his face. He looked through my office and me too, quite damn sharply.
"You look like shit, young lady," he chuckled, his words laced with affection. "I've come to help you, and as you've evolved, it will take me some time to understand what you are, but fret not, I'll make the time."
I rose from my seat, my body transforming into the majestic form of a jaguar. Playfully, I brushed my thick black hairs onto Colin's light grey pants, causing him to burst into laughter.
He gently stroked my fur, his eyes filled with awe. "I told you so," he murmured. "You were part feline all along, and this is so you. Oh, I can't wait to study you."
Returning to my human form, I embraced him tightly, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Get in line. You're not the only one. I need to you too keep a low profile and stay safe, as this damn pest is constantly on my tail. He is willing, more than willing, to kill or maim until there is nothing to be done to my friends, fleas are targets. So you are too."
Colin settled into the chair across from my desk as I resumed my seat, scanning through papers.
Concern etched on his face, he observed, "You're stressed, exhausted, and a wreck. Why aren't you in your pack? Are you jealous or something? And oh my god, when I get to test your abilities as a siphon and energy exploiter, given that you're unique..."
I interjected, shaking my head. "Nope, I'm not the jealous one. Mariella was, and I had just finally brought Charles and Adam into my bed after three long years. It's a complicated story. Mariella grew jealous, stirred up Damon, and when he barged in, his vampire instincts almost took over, seeing me as a blood bag. He and Mariella took Adam and Charles, marking them. So, no, my marks are not on them. I'm not supposed to have anyone, and Mariella wants a white wedding. I'm just not in the mood to be flanked and stabbed every damn day."
Colin barely had time to respond as his beeper began to blare, causing him to curse in Irish.
He rose hastily, stating, "I'll be around, and we'll talk some more soon. Hang in there, little one."
With those words, he strode off, leaving me to sigh in relief. Having him here was a godsend, but I couldn't help but worry about Damien. I didn't want Colin to become one of his victims.
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