I led Mariella out of my room. Instead of returning to the usual elevator, I continued down the corridor until I reached a gray door. I pulled it open and stepped inside a shorter corridor lined with a few rooms: storage areas and extra bedrooms, perhaps. I walked to the end of it, where I found a steel door. Opening it, I stepped into a stairwell. I began to descend the stairs, though an elevator was next to it. I wanted to walk; my body needed to move, and I was, perhaps, being stubborn. When someone told me to move less, I moved more.
Mariella said quietly, "Wow, I have never been here. This house is huge, and I feel like I'll never know every nook and cranny. There's just so much here."
I grunted, focused on going down the stairs despite my dizziness and slight nausea. My "fucked-upness" stemmed from not using my willpower as much as I could, since I was so damn doped up. The stairwell was dimly lit, and the smell was almost nonexistent, thanks to the air conditioning and heating, which kept the space comfortably warm.
It wasn't something you'd find in an interior design magazine, but at least it was usable. The concrete floor was hard and unforgiving under our feet, even with my slippers on. It wasn't as pleasant to walk on as the cork parquet and other classy materials on the upper floors. My mind picked up on everything that bothered me, frustrating me even more.
I felt like I was going to explode when I was done with this damn drug. Damon's Thorazine made me feel less, and it felt awkward and unnatural, giving me a headache – not a normal headache, but more like my feelings were aching, which was hard to explain.
Mariella's peachy scent drifted to my nose, and I wasn't sure if I also smelled strawberries, as my pheromone glands were suppressed, too. I was so freaking disarmed of all my powers.
As we reached the basement floor, my twenty rooms awaited.
I turned to Mariella and said, "There they are. As you can see, there's a list detailing the number of lots in each room, but I'm unsure of their contents. I've placed a small asterisk next to the lots I've checked. This project has been ongoing for quite some time, keeping me occupied since I'm slow as a snail, somewhat out of it, and at least this helps to distract me."
Mariella offered a noncommittal hum. I led her to the eighth door on the left and opened it. Inside, I flipped the light switch, revealing a huge room filled with cardboard boxes and plastic grates. On the right, four large plastic grates sat, stripped of their wrapping and overflowing with crystals, carvings, chips, and beads – a chaotic mess I called "confetti."
Mariella entered the room, and I gestured towards the grates, saying, "There, all we need to do is sort these, and we'll have materials galore. Just look at this."
I walked over and picked up a giant, anatomically correct red vein jasper dildo, causing Mariella to raise an eyebrow.
"I mean, sure, hmm... well, I'm not," she stammered, searching for words.
I smiled. She then moved closer and picked up a large rose quartz crystal ball, marveling at it. I plunged my hand into the mess, scooping up a handful of smaller chips, beads, and other items.
"This could be a perfect little hobby for us."
And then we could identify every last item. There were mineral pieces and uncut stones – a lot of work ahead.
Mariella was slightly worried. Mimi's little find was gorgeous, but Mariella recalled Damon's lesson about stone chips ending up in her lungs. Some of the stones seemed dusty. Moreover, given the array of materials, Mariella wasn't sure if Wulfe would need them.
She knew Damon had put the special bracelet on Mimi again, which stopped her from loading things up, but still, Mariella wanted to be sure that Mimi was okay to do this. What was even more troubling was how Mimi was planning to get the grates back up.
"Damon, my love, I have a bit of a dilemma," Mariella began, "Mimi has these twenty rooms on the cellar floor where fleas have brought all kinds of stuff she hadn't asked for, like garden swings of furs, and whatnot. Now she has crystals. Look through my eyes. One grate weighs well over 100 kg, and there are at least four of them. The stones seem a bit dusty, and she wants to sort them and use them in her online and occult shops. But I have no idea what these minerals are, so I can't tell if they can be used in spells or what. Does Wulfe have a use for some of these, as there are raw crystals?"
Damon's voice was calm, but a bit tense in Mariella's mind as he replied telepathically, "Darlin', we're coming. Now, where the hell are you?"
Mariella replied, "Go past Mimi's bedroom until you come to the grey door, go through there and walk until you come to the elevator or the steel door. There's a lot of stuff in these rooms, and Mimi's little plan is to randomly take one lot, check it out, and either send it, use it, or mark it. But should she? I know she's messed up and hates her state, but does this hinder her progress? Moreover, if those stones are too dusty, what about her lungs?"
Damon answered, again keeping his tone calm, even though they were striding quite briskly toward the elevator. "We're coming. Let me see what's there. Let's try to find some form of compromise. Mimi is stubborn, meaning if I tell her not to do it, she twists it until she finds a reason to do it, so let's see what she could do and how she's planning to sort them anyway?"
Mariella remarked in her mind, "No fucking clue. She hasn't shown me yet. Sure, there are some nice pieces in these crystals, like a quite nice-sized dick, anatomically correct, I might add."
Mariella could almost feel Damon rolling his eyes at her little note.
I walked to the other side of the room as Mariella gazed at the confetti. I then went to fetch the levitating mover, which I planned to use to move the grates upstairs. It was essentially a cart with no wheels, but instead, a levitating unit.
This particular model, a product of Flea's invention, was relatively easy to make, as the Shed Session machines had provided us with the necessary materials. This version also had a long fork, which I would maneuver under the grates to secure and move them into my sorting room. However, as I was maneuvering the forklift into position, I heard footsteps. I sighed, knowing Mariella couldn't keep quiet.
"Baby, could you please stop trying to use that thing? You're way too doped to operate heavy machinery, and let me check out our crystals," Damon's voice, ever patient, grated on my ears.
Wulfe walked in as well and said, "Oh, they left one of these for us. Useful."
Damon raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
Wulfe continued, "A levitating forklift, hand-operated. Again, the Shed Session machines put it to a new use. We have about fifty of these, and it's a miracle they left one here, but it is useful. My unicorn, step away, please, as I said, you are in no fit state to use this."
My eyes flashed, but I stepped away. Charles was coming over and maneuvered the forklift into the corner, not intending to use it just yet.
Damon approached the grate and examined its contents. "Hmm, there's a lot of good material here. Wulfe, come and check this out."
Wulfe moved closer, a warm golden hue emanating from him. Magic flared from his fingertips as he closed his eyes and magically scanned the crystals. A few of them began to glow.
He muttered, his voice low and contemplative, "Yes, we have some fine pieces here. But first, my unicorn, your sorting system is crude, though useful. I can improve it with a few spells. Let's take these, create a sorting room, and then determine how to proceed."
Charles grunted, adding, "It's a good hobby for these two; it gives them something to do and isn't too strenuous. But we need to ensure no residue is absorbed through the skin."
Damon nodded, responding, "Cotton gloves, enchanted, will keep them safe without being too thick. All we need to do is make the sorting room and decide on the categories. Baby, thanks. We'll get those rooms set up right away. Don't worry. Let's see what we have here – all kinds of useful items, I can imagine."
I nodded, saying a bit bitterly, "Well, at least I have furs for Mariella and me for when it gets cold."
Damon said again, flatly, patiently looking at me as if I were an idiot, "Baby, a few spells, and they'll be tailored for men as well, good to have them; it can get cold here."
He was, again, so damn patient, and I had to curb my irritation, as I wasn't in the mood for naps. I saw spheres, towers, carvings, even rings – all kinds of material in those grates. I began listing in my mind how carefully we should sort them out, and then, yeah, price them too. It would be fun.
But then Charles said, "Honey, we'll take care of the pricing. Let's get this pack thing going. Get these into your so-called sorting room, make sure it's suitable, cast a few spells, and get you going."
As the men began securing things for transport, I hung back. I casually took my matknife from my pocket, flicked it open, and considered opening a box to check the contents.
Suddenly, my wrist was grabbed, the matknife was snatched away, and Damon said, "You lack the coordination to handle anything sharp. Understand this isn't ideal, but it's necessary. Try to behave for once."
I remained silent, suppressing my anxieties. He turned away, still agitated, wrapped his arm around Mariella, and placed his hand on her belly, smiling. Fine by me.
"Let's behave," I thought, creating another mental barrier.
I had enough strength to hide my hurt, anxiety, and symptoms, and I decided then and there that I would be the perfect patient, letting Damon be clinical and bossy. I'd focus on getting my body back online. And then...well, it was damn good to have ten Salvatores, and number one wouldn't be my choice, not at all.
The men maneuvered the grates out of the room, Damon muttering irritably about the rooms and his constant workload. I led them into my sorting room, my expression morphing into an appearance of compliance, hiding my distress even from Wulfe, as I sensed his irritation too.
Mariella cooed and crooned to Damon, her hormones dictating her behavior, while Charles walked by, brows furrowed, already preoccupied with prices, sorting, and paperwork, not bothering to check on me. It suited me just fine.
Wulfe glanced at my tower of baskets, my sorting machine, and said condescendingly, "I can do this with one simple spell, my unicorn. You should really learn to ask for help. We can, and we will. Now, let's see."
Golden strands shot from his fingers and struck my sorting machine, transforming it into a large table with baskets lining its sides.
Grates were brought in, and Wulfe instructed Charles, "Take a scoopful and place it on the table."
Wulfe conjured a large scoop, and Charles grunted as he filled it with various crystals, pouring them onto the table. The pile shimmered, and soon, it was gone, sorted, though not perfectly. One basket contained large balls, towers, and carvings; the next held items one size smaller, and so on. There were six categories.
Damon nodded and said, "This works. Now, you can sort these into more refined categories. Let's make more baskets."
Wulfe simply flicked his fingers. In this sorting room, which was actually a large bedroom with a sizable bed, more baskets and plastic boxes appeared on the bed, all lined with foam to protect the crystals. Damon focused, his fingers moving as his magic flared.
Soon, the boxes were labeled in his neat, elegant script: "Big Towers," "Medium Towers," "Small Towers," "Beads," and so on. There were also a few boxes for broken or damaged crystals. They would decide whether to mend and use them or sell them at a lower price.
Wulfe told Damon, "My spell will automatically move the crystals we need for spellwork, so the sorted ones are safe. You can give them gloves so they can start sorting."
Mariella whined, "I'm not in the mood. I want to see you cook, my love."
Damon smiled, kissed her, and said, "Sure thing, darlin'. We have a lot of cooking to do. Who knows, maybe I'll let you help me."
She pressed herself against him.
Damon added, "You see, darling, several salvatores are woodchopping and piling wood inside, and some are cutting meat, so you might just have to take me. Not much choice."
She giggled.
Wulfe handed me gloves, and Charles said, "Take it easy, honey. Let me scoop you good piles at first, so you have something to do."
I just nodded, maintaining a neutral expression, and used a tiny bit of willpower to calm myself down. I would show them how this was done.
Charles filled the baskets until they were overflowing, and then he placed them on a nearby table. I sat on the bed, ready to sort the crystals that were my source of peace. I flopped down and began to work, as Damon and Mariella had already left.
Wulfe and Charles followed, closing the door behind them. With cotton gloves protecting my skin from the stone dust, I retrieved my music player, put on my sorting playlist, and began.
I had tiny stickers, and I labeled the more exotic stones with their names, sticking them on. Damon hadn't studied gemology extensively, so he might not know every mineral and stone. It was time for me to be strong, to do this myself, and to get my body back on track. Once I was well again, I could truly let loose.
It was frustrating because Damon didn't understand me, and maybe he never would, I mused. Wulfe had seen my trauma and felt my distress, but he had also witnessed my resilience and willpower. Charles was kept too busy by Damon to truly grasp what I was feeling, and the same went for the other Salvatores and Adam.
They meant well, but their clinical approach often overshadowed their emotions, leading to the worst possible care. It was so easy for Damon to solve my problems medically, but they never addressed the root cause. This wasn't just a system malfunction; it was my blooming anxiety-driven mental syndrome, fueled by having to care for many creatures of love.
Damon had long viewed my relationship with Charles as a threat. Now, he had plenty of opportunities to steer Charles towards Mariella, thus pushing him away from me. Damon fell short of what he was supposed to be doing, as he was highly sensitive to Mariella while simultaneously preventing Charles from sensing me.
He manipulated Wulfe as well, and I wondered why. Was it because he saw me as an object, not a wife? Was it jealousy, or his pack leader mentality? Only time would tell. Until then, it was up to me to get this done, fix myself, and hopefully have a life before the babies arrived.