I was in the hospital, and I had consultations now and then, occasionally, for something. I'd been on my own for three years. Sometimes, I was surprised myself how long it had been, but when I concentrated, time didn't matter so much. Time flies when you are on and off, imprisoned by who knows what, at least six weeks, and always a pretty rough recovery.
My volatility, my hissing, my temper did not make things easier, and it was crucial that, if I managed to rip myself out of the hell hole I had been and end up in a safehouse, that I took that damn syringe, knocked myself out, and then, only then, someone might be able to come in and help me.
And make things more difficult. My fear and phobia of all and everything medical procedures got worse each time around. Colin could not give an injection. I broke his neck once, but he healed, as he was almost as unkillable as I was. So all the drugs that he made for me were taken orally.
And when I have been tortured by evil scientists for weeks, and my system is damaged by all of those tests and dissections, my organs are shit, and no oral medicine works, so Magnum came up with quite a few ways to sever my spinal cord so Colin could do something to me.
They tried. And a few times, Wulfe used his magic against me, binding me in place so Colin could knock me out. A few times, I could be mean from my mouth, so Wulfe did not want to distress me too much. He loved me way too much, and despite his age, he was very innocent, so he could not take my scorn so well.
My recovery was hard, not fast, and I did not get in shape, not once. I existed, but did not thrive. I was well enough to be lethal and to make missions, but not in my best shape. But in missions, it is useful to be a multi-shapeshifting, pretty darn strong creature who can take a multitude of feline shapes and canines, too.
I had an extensive encyclopedia of animals in the world, so I used it a few times, even for bird form, though it is difficult to learn how to fly. So I had a lot of canines and felines in my repertoire. Birds weren't for me so much. I needed to learn to work as a bird more, and I just did not have time to try to learn how to fly.
Wulfe and Magnum had a sense of humor. Often, after missions where I had been in one of my feline forms, there was a jar or can of cat food on my desk. I also had a litter box and scratching post often put in my office.
Hilarious. Fine, let's change shape and eat it. They gave me extra-strong catnip a few times, and I was pretty drunk on it.
Colin wanted me to shit in that litter box, and every time I did, he collected it and went to analyze. Magnum did not like the smell of my shit. I tried to eat everything I could. I was not hungry anymore, as it had been Damon's magic that had given me hunger, and he had ripped it away from me, too. And a lot of other things, too.
When it came to my work as a doctor, as a surgeon, and as a consultant of the supernatural, I didn't do surgery all the time; I had several appointments in my clinic, now for shapeshifters. Then I had lots of written consultations too, where I didn't need to meet anyone, but looked through the tests and results and gave my opinion on them.
It was actually good to focus on my paperwork for a while, but not always. It was boring at times. My adrenaline junkie nature was evident. I was a woman of action.
I was sitting at my desk, lots of consultations, and this was where I had no one to help. This was all my responsibility. It helped me to be a pretender, so I could suck up information like a sponge and learn fast.
Then, with my photographic memory, I was soon a walking encyclopedia on supernatural beings and their breeding problems. There were a lot of other types of problems, too, but this was one of the biggest of them all.
It was not cheap to get my consultation. Wulfe and Colin, too, were financial geniuses more or less, and they made sure that every penny I deserved was paid to me. I did not get to make my own prices, but Colin had set them up, and no one said anything about me being too expensive, as I often got the answer to them.
When I looked at the consultation request and the results, I wrote a response.
" The reproductive problem in the Salvatore pack is because of willpower. And the unfitness of alpha powers. Willpower stops the alpha power from working. The pack leader will know what to do when he gets the information. No action is required. Springcove."
Then, I just sent it to the doctor, who had originally referred it to me, and focused on the next problem. What Damien told me in his time was partly true: there was a big problem of making babies in packs.
I had developed a surrogate system, and it was a hit. The funny thing was that I was helping the same alpha males who were raping me then. But they didn't recognize me, and I said nothing.
I did not say anything to Curran either. The system was simple. There were a lot of females, fertile ones, but not in any pack, or if they were, then in that pack only the alpha pair bred, so these were losing their fertility for nothing, usually working to scrape money.
Well, there were my surrogates. Most of them did not want to become mothers, but they needed money. A litter of cubs gave a good amount for them to go to school or whatever. It was not too hard for them, and maybe 40% of these females found their pack too; they were welcomed into the pack to breed and be part of the family.
Then I did the gigs. Whenever I had time, I was on a killing spree, or sniping, or destroying pharmaceutical plants. But as I say, not all the jobs always went as they were supposed to, and thank God, Colin was closely involved.
Let's just say he got to dig me out of quite a lot of fucking bullets and patch up the wounds. Magnum was always trying to come up with better safety equipment, but as I say, our enemies evolve as we do. You just have to be careful. I was caught 16 times in a medical facility, and none of those times were nice. Not at all.
I was most of the time the only one who walked out of there, alone, and not in any good shape. Not at all. But what does not kill you makes you stronger, eh?
I woke up in bed, in spiked shackles, and my mind was a drugged-up mess. One doctor came next to me. He was stocky, had black hair, not much, was mostly bald, and talked with an accent that I pinpointed to Poland. He was a nasty piece of shit. He loved to dissect me several times and use gaseous metals.
That's how he had gotten me in the first place. I had run in the forest for several days, poisoned and drugged; they had shot me with several electrical bullets that messed up my rage, so those drug darts took effect, and I ran by my willpower, but then they hit me with gaseous metal bombs. I got caught in the end, and now this torture.
After several days, maybe weeks, I have no idea; I was put in an unfamiliar room; I had a cannula in my neck and they collected my blood and a lot of it; I had blood collection for eight hours and then eight hours of fucking strong vervain, little bit holy water and after that eight hours if rest and same again until it was pretty beastly with my bloodlust.
My vampire side came out fully; my hair turned into silver, long and silky, spiky; I had a black lace dress on me, my nails were black, long and poisonous, my voice was alluring, seductive, my eyes were black pools, my lips were blood red and my fangs long and sharp.
Scientists had rarely seen a fully blown transformation, and they knew I was one damn strong vampire. Oh, what a target for their new vampire drugs as well. How to make panic pharmaceutical, what effect only affects the vampire side, making it very unpredictable.
Then they released me from that bed, some sort of mechanism that they could work on remotely. I stood up. My vampire pheromones were open. I was already luring my prey closer to me.
Blood was the only thing on my mind, and I needed it, so the door opened, and I smelled it. It was just human blood, but it didn't matter; it was blood. I wanted it. I wanted to hear that pulse stopping, victims dying. I wanted to snuff those lives. I wanted to smell the fear.
I walked through the door. There were 20-30 young humans, boys, and girls, about 18-25 years old, and they were all afraid of me. Oh, how my vampire side loved the smell of their fear.
I walked into the room and said, "Oh hello, meals, sh... be afraid, be terrified, my meals, give so good taste to that blood of yours, that fear. Hmm.."
I attacked, mauled, and killed them all. Drank them fully dry. Long after their hearts had stopped, I pulled every single drop of blood that I could. No matter how they begged and pleaded, they died by my fangs, by my bloodlust.
I was a beast. I enjoyed killing each of them. I played with them at first and then drained them as painfully as possible. I wanted them to squirm, scream, plead, beg, shit themselves. My inner killer was awakened, too. Pleasure was so strong in my mind.
But human blood is not my nutrition. After I had drained the last drops from the last victim, I shivered; it cleansed me, and my vampire side went away as I collapsed in the middle of the pile of corpses that I had just killed. Scientists came at me, lifted me onto a gurney, and wheeled me away.
All of my sweat was wiped and collected, and they were very excited about this cleansing. I wasn't. This was damn hard for me, and I cleansed myself three weeks in a row; I lost a huge amount of weight, and they took samples; they opened me up several times.
I was weak, unable to do anything, and not acting at all until the last of the cleaning had gone away. Then I was pretty damn weak to do anything, but I had to try. I had to.
It took me several tries to even find my rage, to find something that helped me. Finally, I got myself moving again; I killed everyone; I had already killed so many innocents, and it was fine for me to continue my killings. I finally got out of there. I said I was the only one walking out. I was a soulless killing machine. Blood of innocents staining my hands, my soul, my fangs.
All bloodied and enraged, I made my way to Safehouse, but as time went by, and there were not so many donors in my blood farm as before, magic houses had taken a lot of blood in other realms for our offspring, so I had a limited supply of suitable bloods. I drank what I could. As my vampire side had been tortured, she was not fine. She was wild, wanted blood, and there would be no regrets.
I sat on a chair, with my vampire side out. She was so hungry. Magnum had sent Wulfe to help me. There were cameras in our safe houses, so whenever I went on, my people. Magnum saw it and saw what shape I was, and he could send what help was needed.
Wulfe was standing before me, and he had put a spell around me so I could not attack him, as he was a delicious little morsel that I wanted to eat so freaking badly. He gave me a glass of blood and told me to count to 30 when I drank it, slowly, patiently, just little sips.
One glass had to go for five minutes first, then ten minutes after my vampire side was gone. After that, no more blood. It was hard; that was really a struggle, and I had no choice but to just obey, to learn to drink less.
Wulfe put his vampire power out, and that was it. I had no choice but to obey. Now Damon's power. He had used it a few times, felt like a feather compared to this what pressed me like a ton of bricks.
I was a freaking strong vampire, and I needed the blood, strong blood, so as I went to gigs, I might have done predation, but I always had someone with me, and when I found my prey, they captured it before I could get a good meal out of it because blood was needed and now was no time to have spent. It was often Wulfe who was watching me, not letting me drink any more than necessary.
I had bought a lot of new houses, and everything that I had bought had been sent back to me. By my ex-pack, every piece of furniture, every single piece of clothing, all of it, they had purged me fully out of their lives.
But I had not taken out everything that Mariella had bought or done. They were still in my many houses.
I had problem after problem. Now, this bloodlust, a feeling that I had never felt with this intensity, and I knew many vampires had to go through this. I had been captured several times. Some of them were a lot worse than others, and Colin was my doctor.
He knew what had happened. He wrote everything up. He did not mince his words as he recorded my other medical issues. What might come?
I had money, and I had been a bitch, so I had taken every single prize, collectible, painting, everything that Pack had sent to their museum back to me. Every single piece, and I put them up in my house, too. I had taken every single thing from my time as a flea out of there, too. My rare rocks and diamonds, and whatnot, everything found a place somewhere in my houses.
Let them get their stuff in their museum, not my things. They are not gonna live out of me, or my reputation. I had made it very clear to every patient that I was not in connection with Salvatore anymore.
I was Springcove, and I was Lady Springcove in vampire circles, too. I even went to a few vampire parties with Wulfe as my plus one. I was not sure which one of us looked at more, as Wulfe rarely went through these balls and everyone knew him.
And Wulfe did one good thing for me. He was a very sweet boy once you got to know him, and he worshipped me. He did not say his age, but I knew he was old, so looks can be deceiving, too. He made a spell and took out my mark for vampire marriage, so no scar on my palm.
And we had been after this in one vampire ball. There had been new elders, again, and they had promised to get us married as vampires. It would be an honor to them. Wulfe's expression. There was something in there. I don't know, longing, dreaming, or what. I said nothing.
I was in France for a change; we were on a mission to get evil scientists down. I had electric blue hair, spiky and short. I had on a black leather jacket with studs, strong makeup, black jeans, a studded belt, and I chewed gum. I looked like some bored goth.
I had special plaster covering my scent, so Sark had pheromone radar fixed in his van. Meaning he could sniff me out. I would not make it easy for him.
Then I saw them. Damon and Mariella walked hand in hand, kissing and being happy. Adam was with Mimosa, and Charles was with Shadow. The rest of the Salvatores were all around Mariella. They were happy and healthy. No problems.
I weighed 41 kilos, my temperature was 38,5 Celsius, and Colin had reminded me often about that. I was on a mission. Three Sarks guys were eyeballing Salvatores, fine. We were on the Pont des Arts, and I remembered I had seen this a long time ago.
Damon took the lock from his pocket, used his energy and magic, carved their names into that lock, and put it on the bridge. Mariella did this with all the Salvatores, and Adam, Charles, Demon, and Lepard did this with wolves.
There were a few assassins after Charles, too, and, oh really, three vampire women wanted to poison Mariella. No problem, I had extra sticks. They would kill the vampire slowly.
I kept my emotions in check, walked past them, and killed those three guys with my poison sticks. I took down those other baddies as well. They would be dead in half an hour. My phone beeped. Fine, another one of these. No one knew me as Wulfe's little pendant on my neck disguised me.
I sighed in my mind as I prepared for my mission once again. Release gigs. This meant too badly damaged victims, and I needed to do the last service for them. This had been my work for decades, ever since the first fleas, and it had gotten no easier.
I went to my car, drove to base, and took out my gear for this gig. This was all my doing. No one else but Murdock would be backup outside. This facility had already been cleared, and this secret part had been found.
Alaric did a lot of work with us, and we had more or less merged, so I had compelled him too to inform me if these kinds of doors were found, and another thing I did alone was destroy sheds. Damien had told Sarks about them, and we got hints, and I knew what to look for, so I taught my people to find me sheds.
I had quite a collection of rages and other emotions as well. My mind was sound. It was damaged, but it was strong. There was a lot of power in this little bitch. I was more or less a warped creature, a monster sometimes, but a hell of a strong one.
Destroying sheds. Well, it was my job as well. I did not tell them what they were, just warehouses, but there could be traps, so no one else but me would go to them. There were prizes sometimes, evil Sarks; oh, how I loved to kill them and empty those white vans.
I had a wonderful collection of drugs in Moldova and Chicago, too. I might have one or two Sarks, put them in a special place, and I got to have fun. Interrogate them. Well, I had help, my five. Even Colin could hurt when he wanted. We had all our sadistic sides.
Magnum kept my little hobby under control. Meaning not too long playtime with Sarks. He came and shot them to death, and did not let me torture them to death so many times. He tortured them as well, and we got a lot of information out of them.
I had bought or gotten a plot of an old Chicago house, and I had built a new one in its place. The bigger, fancier, but mere place brought me even a little comfort. Though I almost broke down when I first visited there, a gigantic oak was still up, and there it was, carved in that tree, a heart with the initials "M. S & D. S forever together." Damon had carved them when we had gotten married.
But I held on, not letting those feelings come out. I had done too much; I had responsibility for so many, so I was needed. In hospital and in the field too.
I went to a liberation gig; it was never easy, and these were not ones I knew. These poor humans had just ended up being Sark's little playthings, and there was nothing for me to do but break their necks and end their suffering. I took samples from them, pictures so we could give information forward.
There were about 70 of them, and I had almost finished when I heard noises- shit, guards, or something. I just got all done, got away with a little shooting, and ran into the forest as a black jaguar. I got away, but just barely.
When I got to the base, I had a few sheds ready. But I had first done some work at the hospital, as my shift was about to start. So Magnum, Murdock, and I went to the hospital. I had always had two bodyguards in the hospital, and they were needed.
As I said, I was the popular victim. Sark wanted me so badly, and they had connected with so many nasty scientists and told them about me, and I had quite a lot behind me.
I always did my best, but it was just not enough. I lost my patients, and it was normal for trauma surgeons to lose patients. I had a familiar face with myself in operations. My friend Will "the hothead" worked here too. He worked at my clinic too, learning what is special about shifters and their treatments.
We worked fine together, and he was too upset about how Pack had treated me, but I had moved on. I had no choice but to keep going and someday maybe rest, but not for a long time. Too much to do, and even if it was a hard time.
Will had studied me quite extensively as well, so he could treat me well too if need arose, and he had a tranquilizer pistol with him, darts strong enough to bring me down if needed, so he was not a pussycat when it came to treating me.
I had to keep myself in absolute control of every aspect of my life, from my bloodlust to my rage, to my eating. My timetable. It kept me busy, and I had no time to think things through, not at all. My life was strict; it was punctual, and it was funny that chaos operates on a timetable.
After eight hours of surgery, I went to my clinic, to talk, to learn, and to help. I was still an alpha female, a strong one, and I didn't need a male. I got several old couples to come and talk to me; it was important to these old females to pass on their knowledge.
I was deemed worthy of it, even though I had no alpha male. Females can be by themselves too. I had the right kind of female power.
Alpha power comes in two forms: female and male. Now, if a female is alpha, she will make her own power, just as I did mine, and a male does his, but here is the kicker. Normally, if that ritual is done, alpha duties are given to several females. It is females who give those seeds, that female-type power, so when the pair is breeding, alpha power comes together fully; it is complete.
With my ex-pack, that is not. Every female got seed from Damon, male power, so there is only the male part of that power; alpha power is not complete, not unless they take another female with female-type power, and once power is given, you can't change it; it is that type forever.
I helped a lot of the shifters and got loads of knowledge, and learned a lot of anatomy, physiology, and other aspects of what it came to shifters. I got a reputation, and it just kept getting better and better. More shifters came to me, more old couples; some of them came to teach me, and some of them came to seek help.
I learned a lot, too. I knew it was my duty to get this information and maybe someday tell it to someone. I had quite a collection of offspring and babies, so there are possibilities too. My offspring were most powerful, as they had the right type of alpha power.
It was beautiful to see the 800-year-old couple. Two leopard shifters looked young, but I could feel their age. They had this connection. They had merged their alpha power, so it had become their mutual power, just their pair bond.
They had this connection that could be felt even by an outsider like myself; the connection was palpable, and it was beautiful to see real, genuine love that shone in both of their eyes.
They had to just look at each other to feel what the other felt. They were inseparable, and I could see genuine pain in Colin's eyes. I understood he had once had something like that, and he had lost it. Leprechauns mate for life, so there would never be another for him, too.
I knew that even if I had been in the pack, this would never happen to me. Maybe between Mariella and Damon, but then again, Mariella is not a real alpha female. She will never be. It is just how it is.
These women taught me that Mariella is not alpha. They had seen her, and they could tell. None of the females in that pack were alpha, even though they had alpha power. And as it was the wrong power, well, those females laughed at them.
One tiger woman told me it was a little like a foreigner talking. That could talk very well, but there would be slight errors, something that would reveal the truth that this was not native. Now, alpha power was a little like language, and I was the only native speaker, and those in the pack, they weren't using their power very well.
What it came to Damon. Well, one shifter told me he used his power a little like a three-year-old child uses a crayon. Not very good, and he thought he was strong, but as I felt a few males, oh wow, they were strong.
Damon was too vampire, way too vampire, still to be a full alpha. He did not want to be just an alpha; he saw himself as a vampire, so his alpha power was weak.
Because Alpha power will react to a true alpha, the one who can manipulate it, I had learned a long time ago to use everything that I had, so I used my alpha power, modified it, and combined it.
It grew steadily; it was a hell of a strong power, as did my rages. I had so many shades of rage, a veritable rainbow of colors, and I had put those rages in a different part of my mind, so in case someone should get to my rage, I would always have backup.
We had a few playful times with these males as they wanted to test my power against theirs; well, this little chaos was stronger than the 1100-year-old lion alpha, and he was hell-impressed. He was Curran's grandfather and not easy to defeat. My power to overcome him meant that I was the strongest he had ever seen. He tried to set me up with Curran very much.
I knew I was brutally strong; I was dangerous as hell, and my life was one big balancing act between life and death, so to speak. I was a healer and killer, not a lover or wife, not even a girlfriend. Just boss, leader, inspiration, surgeon.
I had to just move on, not play whatchamacallit. It was not for me, and I had my duty, my work, and my responsibilities too. I never stopped to think, what if I had just kept my guard up and not given in?
Even as I write this, I wonder what if I hadn't given in to that connection? Would things be better? It changed everything, and although we are doing well now, I have not made the same mistake a second time, not even though my husband has sworn, even promised, that he would endure it. But that time in my life was ultimately so fucking dark and lonely that I never want to experience it again.
"Baby, you don't have to. Believe me, that time is something I regret deeply. It was an empty time for me, too, for the entire pack, and I'll never let you go again. I promise."
You can see what my husband is saying in my mind as he watches what I write. We have had a few rough patches along the way still, even after that time. It is just my life. There is no perfect life for me, no ultimate happy ending.