บท 128: 8. Try.
Damon and Mariella walked to the sterile medbay, the crisp white walls reflecting the fluorescent lights above. Number Two, a tall and imposing figure, stood waiting. Mariella's eyes darted nervously towards him, remembering his rough grip.
Number Two handed a sleek tablet to Number One, his voice filled with concern. "The infection still persists. Despite our efforts, this nasty bug is proving difficult to eradicate."
Mariella, determined to help, spoke up. "Give me a tube of her blood. I'll consult my radar."
Number Two carefully retrieved a tube, his touch surprisingly gentle, and made his way to the incubator. He delicately extracted a sample from one of the cannulas. Meanwhile, Number One delved into Mimi's thoughts, finding her deep in a state of unconsciousness. It would take time for her to regain any sensations, but the illness still plagued her.
Patiently, Number Two stood by as Mariella analyzed the blood's scent. Her brows furrowed and her nose wrinkled slightly, lost in thought.
Finally, she asked, "What have you tried so far?"
Number one transmitted the formulas to her via telepathy. Curiosity piqued, he also took a whiff of the blood sample. He sensed the lingering darkness within, hoping that the pheromone element would offer some relief.
Mariella pondered their options, cautioning, "Let's give this a try, but keep her sedated. This treatment could be harsh on her body and may cause weight loss."
Number One grunted in agreement. He approached the machine, programming the formula that would take 45 minutes to prepare. Meanwhile, Number Two guided Mariella out of the medbay. Left alone, Number One sat beside the incubator, his hand reaching out to hold Mimi's. Their vampire marriage marks pressed together, a tangible connection.
He concentrated, tapping into his vampire senses to assess Mimi's immense power. Slowly, he absorbed it, his magic symbol capable of containing such strength. Time seemed to blur as moments passed. A salvatore, number eight, entered, administering an antibiotic drip and preparing for more. The allure of the darkness within Mimi overwhelmed Number One, tempting him with visions of bloodshed, of a path drenched in crimson. Resisting its pull, Damon knew he needed Wulfe's help. Despite his own strength, a hidden darkness lurked within him. Mimi's dark allure seemed to be coaxing it out, offering a partnership to wreak havoc upon the city.
Damon gathered his fellow Salvatores and shared the urgency of Wulfe, taking control of the darkness. They all understood that without Wulfe's intervention, they would be stranded for years. The thought of killing them all was tantalizing, but Damon pushed it aside. He desperately wanted to uncover what had transpired, but she was deliberately concealing her memories.
As her contagion had subsided, Damon decided to create a more spacious bed for both of them. Despite the discomfort caused by the antibiotics administered through her IV, he nestled beside her, cradling her in his arms, allowing her to inhale his pheromones. He hoped that in doing so, she would reveal how he could tailor his scent to better suit her. A faint recollection of Adam's words echoed in Damon's mind, urging him to take responsibility and mend what he had broken. Driven by his profound love for her, he labored diligently to repair the shattered pieces, focusing solely on expressing his love. He had no intention of harming her, knowing that the antibiotics would require time to take effect.
He embraced his role as caretaker of his baby, understanding that it wasn't yet time for nesting. He cherished this moment, being by her side. Despite his attempts to regulate the temperature in the incubator, it proved futile, as she was prone to fevers. Damon longed to keep her safe in his arms, savoring her delicate scent and listening to the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat.
After five days, her fever finally broke, though it had left her weak and drained. She remained deeply sedated, oblivious to her surroundings, requiring time to recover. Holding her securely, Damon noticed a subtle change in her pheromones, causing a slight itch in his neck. It dawned on him that his own scent was adapting to match hers. This realization filled him with joy, as he now knew how to provide her comfort and relaxation.
Perhaps his plan to help her open up would succeed. He stayed by her side for five more days, even during her feeding. Wulfe called, announcing his arrival to assist with their work. Despite her physical weakness, Damon knew they could still make progress. With her under anesthesia, they would engage in mental labor, requiring time and effort. Damon had told Wulfe about the shift in pheromones, but he was not sure if they would help yet. He needed to dig in, so to speak.
Wulfe walked into one of the bedrooms where Mimi had been carried. The room was dimly lit, with a faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. He stopped at the door, his gaze fixated on his unicorn. She appeared delicate, her frail form contrasting with the strength he sensed within her. The darkness that surrounded her was not easily pushed back. He knew that all too well.
Salvatore had gone to Mariella, but Wulfe hoped that his pheromones would remain attuned to Mimi. As he stood there, contemplating, thoughts of turning himself into a hybrid crossed his mind. However, he hesitated. He was old and powerful, accustomed to his own existence, uncertain of what a more feral aspect would bring. Perhaps nothing but chaos.
Once, Wulfe had been a teacher, helping others to see the world from different perspectives and challenging their beliefs. He had been human, but that was no longer the case. He had manipulated his appearance, making himself appear older than he truly was, all in an effort to maintain his humanity. But slowly, darkness had consumed him, erasing his connection to his human self. He had allowed his human facade to fade away, allowing others to create stories about his supposed demise, his purpose, and his appearance.
Sometimes, he found amusement in reading history books, discovering the tales spun about him. His message had been imprinted in history, a source of pride for him. Now he sat next to his unicorn, feeling a strong sense of ownership over her. Unlike Salvatore, who saw her as a possession, Wulfe saw her as a goddess. She was his unicorn, and he had made a vow to protect and guide her, no matter the circumstances. Their bond went beyond that of mere lovers; it was deeper, rooted in their shared uniqueness, their darkness, and their sense of loneliness and not belonging.
Taking her hand in his, Wulfe focused his mind and delved into her thoughts. The experience was as awe-inspiring as always. However, he couldn't ignore the darkness that lurked within her mind. It swirled lazily, tempting him, but he resisted its alluring call. The darkness seemed bored, yearning for action and pleasure.
Meanwhile, Wulfe began to explore the depths of the unicorn's mind, uncovering a tapestry of memories, both good and bad. He saw her thoughts in a way Salvatore never could. It was almost amusing to compare their telepathic abilities. Salvatore, in Wulfe's eyes, was like a toddler learning to walk, while Wulfe himself possessed a mastery far beyond his counterpart's.
He found himself standing in a vast white cathedral, where darkness seemed to be anchored, desperately needing to be put back. It wasn't as simple as he had hoped, for it had seeped out from a tiny hole, like the eye of a needle, reluctant to return. He concentrated, conjuring a mental butterfly net, or something of the sort, as he began to guide the darkness. His intention was to coax it into a more manageable state, to give it a tangible form. At the moment, it clung to Mimi's mind like a mist, stubbornly resisting his efforts. He painstakingly cleared one area at a time, pushing the darkness away and erecting temporary barriers to prevent its escape.
Exhaustion started to take its toll. He had been at this for three days, yet progress was minimal. Mimi fought back, attempting to awaken from the slumber he had imposed upon her. Maintaining the sleeping spell while battling the relentless darkness was draining. He made his way to the kitchen, his stomach growling with hunger. As he entered, he scanned the room, hoping to find even a slice of bread to satisfy his appetite.
Mariella and Damon, having already completed some necessary tasks, were in the mood for a respite from their usual activities. Spotting Wulfe, they noticed his exhaustion, his unsteady steps.
Concerned, Mariella approached him, her voice filled with worry. "Are you alright? You look like shit. Is it finished?"
Wulfe met her gaze and shook his head. "No, princess, it's not done. This process takes time. She resists me. The darkness is unbearably strong. I must simultaneously maintain the sleeping spell. It's like trying to capture a sandstorm in an old butterfly net and then forcing thick, viscous motor oil through the tiniest of needles, all while the oil fights back."
Damon interjected, "Sounds like an impossible mission."
Wulfe let out a snort. "Indeed. Anyway, I was just hoping to find something to eat. It doesn't have to be fancy, a sandwich will do, if that's alright with you."
Damon remained silent but moved behind Wulfe, sinking his fangs into his neck to draw some blood. Wulfe gasped, his breath catching. He was surprised.
Damon said, after tasting pure power in Wulfe's veins, "Wow. Sit down. I'll prepare a proper meal for you. And then, once you're recharged, we'll all lend our telepathic abilities to assist you. It's easier when you have the help of eleven telepaths. Just tell us what you need us to do, or show us, and we'll do it."
Wulfe let out a weary sigh. "It's not that simple. The darkness will try to seduce you. You'll need to resist its tempting call. It's quite inventive, just like this young lady here. She's a highly efficient torturer."
Mariella glanced at Wulfe and nodded. "Yep, I've witnessed her skills firsthand."
Wulfe's voice echoed through the room as he spoke. "She had a peculiar hobby, just like the rest of us during those seven years. We hunted down wicked Sarks and mercilessly tortured them until their demise. Magnum and Murdock sought information, but Mimi, Dexter, and Colin reveled in the act of inflicting pain, caring little for answers. Darkness fed off their sadistic desires, whispering sinister ideas of drenching the city in the blood of evildoers. It tempted Damon as well."
Mariella's throat tightened, and her complexion drained of color. She remained silent, unable to find the words to respond. Damon, understanding her distress, placed a large tray of succulent meat before Wulfe. He ensured Mariella also had a portion, taking care of his own sustenance. The room was filled with a peaceful atmosphere as they savored their meal.
Damon had already informed the Salvatores and Lepard about the situation. They were essential for this seemingly impossible mission. Soon, the kitchen buzzed with their presence, joining together for a meal before commencing their work, united in their determination to assist Wulfe.
Wulfe said, his voice low and commanding, "Now, you will see her mind a whole different way as my telepathy takes you in. You do what I say, but you can freely explore her mind. But would it be possible to make her sleep, so I would not have to spend my powers up keeping a sleeping spell?"
Mariella nodded, her hair swaying gently with the motion, and Damon grunted in agreement. It was not too hard to knock her out deeper. The room filled with the heavy scent of sedatives. Meaning Wulfe's little question had made them all make some sort of velvet. Their teeth were more than ready to knock the baby out. To delve into her mind in a whole new way. They were all eager, but also apprehensive. This was something new, a venture into uncharted territory. Yet, they knew they would see Mimi from a new perspective.
Damon sat at the table, his fork clinking against the plate as he ate. He was lost in thought, contemplating a suitable cocktail of drugs: long-lasting, powerful, and effective. The room was filled with the aroma of his meal, a mix of savory flavors that teased his senses.
Now, this was not a surgical situation, so painlessness was not the purpose. Their goal was to keep her down, and to affect her mental state, which brought its own set of challenges. Drugging a person, especially someone as complex as Mimi, was not as easy as it sometimes seemed. Damon mused to himself as he ate, the texture of the food on his tongue distracting him momentarily.
He was not concerned with the opinions of others, not checking the hive mind. His focus was solely on his own part in this plan. He hoped for a new start after this, a chance to rebuild trust. Even though Mimi would not initially appreciate it, he was determined to show her that he could be trusted, and that he was not one of those who had abused her in the past. His thoughts turned darker as he considered the possibility of discovering any of them still alive, those who had caused her harm. His grip on the fork tightened, his knuckles turning white. If he found them, he vowed to kill them mercilessly and slowly, sending a message that would echo in their bones.
He didn't want to imagine Mimi torturing those nasty sarks, but he had to face the reality. She had darkness within her, a darkness they were about to confront and put in its place. He knew that he would have to work with her, to help her channel those tendencies and find another outlet. Perhaps in bed, where they could explore the need to get rough, to hurt and be hurt. Or maybe in the fighting gym, where they could engage in controlled combat, allowing her to release some of that pent-up aggression. But first, that darkness needed to be contained, locked away behind a strong shield that didn't rely solely on his will.
If he ever...
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