I wasn't ashamed of what we had done, nor was I afraid of the consequences. Instead, I launched my drone and sent it towards the house, intending to guide my husband and Wulfe to us. Mariella, however, was a little apprehensive.
"It is what it is," I told her. "There's no need for us to fret over it. Let's get the boys here and show them their worksite. After all, this will take time, and it's good for them to have something to dig into."
I then considered baking some fancy cakes, as I had recently rediscovered my cake decorating kits in one of my hamster storage units. Mariella raised an eyebrow. Whatever Damon had told her seemed to make her question her own individuality, compelling her to obey him once more.
"Should you tell Damon, or show him?" she asked. "I mean, he is the master. Maybe he wants to use your kits as well."
I shook my head. "Nope, those are mine. And believe me, I can make pretty decent ones. Just wait and see. I'm usually just so lazy that I don't bother, but I was thinking of impressing the kids by making them a few fancy cakes with buttercream roses and whatnot."
Mariella interjected, "But Damon surely would..."
"I am the alpha female, not Damon's slave!" I snapped. "I'm not his subordinate who needs to ask permission to breathe, so back the fuck off and stop pushing Damon on me. I have enough Salvatores in my life already. As I said, I can do things myself. I don't need my husband pushing me aside to do all the marvellous stuff himself."
Mariella snapped her mouth shut.
Suddenly, the sharp voice of Number Eight telepathically questioned, "Baby, what the fuck are we looking at here?"
My drone had made contact, and a swarm was hovering above them.
"Magnum's latest gadget," I replied. "He left quite a few to be tested extensively, meaning for years, as he wants to understand their usage, usefulness, weaknesses, and overall utility. He also wants to see their durability."
"This is just one of his drones," I continued my explanation. "As you might know, he's been making us drones for decades, using session devices and whatnot. He thought this time presented an excellent opportunity to stress-test some of his equipment."
"And you, my wife," the voice oozing danger, that of Number Two, said to me softly, "did not bother to tell us. Fine. Now we know. So, you will surely show us all of those said gadgets, so the whole pack can be part of the testing and give opinions."
I rolled my eyes. For me, this was not such a big deal, but for these guys, well, they were kind of intense from time to time. However, they were now following my swarm through the dimming light of the autumn evening. Sure, they might not do anything just yet, but they wanted to see what this was all about and what needed to be done.
I was once again twisting the narrative in my mind so I wouldn't get too fucked up. But then again, as those Salvatores had lived with me, they knew my little tricks, so they might counter them, not letting me get too smug about this. Let's see what we have once the boys get here.
It took about 20 minutes for them to reach us, and I could hear cursing and grumbling a few minutes before I actually saw them in the dimming light of the forest. Walking was not so easy unless you kept your feline vision on to avoid stumbling. Men, being a bit lazy from time to time, were not always so sensible.
As my drone landed and shut down, I picked it up and placed it into my bag, securing it nicely. I would look at the recording and scans tomorrow to see what I had made it capture, and then I would have some idea about its usefulness for mapping the terrain.
And since the men now knew about this, my mind actually came up with a few exercises we might be able to do in order to test the drones and other stuff I had, to evaluate it. Meaning, as most of them were used in my actual work in the real world, being the leader of the resistance and rescuing people from nasty facilities, we could do simulations.
For example, say eight pack members would be marked as enemies, and the rest of us would have to check the area with our drones to see if it was safe to move. And since we would have to keep our drones hidden, yeah, that could be one possibility as well.
Wulfe's sharp voice broke my concentration as he approached me. "Interesting idea, my unicorn," he began, "but let's address this culvert situation first, shall we?"
Number one, four, and two wore intense expressions as they glared at a muddy, wet Mariella, who still leaned on her rake, looking at them defiantly. I had used a bit of my alpha power to make her beta power flare up again, giving them a target to dominate.
Mariella turned to Damon and said, "Come on, let me show you. As you can see, we've gotten a bit of a trickle out. That bog needs to be drained fully, and then it will give this forest much-needed nutrients. Once that area dries up after draining, we can ensure it recovers and that these pipes stay open." Her voice was calm and sure.
Number four then addressed me, "It seems you and Mariella will require medical attention soon, as we need to make sure you haven't done anything permanently damaging by inhaling whatever might be present."
Dr. Damon was once again dictating our lives. I rolled my eyes.
Meanwhile, Charles and Adam had already entered the pipe to inspect it, and they were discussing something.
Number one calmly stated to me, "And you will certainly hand over that drone to us for packing. Your idea for exercises can be done, but not just yet. We will check your scans as we need to assess this area to determine how many culverts there are and whether that road is actually useful, along with our lake. Our lake will be checked over as well. We can use it in winter for going to our lake to skate if it freezes over, or do some ice fishing even. "
He noticed my expression, sighed, and took a breath.
"Let me explain this a bit better," he continued. "I always nag about your lungs being sensitive, and why you really need to pay more attention to your surroundings. Well, as you know, a human pulse is about 80 beats per minute; yours is much faster, meaning your body processes everything more rapidly. This implies that whatever you inhale into your lungs enters your system very quickly."
He furrowed his brow, attempting to find a simple way to explain this. Even though I was a doctor, and he could use medical slang, he rarely did, as he wanted to ensure his message was clear and simple for Wulfe and Mariella. Medical jargon tended to distance his message and make it clinical.
His voice was clinical yet calm as he began, "Let's say there are mold spores in those twigs. It's a reasonable assumption, considering everything. Now, if you go poke and prod there, disturbing those twigs and inhaling the spores – well, if you were human, most would be trapped in your respiratory secretions. However, we operate far too rapidly for that to be effective, meaning you inhale them deep into your lung tissues within seconds. Your breathing rate is triple that of humans, or even faster if you're exerting yourself."
He continued, "These spores are tiny, and your lung vessels aren't heavily guarded. Thus, the spores are in your circulation for less than thirty seconds, and with your rapid pulse, they travel everywhere. Your immune system will certainly kick in, but if those spores reach your liver or lymph nodes, it activates your system further, boosting calorie expenditure and raising your cortisol as your body attempts to eliminate them. It might hinder your enzyme production or mess with your multiplication enzyme as well."
He maintained his calm, explanatory tone as I saw other salvatores entering the culvert pipe, seemingly protected by energy shields or some form of spell.
Damon continued his lesson, addressing both of us and looking at Mariella. "In your case, darling, it affects your energies and your magic, as your immune defense takes over and depletes your reserves first. You might find yourself less lustful, or your potions may not work as effectively. As for incantations, if those spores hit your throat, not much needs to change in your voice for an incantation to go awry."
He then turned his attention to me. "For you, baby, as your system is alerted, you'll become hungrier and need more blood, and your rage might flare up. It's not entirely certain what will happen; it all depends on the specific spores, how difficult they are to expel, and how many you've inhaled. You might get off scot-free, with your system clearing them with a slight flare-up before returning to normal. Or, as I said, in a worst-case scenario, your enzymes could be affected, or your multiplication enzyme triggers if your tissues are damaged by the spores. The risk is present, and it's hard for me to predict the outcome. As for me tasting your blood, no thank you, not yet, as I don't want the spores in me."
Mariella interjected, "Well, perhaps we are fine, but surely you understand the importance of these pipes and clearing them. And there are still blueberries and mushrooms left here as well."
Damon nodded and stated in a clipped tone, "You two are under medical scrutiny. Let's wait a day or two, then conduct tests. It will also take time for us to clear these pipes, pick berries and mushrooms, and map the forest. However, you two are to stay inside, and cooking, baking, and childcare are only permitted once your medical clearance is obtained. Again, there's no need to expose the children to spores or bacteria you might be carrying."
He seemed particularly angry with Mariella, and as I pondered this, I realized he had expected her to be his little doll once again, not to defy him so much. Perhaps it was high time for Damon to learn that Mariella had a will of her own; she wasn't a dog to be trained but had her own ideas about what she wanted to do. I must admit, I'm quite good at luring her into doing something less ideal from time to time.
This whole situation reminded me of my past, and as the dim autumn forest light deepened, I began to recall all the guys who might still be alive, old friends, and other memories. The Salvatores had gone into the pipe and checked its insides, but it seemed to be in decent shape for now.
However, from what I overheard Adam and Charles discussing, they were considering hiring someone in the spring to install new pipes or to ensure that side wouldn't bog down anymore.
Damon then said to me, "Come on, let's head back home. We'll be busy here, and once we get that draining done, we can check our lake as well. Let's see if that road leads to the lake, so perhaps in winter, we can keep it open for skating once it freezes over."
Mariella pursed her lips as Damon was still quite cold towards her. She was less impressed and defiantly unwavering.
Charles approached Damon and explained, "It will take about a week to clear all the pipes. There are at least five, and then we can investigate the blockage – whether it's silt or something else. As for you, Miss High and Mighty, here are your latest stats from my radar."
Mariella glared at Charles, annoyed that he so readily shared her situation report with Damon.
Despite being supernaturals, we were each other's protectors, acting as guardians with a mental radar that alerted us to the status of our proteges. Since Charles was Mariella's protector, he had just disclosed her stats to Damon. Judging by Damon's silence, the stats weren't perfect.
He immediately grabbed Mariella and declared, "We're teleporting. There's no need for us to trek through the dark forest and stumble. Come on, darlin', it's time to head home, have a hot shower, and eat something decent."
Mariella merely rolled her eyes, but she was promptly teleported home along with me. At least I could do what I wanted, and while it might not have been the healthiest choice, it had certainly been fun. I could cook and bake for a few days, especially since it was already quite chilly.
I had one dish in mind that would be perfectly acceptable, not for me perhaps, but for the kids and the girls, and I could eat it too, even if it wasn't ideal. It was pea soup, and I had plenty of dried peas waiting. All I had to do was soak them overnight, then cook them with meat and spices. This hearty, warming soup would be just perfect. We also had plenty of tougher and smoked meats we could use.
Oh, it would be perfect food, and best of all, I hadn't made it in ages, and I wasn't sure if Damon had ever even tasted it. I recalled a few times when I'd made large pots of it and brought them to the bases. Oh, I could still remember how Frank had praised it; for him, it had been such a perfect dish. I briefly wondered as we walked inside if Frank was still alive. At least he hadn't died from fleas, but had moved on to his civil life with his husband and large family.
With my plans made and having completed my little culvert work, it was time for me to switch gears. I was pretty sure there was nothing wrong with me, so I could take it easy for a few days, let the Salvatore clan calm down, and then see what our pack life would be like. But as always, surprises were coming my way, and for the whole pack too.