The chase was almost over; for two weeks, they'd been chasing this bastard, and now they'd cornered him; this would end now. Damon cursed softly. Charles was behind him. They struck mercilessly, and the incubus king fell to the ground. Damon charged, and slammed his saber into his neck, severing his head with one sharp swipe.
The incubus king's body withered, as did his severed head. Damon was pleased.
Charles said, "Fine, I'll bury the body. You bury the head. Yes, he looks dead, but any backup is best."
Damon said, " Fine, let's do that. I'm so ready to go to Mimi. It's been over two weeks. Has she recovered much, or is Samuel still keeping her in the incubator? "
Charles growled, "No, Samuel is not there; he went to treat an epidemic in the Midwest; some contagious bug is causing almost venereal symptoms and is an airborne infection. He has been with Colin and the other doctors there for two weeks, controlling the situation."
Damon thought for a moment and then asked, his voice soft with danger. " If Samuel and Colin are there, then who is treating my wife? I wonder if she is being treated by the fleas,"
Charles growled, " Nope, she is in Montana; Bran is taking care of her."
Damon could think of so many curse words and descriptive words that came to mind about Bran and his ability to take care of anyone, let alone who was most important to him.
Damon said, " Oh well, I guess we'll just have to bury this one head first and go rescue the wife, and take a fucking Samuel Cornick with us and show him what the fuck happens when he's not a doctor but a fucking epidemic researcher, so he goes to investigate an epidemic that causes warts on the genitals of werewolves, rather than treat Mimi, who must have had sepsis, to begin with, and then separate Mimi and me, I was getting myself under control so I could have given Mimi some dentals, but no, we're such fucking doctors,"
Damon was furious. He picked up the withered head and started walking in the other direction with the speed of a vampire, finding a long enough distance to bury the head and bury it deep.
He returned to the car as Charles was carrying his own shovel and said, " Fine, I can fly us back and take Adam and Samuel with us, then we'll see where we go from Montana."
The men drove to the plane. Damon was very tuned in and nervous; he was too far away to contact Mimi, but somehow, he sensed the situation was far from what it should be.
Charles was also silent. Sometimes, even Samuel's control slipped, and that was not a good thing in this case. The fact that someone gets warts on their cunt or dick and the culprit is not found is no excuse to abandon a pack member to the hands of the worst caretaker in the world.
Charles remembered Bran's nursing habits from his childhood: no blankets in the fever, cold baths, and some herbs, but nothing that was normal at the time. Not when Bran always had to be allowed to do things his way. And when that way wasn't good, Bran had no nursing sense or empathy that was needed, which could turn into a proper war.
Charles hoped Mimi was at least in some kind of shape, but on the other hand, he knew what his father was capable of and, then again, what Mimi was like when she was feverish and ill. He knew he was riding with a fucking strong and fucking cranky telepath.
The flight would take 23 hours, and it was a long wait. Damon had already called Adam, who was still in Chicago, and was cursing when he found out about Mimi's situation; he had assumed she was in the care of the fleas, and if he had fucking known that, he would have taken care of her himself. He was now doing flea work with Mimosa. He had been running his own business and still solving werewolf problems at the same time.
When Damon told him about the epidemic, Adam was boiling over.
Still, Damon said, "Don't tell Samuel anything yet. We're on our way; we'll take you with us, and then we'll stop over in Texas and pick up Samuel when we get to Montana. I want Samuel to see for himself what's going on there and how his father is treating Mimi. We'll be there in eight hours."
Adam said, "Oh fuck me when I give it to him, and I will spare none of my energy. I'm not going to fucking spare any of it. "
Damon hung up the phone. He concentrated and tried to find Mimi, but all he got was a vague feeling of ill feeling and restlessness, and he had not to keep the line open all the time as it only made him more agitated. He had put the volcano down almost as soon as they had arrived in Australia properly. He sensed how it was like being in a dream again. Weak as the fucker should be.
The flight seemed to take forever, and when they got close enough, Charles guessed from the torrent of cursing that erupted from Salvatore's mouth that Mimi wasn't doing well.
Then came the real news bomb when Salvatore came into the cockpit, sat down in the other seat, and said to Charles, " Do you know your daddy has gone soft in the head now and in a good way? Are you aware of his latest diet? Your father eats bugs, and he's got everybody else eating bugs."
Charles was silent for a moment and said, "Well, I've never heard of it. Are you sure?"
Damon said, "Fucking powerful telepath. They don't hunt deer on the full moon anymore. They dig the larvae out of the bark of the trees. He's set up a farm there, raising bugs and making them into food so you can think about the last time you ate at your dad's; you probably ate insects, not meat. "
Charles grunted. It was obvious that his dad had come up with yet another pointless charade and how Samuel was going to get on top of this one. Samuel was very passionate about eating meat.
Damon said, " That's all right, but the fucking idiot's been feeding Mimi fucking bugs all fortnight. She's not in good shape. You'd think Bran wouldn't be trying so hard to kill Mimi again."
Charles said nothing. He was still thinking about eating the bugs. Somehow, it disgusted him. He was normally a strong stomach and could eat even quite old meat as a wolf, but this.
As they embarked on their journey, the men picked up Adam and Mimosa in bustling Chicago. The sound of honking cars and the scent of street food filled the air. Adam, with a mix of amusement and disgust, commented on the experience of eating bugs, cursing under his breath. Mimosa, deeply offended, couldn't fathom the thought of ever consuming such creatures.
Continuing their journey, Adam controlled himself as he made a call to Samuel, informing him they were en route to pick up Mimi. The anticipation was palpable as they drove, the hum of the engine providing a steady background noise.
Samuel, confident in Bran's treatment of Mimi, had no doubts. He trusted Bran had followed his explicit instructions. However, Samuel hadn't considered that Bran lacked medical training and was unaware of the importance of personal hygiene, wound care, and skin care. Bran had simply focused on giving Mimi the medications and his work.
The plane landed smoothly in Montana, and the men stepped out onto the tarmac. They made their way to one of Bran's pack cars, surrounded by the scent of fresh air and the sight of vast, open landscapes. Skilled in piloting the plane, Charles had once again navigated the journey effortlessly. The atmosphere in the car grew tense, though Adam and Damon kept the truth from Samuel. They wanted to make the maximum impact on this mission.
As they approached Bran's house, Damon tried to comfort Mimi through their bond, feeling her distress, sickness, and pain with a clarity that consumed him—time seemed to slow as they finally arrived at the house. The car came to a stop, and Damon turned to Samuel, his voice soft and filled with a mix of warning and excitement.
He said, "Be prepared for the surprises of your life. I can tell you there will be more than one."
Samuel looked at Damon, innocent and unaware of what awaited him. He expected nothing extraordinary, believing that two weeks had brought some improvement to Mimi's condition. The men entered the house, their footsteps echoing through the hallway.
Damon guided them to the kitchen, where a sight awaited them that left Samuel speechless. The air was filled with the scent of earthy insects, while the sight of bug farms fly larvae, frozen beetles, and cricket farms overwhelmed Samuel's senses. Charles stood nearby, his expression subtly displaying a hint of nausea. Damon took a step forward. It was time to reveal the truth to Samuel.
I woke up to someone talking to me. I tried to move, but the pain in my stomach hit me again, and I felt somehow full. I wondered if my replication enzyme had been activated somewhere along the line, but I can't remember the last time I took a shit. This could have been that, too. I looked around. I was on the floor again.
Then I woke myself up enough to realize the speaker was Damon.
He was talking in my head. " Baby, are you okay? Where are you, anyway?"
He sounded worried, and our connection was still pretty weak.
I was hoping he could hear my thoughts as I thought back, "At Bran's in Montana, I'm not feeling well, my wound hurts, I fever, I'm bruised, my stomach hurts, I can't remember the last time I shit, I'm dirty, my neck hurts, Bran probably breaks my neck once a day or something. I'm lying on the floor now and waiting to see if he'll come and pick me up again or if it's neck-breaking time again."
Damon was quiet and hissed, " Darling, I'm coming. I want to string Bran up in the act itself. So that Samuel gets the actual evidence. He would have let me handle you, but no. Well, now he will see. I'm sorry, baby, you're in terrible condition, but hang in there a little longer. We're on our way, and I won't tell Samuel anything about this. Surprise, surprise."
I could feel how incredibly furious Damon was, and after all, you really couldn't blame him. I had been dead for a week, and he had been hysterical most of the time and had refused to let go of my corpse, and then when I get a miracle or make a choice, come back to life, he doesn't get to do what he's supposed to do, help and take care of me.
I thought back, "I can take it. I'm an expert at crawling on the floor, remember? Naughty Bran won't let me into an air duct or on any top shelf again."
Damon said, "Darling, I will not get you in those places either, but I'm going to come and take you away, fix you up, and now I won't listen to any objections, but baby, the three remaining incubus have been killed."
The feeling of Damon disappeared from my head. I rested or slept. I fell back into some sort of freezing slumber even though I felt my skin burning with fever, but now I didn't even have the strength to shiver. I was just thinking that at least when this goes to sepsis, there won't be a fever after all.
I woke up when Bran came back to lift me into bed and first gave me three bars, and I ate them; though I could hardly stand it, he gave me a glass of cold juice. My mouth was so dry that I downed it all, and then, after a few minutes, the double vision started. Oh fuck. Chloral hydrate. I couldn't help it. I was already too weak.
Somehow, I felt Damon in my mind occasionally, but the nightmares and the fever made me so confused I didn't know what was real and what wasn't.
I woke up somewhere in between, just feeling medicated and drugged. Now I didn't have a cold, but I was restless again and fell to the floor.
I was also sweaty and wet because I had apparently come down with a fever medicine. My stomach was very uncomfortable, my hair was hanging greasily down my head and, my strength was really gone, but I tried. My head ached. The lights were in my eyes. I grabbed the bed and got to my unsteady feet.
I stood. My bandages stank, I could smell it, and the wound was really stabbing and throbbing very nastily. I tried to go to the bathroom, and the door was shut; I had miraculously pulled myself upright and stood upright to get the door open. Now, I hadn't even had a nightie on; I'd just been left naked on the bed.
I went into the shower and got the water running. I slumped down on the bottom of the shower and sat down when my legs gave out from under me. The water was cool, and I couldn't get the temperature adjusted, but I tolerated it as I didn't really have any other choice in the matter. I wanted to get at least myself somewhat clean. The tapes were wrapped around my body several times, and they were thick, strong band-aid tape, and the ends were left on the back so that I couldn't get them off.
I tried showering the bandages even if they got wet, and when the water finally hit the wound, I saw a red stream of sweat running down my body. The pain made me pant, and I simply couldn't flush the wound anymore. I cursed my powerlessness and had studied medicine enough to know how that wound should have been treated.
My flushing helped a little, but if only it would get Bran to change all the bandages for once. When the worst of the pain was over, I poured water over myself, kept the water pressure low, and basically let the water almost drip over me. I finally got myself at least somewhat wet, and it gave some illusion of cleanliness.
Now, my strength was simply no longer enough to even try to stand. I crawled on the bathroom floor and pulled the towel down. I sat on the cold, hard, tiled floor and dried myself powerlessly.
There was no underfloor heating here. I was skinny, again skeletal, and this was very painful to sit on, but I had no choice; I tried to wrap a rough, thin towel around me and hoped it would suck at least some of the dampness off my skin. Then I heard voices, several. I didn't know who as I rolled onto my side on the floor, closed my eyes, and tried to gather my strength for what was to come.