I. Mimi Salvatore, alpha female of our family of vampire shifter chimeras, and more or less de facto packleader, sat in the living room, carefully maintaining a calm expression. I had a plan, or rather, a plan within a plan, and it was designed for both sabotage and a lesson.
Since our little "microbiological thing" had been discovered, Dickweed—as I called number one—had ensured that Mariella stayed downstairs, caring for the babies. He'd tried to sabotage the whole damn lab on several occasions, but Charles had reminded him that he was no longer pack leader, hadn't been for a long time, and if he continued to act like an idiot, he wouldn't have a chance of regaining the position. So, he'd been forced to back off.
It had been a month, and as the babies grew daily, learning new skills and sleeping less, I was incredibly busy. It took constant effort to contain them as they moved, crawled, and rolled, making sure the floor was safe and they wouldn't get into trouble, like, say, out of the room and almost reaching the stairs when I wasn't paying attention.
Dash was the fastest, but my twin girls were the most mischievous and active. They would plot together and then act. For example, Dash was crawling near the kitchen while I was picking up Sadie from behind a chair where she'd gotten stuck.
The twins, in the meantime, had found every possible crumb and hair on the floor and rolled them into balls, which they were about to stuff into their mouths when I intervened.
Then Adam asked, "Honey, are we missing one? Dash is currently trying to eat my toes."
I sighed. We would need playpens or childproofing gates soon enough.
Wulfe stood up and said, "I'll go get him. You're right, these need a little more control."
This was our life when the five were awake, keeping us busy. And, of course, Dickweed had picked up on this. Since he hadn't dealt with his own problems, he wanted to blame me. He aimed his sabotage at me.
His latest attempt didn't faze me; I had been free from my sole alpha male for over a year. The momentum, cunning, and sense of freedom I possessed had transformed this into a pleasurable opportunity to twist the lesson back on Dickweed, not for me.
"Wulfe," I said, turning to him, "I need you to be part of a truly devious plan I'm cooking up. It's another lesson for Dickweed."
Number Four, also present, chimed in, "It's hilarious hearing you call him Dickweed, baby. If you ever make amends with him, you'll have a hard time not calling him that."
I smiled, as there were several of us gathered. "Now, listen carefully, and I'll reveal my plan. Mr. Dickweed has been talking to Charles repeatedly, and as you know, he's very persuasive. He's trying to control Mariella, using her jealousy to get her to turn against me and take over. But here's the twist."
Number Ten said, "Well, baby, that's kind of your specialty, I must admit. I'm curious to hear your plan."
I smiled; it was a perfect moment for plotting. "Dickweed suggested to Charles that we take holidays, trips, and road trips in groups. He envisioned him, Mariella, their babies and girls, and Charles. Mariella definitely wants Charles. But let's change that."
Number Two said, "So Number One is planning a sex trip with Mariella, using Charles to regain leadership, and making those girls tend to the babies? He's an idiot."
I nodded. Number Five asked, "So what's your solution?"
I smiled and said, "We continue with our plan, but instead of just him and Charles, I want Wulfe and all of you involved. I have Adam, the boys, and four girls with my babies – eight people caring for those five. On that trip, we'll ruin it. Talk to Mariella, seduce her, and bring up me and our past. Every time Dickweed tries to butter up Charles, make sure he stumbles. I'm a good target, and so are my babies. Make him talk trash about me; that's something that will set Charles off, and then he'll see the manipulation. Wulfe, I need you there too."
He looked at me hesitantly and asked, "Why?"
"My love," I said to him, "you are an exceptional teacher. Now, let's aim to start this trip in November, extending it through Christmas. This will, once again, disrupt Damon's plans for a perfect Christmas for Mariella and force those girls into acting as nannies. Wulfe, I need to remind Charles that those girls need men, too. Dickweed is using them as slaves, not as family members, and it's time for that to change. Encourage them to engage in conversation, to become even more present in the family. Mariella needs to connect with them, making it harder for Dickweed to simply use them for childcare. As you've observed, my girls are far more integrated into this family because of the bonds we share. Let's make this happen for those four as well. And they are hot-blooded women; we are a lustpack…"
Wulfe nodded, a smile curving his lips.
Number Ten added, "You truly are a genius, I must admit. You know your job, and this will teach Dickweed that perhaps manipulation isn't the key here, but family is."
I replied, "I have changed, though I'm not sure when or why. I refuse to be a victim, a pawn in his games. Perhaps this little snowball has gained some momentum, or perhaps he's just the stupid one here. Take your time, make it count, and remember our plan: we are family, and this is a family trip. Furthermore, I have a few more plans for the future. Care to hear them?"
Number Two nodded and said, "Oh, tell me, my Queen of Rain, tell me your plans."
My voice held a hint of smugness as I said, "Dates. Date nights. Going out. I don't need a road trip, but instead, if he continues to act like Dickweed, let's go out for an evening. The girls and whoever is in the house can tend to the kids while we go to the movies, have dinner, or whatever. And let's make a scene out of it."
Number Four smiled. "I'm first in line, honey! We'll go on a date, and by gosh, I'll buy you chocolate, wine, and roses and make it romantic as ever. Oh, perfect! First, this sabotaging road trip, and then romance with you." His eyes sparkled with excitement.
I knew I was being catty, nasty even, at one point. But then again, I was married to my husbands, many of them, and I had the right to go on dates with them if I chose to.
The warm, yellow, and gold living room, accented with dark blue, now featured tall bookcases with decorative finishes, a testament to the men's woodwork and upgrades to some of the standard furniture. I was seated in one of my chairs, an old, upholstered piece that was somehow kept pristine.
It was ugly and clunky, but incredibly comfortable. The chair also had a history, and I wasn't about to share it with the Salvatores, as they would undoubtedly take my perfect chair for safekeeping and place it in a museum once this was over. No, that wasn't going to happen.
However, I had forgotten that the nine Salvatores were constantly digging into my mind, essentially living there. They were constantly analyzing my pheromones, becoming increasingly skilled at reading them.
Number Four said, "Okay, you have a confession to make, baby, spit it out, tell us about the chair."
I rolled my eyes and replied, "Nothing too special. It has history, and sure, some might place it in a museum, but it's a damn wonderful chair to sit on."
Number Two looked at me, one eyebrow raised, and said, "I am waiting, come on, baby, tell us."
Our house was immense, spanning seven floors and resembling a miniature castle. A year ago, when all of this began, Wulfe and the Salvatores, along with the magic houses of witches, had expanded the already large house into this huge building.
My babies and I lived on the topmost floor, with our own wing. Wulfe had connected his wing, creating a courtyard, so it was all connected. Mariella and Damon, number one, and their daughters, both older and babies, lived on the first or second floor, where they had their nursery.
I had originally acquired a lot of the items here, and my organization had brought in truckloads of all kinds of things that would normally have gone to my special houses around the world. Like this chair, for instance.
I sighed and ran my fingers along the wooden armrest, feeling the aging of the wood. I wondered how many pairs of hands had used these armrests to get up and how many asses had sat in this chair. Mine was the only one in this chair, and it would stay that way.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. The room seemed to be holding its breath, awaiting my story. I gazed at the mocha-colored, long tufted rugs, warmed by the glow of the fireplace. Everyone present had become familiar to me, once an outsider, but no longer.
"This chair belonged to the court," I began. "It's the judge's chair, estimated to be from around the time of Louis XIV. It originated in England, in one of the high court places, and was known as the Chair of Judgement. The judge who sat here typically delivered harsh sentences, often imprisonment or even death. Legend tells—though it's more myth than fact, and I have no idea if it's true—that there was a ritual upon a judge's retirement. He would drink one last cognac or bourbon in this chair, leaving only one final drop. As he departed, he would spill that last drop onto the chair, a mark of his work, and a testament to how this kind of high-stakes work often drained empathy from the judges who had to witness such an array of criminals."
Number Two interjected, "And there was a ritual for the new judge, too, right? I've heard about that. And you're right, this chair belongs in a museum, not under your shapely ass, my love."
Number Two continued, "The ritual for the new judge was to prick his finger and offer his lifeblood to this chair as a token of his commitment. So yeah, we will move this chair somewhere safe, and you can have another one. I'm sure you have options; let's just see how many of them you can keep."
Wulfe inquired, "I'm curious. I know you have a lot of stuff, but where did these items originally come from? How did they end up in your hands?"
Number Two replied softly, "Good question. I want to hear this one."
I rolled my eyes. It seemed none of my secrets—or as I called them, the things I liked to keep to myself—were truly mine anymore.
I said calmly, "Most of the items come from vampire females' lairs, those castles and houses. They've been robbed and taken, and as we hit those places, we usually empty them out, as most of the possible families don't want the furniture. I don't waste, so the items end up in our large furniture houses. I sometimes go there to pick and choose, and my procurement team usually knows my taste, so they send the most likely objects to my houses and castles."
"And how many furniture houses do you have?" Number Four asked.
I shrugged. "Well, there were eighteen of them last time I checked. However, the number might be higher now, considering there were at least five vampire lairs on the list to be hit. The rest of the furniture, our team checks it magically and energetically. It used to be Old Anders' job to sell most of them, but since he retired, it's just one more job for me to delegate. And not in the magic house, as we, Old Anders, directed the money he got to our compensation account, so it is a benefit to those."
Number Two said, "Well, we shall see then once this is over, but that seems like a good job for Katherine, Elena, Mimosa, and Shadow. Not to mention these gals here; an online shop, maybe, or a private auction in some high-end auction house. Who knows if there will be anything left to sell after we've gone and taken a look at what's there?"
I nodded. The future was not ours to see, so I couldn't say whether his plan would work. But for now, we were plotting and talking, and despite our upcoming separation at some point, it didn't feel as deep as usual when Mariella was going to the Azores, but now I knew they would keep in contact, via phone and via the Hive, and I would feel them every single day as they sabotaged a dickweed's plan.
Oh, life could be so perfect. It was truly win-win for me, meaning I get some me time, without someone constantly hovering over my shoulder, helping and doing things with me. They would get a little breather, too, and get to be seducers and manipulators. And also, the kind of teachers too.