Two days later, I, Mimi salvatore, (I loved to call myself with my name, my surname it felt so damn right), alpha female of our esteemed pack, still couldn't shake Damon's smug look after revealing my lustwaves and what they had caused. It was no secret that the upcoming foals. The other females were thrilled, buzzing about foal colors, sizes, and genders.
I stayed quiet, the humiliation of cleaning our sex-soaked tent fresh in my mind. Several Salvatores snickered as I scrubbed it in the river. But I had no regrets; it was wonderful, recharging in a way only sex can.
We'd spend the next rest stops in the jungle, but first, some Australian beaches. There are so many, you could visit a different one daily for years. We aimed for hidden, untouched spots. A few hours of riding remained, giving me time to reflect. We'd hunt later if needed, but we had enough meat. Fruit and berries, however, were always in demand for vitamins and other nutrients, keeping Mariella and the girls busy.
Pack life was new to most of us, especially this way of doing things. I was sure the benefits would outweigh any drawbacks because packs thrive on teamwork, and it was time for an "all for one, and one for all" approach.
It was a huge deal—unlike my past of self-sacrifice and martyrdom, a role many in the pack saw me playing. This time, I'd change; I'd trust others to do their part, do mine, and let things flow. I'd be part of something instead of overanalyzing and feeling left out, self-sabotaging by seeing myself as different.
This experience taught me a pack isn't made of clones; not all are energy or magical creatures, but we were all pack members, connected by that shared identity. I used to focus on differences, but now I see our common ground.
I was enjoying a leisurely ride, lost in thought, when Dresden pulled up beside me. "This is fun," he said. "I was skeptical, but it's good to be Harry, not just Wizard Dresden all the time."
I nodded. "We all have roles, but we must remember who we are, not just what we do. I learned that the hard way."
Dresden nodded. "I know. We've come a long way. I hadn't thought of it like that, but I've known you longer than Damon."
I smiled. "You're a good friend. We all have dark sides, and mine's particularly vicious. It's taken near-miracles from Wulfe to keep it in check. I never thought you were a lost cause."
He nodded slightly, his voice low and dark. "I know you have… activities. Painful for others, even fatal. But if you ever…"
I glanced at him. "Fancy some fun with naughty sarks? Sure, but I don't know when I'll have the chance. I'll let you know. It's a good hobby, but some find it less than ideal for me. I am what my life has made me. Victim twisted into torturer."
Dresden looked at me in a way that he got it. I was not so privy to his past. I know he had lost a child, and the love of his life, or something, he had hellfire once, and he felt it had corrupted him, and he felt like he would corrupt others if he were to teach them. Magnum had once mentioned this to me.
I was still thinking about my problem and I guess it showed from my face as I no longer kept my face expressionless robot like but let my emotions show; it had been quite an experience to me, to feel this vulnerable at first, but then again it opened pack whole novel way as I was somehow deeper in pack.
Dresden's posture stiffened, his brow furrowed, his face somber. "Something on your mind?"
I sighed. "It's nothing… or rather, nothing can be done about it. I don't know if it was luck or deliberate. I want to enjoy this trip, not give Salvatore more medical mysteries to solve—meaning me. I've learned a few things recently. No concrete proof, but enough to make sense, and it's messing me up."
He looked at me softly. "Come on, share. Maybe I can help, or at least offer some ideas."
I took a deep breath. "Well, you might know or not, but I have chronic problems with my system. My pancreas is scarred, messed up, and no matter who gives me a new one, it ends up the same. I've found out why, but there's no easy solution. You see, there's organogenesis—how organs grow in the womb. For us… Supernaturals… our organogenesis is still ongoing, controlled by a multiplication enzyme."
Dresden nodded, asking, "So, something's wrong with your organ development?"
I nodded. "We raided a medical facility—not a long raid—and there's always a flood of files. I usually browse them. This facility had found, through trial and error, genes regulating organogenesis. They aimed to enhance human organ growth, but their subjects were shifters. It stemmed from an old experiment. I found no proof it was me, but it explains things. My scarring on my pancreas, Damon has referred it for a long time now that it looks like platinum induced damage, now, they have made these experiments, first making victim weak, then cause injury one its organs see how it changed DNA in that organ and then manipulate those organ genes to replicate the damage."
Dresden was silent before saying, "I don't get it. It seems far-fetched—your genes mutate, change..."
I nodded. "Not all. I need certain genes for bodily function. If they found my organogenesis genes and messed with them, it explains my faulty stomach and pancreas. They didn't know what they were doing, but it was enough to cause lasting effects. They caused damage and got my genes messed up. I have no idea what had been the original intention, but it is clear that one major goal was to give me a damn nasty weakness. And bravo, they did it."
Dresden was quiet, then muttered, "Why not tell Salvatores? They're medical geniuses; they could verify or dismiss your theory."
I replied tersely, "It's speculation, and I'm not a guinea pig. It's just a thought."
Dresden persisted, "But share it! It might help; they might find a magical solution."
I took a breath. Explaining wasn't easy, but I could try.
I tried to keep my voice calm, avoiding any snickers, but I'm not a good teacher; I lack the patience. "Have you ever seen Jurassic Park? The original? Remember that bit about human DNA length? Well, mine's three times longer—six strands. Mapping my genome precisely enough to find my organogenesis genes would take decades, and we still don't know what they're supposed to do. DNA's made of amino acids; change one, and the gene functions entirely differently. There's no way of knowing what those genes originally were or how to restore them. It's just another thing I have to live with," I finished, my voice bitter and angry.
Dresden watched me for a moment before riding on, silent. I assumed he'd talk to Damon, but surprisingly, he stopped beside Colin. I sensed his displeasure through our bond. Colin was fiercely protective, and his leprechaun was upset. I hadn't told him. He might have helped, or at least verified my theory, but what good would it do? It wouldn't change anything, only mess up more pack members.
The secret was out, so to speak. Colin quickly spurred his horse to catch up with Damon. I rolled my eyes. Of course, nothing's ever simple for me. I was just enjoying the sun—well, it was scorching; I was sweaty, smelled like horse, and my backside was numb from sitting so long on Queen, feeling every bounce of her gait.
I wasn't paying attention as Katherine rode beside me. She smirked, eyeing several men—Salvatore, Colin, Adam, and Charles—riding together.
"What are you doing? Is that little grouping your doing?" she asked.
I smiled bitterly, grimacing slightly. "Yeah, one of my secrets. I foolishly spilled my guts to Dresden, who, of course, couldn't keep it to himself. Now the whole pack knows, and they're not happy."
Katherine said, "I've been there. I've been the villain for so long that this second chance feels unbelievable. It's hard to believe it's real, not a dream. After surviving so long, this feels like heaven."
I smiled. "I wouldn't call it heaven, but I get you. I sometimes wonder what I'd be like if I'd never met Damon. Adam and Samuel were there for me, but Damon...he made me a woman, not the creature I was."
Katherine nodded. "It must have been hard to realize what you were."
I nodded. "Actually, no. I'd been fighting, surviving for years. It was just another thing to accept; I had no choice. I trusted Adam and Samuel completely, letting them decide. But when Damon came along, something clicked. It said, 'Don't obey him,' and it's been that way ever since."
Katherine laughed. "You two are meant to be," she said. "I know. I'm a version of Katherine—a good one, but I know what the original did. Sure, I survived, but I was a bitch. Annaliese made me that way. She told me to lie to Damon, to say I turned them, not her. And the whole 'I take them both' thing? Annaliese never wanted Stefan, but he was free. I was greedy, but he didn't fall for me. Damon...well, you know him. He falls in and out of love."
I nodded, a thought occurring to me. "You must be older than Damon, right?"
She smiled. "Yeah, I'm a crone, but less than a century older, maybe fifty to seventy years. I don't remember my birthday—it wasn't celebrated in my village—so I have no idea how old I actually am. And God, I don't want to know how many millennia I've been around." Her smile was crooked as she rolled her eyes.
I felt a mental itch—Wulfe digging through my mind, sending everything to Damon. I sensed the hive's discontent, Katherine's amusement, Mariella's jealousy—she somehow knew it was all about me again. Mimosa and Shadow waited impatiently for a break.
Dresden didn't regret revealing my secret; he'd done it to protect me from myself, teaching me that sharing my theories wouldn't necessarily lead to disaster. But mending the damage would be incredibly difficult. Damon's DNA is five-stranded, mine is six. Our DNA is too different; his gene therapy won't help.
The air buzzed with the scent of countless flowers and plants. I heard the rhythmic thud of horses' hooves and felt the familiar connection to my pack, our hive mind—a powerful, shared consciousness. I watched birds soaring, recognizing species often caged as pets, pointing them out to Katherine.
"Why," she said, "those birds deserve to fly, not be cooped up!"
"True," I replied, "but watch." A small hawk swooped, attacking a bird, missing its target.
Colorful feathers scattered as the frightened bird escaped. "See? Nature isn't always pretty. Even in cages, a hawk can't attack. That bird's probably injured, might die within a week."
Katherine pursed her lips. "Damn nature," she muttered, "why can't it be like those nature shows?"
"There's a reason," I explained, "one death feeds another life. It's the circle of life, but it's not pretty. Nature is cruel and merciless. I know that."
She gazed at the forest, our surroundings. We were predators, successful hunters, leaving no survivors. I pondered the dichotomy: we protect endangered species, yet nature's cruelty is alien to most. And what humans do to each other...ignorance is bliss, and perhaps humans embrace that.
I worried about the doctors' conclusions regarding my secret. My pack discussed the consequences, the slim chance I'd escape unscathed. There was little they could do; it was just theoretical, no concrete evidence, but it bothered me, Damon especially. He desperately sought proof—either that it happened to me, or that my DNA hadn't been tampered with.
I was no longer the youngest of the pack. Taylor, Tim, even Magnum were younger than me, and maybe Murdock as well, Dexter too. I wasn't sure about those, but still. I was a chimera, a vampire-shifter hybrid creature who had evolved into this.
I was not made as a chimera but a lab-made werewolf, and it started my evolution. Or someone might just call it a string of mutations, but evolution had a nice ring to it. I was not the same kind of vampire as Damon or even Katherine or Elena, as I had never turned. It was just one of my evolutionary quirks to become a vampire.
And I remembered it clearly, my very first bag of blood, the hunger. But I also remember my confusion, feeling lost, feeling like a monster. Damon, well, our life was... he was not really there for me at the start. How different things would have been if he had been there. I never know.
Katherine was riding still next to me, and she said softly, "I bet it must have been hard. I mean, being alone and having to deal with that, too."
I nodded. I had no idea how she knew what I was thinking, but then again, Wulfe or sometimes Lepard sent my thoughts to others.
I replied, "I would have been ready, or more ready, if someone had warned me I was becoming a vampire. But no, it was the surprise of my lifetime. And as werewolves feel intensely, vampires even more so. I felt everything so damn..." My voice trailed off.
My life as a vampire was not always nice, and there was so much fumbling in the dark. Darkness brought my mind to the time I spent inside the wall.
Katherine took a deep breath, cussed softly, "Shit, that is nasty. I want to strangle Bran just because of what he has done to you over the years."
I smiled tiredly. I had never talked about that time, not even Wulfe, and thanks to someone interfering, Katherine knew or had felt it. And I had no freaking idea how many others. It was just time for me to stop seeing myself as a victim and start seeing myself as a survivor. And then I could be gentler with myself, not blame my actions on every damn nasty thing in my life.
Katherine rode off to fetch Mariella, who'd fallen behind while the men discussed me. Nature calmed me—the sounds, smells, even the distant scent of the ocean.
Hours away, yet I longed to swim, to cool off, to feel the waves. Swimming has always been my solace, connecting me to my childhood self, though I'm a different person now, changed by centuries.
Time flies; decades vanish in a blink, leaving everything feeling the same yet utterly transformed. I let my mind wander, deciding to leave my problems—if they even were problems—for others to solve.