Samuel was tired. He'd had a demanding time at the clinics when, for some reason, bitch uterine infections had become more common. Often still in heat or soon after. As if the heat treatment wasn't going right and Samuel had a strong suspicion that his father had a hand in it. Now he was driving 5 hours to see some beggar that the police suspected was a werewolf.
The subject was in California. He had little to go on; official channels asked this, and as a werewolf doctor who had authorization to euthanize, this was his call. If this had been anything milder, in any case, that there was hope or decent treatment, he could have alerted one of his colleagues in California to deal with this.
Still, as he was the only one with euthanizing capability, this required some road trips for him. Not that he minded the drive; he loved to drive, and he remembered painfully clearly those times when there were no cars. Only horses. He had talked briefly with one police officer who had told him that the subject was a woman, thin, malnourished. Crazy as a bat, not making any sense, and was trying to attack some older humans.
Samuel knew what he had to do if the situation was what the police said it was. The werewolf was at the end of its rope and would have to be stopped at that point. Old bitch, with probable heat cycle problems and age-related madness, was a powder keg to be blown up. Way too dangerous.
He was glad that Bran wasn't around. He would have probably tried to save this woman and used her as a sex toy. This was better for that crazed creature to be put down. End the suffering.
Samuel had the drugs with him. He had the authority to do this, and although he didn't like the idea of having to take a life, it was a necessary evil and would be a merciful service to the wolf. This was just one thing he did, but he did not like it.
He could have tried to find always some silver lining, try to see relief when the wolf died, but then when there was none, just emptiness in their eyes when he had done his deed, that would have been too much. So Samuel just did it. Not tried to sugarcoat it. He acted as a clinician, as a doctor, and yes, as an executioner, too, just like Charles.
Not everyone could be a wolf, and some were so old they went mad. Samuel himself knew this because he sometimes felt his life for a couple of thousand years was a very heavy burden on his shoulders. He and Bran were the oldest of the wolves that he knew. He suspected they weren't the first ones, but somewhere, there had been more werewolves too, and maybe just like in vampires, there were different lineages in wolves, done by different magic. He hadn't ever even wanted to find out. Bran, on the other hand, this was one of his obsessions about finding old wolves and getting them better.
When someone always started telling him how lucky he was to have seen and experienced so much, Samuel usually said that he had also lost a lot. He knew what he had lost, how he had lost them, and even though time healed and dispelled a lot of rubbish from his mind. Some wounds were just too deep and sore to never forget.
He also remembered every single life he had to take as a doctor. This was the dark side of his job. In the old days or, well, even today, if a werewolf wants to die, it is possible. There are ways to kill yourself, but often, the wolf doesn't want to die, and suicide is, therefore, very rare.
Werewolves are dual creatures; it is very rare that man and Beast are united in such a fashion that suicide is their joint decision. Wolf has a too strong a will to live, to survive, and often that side fights so freaking hard every single time. The human side would be ready to go into the night, but the wolf wanted to live. That struggle was something that Samuel had to witness every time he had to do this. Every single time.
But then Bran may have assisted the wolves out of this world, but that was entirely how he did it. The wolf didn't know that it wanted to die. It was just desperate. And Bran had trouble killing old wolves. He and Samuel were both a couple of thousand years old. Bran bragged about mercy killings and how he ended suffering, but not always.
Those times, those wolves who got Bran's mercy. Well, that was only Bran's decision, not anyone else. Even ten strong wolves would have told Bran that, yes, this one needs to be killed, but Bran could have said no. His rule. His decision. Samuel wasn't sure if it was a case of sentimentality or if Bran was trying to save his mental health by choosing his victims. He knew that sometimes his father saw himself as a monster, and maybe Bran didn't just want to kill everyone.
Bran killed fresh wolves without a second thought. But as an example, Asil had come to Bran to die, and Bran had not killed him. Asil had been with Bran for a couple of years, then went completely berserk, went back to Spain, and killed at least a thousand people. Some of them were children.
Bran hadn't spoken about Asil since, and Samuel suspected that even if he would see Asil someday, Bran wouldn't kill him. Bran saw himself in older wolves who had gone mad, and he probably thought that if he could do it, they could, but that was not the case, not at all.
Samuel was almost at the police station. He sighed. He often thought about how he would want to die and what would be his last feeling on this earth, and he tried to do this as painlessly as possible, but when he was called, it was not like any semi-romantic goodbye scene. More often, it was more like he would shoot the rabid dog. Samuel wished he could always be there to talk to the werewolf, stroke and touch it in its last moments because werewolves are very sensitive to touch.
It was hard for him as a healer to know just how much it would take to kill a werewolf. His team had come up with this new formula that was even more potent and faster acting and with a stronger dose of ketamine. He would give them one last touch, one last human contact if he could. Still, often, that wasn't possible.
He had to deliver the cocktail with a pistol and then just wait for the concentrated aconitum and silver to do their job, as the strong anesthetic would probably knock the wolf out first. At least, he hoped so. You couldn't take the risk of putting the wolf to sleep and then manually administering the kill cocktail.
Because the wolves were in such an unstable state that they might attack you, the end would be relatively quick as long as he got hit in the lung or the heart. Still, in the muscle, then it wasn't always so pretty because the aconitum and silver caused a lot of pain before the ketamine would kick in. But it did its job. Samuel had used this new formula a few times, and this was less painful, as there was a much larger dose of ketamine so that Wolf would go down first.
But sometimes, in rare cases, Samuel, well, if he knew what the wolf had done and how mentally stable it was, was shot into the muscle on purpose, just for a little justice for victims of those rare cases. But they were few and rare. He was always a little ashamed of his need for justice, as he should have acted as a doctor, impartial to all his patients or subjects, but he had feelings, too. He knew that if there was any time that he would have to kill Asil, that one would get it into a muscle, and he would not regret it. As he had read reports of Asil killings,
But it was all relative. He picked up his loaded pistol and went to the police station. The cops took him to the end of the cell block. He took his doctor's bag, too, just in case. He went in and told them who he was. A tall, stocky, older policeman came to see him and led Samuel into the depths of that police station.
" She's in the last cell, poor girl. It must be awful when someone does this without permission, and then their head can't take it. She looks so young. I wonder how old she is. We didn't find her among the missing, but do the wolves even report their missing to us? "
Samuel could smell stale coffee in this police station and thought dryly that it seemed, in reality, too, that cops drink coffee a lot.
The senior officer explained to Samuel. Samuel smiled. Eternal youth, the problem of werewolves. He said. "Well, she might be ancient. We wolves, we don't age. I myself am several thousand years old, almost three thousand years old, so looks are deceiving when it comes to wolves. My father might know her. I just need to see her."
The policeman looked at Samuel and snorted lightly; they came to the corridor; the police opened the door, and there was a row of cells in this corridor. Samuel approached the cell. This was something familiar, but he didn't get it right away. The creature in the cell smells so weird, not like a normal wolf, not at all. He could smell metals, several of them. Could this be something treatable after all?
The creature in the cell was a girl, a woman, skinny, tiny. She smelled disease, wounds, and metals. Something was not right now, and Samuel suspected this was not the final stage. Samuel could not yet see the face. He spoke to the woman in the cell as if he could only see who she was.
Samuel lowered his doctor's bag onto the ground and went closer to the bars. These were quite small cells. Not large holding cells meant for several people, but some sort of drunken cells or something. The police station was filled with a cacophony of scents and smells, and it disturbed Samuels' ability to scent this woman.
"Hi, I'm a doctor. Can you come here for a second so I can see if you're okay?"
A familiar voice said to Samuel, " No, I'm not coming. You must be Bill Clinton, and you want me to suck your dick."
The woman turned her head and looked at Samuel, her eyes wide, clearly not recognizing who she was. Why did Mimi smell like a strange metal? Mimi, really? How in the world did Mimi get in this condition? The last time Samuel spoke to his father, they were on a cruise: Adam, Bran, Mimi, and Damon. Samuel gasped as he saw Mimi's condition. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Mimi so skinny; this was just a skeleton; she was still standing and acting.
There was something seriously wrong with Mimi, but he couldn't take her by car to Chicago because Mimi was moving around restlessly all the time and did not know where or even who she was. From what the cops had been told, Mimi was extremely fast and seemed to have live TV shows for half a minute at a time. She wouldn't last in a car, and Samuel didn't want to take the risk of Mimi jumping onto the highway in mid-drive. Mimi's metabolism seemed to be very high, so no drug would keep her asleep for long.
Samuel dug out his phone and called Adam.
"Hauptmann," Adam answered.
His voice was tight, and Samuel knew Adam was very upset by something.
Samuel said, "I am in California, in the police station, when I was called here about a werewolf, but this is Mimi; what the hell has happened to her? Why does she smell like metals and is a living standing skeleton with no mind at all?"
Adam told Samuel briefly what had happened on the cruise, how Bran would not let him search Mimi. How Damon had divorced Mimi and went and remarried Brianna. Samuel was very dumbfounded. Samuel and Adam planned the best course of action. Chicago would be the best place to help Mimi, and since Salvatore and his teeth were not an option, Samuel had few other options.
He would get Mimi to Chicago by plane, but he and Adam would fly partially and drive the rest of the way and get some help on the way. Samuel made Adam try to contact Bridgette as she gave those herbs, so if she had anything else to help Mimi with, Samuel would contact Colin once he got Mimi's transportation on the way. With a rational plan, both men acted.
Samuel knew what he had to organize. To transport Mimi to Chicago. She needed to fly to Chicago and be accompanied by Charles. Charles would fly with Mimi to Chicago as long as he could arrange it. He'd fly, too, but just a quick one, a little more than halfway. He would drive as soon as he could so he would be there to meet them in good time. Adam would fly with him, and they would be ready in Chicago to take Mimi in care.
Then, blood tests. What on earth could cause such a reaction? Metals that he knew. Adam had told him and listed over twenty metals that were found in Sark's cabin so that he would need metal binders and chelation therapy.
He knew the flight to Chicago would take a surprisingly long time because severe weather conditions were expected. Fortunately, Charles was a patient man and had already saved Mimi on several occasions.
Samuel called his brother, "Charles, is your plane ready in California? I have a flight job for you, book a pilot. This cargo needs to be accompanied with."
Charles grunted. " It is ready. I'll be there myself. Why? Da called and asked if I was coming to the party. He said they were going to have a party in California. But fine, I'll do your flight. What's the cargo? I am in no mood for drinking and fucking right now."
Samuel said, "Good, Mimi's the cargo. Bran, Adam, Damon, and Mimi were on a cruise, and now something's been done to this girl. If Bran wants a party, then he doesn't want to get involved. I will. And Adam, too. I'm going to fly that express flight a little over halfway, and then I'm going to drive to Chicago as fast as I can get Mimi under control so you can fly her to Chicago. I know the bad weather is promised, so your flight may be slow. We'll see which one of us gets there sooner."
Charles grunted in agreement. " Then let me know where and when I can pick up the cargo." He gave Samuel the address of the airfield where his plane was waiting.
Samuel rummaged through his bag to find a strong enough anesthetic that might work. Then, he found a jar of velvet that Damon had given him. That's what he called it when Mimi always said it felt like velvet in her veins. Samuel loaded the whole jar into a 6ml syringe and loaded it into the pistol.
This wasn't strong black velvet. This was just plain pearly white. This was the safest way. It might give Mimi a hangover, but he was planning to keep that creature out of it very many days, weeks, even. Could be even over a month. Police looked closely.
Samuel said, " This woman is not crazy. She is, in fact, the newest member of my pack. She is very special, and in fact, I couldn't kill her. She is immortal, but let's see if I can put her to sleep because there is something very wrong with that girl right now. I will try to put her to sleep and get her treatment. I'm surprised you caught her. She smells like metals, and it is known that evil medical facilities have been doing some testing on supernatural creatures and their reactions to metals. They have come up with a way to keep metals liquid at room temperature."
The cop said, " I got her when I promised to make a scene. So she had been asking men to have public sex with her so the director could see she was getting paid. Too bad she went to ask in one of the nursing home yards. Quite a few grandpas almost had a heart attack. She had been very helpful and tried to get the men to put their dicks up. Too bad that they had very strong blood pressure medications. We actually got several reports of her in a week before we apprehended her. She was doing quite a mess little all over Southern California."
Samuel had reserved a couple of darts; one was velvet, and a couple of others were medicine in case he missed. Samuel took aim at Mimi, who was now moving around the cell quite fast, trying the bars now and then, which were actually a bit twisted.
If Mimi had been in perfect condition, those bars wouldn't have held her. If she'd just stayed still for a moment... The younger, thin, and pimple-faced policeman came over.
The older one said," Do you think you can, so try to get that girl to come to you, and the doctor can sedate her? Promise her a scene."
The younger one nodded and said, "Sure, sarge, whatever you say. I am not that experienced, though.."
The older cop snorted and said," I didn't ask you to do the scene. Just try to make her stand still. Lie to her."
The younger one nodded. He blushed and went to the cell. "I would now come and make the scene."
The dirty, skeletal creature, what one might suspect was a woman, turned around, tilted her head like a bird, and then came closer. Police could smell her sweat, dirtiness, her sickness even. He was trying to act casual so the creature would stand still, but the smell was almost too much for him.
Oh, scene, fine. I then went to my counterpart and looked at him from head to toe. Little pimple-faced, but he'll do. The dick and sex are the important part, not the face. Oh, something hit me in the thigh. It hurt quite a lot, but soon, the pain stopped, and I felt something soothing in my thigh. Well, that's okay.
This distracted me, and I asked Scotty to beam me up on the ship, but nothing happened; I was also trying to find my Poke balls so I could capture some Pokemon for myself. But then again the scene and I approached pimply again.
"Can you even get it up? "I asked defiantly, and the other actor actually blushed.
That's exactly what I thought. I'm hurt again, this time in the arm. A dart. Who the hell shoots darts at me? This one is not stopping hurting me—no soothing effect.
I said coldly, "I'm not here to play Indians and cowboys."
I was trying to wait for the next breed to come and show so I could judge them. But then again. Soon I was in mission impossible, trying to wait for my team to save me.
I needed to do the next vase for my competition, and I tried to concentrate on my work, but I was getting tired. I felt like I couldn't stand on my feet at all, so I sat down on the ground because I was so tired.
My eyes were so heavy, I looked up; silver madness fell away in a minute, and I saw Samuel.
I said sleepily, "Please. Let me be in here, in my madness; I don't want back to reality without Damon."
My voice was mumbling, but I saw Samuel hear me. I fell asleep for a while but woke up when someone came to pick me up in his arms. I was quite sleepy and tired.