"Mimi, my baby, you're a sore loser, truly," Number Five smirked, boasting about his results once again.
I took a breath, intending to defend myself, but snapped my mouth shut. I wasn't going to engage, even though I was furious. Yet, the burning rage had subsided; after all, it had been 70 hours of non-stop hitting, punching, kicking, and screaming for both of us, and still, those stupid bags hung there, unbroken and unripped.
"Fucking freaking stupid results," I thought.
Logically, I knew I shouldn't care, but my ego certainly didn't like this outcome. Number Five had beaten me in every category: his accuracy was 91 percent, mine 79; his maximum power was 88% of his maximum measured, mine a mere 65%. It seemed I hadn't even used all my power, blinded by rage. His correctness – how well he executed each strike, as measured and logged by cameras – was 83%, while mine was 55%.
In other words, I had been sloppy as hell, and it was all logged. This infuriated me, but I was still tense and needed a bit more fun. I've always been competitive, and the next little exercise would be a real challenge.
I glanced at Number Five and asked, "Do you want more, or are you done? I'm still in need of some action, not in bed, but something else."
My eyes flashed yellow, causing him to smirk wider. "Ooh, kitty time. Well, baby, I'm up for it. You have a feline room here, right? As it is, Numbers Two and Four are also free, so they'll join us."
I simply rolled my eyes.
I, Mimi Salvatore, alpha female of our pack, was at times a very complicated creature. Right now, however, I just wanted to indulge the most dominant part of myself, meaning my feline side. Despite my very strong, ruthless vampire nature, my so-called evolution had made me more feline than vampire, or at least that's how I saw it. Surely, if you asked Numbers Two or Four, my medical guys, they might say differently, but the truth was, in my feline forms, I felt at home and most like myself.
After showering and changing into clean clothes, we headed to the feline room. I had been here before, but our lives were usually so busy that I hadn't had much time for fun. Now, however, I was taking my time. Call it therapy or a prolonged reaction, but I was being selfish, doing what I needed to do to regain my balance.
As I opened the door to the prep room, it was set up differently from the one in Moldova. Here, there was a smaller actual hatch that one had to go through, meaning you had to take your animal form before entering. It was a fun little detail.
But first, I needed to load up some treats. We had a lot of meat reserved, and our farm would start yielding in a year or two, so we were quite secure in terms of meat. However, in the back of our containment area, in the yard, I still had five large containers full of what I called "hard cases" or challenges. I was just thinking to myself that I might take some time and see what I could do with them.
The animals in question were older, huge, and tough, full of gristle, making them less tender. Most places would either use such meat for animal feed or discard it, but I intended to chop them up and see how they could be utilized. These older animals possessed a quality that younger, more tender meat lacked: flavor.
This idea randomly popped into my mind as I approached the freezer or cold storage. I pulled out large boxes filled with assorted parts: offcuts, sheets of fat, organs, smaller animals, bones, and joints. One box alone weighed about 45 kilos, and I planned to add three such boxes, ensuring each of us would have plenty to eat or gnaw on.
There was a specific, magically prepared area to deposit the meat. Once placed there, it would be randomly distributed throughout the feline room, hidden in challenging locations. This spell had been cast by Wulfe, Dresden, and Constantine, so it wouldn't be easy, but I relished a good challenge.
As I dumped the first box, Number Five observed. A huge bovine omentum, abdominal fat sheets, organs, pieces of meat, and joints poured out, disappearing the moment they touched the magic circle. Then came the second box, containing numerous small animals – hares, rabbits, and minks, some with fur and some skinned, as I had already collected their pelts for another project: making my own fur. Finally, the last box, filled with more joints, bones, and fat, was added. I could sense increasing tension emanating from Number Five, and I heard footsteps as Numbers Two and Four arrived.
We were about to have some serious fun. For us felines, it was crucial to embrace and express our animalistic nature. We needed to be like cats, hunting, playing, and allowing our instincts to come alive and guide us. There was nothing wrong with that; not at all.
I had my plan ready, and I hadn't told my husbands about it. There were now three of them out of fourteen, and I changed into my tiniest form, a black sandcat, slipping into the room through the hatch. The others followed behind me, soon taking larger forms as they went hunting.
I smelled the air and looked up, finding it: my first prize. A huge sheet of abdominal covering from a pig, full of fat deposits, hung high in the ceiling, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. But my plan was in motion. I ran up one side of the room and onto the ramp, which would get me as close as possible. However, I was wiser now.
This meant I wasn't going to turn anything bigger yet and make my prize drop down where my hungry, greedy, and albeit lazy husbands were surely waiting. Nope, being a sandcat was part of this plan all along.
The sheet hung about four feet from me, suspended in mid-air by hooks from a few spots. It was just perfect, slightly spread. I gauged my jump and extended my claws as I leaped, sinking my tiny but sharp claws into it.
As I was a surgeon in the real world, not in this pocket version we were currently living in, I knew something about how much tissue could withstand such stress. This sheet had more than enough tensile strength to hold my little over-a-kilo weight. As I hung from it, I started to rip out nice, fat globules, eating as much as I wanted.
"Baby, naughty, naughty wife, we are coming. Let's see if that can support all of us," number two said telepathically, as he too morphed into a tiny sandcat, but sand-colored instead of black, and ran up the ramp.
He leaped, soon got his grip on my prize too, and eagerly started to eat it. The other two were also coming, and I rolled my eyes internally. I slid a little bit lower, as I didn't want anyone jumping on my back with their claws out.
This was full of yummy fat, and being in this tiny form meant I could get my tummy nice and full. However, I was aiming to eat as much as I could. After all, I had loaded up three big boxes, and here everyone was, coming to my piece of a treat. It was all so crazy.
I dropped down as the other two jumped, realizing there was no need for me to hang on any longer, as the structure might not hold much longer. With plenty of treats left, it was time to sniff.
As a sandcat, I was small and agile, and my sense of smell guided me. My small, furry body easily fit through several tight spots, and then I saw it: a large chunk of old, tough Denver steak, or something similar.
Upon reaching it, I transformed into a lynx, allowing me to eat more efficiently. Soon, I heard the others drop down as well, their appetites taking over, and the competition for the treats became less important. Hunger was the name of the game.
Of course, they were still trying to find me and saw what I was eating. However, for instance, number two was now seeking hares and small rodents because they were so delicious. Number four was looking for me, as he was sly and used our hive mind to sense my smugness, meaning he was actively fueling himself to find me, as my smugness was more or less catnip to them.
This one was quite inventive in disturbing me and alerting me. It wasn't that he sent me images, but rather the content of those images was the main point. They were not at all like him, coming to eat my prey, but more carnal. He envisioned coming, mounting me, fucking me into submission, and then feasting.
As mentioned, when one has lust wizards as husbands, they can be quite inventive. To be honest, I must admit I was the one who taught them just how powerful a little daydreaming about sex could affect someone's mind. I had sent them, or they had plucked, my carnal daydreams from my mind more than once, thus giving me the nickname "porn film director."
Number Four was cursing in his head, and I could hear his frustration through our shared mindscape. "Fucking hell, that place is impossible to get into! What do you want me to do, turn into a rhinoceros and run through it?"
Having finished my piece of meat, I walked over to him. He was staring at a decent-sized bovine liver on the floor, which seemed to be encased in a cube. Two sides were steel, and the front and back were clear resin, but there was a small gap between the floor and the glass.
"Easy," I told him. "You need to learn your forms' dimensions and their capabilities. I could get that liver out of there in at least three, if not eight, different ways, and quickly. But I'm going to let you learn."
His voice was irritated. "You're bluffing. No way, there are eight possibilities."
"At least our eight forms have ways to get it," I countered. "All you have to do is think. Let me give you a few ideas. See the gap between the floor and the glass? That's your way."
He looked at the approximately three-inch-wide gap and said, "Maybe a sand cat might fit, but I've never tried."
"Exactly!" I exclaimed. "These feline forms are much more than just an exotic way to hunt your meal. They provide motivation, but they also offer opportunities to learn. Now, a sand cat will fit. However, that space is small, and if you eat it all, your stomach might be a bit of a hindrance to getting out. Of course, you could go in, grab it, and pull it out. But why don't you use your paws? Think. You have thirty forms. Which forms have long, flexible front paws that you can fit in there and fish it out?"
He was quiet for a moment, then sullenly replied, "Of fucking course! How the hell did I not think of that?"
I walked away, noticing him transforming into a cheetah. A good choice. Cheetahs have long, strong paws, and their claws are sufficient.
My next meal was a huge piece of fatty meat high up on the climbing frame, and on the way, a calf's heart – yummy! I knew I'd be quite full after this, but it was worth it, especially after raging in the gym for three days.
As a fishing cat, I ran up the climbing frame and stopped to figure out the best method to get my heart. However, before I could think, a huge violet lion jumped out and snatched it. It was number five, which fluffed its wings and gulped it down in almost one bite.
Fine, I had another piece in mind. To get it, I would have to jump about five feet across to a pole less than two inches in diameter, maintain my balance, and then jump vertically another six feet. I planned to hang onto it and eat as much as I could before transforming into a bigger creature once I was full. I wasn't sure if this piece could hold me, but I was determined to try.
My jump only worked on the fifth try, proving it wasn't easy. Even as I got my claws into it, the piece ripped apart and dropped to the floor. Luckily, the men were still busy eating whatever treats they found, so I quickly transformed into a black jaguar and gobbled up my treat myself. I had certainly earned it.
I didn't pay much attention to the room's appearance because, in my feline form, cats are more interested in utility and movement than interior decoration. It wasn't important for me to notice all the details. Furthermore, since I had designed this room to be accessible only in feline forms, it was intended as a functional space for action, not a showroom.
I was an hour later digging out a huge chunk of beef from a small hidey-hole. It took quite a bit of effort to get it out, but my form this time, Red Fox, was small enough and had paws suitable for digging. The room itself was also made of different, magical materials.
The substance where this wonderful meal was buried was something between quicksand, slime, and concrete, so brute strength alone wouldn't suffice. Since only about twenty percent of the beef was visible, eating it would mean losing the rest, so I had to retrieve it.
Just then, Number Four noticed my efforts and my prize.
"That's a meal for both of us, you know," he said. "You've been eating quite a lot; you could share."
"Back off, Quattro," I replied.
He sighed and, telepathically communicating as we were, said, "Baby, it seems we have some promises to fulfill. But now, let me help you. And where did you get all this meat? I mean, it's wonderful, but we could make food out of it, too."
He came next to me and took on his wolf form.
His bigger paws got more done, and he said to me, "So, it seems we need to have some discussions. First, where the hell did you get this meat, and how much do you have? Second, we have some work to do with you. All of us Salvatores who are willing and believe, under the right circumstances, we are willing."
I was baffled and utterly clueless as to what he was referring to.
Regarding the meat, I explained, "I have five containers full of my so-called spare meat in the back – older, tougher animals, usually made into ground meat or used as animal food, but I have them. Wulfe is aware of them, and they were just my backup plan. Since our farm will start yielding properly in about a year, we'll have plenty of meat, and there won't be as much need for my spares. So, I might sometimes challenge myself, say, with half an old draft horse, tough as shit but flavorful, and try to make something out of it."
Five and Two were also joining in to help dig out this large piece of meat. Although we had all been eating heartily, this was proving to be a fun challenge, as it required all of our combined efforts. Three of us were digging while one of us carefully, slowly pulled the meat with his jaws, ensuring not to rip it or cause it to sink further. We were working together as a pack.
"Careful, baby, just a little left," Five said to me. "That's it. There's a piece stuck there; try to get it loose. Good. Two, there's something stopping this from moving too," he added, as he was the one holding onto the meat.
We had managed to pull it halfway up, and it was enormous. However, because it had several joints, like ribs, sticking out, we had to dig them free. My smaller paws were well-suited for the more delicate excavation, while Two and Four handled the heavier work. Nevertheless, it was enjoyable, this feeling of working together as a pack. This was the family life I had always yearned for but never truly believed I would have.
To hell with that damn dickweed; let that arrogant pissant stew in his own juices, for all I care. I was having too much fun to bother being bothered by him. After all, life was meant to be lived, not moped when some old fool could not handle his feelings.