9. Viva Forever.

Eight weeks were over. I was pretty damn exhausted and tired when the demons threw me in Florida. The fucking wizard came and snapped my neck. When I woke up, I was on the street, and I realized I was in Florida. I went to one of my safe houses.

First, I had made tiny houses for myself or some other fleas, and I always had a safe there with money and cards in it. I changed clothes there, and I was feeling pretty damn ferocious. My heart wasn't beating, I wasn't breathing, so my insides were pretty much mush. I weighed 26 kilos; I felt all metallic all the time. My head hurt, I had a cold, and now I wasn't sure if I had an infection or if I was just so damn hypothermic, but Florida was a warm place.

My blood lust was huge, and I drank my whole damn blood supply out of the safe house. It helped a little, but not nearly enough. I let Mimosa loose. She got to eat properly, and she knew how to function quite a bit. For example, she was my walking cane, and I leaned on her as if I felt like I was losing it.

I went on the estate agent's website and bought myself a fully furnished large mansion and would go there to recover. I called a few fleas to give me some immediate help. Ruby and Sapphire came to the safe house, and they brought blood when they came when I asked.

I had forbidden them to tell Jake or Rob or Magnum or anyone else yet. I had them remove the satanic nasty spiked collar from my neck and bandage the deep wounds on my back. My vampire side was strong enough that I compelled them to keep quiet about my condition. This would take time, and I had it.

 I had several long arguments with Mimosa and Mirella about why I wouldn't take anyone to treat me, so I showed. We were going to our new mansion. Mimosa was loose, and we were downtown, walking toward our luxurious new home.

I said, "Well, you'll see."

I was walking down the street, and a bunch of people came up to me. Mimosa didn't see me immediately through the crowd, but after everyone had passed me, I had white hair, black, poisonous nails, and a lace dress. Even though I was skinny as hell, it looked like a good thing.

Like I said, my vampire side had taken quite a beating and was really on the surface. Even though humans were just cleaning, my vampire side might have wanted to clean if any humans were around me for a while. Mimosa and Mirella then saw the situation.

We went to the mansion to recover. Well, Mirella tried to make some dental preparations. My body doesn't appreciate my dental preparations, as they didn't work well. So, this was going to take time.

First, I concentrated on the blood. I had stored Damon's blood in the house and had asked the fleas to deliver it to me. If it helped at all, maybe Damon was no longer my biological half, and the blood would do absolutely nothing. I could then accept more help once I got this satanic vampire side of me under better control.

I hadn't even thought about everyday life, whether it would be a divorce or how each house would be divided. I wasn't that far into it yet. I'd had a week to recover and been in my mansion for five days when Charles called and asked if I could come and help. Colin was in Ireland, and Charles didn't know anybody men would put up with.

Apparently, the men had arrived with their women, but they were in a bad way and needed medical attention. Fine, why can't I go? After all, I was nothing but a wreck when I got myself together with various bandages, and luckily, Mirella could make quite a few different substances from the molecular stockpile to relieve any symptom, but they helped little.

The men were in the Chicago house. It was time to see how awful their eight years had been compared to my modest eight weeks. I'd got my bloodlust somewhat under control so that I didn't change my appearance too easily and now had plenty of blood to drink.

I had a good blood supply in the Chicago house, downstairs bedroom, too, so I would have no problem with that. So I could, at some point, pack my stuff from there, too. I didn't think I was welcome in the pack anymore. Charles had told me that Bran had now almost taken Adam and Damon as his own pack and considered himself the pack leader, so that should be considered. Well, in eight years, you can pack up and pack up hard.

 I went there, and one flea flew me on a flight that lasted a little over two hours. I had covered my condition carefully. I was layered and bandaged very hard on every wound and injury. What I couldn't help was that I still had no pulse or breathing, but then again, Charles had sounded pretty damn stressed on the phone, so I doubt they would even notice.

I had a dark red Corvette that I drove to the house in, and I had quite a few bags with me.

I went inside; Charles met me and said, " Oh, honey, you're here. They're impossible, and those little fucking pussies don't help. Damon hasn't taken his upstairs. Tanya is just in one of the basement rooms when she wants to be near Diamond Damon."

I rolled my eyes; that sounded like a real bimbo already, but eight years is a long time. I wondered to myself why Charles was so irritated with them. Did he assume poor men could go eight years with no one? And then, if these women were still always taking care of them. Frankly, I was surprised because Damon hadn't taken his woman upstairs to the bedroom or directed her to stay there, but my stuff was still there.

It must have been strange for men to come home to the past. I took my stuff there and went downstairs to the medbay to help Charles.

 The men, Damon, Adam, Bran, and Samuel, were each lying in their own hospital beds, and a woman sat beside them, stroking and chatting and doing absolutely nothing useful. The women were young, beautiful, and completely stupid.

Damon's woman was Tanya, black-haired and thin-faced, and her shrill voice hissed in my ears.

" Oh, little Damon darling, where does it hurt? Do you need blood? "

Damon lay pale, dark rings around his eyes, half asleep and unresponsive to the woman.

Bran had blonde-haired bimbo, shapely and bordering on overweight, but Bran liked a woman to have something good to grab onto. Her name was Veronica. She also held Bran's hand, stroked him, complimented him constantly, and the woman's annoyingly nasal speech irritated me. I was in an irritable mood.

Next to Adam sat a small red-haired woman talking to him in a low voice. I didn't know if I should be impressed as he'd almost taken my clone, except she was fully human and didn't dare touch Adam at all. This one was called Nikki.

And then next to Samuel was a brunette, dead serious. She was holding his hand. Samuel kept his eyes closed, and she was talking to him like a child. And that annoyed me, too. Her name was Monica. 

Fine. Time to go to work. I had brought my doctor's coat with me, so I put it on and listened to Charles explain.

"Bran has an infection, multiple lacerations, and metal in his blood. He's tired, cranky, can't stand, and restless. Fever, pain somewhere, but he won't say where."

We always went to the patient in question, and I went to the subject myself. Mirella was alert, and I tasted Bran's blood.

After a while, Mirella said, "Okay. Move on, and I'll start making Bran's substances."

I said to Charles, "I'll make the damons and start making the tooth substances for them. I got an enormous pile of molecules from that ship, so I'm loaded."

Charles looked at me, listened, and said, " You're not okay. "

Fine, It was time to act. My vampire side could do this easy enough.

I looked Charles hard in the eye and said, "I'm fine, absolutely fine. "

The compulsion hit and sunk. Charles looked for a moment and said nothing. I am powerhouse and I had to admit it to myself; it felt good. Somehow empowering. We moved on to Samuel. Charles continued to give his report.

"Samuel has a bit of the same thing, and he has even worse wounds with some foreign objects in them. Also feverish, lethargic, sleepy, and confused, even at times. Samuel won't give me the key to the medicine cabinet. He is sometimes quite sensible, and then he talks about 600-year-old things."

I nodded, looked through this too, tasted the blood, and Mirella got more work. 

We then moved on to Adam. He had the long lights on, so there was one very grumpy werewolf.

"Adam has aconitum poisoning, inflammation, silver bullets; he's unpredictable, angry, and can't stand on his feet. I haven't been able to get them out when I can't get them to sleep."

I stroked Adam. I knew he liked to be touched and lot.

He opened his eyes and said, " Mimi, honey, sorry...."

I said, " Shh... it's ok, I understand. It's ok, I'm here. I'm going to taste a little bit of your blood now."

Adam's girlfriend looked at me and said, " My Adam is not your meal, you bloodsucker."

I said nothing back. I made a scratch and licked like the others. After a while, Mirella signed off.

I said to the woman, " Adam likes to be touched, so I suggest you touch him."

The woman looked at me with open hostility. She didn't move, didn't touch Adam.

 I then continued to Damon. Charles was now closer to me. Apparently, Mr. Salvatore was not nice.

Charles explained matter-of-factly.

"Damon. He got holy water, so his vampire side has suffered and's not a weakling permanently. He will get better, but he hates being in this condition. He has sores and infections, won't let touch, some metals, and likes to bite his dental work when mad enough. "

I went to Damon and went through him, too.

Damon said mockingly, "You think you're a doctor then, eh, duh, I say. You try something, and I'll show you what I can do."

I made no reply as I took Damon's icy, shaking hand from inside the blanket and made a scratch on it, licked his blood, and Mirella signed off. Tanya seemed to compliment Damon very much. And she was talking about me in a less flattering tone. 

I then went to the computer and wrote about what I had found out about whom. I took the collectors and put them in place, and Mirella then prepared the materials so that I had named bags for everyone.

Charles came and sat next to me and said, " I've been trying to help these for a week now, and I'm getting tired. Can you help at all? I know you may not want to. You're not part of the herd, but—"

I nodded and said coolly, matter-of-factly, " I'm about ready to be a doctor. And yes, I can help where I can. Let's get started then. First, I'll get these bags ready for everyone, then I'll cannulate everyone, and we'll put these bags on the drip. Then we'll start treating the wounds and so on."

It took me about an hour to prepare a couple of liter bags for everyone. My bags were striped as I made more than one for each. I went with Charles to the cupboard and showed him what supplies we needed for the cannulation. Charles had nothing but his own clothes, so I gave him the scrubs from the closet, which he changed into. Then, we got down to business.

Bran first. First, I put all the men in shackles.

Then I said to the women who started whining and feeling sorry for the men, " If you don't want to do it yourself, shut up. I'm going to do this the way I see fit."

The women were silent, and I heard Damon berate me to his wife completely and vow to divorce me when he got well. I didn't care. Charles was next to me as I explained the cannulation. I let him feel and examine, too. I was more or less teaching him same time.

Charles had long, slender, dexterous fingers and was quick to learn. I put the bag on the drip for Bran. I showed Charles how to do it, and when we moved on to Samuel's cannula, Charles was already hanging the bag on his own and putting it on the drip.

By the time I had all the men's bags dripping, it was time to go change the bandages and examine the wounds. Oh, how I put the ladies to work. Their job was straightforward. Bring the men what they wanted, whether it was a Coca-Cola bottle or a blood bag, but that was now the women's job.

I was a doctor. I showed Charles how to stitch and treat a wound, and it wasn't long before I could leave him to treat a wound while I moved on. I showed different dressings and taught Charles at the same time.

I did what I had learned—an old medical school requirement. See one, do one, teach one. 

I didn't take breaks. The women went to dinner or to bed. So did Charles. I was downstairs in the medbay the whole time, and it was my first time in this role. I was cleaning and dressing wounds, suturing, and giving blood. My blood was healing pretty damn well from these infections, and no one had noticed that I didn't have a pulse.

I kept my vampire pheromones open, certain kinds, lulling these, kind of ignorance so I was not so important that no one noticed me or my state. Again, this was kind of my new ability, to learn to use my pheromones more. 

I made bags of dental substances for everyone every day, and my molecular stock dwindled to treating men, but that's okay. I could cope; I was totally focused on medical care. I shut out all my emotions. I walked the men to the bathroom and back.

I kept my expression neutral, even though I was about to pass out from the pain of Damon being in my arms. He was completely legless, or at least he wanted to be. He always seemed to find a spot that made me hurt even more. He's a heavy boy trying to get to the toilet. I wiped after the toilet.

I got Damon some human blood because he was now so weak that it was fine for food. If I wanted to get Salvatore to sleep, I gave him my wrist, and he couldn't resist. A couple of liters, and he was unconscious for hours. I made extra blood, but my heart wasn't beating.

The women did what I said. But it was always a godless war, and after five days, I couldn't wait to wring it out, so I did the things myself. My condition, well, I can't say that it improved at all, but I stocked up on various supplies when I got Samuel's keys to the medicine cabinet after a week so I could stock up on some medicines for myself.

Now, the problem was that I had a lot of metals in me, metals for which no binder had yet been developed. I took a quick drink of powerful blood in my downstairs bedroom and kept my vampire side completely in check, or at least to the extent that Bran didn't see me as a threat. He fucked me in the face.

" Did you know, Mimi, that I am now a pack leader? Adam, Samuel, and Damon are under me; you are not part of our pack. These girls will make excellent wolves once we get in shape. You are no longer part of the equation."

I said nothing back as I helped Bran off the toilet and wiped his ass. I had been treating the men for ten days now and had gotten them pretty damn well healed. 

 The women were no help at all. They grimaced at their men's wounds or the fact that they had to wipe after the toilet. They were prissies, and I don't know what in eight years the men were going through, and I didn't care.

I'll focus on the matter at hand. Damon had a peculiar look on his face after I had, once again, with Charles's help, gotten everyone's wounds taken care of when I asked Charles to be my meal. Our wound treatments went well. Charles had learned a lot, and he was handy.

Adam was also a very impossible patient. Mr. Hauptmann had no self-control and had more than once hit me with a fist, as if his girlfriend had secretly released him from his chains. 

I, of course, was then spat in the face from the moment I was bitten and pinched or bitten if I was careless. Damon would bite as hard as he could if I didn't keep my guard up, and he knew how to be mean. But he couldn't really find anything to complain about in anything I did or in my blood.

I was hungry for blood, and I said to Charles, "Charles, could I have a little drink of yours? Because I'm blood-hungry, I understand; if you don't want to, I've got my supply."

I'd had a hell of a lot to drink, but it all got ripe again when Damon criticized my body at Tanya, how I was a board, a shapeless dwarf, and how when he fucked me, it was like fucking a child, and it wasn't always so much fun. As I said, Damon could be really mean, but I didn't always care. Only my blood lust did.

Charles sat comfortably and said, "Come on, let's eat. Sit on my lap."

Fine. I straddled Charles's lap so that our hips were facing each other. I wrapped my arms around my victim, sank my teeth in, and ate—a lot. Mirella had once taught me how to eat naughtily so that the victim would be released. Quite a few of the demons lost credibility and life when I got them to release. They were such easy victims after that.

Charles started panting, and I could feel the dampness in his pants. I could do this for a very long time. Bran looked envious. I had once done this to Bran, and he remembered. Oh, I enjoyed it very much.

 Charles's blood was like melted chocolate; it tasted like apples, though, and I could feel it helping me heal, too. At least a little; it helped my bloodlust and the momentary pleasure I got; it banished the fucking throbbing headache associated with the metals just a little further.

Damon sipped the A+ human blood and realized how much weaker he was than me. And then, now and then, he threatened me about all the things he would do to me and how he would divorce me and not let me keep Salvatore's name.

I had noticed, for the two weeks I'd been taking care of men now, how the women wouldn't let the men actually get stronger. Or wouldn't have if I hadn't intervened. I drank Damon from my wrist every day until he fell asleep. Day by day, the amount and enthusiasm to drink grew. At the same time, the wounds and injuries healed. I actually did the same thing for all the men when I noticed this effect on Damon.

The women got nervous, and I heard them talking to each other in the hallway often. They talked about their freedom and new life with the men; they had been given a ride back to earth from the demon dimension. They had been thrown in there long ago and had no life here. Well, here were four good-looking, strong, rich men who would be easy to live with and get clothes and stuff from.

I heard Adam's girlfriend was already thinking about robbing my clothes. When she was the same size. I knew exactly how good men's hearing was and left the door open several times. Bran's luscious woman was already planning how she would become Mrs. Marrok, and all the werewolves would obey her as she was the queen of the werewolves. Well, well, wrong when Bran doesn't share his power.

The women thought the men wouldn't hear if they retreated to talk like humans when they did not know what men were. My heart wasn't beating the whole time, but when I drank insane amounts of blood, there was always blood for me for the men. And then I gave Damon a bag of my blood every time. I had donated blood in my time, so it was a straightforward solution.

I didn't care if I recovered or not. I could cover up my fucking poor condition, and after 18 days, the men could move. The women were clearly disturbed. Because now they had to get the men to stay with them, and when they were no longer dependent, Tanya, for example, became afraid of Damon, and Damon could sense it.

But it was none of my business. I had done my job. I was still living in Chicago when Bran let me stay here, but he had already ordered his wolves to bring his things and made himself his own bedroom and study. I would have time.