Time seemed to slip away from me, lost in a haze of weakness, pain, and infection that only grew worse with each passing day. Both men and women had abandoned me, taking the dolls with them once it became clear that I could no longer conceive and Damon had lost interest in me. Their anger was palpable, as they had yet to bear children and believed my pregnancies had been tainted.
Men professed their love for the witches, promising them a new life in another pack house. Damon even boasted to Katarina about taking her to Chicago, where they would indulge in their desires in both my downstairs bedroom and upstairs. Bran, on the other hand, offered to take any woman who desired it, but I could see that the women felt nothing for the men; they were merely tools to be used and discarded, a means to achieve pregnancy.
The nozzles on the ceiling continued to spray, ensuring that the tanks were filled with their mysterious substance, while pure silver bars connected to the cage were a constant reminder of my captivity. I had no inkling of what they expected to happen, and the witches had ceased using the pain crystals on me. Damon took pleasure in biting me, using some dental substance to make my hair short, thin, and blonde, leaving me defenseless against the excruciating bite of the silver bars.
The witches saw me as weak, a useless anomaly in their eyes. Yet, they kept me confined in this cage, taunting and violating me at their whim until they eventually departed. Now, I was left with no one to turn to for help, utterly alone in my despair.
Nicholas had come to the house. Because Bran had had something to ask for him, when he had called three weeks ago and asked him to come to the house, to meet someone special and, well, Nick liked to fuck around from time to time, one good way was to go to the meeting when he wanted to.
He did not really respect Bran anymore. His wolf had lost its admiration for Marrok when he had heard all the monstrous things that Bran had done to Mimi over the years. Mimi was something important to him but his age, he did not always care if she got banged up or her life would take hit because of something he had done. Like that fight club ship. she had been absolute beast and Nick had seen her suffering, her condition, but still it had been very entertaining. He knew she was immortal and ironically, Nick had been quest several times on those ships, so he knew just how grueling it was.
He had visited several times in Bran's little party, being all party mood, relieving himself with the help of booze and random sex, but he was not a fucking machine. He liked to drink from his victims to the borderline, so whoever was with him would have severe anemia, almost deadly, and, well, as he was a vampire, sometimes that anemia was actually fatal to his meals.
But then again, as he was an old vampire, he had to use humans as the source of food for so long, his mind always forgetting his meals; it was easier that way. He could not remember their faces, scents, names, or even where he had taken them, only maybe the taste of their skin; the blood was all that was left of them. He did not regret taking their lives nor tried to come up with any kind of excuse as some other vampires did; he had regretted, but centuries of predation had burned all regrets and humanity out of him.
He was amused by how the TV series The Originals portrayed him and Elias in different lights, making them almost heroes. There was so much that was not true in that TV series. The first thing that was all wrong in that series was Mikael. Father of the vampires, so to speak, he had not hunted them, but instead, he had become Nicks's first meal as a hybrid creature, where Elias had killed his girlfriends; yes, Elias had been a ladies' man, and he had then drank each girl to death. Rebecca was not as weak as in the series or not so in love with Marcellus. And, of course, the whole Marcellus thing was as wrong as it could be.
It was true that he had taken Marcellus to be his kind of son, but it had been a moment of weakness, and he had turned Marcellus into a vampire when he was 28 years old. The room where it happened was dimly lit, only by a few candles on the wall, with the scent of dampness hanging in the air. The sound of a faint heartbeat echoed in the background as Nick's hands trembled with regret.
Then Marcellus had been bitter about that because he had had life, a wife and son on the way, but in his bloodlust, he had taken her life. The room turned into a scene of tragedy, stained with the metallic scent of blood and the sound of haunting cries. He killed his wife and their unborn baby, and Marcellus never forgave Nick.
The weight of guilt settled on Nick's shoulders, suffocating him with the smell of remorse. He had left and plotted against him for many years, recruiting other vampires and doing serious damage to Nick's reputation. The darkness of betrayal enveloped the room, suffusing it with a sense of impending doom. But as cold and cruel as Nick was, he had revenge.
The taste of vengeance lingered on his tongue, fueling his every move. Marcellus had been locked away in an iron box and sank into the ocean for centuries until the box had rusted enough for him to get out and onto the surface. The sound of crashing waves filled the air as Marcellus fought to break free, the scent of saltwater mingling with his desperate breaths.
When he emerged, he was a blood-crazed wild beast, killing humans in his bloodlust. The sight of carnage painted the room in shades of red, the stench of death overpowering. Once he had gotten himself back to order, he had come after Nick again. The tension in the room was palpable, electrifying the air with anticipation.
But Nick was very inventive over the years in managing Marcellus, punishing him in the most awful ways possible. The room became a torment chamber, echoing Marcellus's anguished cries. And it was a never-ending cycle between the two of them. Nick had thought it almost as something that gave him pleasure when he put Marcellus back in his place like a toy.
The room twisted with sadistic delight, the sensation of power coursing through Nick's veins. He will never kill him, no this is too much fun to come up with, always a new way to give him misery and suffering. The room was a playground of torment; the walls whispering with echoes of pain. He was not afraid of him, not at all. Instead, he almost waited for Marcellus to walk on earth again and try to avenge him. The room held a sense of anticipation, crackling with the promise of a looming confrontation.
Nick was old; he could be cruel, but then again, he was not human, so what humans might see as a very cold and cruel thing to do was nothing to Nick. The world was a sanctuary of darkness, where morality blurred into shades of gray. He had seen a lot, too much, and once the feelings of pure, unconditional love for his only heir, the only good thing in his life, had died off when he had to do what was necessary. The room was filled with the remnants of lost love, the air heavy with the weight of sacrifice.
Nick knew that the border between good and bad was not so black and white, but there were a lot of greys in between, and he operated on those grey areas, dipping his toes in the darkness occasionally. The room became a dance floor of moral ambiguity, the flickering shadows whispering tales of compromise. Of course, Salvatore was always there then, ruining his plans more or less, but then again, his plans were no good. The room resonated with frustration, the air thick with the scent of thwarted ambitions.
Nick came to the house and saw that the front door was ajar. It was strange; he stepped in, and the hair on the back of his neck got up. He swore to himself as he smelled the scent of rotten meat, sandalwood, and bitter stench or burned herbs like sage, thyme, and a few other ancient herbs. The house was empty, and Nick had known the smell: witches, some kind of fertility magic, and black as hell. The smell was all too familiar. He cursed softly and thought how bad this could be. Who in this pack had gotten themselves mixed with black witches and their twisted breeding spells?
It was balanced that Nick understood all too well. True black witches, the ones who would be corrupted, could not have offspring, not in the normal way, anyway. It would require a lot of human sacrifices, young fertile women to transfer their fertility into that rotten soul in order to get them to conceive, and even then, sacrifices would have to continue as long pregnancy continued, transferring powers of other pregnancies into that witch. Nick had seen over the years a handful of witches that had gotten themselves pregnant, and the devastation that they had left behind was too much. Each day of that kind of twisted pregnancy; one pregnant woman would be killed, sacrificed in order to win to remain pregnant, so it had been too much, emptied entire cities of pregnant women too.
Nick walked further into the house. It was mostly empty, but he had a very good sense of smell. He remembered what his daughter had smelled like when she'd turned out to be one of the blackest witches Nick had ever killed. His one true heir had turned a black witch, corrupted by his mother's spirit with the help of his sister, Freya. When her daughter tested her limits. The rotten soul of their mother had influenced Hope, driven her too far, and gotten and rotten her fully until there was nothing to do but kill her.
Nick sighed. He had once loved Hope, his one heir, whom he had seen as his salvation, as one creature for whom he had unconditional love, and she had been such a lovely child. Hayley had been a wonderful mother to her, too, and Nick was actually relieved that Hayley had died before she had seen her daughter's corruption. Nick wandered around the house, and then he smelled silver, aconitum, pain and suffering, and strawberry, too. Mimi?
Nick had seen Mimi as the last of his line, though once the entire existence of that sister and her line had been revealed, there would be a birth from that line, ensuring that his line continues. Those were humans, and there was nothing for him. But Mimi, the mysterious creature who once had been a little tiny human, was brainwashed and tried to kill him. Nick was not sure what he felt about Mimi. Nowadays, Mimi is a hero, and he has been genuinely upset as those new reports have come out of rescuing her. He had seen her pale in Damon's arms, shuddering as those bombs detonated inside her. And, of course, then he had experienced silver madness, too.
He smelled Mimi, too. He made his way into the cellar. Mimi's strawberry scent was now stronger, and so was her suffering. He found her in a cage covered in silver and didn't care if the silver burned him, either. He let his wolf come to the surface and take care of her. Nick was furious; he felt more like a wolf, and it almost merged with him. They weren't so separate anymore, so Nick was not sure what his feelings were and what was his own.
He almost loved Mimi, and he was bitter as Salvatore had trapped her in his web as well as possible. Everyone knew, every single vampire knew Salvatore will kill his girlfriends in some day, yet they went to him, now he had gotten Mimi, creature who can't die. Salvatore was almost unstable in certain parts as he was, it was just part and parcel of being this old. It would almost impossible to free her from Salvatore and she was again suffering because of Salvatore. Nick cursed in his mind.
I was already weak from pain, from silver, from hunger, and I was cold. I was trembling at the bottom of the cage, not even caring anymore about the silver burning. Everything had been sucked out. All I could feel was the inflammation as the remnants of my womb rotted inside me. I was in a fever, delirious at times, my blood sugar had crashed, my body was suffering because no caffeine and my bloodlust emerged from now and then, only to drive me into a more confused state of being.
The house had been quiet for some time, or else I no longer knew the passage of time. The door opened, and a figure came closer. My torment continued and I could once again, sprays hitting on my skin. I moved a little, feeling my skin torn as sliver bars had burned so badly.
"Mimi, what on earth?" A voice said from the door.
This growling voice was almost unrecognizable, and that made me lift my head and try to grasp reality. Maybe there would be some way that my torment would end. I just did not know how or when.
I looked up. It was Nicholas. His eyes shone yellow, but the black veins around his eyes told me he was very upset. I could smell his burning paper, meaning his vampire side was upset but also scent of mangos. His wolf's side was upset as well. I smelled almost something like explosion or ozone, and it took time for me to get it was his rage's scent.
He said, "Who the hell did this to you? Wait one moment. I will get you out of there. You are in no shape."
He went away for a while. When he returned, he had some blankets and sheets with him. Then he wrenched open the cage door and fetched a blanket and several sheets around me to wrap me in. He was gentle, his warm hands lifted me tenderly as he put me pile of sheets and blankets. He carried me out, and Elias opened the car door without saying a word. He murmured something. He touched me too, stroking me. I was too far in my fever-induced hallucinations and nightmares almost, and I could feel him trying to ease my anxiety. Elias drove the car, and Nick kept me in his arms and murmured something all the time. I could smell his bloodlust, but that was probably his reaction to my condition.
The next time when I came around enough to understand something about my surroundings, I was lying in bed. Nick and Elias took care of me. They made me herbal baths and drank what seemed like tea or a drink at any time. My pussy was dripping bloody rot, and Colin had been unavailable. They washed me, carried me into the bath, watched carefully all the time, and did not let me be in the bath alone.
The bath seemed so cold when I had a cruel fever. I was too sick and weak, not able to answer their questions as they had tried to ask me phone numbers of fleas that could help, so they had no choice but to take care of me for themselves. They saw me someone to care for and now I get to experience always and forever. I mean, they could had dumped me somewhere or gotten touch with Magnum and ask him where to leave me but they healed me themselves.
So they went well in the old ways. The silver burns were beginning to heal, and the doses of blood I sipped straight from their arms helped the inflammation at least a little less. A little. I notice Nick growling when, my guess, Freya or Rebecca tried to come in the room. They did not let Freya anywhere near me. Herbal baths, several cups of different teas, and even coffee did the magic in my battered body. I tried to move, and my legs gave out, one of them patiently lifting me repeatedly to the bed. I was in heap on the floor, confused, shaking, sick as dog, sometime puking even.
They were eventually with me the whole time and helped me to the bathroom or brought me food. I ate what I could and tried to be good, but the raging fever and feeling sick took my mind elsewhere again, and I had to show them what I was like, the world's worst patient, but they came and lay beside me again and stroked me so that I fell asleep. They kept me safe, gave me their blood and protection, and cared for me—both of them.
With a tenderness that I had never witnessed, and as Nick lifted me so Elias could change the bedding again, I saw brief glimpses of the father he had once been to Hope. And the same with Elias, too. They hummed to me some very old songs, kept me close to them, trying to keep me safe. Elias was as gentle with me as Nick was, keeping me in his arms, letting me rest, nothing was too much for them.
Neither of them had any sex drive whatsoever. They were nursing. It was strange to observe, but perhaps it was their way of holding on to the humanity I knew they both still had inside them, or whatever you want to call it. I slept in the safety of their bodies as they came in either side of me, touched me, and kept me from moving too much, made sure that I rested.
Time did not matter, nothing did and in no point neither of them fed up with my antics, or tried to make me just sleep so I would not be too restless. They were my safety in that time.
Once the fever broke for the first time properly, I was weak as a kitten, about 34 kilo skeleton, tired as fuck but lucid enough to thank them both properly. They insisted I stay with them until I have recovered well enough. Now I could tell them about my dietary requirements, and both of them were decent cooks, so the food was tasty; they fed me, we talked, and I told them everything, from the party, the fucking, the witches, and everything.
They did not let me walk too much still. I was way too weak and fragile and they did not me to break anymore bones that I had. That cage and those spells had weaken body, so I had broken my wrists or my ribs several times when I had tried to move.
I began to recover and admired the dresses they collected, tried them on, and modeled for Nick several times. I realized that as old as they were; they had this sort of loneliness, a feeling of not belonging, and thus, they had each other, always and forever. It was a pact made a long time ago, and they had sworn to keep it always; Nick promised to deliver the paintings when they were finished. This time, I wouldn't show them to Damon.
Nick told me and admitted that he likes to cause drama among the vampires, and Salvatore, on the other hand, wants everything to be just right. He told me things that he had done over the years. He told me stories about Damon, too, from the old times, and then I told them about Damien. Both of them were quiet as I told them about my experiences in sheds and how different Damien was from Damon.
I said as I remembered the old story of two boys that they had told me. "What do you think? Could this actually be what happened to Damon?"
Both of them were quiet; we were in a house in New Orleans; the light was low, and it was evening, so it was kind of dim. A few candles flickered and cast their shadows onto the walls.
Nick said, "Well, it is a legend, a story amongst vampires, but then again, stories tend to be true more or less. Damon seems to have another side or creature, Damien. But I have never heard of him. We could try to find Damon's actual family tree. I have no idea who his parents were, but if the legend were true, those would have been a very nasty piece of work. We need to think about this and dig up a little bit at some point, and we will let you know what we come up with. In the meantime, I would suggest that you keep your instincts on and think of this Damien, not as Damon, but as his evil twin, a whole separate creature. Be careful always when you smell wet dogs."
I agreed; I told them I would try to talk to Damon about this, that is, if he gets free from those witches ever.
Nick said, "prepare then that he might not like it. He is old creature and very old-fashioned in parts what comes to women, he does not like women telling to him what to do or what to think. It might be that Damien is separate but then again, they had been together for millennia and who knows what they have done to each other. I mean, Damien can influence Damon and my guess it is also vice versa but Damon might not understand it. His feelings for you, they might seep into Damien and that will have nasty outcome."
We sat in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of old books and cigar smoke. They liked to smoke some very old cigars from time to time. As we talked, the flickering candle on the table cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere. The sound of our voices filled the room, blending with the occasional creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath us.
Elias said to me, " As a warning, we might someday do things that you, pure creature, saviour, might not see any good. So we might get little trifles here and there. We are who we are and not going to change, no matter what you do or what you mean to us."
I said to him, looking at him straight into eye, "I am not pure, I have darkness inside me, true killer side who enjoys killing, and if you do something I don't like, i will let you feel it in your skin. And yes, i don't have always and forever. Even we are distant relatives, in end game, it means shit."
I let my darkness out, peek through and both of them were quite impressed by it. I let my vampire side more out too, not that much that I would had to change my appearance but enough. We were three vampires chatting.
I described my gigs, the energy of the mission pulsating through my veins as I acted as leader and the challenges that evil medical facilities had reserved for us. I told them that one day, I would be in Chaos. Nick chuckled, his laughter filling the room like a warm melody, and remarked that I was the perfect match for Damon's orderly nature. In return, Nick shared stories of his mother and his real father, the pain and longing clear in his voice.
They spoke of their dark past, their confessions hanging in the air like a heavy fog. The weight of their actions, the lives they had taken, hung over us like a dark cloud. I opened up about my own bloodlust, my wild cat side that had been suppressed for so long, and the months I had spent trapped in a bricked-into-the-wall by Bran's prison as I had drunk him dry once. I told them more of my dark side, my killer side and both of them told me it is no bad thing to have. Not even I am saving humans and it was just one part of me, born out pain and helplessness.
Nick got the bright idea that he should try to drain Marrok sometimes and see what he would try to do to him. I boosted him little more and let him know few more things that Bran has done to me over the years.
At that moment, I felt like a therapist, listening to their darkest secrets. But I didn't mind because they had helped me rebuild myself, both physically and emotionally. They yearned to share their stories, to have someone who wouldn't judge or fear them. I embraced this role, providing a safe space for them to unburden their souls.
Nick admitted to attempting therapy before, but it always ended in tragedy. The memory of those failed attempts lingered, leaving a bitter taste in the room. We reminisced about their past relationships, the women who had come and gone, and the events that had shaped their lives. I listened, absorbing every detail, knowing that Damon would never hear these stories.
They showed me paintings and books, each one with its own story to tell. At that moment, I realized the blurred line between good and evil. I had always seen the world in black and white, but now I understand that darkness resides in all of us, waiting to be unleashed. I again, took few steps more to accept darkness inside me too. They told me more vampire stuff, much more that Damon had ever teach me, little tips how to manage bloodlust and emotions, something that gave me more or my independence as well. I realized Damon had never told me these things as he wanted to control me and my vampire side. Too bad.
As the weeks passed and I regained my strength, I made plans for my next move. It had been three and a half months since I first conceived the idea. After spending a month confined in that cage, I needed a breath of fresh air, a change of scenery. And so, with newfound clarity, I left for Australia, ready to embark on the path I had set for myself. I thanked the boys for everything. It was now time for me to have some damn good time too.