Julian Sark’s angry hiss, “Are you still going to chat about cheeses and wine?” brought a dark smile to my face.
We had always chatted whenever they came to list their torments, and my nonchalant replies, like “I’ve had worse” or “Should that scare me?”, always left them livid, just as I intended.
This quickly became tiresome for them.
When one Sark approached Katherine, planning a live dissection, she coolly responded, “You fetus, I am an over-millennia-old vampire. Do you really think you’re the first to try dissecting me alive? Sure, I can give you pointers; there are a lot of neat things inside my organs.”
One of the newer additions for Elena and Katherine was their recent elevation to “teeth vampires,” a fact we hadn’t yet revealed.
However, I was growing weary of these shitheads torturing us for amusement or trying to unnerve us.
It was time to set a small example.
Since there was almost one Sark for each of us, this promised to be grand.
Thankfully, Wulfe was silent; my nerves were fried by his constant sniping and bitter barbs, making me doubt the genuineness of our connection.
We had been awake for days, and my body bore new stitches, staples, and more.
This accumulation, coupled with Wulfe’s ill mental health, made me less patient than I might have been.
If he had been well, or at least behaving as he used to, perhaps things would have been different.
But then again, if his previous demeanor had been a pretense, his spells had long since evaporated from my mind.
The Salvatores were also largely disconnected, and my own mind grew eager to twist and turn, my syndrome blooming and my mental state becoming even more unstable.
This led to wilder, unshared ideas, as once again, I was the one who had to get us out.
I was the one I could trust, the strongest, most terrifying, and goddamn poisonous creature here.
I let all these feelings accumulate, feeling pressure build between my eyes.
A few deep breaths saturated me with the Sarks’ pervasive scent, making my own poison even more potent and painful.
All the while, Sark droned on about chopping off my leg and observing how it regrew.
I teased my fangs with my tongue, feeling thick liquid oozing out.
Once I had my dose ready, I spewed it suddenly onto a Sark’s face, and it howled in pain.
This alerted the other Sarks, and soon they understood my plan.
Poison began flying in arcs from our mouths.
Several dead Sarks slumped to the floor, some having clawed their own eyes out before dying.
I had enough poison for five Sarks, and Adam, Charles, Lepard, Demon, Elena, Katherine, Mimosa, and Shadow were also very efficient, bringing down and killing Sarks.
It took quite a while, and I counted at least 50 shitheads, to gain control.
As darkness finally claimed me, one Sark injected something light brown into my spine while five others held my head still and my jaws locked, preventing me from spitting anything out.
I felt a dark, deep satisfaction as my less nice sides woke up and stretched.
When I came to some time later, I felt sore all over, shivery, and had an even more metallic sensation.
Opening my eyes, I noticed I was on a rack, but not everyone was present.
Taking a few deep breaths, I let my darkness unfurl again, along with my nasty torturer side.
Combined, these made me feel a bit wild, instilling a desire to inflict pain and witness my victim’s suffering.
My vampire side was also more awake, though weakened by our time in the pocket universe.
She was partially integrated into me, no longer a separate individual.
Combining my brutally strong vampire side with my darker aspects formed another layer.
Love became far less important, and my vampire side now had its own ideas about torture, with a tingling in my fingertips.
Glancing down, I saw I had grown a set of poison nails.
I also knew my poisons would be far too complex for the Sarks to copy or even understand, as my body occasionally disregarded the rules of chemistry, biology, and anatomy.
Thus, my poisons were impossible concoctions, defying the natural combination of substances.
As I heard footsteps approaching, I feigned weakness.
Soon, the army of “Sarks” arrived–a term I had to consciously use, as I desperately wanted to call them “victims.” They brought the rest of my pack: wizards, Wulfe, Adam, Charles, Alaric, and Magnum.
My pack was already here, unconscious.
Each bore scars and injuries suggesting torture.
Peeking through my barely open eyelids, I pretended to be hanging from a rack, keeping my breathing and pulse slow so they wouldn’t realize I was awake and looking for some fun.
However, as time passed and my powers as alpha grew, a new aspect of this situation emerged, surprising me.
Once the Sarks had secured everyone’s racks and left with smug smiles, I noticed their recklessness, their lack of clinical precision. This story is hosted at g.com.
Taking a deep breath as the door thudded shut, I thought, “Time to prepare some fun.”
My new desire was to share this experience with my pack.
Now the pack leader, I wouldn’t ask questions; I would act.
This would take time.
I would let my power slowly infuse everyone, allowing it to soak in, then build upon it, strengthening us bit by bit.
Afterward, we would have immense fun and save those in need, simply because we could.
I harbored no noble desire to save the so-called innocent; I simply wanted to save them and show them how it’s done.
Perhaps this would spread my legend further, making me a veritable bogeyman in the minds of every villain.
They would see that my killings weren’t mindless but laced with enjoyment, and my choosing who lived and who died would make me an even more fearsome enemy.
Wulfe was simply part of our group now.
There was no longer heartbreak or sorrow; my darkness had consumed those feelings.
I hadn’t shut down my emotions; I had simply shifted gears.
The freedom I felt was exhilarating—no rules, no one telling me no, no one opposing me.
I was the strongest, the most dangerous.
I was the Dark Queen.
I first let my powers whirl and saturate me.
Then, like mist in the morning, I released a tiny hint of my combined darkness and power into our new network, allowing it to reach each member of my pack.
This immediately elicited a bewildered, “What the fuck?” from Charles.
Through our hive mind, I responded, “This is only the start. I will give you much more, but for now, let’s start slow. Let it soak in; let it empower you. It is time for us to get strong.”
Charles grunted in response.
Dresden’s and Constantine’s eyes flashed violet as my darkness impacted their magic, transforming it into something more.
It wasn’t like hellfire; there was no inherent evilness.
My darkness, a byproduct of my nasty, shitty past, had forged this potent, dark power within me.
One might even call it the soul of a victim, but regardless, it was a crucial element that would boost our chances of freedom.
Time was on our side, after all, as we were all immortals now.
Adam grunted, his voice now colored by the encroaching darkness.
“More, give me more. This is such power; come on, honey, spill it.”
I simply smiled and cautioned, my voice low and dark within our hive.
“Pace yourselves. It will take time for my powers to saturate you, giving you the oomph for some serious fun. We have a large building full of victims, and as noble creatures, we will save those who need saving. To do that, we need to be in a certain mood. Well, I’m more or less there, but a few bursts of my darkness, and then it will be time to introduce you to my rage at levels you’ve never felt. My compounded powers should provide you with a buffer to deal with and use my rage.”
We communicated through our hive mind, ensuring the “Sarks”—not victims, I corrected myself—had no inkling of my powers.
Charles then said, “Prepare, honey; I’m about to trigger your rage. Let’s see how this new system works.”
I smiled lazily and replied, “Bring it on.”
A dizzying rush followed, accompanied by metallic sounds in my brain, and then my rage simply oozed out.
I didn’t stop or limit it.
Instead, I directed it straight into my other powers.
As they merged, the feeling sent shudders through me and tensed my muscles.
My God, nothing felt impossible.
I had the sense that a mere glance could kill someone.
I controlled my breathing, allowing this new superpower to swirl and reach every corner of my mind.
I fueled it, letting my darkest memories unfold—everything the Sarks had done to me, taken from me, and hurt me with.
While Wulfe had certainly helped me purge a lot during our time in the pocket universe, I still had plenty left.
My skin felt incredibly sensitive, as if I could feel each molecule individually.
My senses were sharp, reaching and seeking victims.
I wasn’t sure of my eye color or even my expression, but I knew I was something more than I had been before.
No longer was Wulfe trying to rein me in, nor was Damon a concern.
He had gained my darkness too, but whatever those experimental drugs had done, they had erased his personality, wiped it clean.
I had no idea whether he could ever recover or if this was his true self.
I truly felt like a dark queen, and this empowered me.
So much so, I was testing the limits of even strong restraints.
My muscles possessed a torque that could easily bend 8mm thick titanium, though Sarks might have an inkling of this.
Tim pleaded, “Please give me a bit more. I want more; I need more.”
I smiled.
“Fine,” I said, addressing our hive.
“Prepare yourselves. This now has my rage in it, and I can add a bit more, like my alpha vampire power, my chaos. So, each time it will be a bit new.”
And then, I let another dose seep into our new network.
Charles murmured, “Oh my God, this is something the Salvatores cannot have. This is our power, our time, and our enjoyment.”
I didn’t want to think about the time of resetting, when I would have to let this power go, but I knew that time would come too.
However, not just yet.
First, we would let Sarks become a bit more erratic, a bit more reckless.
And now that I had infused my powers into others, they possessed defiance as well.
They were quite talented at crafting sentences that made Sarks truly lose it.
Fast-forward a few hours.
Sarks approached us again.
We maintained neutral expressions, not letting them see what was transpiring.
One of the Sarks approached Elena, looked at her, and said, “Hmm, doppelgänger. I was wondering if your liver would be suitable for humans. If you could be the ultimate donor factory, we should check it out.”
Elena replied, “Why bother? You’re one yourself. You can clone. So, if you’re such a human lover, sacrifice some of yourself in order to give humans a nice set of healthy organs.”
The Sark fell silent.
Elena’s tone was defiant, arrogant, and strong.
Despite being stretched on the rack, she was no weakling.
Elena went on, “However, you’re also a coward, a loser who intimidates people and disguises it as improving humanity, when in truth, you’re just another selfish individual.” Her voice oozed contempt and arrogance as she asked, “I wonder if it’s money you are after, but then again, with so many of you, it must truly bug you having to share your money with yourselves.”
Sark soon moved to Dresden, attempting to scare him.
However, Dresden was not in the mood to play the victim.
He merely had to mutter some unknown language, and Sark adjusted his IV, making it drip faster, thus causing Dresden to pass out.
I could smell Sark’s fear, but before I had a chance to say anything, Adam beat me to it.
“Oh, you should be afraid,” Adam said.
“Some of those curses are nasty, and once they hit you, you’ll wish for death, though it rarely happens, as curses are meant as punishment, as suffering. And it doesn’t take long to cast a curse.”
Adam, too, uttered something in German, causing one of the Sarks to begin panting in pain.
The other Sark adjusted Adam’s IVs, and he too passed out.
The apparent leader of the Sarks then declared, “Fine, have it your way. We have the means to give you a bit of an attitude adjustment. Let’s see next time, when we allow you to wake up, if you’re still so mouthy.”
Oh, he was losing it, which was perfect.
I smiled at him darkly, looking at him like a piece of meat and letting my own darkness show a bit.
He swallowed nervously, and then someone tinkered with my IV.
It wasn’t long before my vision blurred, voices faded away, and darkness took over once again.
Our plan was well underway, though it wasn’t the wisest plan, especially considering that my powers, my darkness, held an allure like no other.
Once we got going, it would be a veritable gorefest.
The question remained: how would this affect others in the long term?
For me, there was freedom, the promise of dark, unbridled enjoyment, and no one telling me no.
But in the future, I might have to face it without Wulfe, and I had no idea what that would turn me into.
Only time would tell, but if he was truly gone, wiped clean, I might not be so eager to suppress my darkness anymore.