It was Wednesday, and I was at home, not working. However, I planned to work for the rest of the week. I had recently ended my maternity leave, and my babies, who were now nine-month-old active crawlers, were keeping me busy. As for Damon, he still wasn't ready to assume the leadership role he needed. Despite everything, I was managing quite a bit, and I had my support system. Together, we planned things carefully, and we even had plenty of code phrases to use when we didn't want to explain everything to those who weren't in the loop.
To my surprise, Mariella was spending a significant amount of time upstairs. She was very interested in my children, rather than her own kids, as they often bickered, argued, and had tantrums over trivial matters. My children, on the other hand, were simply lively and seemed to be everywhere at once. I was constantly trying to prevent them from hurting themselves too badly.
Mariella was also working, and this was one of the things that upset the children on days when there was no daycare and we had to leave them. As usual, I was so incredibly busy that my days stretched long, and I would arrive home quite late. I often found myself with many tired husbands, a group of cranky children who had missed their mother, and one who was working. Mariella seemed to be in a similar situation.
Currently, six out of the ten Salvatores were at home, as they could utilize the remainder of my maternity leave and their own time. The four who were working varied, as everyone worked from time to time, but not for extended periods. Wulfe was also working, as were Adam and Charles, but the boys stayed home. The girls primarily worked from home or in my shop when I wasn't there. This was our everyday life: working, raising children, and dealing with all sorts of stresses.
Mariella enjoyed being upstairs from time to time. While she certainly loved my children and their antics, she also observed me and the Salvatores, identifying her next target for conversation. She had a three-day-a-week, four-hour session with selected Salvatores and had gained some insight into their trauma, which she was actively helping them with.
It wasn't so much about lust; the weekends were reserved for adult relaxation, as the males put it, meaning we were usually thoroughly exhausted. The girls would handle the children's morning routine, allowing us to rest after being fucked so intensely.
Today was another talking day, and Mariella had a session scheduled. Four, five, and eight were present, while three, seven, nine, and ten were working and would return later. Two and six were part of the group responsible for picking up the children from daycare, collecting the girls from the shops, and purchasing groceries if needed.
The children were about to return from daycare, and I had their food ready. Typically, Mariella's children would eat upstairs unless Mariella and Damon had an unexpected parental need, but since it was a "talking day," that wasn't happening. Four girls were supervising a large group of crawling babies, which included Mariella's children, keeping them quite busy with eight crawlers.
I was preparing plates, forks, and drinks, pouring their juice into a large box with a spout so they could refill their glasses if needed. Of course, we also had our broth to drink. The children still had their camps, and it was another week of horse camp, which they loved.
Consequently, I had to fill out a million forms for that as well, detailing their dietary needs and sensitivities, as each camp had different coordinators unfamiliar with our children. However, these camps were very beneficial; the children adored the trips and were learning to be more individual and independent, which I viewed as a positive development.
I was humming quietly when I heard the first eager chatter. Sadie, as usual, had so much to tell and say. Dash seemed to be running, judging by the sound of his footsteps, and soon the door opened, and the children ran into the kitchen, hugging me and talking excitedly. The men began putting the children's lunch bags on one table and putting away groceries. Number Two handed me a stack of papers, likely more children's assessments or new permission slips for something.
My children ran into the living room to play for a few minutes until the food was ready. Then, I noticed Amber standing still, looking miserable. I first sniffed the air and was immediately alarmed by her tangy fig scent, which was overripe, bordering on fermented – a sign of sickness.
Controlling myself, I went to her and crouched down, "Well, bumbernickel, what's wrong? Are you feeling ill?" She nodded.
Apparently, Darien or Dash had dropped something again, and the loud noise made Amber turn her head, causing her to grimace in pain. I touched her forehead; she was burning hot. She seemed to squint, bothered by the light.
"Shit," I thought in my mind.
I said, in the most calm, normal voice to May, who happened to be in the kitchen. The Salvatores had gone downstairs once they had brought the children here. "Walk out calmly and go get me Salvatore, one of mine. Tell him that the broth is oversalty and the potato starch is clumpy."
This was one of our code phrases, indicating a sick child, a serious situation, and a possible danger of seizure.
I noticed Candice and Tiffany standing nearby, also looking ill. As I got up to reassure them, I could feel their fever blazing, and I realized this could be quite serious. Despite their efforts, the Salvatores had still not developed a decent meningitis vaccine, and now these three had contracted it.
When Lepard walked into the kitchen, I told him, "Go to my kids, it's time for a little cleanup."
This was one of our codes, meaning isolate, use cleaning magic, and implement extreme infection control measures. I knew my younger children hadn't been with these three, and the younger ones were in their own separate groups, so I hoped they wouldn't be infected.
As I made sure the three sick children were seated in slightly dimmer light, I heard footsteps approaching. Numbers One, Two, Four, Five, and Mariella walked in.
I communicated telepathically with Two: "Meningitis, bacterial, high fever, stiff neck, photophobia, feeling ill. I am trying to prevent seizures."
He nodded and smiled at the children.
At the same time, Number Five pulled me aside and said telepathically, so the children wouldn't panic, "Are you crazy? You can get this too! Now, Missy, it's cleaning for you too. Those will take care of the kids, and I'll start cleaning you up. You can be sure you'll be under scrutiny until we can confirm you're not infected."
I then noticed a few Salvatores heading to the living room to check on my kids and clean them even more thoroughly. It's funny how quickly everything can turn upside down.
I was a bit surprised to see Number One at home, but then again, I wasn't always privy to his work schedule, as Mariella usually prepared his lunchboxes, or he'd do it himself. Number Five, without asking but acting decisively, dragged me to our medbay.
He ordered me to strip down. The medbay had a bathroom and bathtub, and he began to plug the tub, fetch some disinfectant solutions, and pour them in while also running water.
He informed me, "You, in there, I'll take your blood samples and ensure I extract as much bacteria as possible. Don't worry, the girls are tending to other children. It appears those three need to go to the hospital, but this nearest one will suffice. Number One is on the call, so make sure everything is prepared, as this is more or less an epidemic from time to time. However, we caught this early, so their hospitalization will likely only last a few days or a week. I'll notify the daycare center so they can initiate their cleaning protocol. It's possible the center will be closed for at least the rest of the week. Number One just spoke about this epidemic the other day, and according to the CDC, all schools and daycare centers must be cleaned according to protocol if cases occur. They've managed to get this under control, which is important for you to know." I nodded.
By then, the bath was ready, and I had removed my clothes. I stepped into the scalding water, waiting for it to cool to a tolerable temperature. Number Five took my clothes and placed them into a double bag, specialized ones designed to dissolve in the washing machine. They then tossed them into the laundry chute.
Whoever was doing the laundry would recognize these bags and put them in a separate machine with specific, stronger detergents and softening agents. We had our protocols, just as we had discussed and devised all sorts of scenarios. I had taught the Salvatores the art of creating backup plans, and they, in turn, refined them into swift, effective protocols that we all knew.
I had to remain in that bath, which felt like a hospital, for quite some time as a spell kept the water hot. Soon, Number Five approached the tub with a blood collection kit and collectors for my fangs. My fangs were kept under tight control, as they had trained me to react immediately, whatever the reaction might be. Sometimes, my poisonous fangs were part of my reaction, so they kept them fairly drained to prevent me from accessing my most potent poisons.
For instance, my reactions were often violent, sudden, and rough, and men would feel them on their skin, though they mostly found it amusing. For example, one day I grew tired of Charles constantly bugging me to create more flower arrangements at home. I snapped, grabbed him, and lifted him against the wall by his collar. I used my willpower, employing telekinesis to raise myself high enough to hang him there.
He simply smiled and said to me, "Oh honey, you are so damn hot."
Never mind that I wasn't in the mood; for some reason, my inherent dominance always had a certain effect on men, though they usually managed to control themselves. I was sitting in that godawful smelly bath, my arm outstretched as Number Five meticulously drew blood, a veritable sea of tubes and collectors attached to my fangs. The damn stench did nothing to improve my mood.
Of course, I was worried. The children would soon be on their way to the hospital, and it seemed we had caught this early, but still, sick children are never a pleasant thing to have.
I was fuming internally, but Number Five calmly explained, "The kitchen will be isolated, so food will be prepared downstairs and sent upstairs via magic. They'll take Mariella's second batch with them, just in case. Wulfe is making a protection potion, so it should keep you safe. That's it, unless these reveal anything. This protection potion will be multi-use; we adults will use it anytime the kids are sick so we don't get sick. Wulfe is making you your own patch, so no symptoms. You'll be isolated until these tests are done, about 48 to 72 hours, and then you can be with the kids. However, no working this week, and the kids will most likely be at home as the daycare center will be cleaned as well."
His voice was maddeningly calm and explanatory, which did nothing to help my mood. I just soaked in the stench, letting him drain me dry, more or less. It certainly felt that way.
After what felt like an hour, when he had finally finished drawing all the blood, he said to me, "Stay put. I'm going to wash you soon."
He cast a few spells that tingled on my exposed skin. Wulfe had been teaching them to expand their spell knowledge and to read actual grimoires, which was easy. According to Wulfe, he sometimes thought monkeys could learn faster than the Salvatores, Mariella, and the others. But he kept teaching. Now, of course, that would be paused as well, with this medical crisis underway.
He returned shortly, carrying a few small bottles and what looked like a bar of soap. "Now you can get out and into the shower," he said.
As I started to scramble up, he instructed, "Wash your hair with the shampoo, use the whole bottle, and use the whole bar of soap. There's a sponge. Now you can scrub as hard as you want. We'll heal you afterwards."
I nodded and, naked, stepped into the shower, turning on the water. I began adjusting it to be slightly cooler, as I still felt like I was boiling hot, my skin at least a rosy red.
As I started to wash myself, my mind reeled into my past, early days with Damon and Adam. I realized that as it was still Salvatore Hive, full on, I did not have my usual "do not obey Damon" attitude as much. And now, as I scrubbed myself, like a good girl, I had no attitude either.
I realized that I must have sensed Number One's fear of me, and it had triggered my attitude, "Do not obey Damon," as he was weak, he feared me, and he still fears me, but others, no attitude, none, as these guys do not fear me, and part of me knows it and sees them. I dunno, strong maybe, it irked my ego, but I had to admit it to myself, as it was no use for lying to myself or trying to make it something it was not. Honesty is the best policy, even if it really fucked up my ego.
After I had scrubbed and used all the shampoos and soap and a lot of conditioner, I got out of the shower, only to find a rather rough white towel to dry myself with, as well as a set of scrubs.
Number Five was checking on the computer, and when he heard I was done, he stood up, grabbed a few tubes of something, and said to me, "Don't dress just yet, okay? Stand still; I'll deal with your skin next."
He first put my hair up in a bun so it was not in the way and then began to apply whatever he had in those vials to my skin. It was cold but soothing and took away the burning and stinging, as I had really scrubbed my skin hard, leaving it raw and red. But now, whatever Number Five was applying to it helped.
After ten minutes, as he had moisturized me all over, I was allowed to put on the scrubs, and he said, "Come on, I'll take you to your isolation part. There are others as well, but they are clean, so you are not alone."
I opened my hair and walked out of the medbay behind him into one of my lounges.
There was a shimmering in the doorway to one of the corridors, and Number Five said, "Magic barrier. It stops you from going there. You have this room, plus five other rooms, with stuff to do like wire wrapping or books or whatever. We need to hash out who is going to the hospital with Mariella. Even if the younger ones have been in their own group, they interact with those three, so they are to be taken with them as well. This way, you have fewer kids to deal with. Some of us will be here making food and caring for babies, as the girls might be needed in the hospital as well."
I nodded and went to sit in one of my chairs.
Number one walked in. He looked at me tightly and said, "You just had to do it, didn't you? And look at us now. My kids are sick. I have no idea of their lives, how they are doing in daycare, or what they like and don't like. Just because you just had to do it again, you must feel so fucking powerful."
I took a breath.
Come on, my nerves were already frayed, and now an idiot comes and tries to guilt-trip me. He continued accusing and trying to make me feel bad wife. "You just have to pick and choose those who are worthy of you while banishing me from your life, despite our bond, despite this!' he lifted his arm, displaying his tattoo. "
My hands fisted, oh my god, I was about to lose it. I just did not notice number two, and Eight had walked in as well as Wulfe.
Wulfe muttered, "She is going to lose it...I should...."
Number two plced a hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't; those two need to hash this out. He has to see her true form, and she must react, but this might be quite something."
Number one kept on going: "It is always the same with you; you pick and choose, love those who you choose to and ignore me. Our bond, my efforts, make me feel like an utter failure, separate me from my kids, make me feel like a lousy parent, and keep me in the dark on their everyday life while having one more power trip."
I got up; I was silent as I walked up to him.
My voice was dark as uttered. "Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me? Me, who has done nothing but her utmost effort to keep this damn pack going, make sure kids are in daycare with things they need, lunchboxes ready, and I am working my ass off over this pack. You have nerve to come and accuse me of what? Throwing you out? Make you feel like a loser?"
He said. "Yeah, Mimi, that's right, you just need to be perfect in every damn way and not give me a chance, just throw me out of our home, tell me to go downstairs and be with Mariella, as if I were only good at that."
Before Damon had a chance to do anything, I reacted. I grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, as well as using once again my willpower and pissed-offness as telekinesis to lift him off by two feet, letting him hang by his collar by my grip as I hissed at him.
"I never told you not to come back. I told you to make a choice and, think about what you want to do, and it is fucking obvious what your choice was: Mariella, her cunt, her company as always. So do not try to guilt-trip me for taking care of the pack as it should be while you were having one more crisis. "
I had not thought at all that this particular specimen was fully unaware of my new reaction and his reaction to being dominated by a female. Damon was relaxed in my grip and quiet; I was livid. I did not read him fully, so I missed the obvious.
His hands moved slightly as if to grab me, but right then, as he tried to crane his neck to lean closer to my face, Mariella walked in, looking through some papers and said absentmindedly, "Damon, I found the kids' papers; we should—"
She raised her eyes from the papers and noticed the whole situation. I controlled myself and dropped Damon like a sack of potatoes. He landed on his feet, his expression unreadable as he kept staring at me.
Mariella said, "Come on, we should go. Oh, I hope the kids will be fine."
Damon grunted, finally looked at Mariella with almost open hostility, but walked up to her, snatching the papers from her hands.
I was just standing there, fuming, and watching as he, Mariella, Charles, and several Salvatores walked out, along with Britney and Ashley, to go to the hospital. I knew it was more than likely that they would spend the whole time there and not bother to come home. Fine, I can do this.
After all, I thought bitterly, I have 14 kids of my own, plus 4 of Mariella's babies. I am in isolation, my work is piling up, and I can't go to the kitchen. But hey, I signed up for this, so let's get on with it and show that arrogant bastard that this is just a walk in the park for me and that I do not need the Salvatores fawning over me.