We continued our slow walk, as Sadie was determined to both walk and push her siblings. I helped her, and we drew a lot of attention. Keeping my mouth shut, we passed three women. Their kids were in strollers, and the women were delicately eating salad from paper cups.
One of them said to the other, "That woman is cruel. That infant can barely walk, and she makes the baby push the strollers. The poor thing must try to hold on to something to walk, but the damn thing just goes away. Is she some kind of religious fanatic, having five, or is she one of those who adopt a bunch of kids because they are barren and can't have them naturally?"
The other woman answered, "She is not human. See? She looks feral. Those kids aren't human, sure they look like one but she is probably secretly teaching them to be better hunters, not even trying to assimilate any form of humanity in them."
I barely managed to keep myself from rolling my eyes, so I let the ladies keep gossiping, knowing I wasn't the only one listening. I could still hear them well after we had walked past, now they were berating some overweight teenage girl, claiming she was ruining her fertility and eating trash as she was munching on a cheeseburger.
I just thought to myself what kind of drama we would end up having if Damon were here. Would he have done something? I mean, once upon a time, long ago, when Mariella came into the picture, I'd had the idea of spending Christmas alone in one of the mansions I'd bought in Halifax. To my surprise, Damon, Mariella, Adam, Charles, and the wolves had all come, and we had the best Christmas ever.
Thinking about it now, it was hilarious. We shopped for trees and ornaments, and then gifts. In one shop, Damon conjured some black sunglasses, put them on me, took my arm, and made me look like I was blind. Mimosa, who was in her wolf form, was supposed to be my seeing-eye canine, but she "escaped," leaving me fumbling alone. I played my role, bumping into strangers and looking distressed, then Damon and Mariella would come to rescue me, telling this crazy story. It went like this...
I had been the director of a top-notch medical research facility, or at least, that's what it depended on Damon's latest pronouncements. Anyway, after that, one unhappy employee threw acid in my eyes, blinding me. I went crazy and ended up in a mental institute. Damon, a doctor, had been abroad in the jungle with Doctors Without Borders and didn't know what had happened.
When he returned, he found me in the mental facility and began to wean me off the drugs. Just imagine him telling this to a stranger with a straight face, and I had to keep my expression completely neutral, not burst into laughter or mutter, "really?"
Then there was Mariella. She was Damon's doctor. Damon had been a mental case when he was young, and his parents had locked him in an institute before his 20th birthday. He was almost over-medicated there, and he told everyone he was crazy, giving different diagnoses.
Mariella also had to remain calm, not to burst into laughter as this crazy story went on. The gist of it was that Mariella saw Damon, began to help him when they were about to lobotomize him, and she got him cured. He had fallen for me, but ever since my tragedy, Damon had reached out to Mariella, his support person, as they continued to try to make me accept my blindness.
This crazy story brought us money, massage cards, you name it; it was always some rich loner who wanted to help, and Damon delivered his role with such perfection.
As I smiled to myself, recalling the incident, I remembered he had done it several times before. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't do it again, as I wasn't sure how I would react this time, or how his story might change.
An hour later, while in the shop, I swore to myself that this would be the last time I ventured in alone with five of them. They were all wailing, and the staff was understanding, recognizing it was simply something babies did. It had become too much for them, as I hadn't been able to give them everything they needed.
Since Sadie had gotten tired, I had put her back in her seat, but someone else wanted to walk, and not in the shop. Not while I was pushing the stroller in one hand and a shopping cart in the other, trying to pick out what we needed. They became angry, and the crying started.
It was slow going, and I sighed inwardly for what felt like the millionth time as I picked up yet another pacifier from the shop floor, putting it in my bag without giving it back, as I had no idea what germs might be on the floor. We had just spent time in the hospital, so I wasn't keen on spending more time there.
Then, a few young girls came to my rescue. "Excuse me, it seems you could use some help. We are from the childcare team at Kids' R Fun. We provide childminding services and such. Would you like us to watch over these children while you shop? We don't mind the crying; it's normal. Sometimes they might stop when they find something more interesting than having a bad day. See, there is a children's play area; we can take them there, and you can shop in peace."
I looked over and saw a place with several kids and strollers, young girls minding them. I saw a mother handing her three children over, and those kids seemed happy.
Overwhelmed, I simply nodded and replied, "We are not human. I am, and so are these—shifter vampires. But don't worry, they aren't after blood."
The taller girl, with brown eyes and light blonde hair, smiled, revealing her canines. As a vampire herself, she stated, "I'm not human either. Five hundred eighty-four years, and unfortunately, barren. Unable to conceive. But this... this is enough. Being around these for eight hours a day, and nowadays, I'm glad I can't have kids."
I felt a bit more at ease. I reached into my wallet, retrieved our pack's calling card, and handed it to her. "If you ever change your mind, I have fourteen husbands. Ten of them are millennia-old vampire wizard shifters, and their magic focuses on fertility, so they just might..."
She rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, thank you, you've just given me the ultimate temptation. But fine, I'll think about it and see if I can resist."
I replied, "Don't. Despite them being everywhere now, they're lovely."
She and her friends then took my strollers. The wailing grew louder as my five children realized they were being pushed away from me. However, several girls were ready, armed with toys and rattles, as they noticed the strollers full of angry babies approaching.
I focused on the task at hand: acquiring supplies. The homes weren't exactly baby-proof, but I didn't intend to spend too much time in them. I gathered some essentials to mitigate the worst dangers, focusing on a few rooms rather than the entire house. This was a road trip, not a home-building project... yet. My cart filled quickly.
For at least fifteen minutes, I could hear my babies wailing before they eventually calmed down, either from exhaustion or because they found something more engaging. I dreaded future shopping trips and was determined to minimize them.
My goal was to get others to do the shopping with the babies, not me. It would require finesse and planning to lure others into this, especially if they had done it before. Fortunately, I excelled at that kind of manipulation.
A store attendant, a tall, plain-looking woman in uniform with a small, forced smile, approached me and asked, "May I help you?"
I replied, "I'm trying to figure out the minimal essentials for baby-proofing a house or a few rooms. We're on a road trip with the goal of buying some houses, spending a few days in each, and then moving on. I have five fourteen-month-olds, so there's plenty of action."
She smiled and said, "We have these kits that include things like safety caps for outlets and corner protectors. Do you need any child gates or playpens?"
A playpen might work, but it would have to be large. I told her, "What's the largest playpen you have? I might need two to give them enough space while keeping them relatively contained."
She led me to the aisle with the playpens, then had to leave because another customer needed help with bibs and plates.
I continued selecting items, not concerned about the prices at the moment. I needed these things, and now I had a ton of stuff to do. There was no need to bargain hunt. I observed a few families nearby, looking at objects and calculating prices.
One woman, the mother of three, was swearing to her husband or partner that she wouldn't have more children and that cheaper alternatives would suffice. The man tried to be more neutral about the future, but she seemed pretty stubborn. She consistently chose the cheapest options, while the man was trying to find the most useful ones. They had a few heated arguments as they went.
As a sort of genius, or rather, a pretender, I was essentially a living lie detector. However, this also allowed me to seamlessly adopt any role I chose. I didn't simply mimic; I became the character. This ability accelerated my learning and fueled my curiosity. I constantly observed those around me, my mind acting as a repository, storing information for future use.
This mental library allowed me to convincingly portray various roles, from a shop assistant to a financially-strapped wife content with her children, or anything in between. I observed young couples shopping for their first child, families with children of varying ages, and even older children exhibiting jealousy towards a new baby. I even saw a young woman searching for plant pot covers to prevent her cat from eating the soil; she clearly considered her pets "furbabies."
My pretender side took note of all this, and it was actually fun to watch and let my mind wander without constantly thinking about what to do next, what was on the agenda, or planning ahead. I realized how much mental energy it was burning, even though it was necessary.
Maybe in the future, I might learn to be less of a control freak and have more trust in others. This realization led me to understand that our point system, our system with roles and tasks, was one giant exercise in trust. We had to trust each other to do certain things, while we each had our own responsibilities. I tend to take on as much as I can, but perhaps in the future, as my trust deepens, I might be lazier and trust others to do their part without me having to do the most.
The trip continued. I had gathered most of our supplies, and when I went to collect my babies, they were asleep, clutching the new toys I had bought for them. Fine, I thought, at least they were quiet for now. It was a breeze to load them back into the car and drive up to our house. I rolled them in, letting them sleep in their strollers while I set up their temporary beds. I then lifted them and placed them in their beds.
I had also bought some clothes, planning to leave some behind, just in case, and a few sets of larger sizes too, as well as adult clothes. While the kids were still napping, I had found time to visit a few clothing stores and purchase reserve clothes for myself and for the men; nothing too fancy or expensive, but comfy, useful clothes, should we need them.
Sure, someday, when this was all over and we were rich again, I would buy each of the salvatores special clothes, their own individual sets. But that was years away, and who knew, perhaps we would get rich in the meantime.
Though unlikely, with eight children already here, plus Mariella's next litter, education was going to cost an arm and a leg, or several. But I had my shop, which I had expanded steadily, and since it was now summer, there were annuals for sale too, providing a little extra boost. Who knew, maybe I would have time to spend a few days here and there in the shop someday, when we returned and recovered from this, and were in peak condition. The world was truly our oyster.
Having driven into Utah, a week into our road trip through five states, with Utah being the sixth, I had been taking the children to children's museums, aquariums, and various toddler-friendly places, but not shopping, which I couldn't help. My thoughts raced, and Sadie babbled in her seat. They were rapidly acquiring and repeating words.
Now, it was music they wanted. Despite their imperfect pronunciation of "s," it was clear what she desired, so I started my playlist, making her giggle. This was a new experience for me. As they interacted with me more each day, talking and pointing at things, I continued speaking to them, explaining things, and answering their questions, such as identifying a "ball." Their vocabulary expanded daily, and I considered writing down their words, just for fun, to see how many they knew.
While I was thinking this, Damon, version five, whom Mariella had initially labeled a "psychopath" because of his harshness towards her, still loved me deeply. He had also found his confidence and kept checking my thoughts, using his telepathic abilities, as did my husband, one of fourteen. He was my protector, and one of ten, as every version of Damon was my protector, and I was theirs, making it easy for him.
He said, "Not you, baby, we'll do it. Once you get home, keep teaching them words, and then we'll map out their vocabulary. Oh, I can't wait to see how many cusswords they already know, my love."
I rolled my eyes. I had no idea how many inappropriate words for children under two they knew, but I bet it was a few, as those words occasionally slipped from my lips, even though I tried to curse mentally, not out loud, at least not when they were awake.
We would be on the road for a few more days, extending our trip to 15 days. The pack had just received word that they could move back tomorrow, so I was giving them a few extra days to prepare and make things easier for us.
However, one thought kept replaying in my mind: the potential confrontation between Damon and me. I wondered how explosive it might be and whether it would be helpful. The biggest question was what I was feeling for him: anger, disappointment, hatred, or perhaps nothing at all. I wasn't sure yet, so the confrontation would have to wait until I sorted out my feelings and thoughts.
This would allow progress, rather than making things worse. I had other issues to address before we could put this behind us, and I wasn't sure if the others had dealt with their feelings either. Were they waiting for my reaction? Surely, many of them loved my babies dearly and called themselves "daddies."
Thanks to Number One's actions, those babies had been on ventilators for days, so I could guess they might hold a grudge as well. The future would reveal our next steps. Only then would it be time to make a fresh start, put this all behind us, and hope he had learned his lesson, truly grown, and changed.