Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne (29 page)

The doors were engraved with the same geometric pattern, although their size suggested they were more hieroglyphic in nature than mere ornamentation. Ryan ran her fingers along the pattern, again noting that it was a strangely pleasurable sensation. She leaned closer, peering at the carvings. It was odd, the markings had a definite meaning, and Ryan had the curious sense she should know what that meaning was.

“So what do they say?” came the mocking voice in her ear.

Ryan jumped, which unfortunately pressed her fully against Madelyn who was standing behind her. She would have turned to face her, but that would have put her back against the doors. So Ryan did not move from the somewhat humiliating position.

“Obviously,” Ryan said sarcastically, “I do not know.”

Madelyn smiled. “That is unfortunate. Perhaps it would have kept you off my stairs.”

Madelyn reached over Ryan’s shoulder and touched the door. It immediately responded to her touch, silently swinging inward. Madelyn began to step forward, and Ryan had no choice but to begin moving forward herself or be trampled, although trampling was only slightly the lesser of two evils.

Madelyn pushed them both into the inner chamber, and the doors whispered closed behind them. Ryan quickly stepped away from her, breaking the contact between them. Madelyn did not appear to care, moving toward a nearby table. She picked up a goblet and poured some dark red liquid from a glass carafe. She swirled the contents of the crystal cup, then took a long drink. The wine, or whatever it was, pleased her, and she settled into a nearby chair.

Ryan examined the room. It was large, but not as large as the outer chamber. It seemed to be a sleeping suite, as Ryan uncomfortably noted the large bed in the corner. It had the same, spare, geometric décor as the outer room, but with a few more luxurious touches. It, too, was arranged in a semi-circular pattern and Ryan noted there was another set of double doors above a few stairs, again in the center of the half circle.

“Would you like a drink?” Madelyn asked.

The question seemed almost a challenge to Ryan. Without responding, Ryan walked to the table, lifted the remaining glass, and poured a drink from the decanter. She swirled the contents in the glass for a moment, steeling herself for whatever it might be, then tilted the glass to her lips.

It was something less than a full drink, but more than a sip, but either way it burned fire down her throat. Ryan could feel the liquid enter her stomach, so distinct was its fiery progress. She felt heat travel up the back of her spine, spread out through her shoulder blades, then engulf her skull, settling firmly on her cheeks. Incredibly, Ryan felt dizzy for a moment, and quickly sat down in the chair opposite Madelyn.

Madelyn watched the reaction with some pleasure. The girl continued to surprise her, and the fact that she had not died on the spot was somewhat of a revelation as well. Ryan carefully set the glass back down on the table.

“I think that’s enough,” Ryan said unsteadily.

“You continue to surprise me, Ryan Alexander,” Madelyn said, voicing her previous thoughts aloud.

There seemed to be two of Madelyn sitting across from her, and Ryan was not certain which one to address, so she maintained her silence. For a moment, Madelyn’s image seemed to shift, then shimmer slightly, as if Ryan were seeing something that was not quite there. She stared at the image, a strange expression on her face, then glanced about the room. It seemed to have the same shimmering quality, as if she were glimpsing some sort of underlying reality that otherwise could not be seen.

Great, Ryan thought to herself, returning her attention to the dark-haired woman, I’m intoxicated.

Madelyn watched the girl closely. Impossibly, she felt her hunger for the infant stir once more.

“Come here,” Madelyn commanded.

Uncertain if she could even stand, Ryan rationalized that she was passively resisting It did not matter, because in an instant she was seated in the chair with Madelyn. In her somewhat inebriated condition, she wondered when she had learned to fly.

“You are much more pliable in this state,” Madelyn noted, “perhaps you should dine with me more often.”

“No,” Ryan said, trying to clear her head, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Hmm,” Madelyn said, adjusting Ryan’s head, “we shall see.”

Ryan winced at the bite, but it was not nearly as painful as it was normally. Either Madelyn was moderating the pain, or whatever intoxicant she had consumed was dulling it. In fact, Ryan felt herself begin to relax.

Although her head was still groggy, Ryan began to struggle wildly. Madelyn easily caught her flailing limbs, restraining her completely. She bit into Ryan’s neck again, and this time the pain was intense, clearing Ryan’s head almost completely. The familiar paralysis began to seep into Ryan’s body, and she went limp in Madelyn’s arms.

“It is your choice to struggle,” Madelyn said, adjusting Ryan’s position so that she could feed better, “the end result will be the same.”

Madelyn resumed her feeding, and for once, Ryan welcomed the pain and the paralysis. She also welcomed the fact that Madelyn could not read her mind, or else the woman would have known the end result most definitely would not have been the same.

Susan watched the double doors with some trepidation. She had awakened when Madelyn trapped Ryan on the stairs, but had pretended sleep. There was nothing she could have done, and Ryan was far more vulnerable with Susan than without her. Still, Susan felt a sense of shame that she could do nothing to help Ryan.

Harrian entered the room from the lift. He glanced around the room, his expression darkening.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Susan knew he was not talking about his master in that tone of voice. She nodded toward the double doors at the top of the stairs.

“She is in there, with Madelyn.”

Harrian’s annoyance transitioned to disbelief and outrage. He did, however, lower his voice to a furious whisper.

“The prisoner is in the inner chambers?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Susan said impatiently, “she is.”

Harrian’s face turned apoplectic. He turned on his heel and stalked from the outer chambers, knowing his anger would get him killed.

Susan watched his departure thoughtfully, grateful that he was gone, but again troubled by all of the undercurrents she did not understand.

Several hours later, the double doors finally whispered open. Madelyn exited, carrying Ryan’s limp body. She approached Susan, who could not hide her concern. Madelyn dropped Ryan’s limp form onto a nearby couch, neither gently nor roughly, then turned and left without a word.

Susan rushed to Ryan’s side, thankful at least that Ryan had found unconsciousness. She settled beside her, knowing her long vigil was just beginning.

CHAPTER 30

RYAN AWOKE TO FIND DRAKE SLEEPING on her chest. Her entire world seemed distilled down into exhausted sleep intermittently broken by periods of wakefulness in which she was forced to rest to recover.

She sat up, gently laying her son on his side on the couch. She turned to find Susan watching her with some concern.

“How do you feel?” Susan asked.

Ryan stretched experimentally. Much of her pain was gone, having diminished to an overall soreness. She stood, careful not to jostle Drake, and again stretched.

“I feel better,” Ryan replied. She glanced up at the double doors. “For the moment.”

Susan followed her gaze. “I don’t think Madelyn is here right now. She left some time ago, and I have not seen her return.”

“Hmm,” Ryan said. She walked over to the solid rock wall and leaned against it, pressing her palms into its surface.

“What are you doing?” Susan asked curiously.

“I am not certain,” Ryan said, “but it seems to make me feel better.”

Susan walked over to the wall to stand next to her. “Lift your hand,” she ordered.

Ryan glanced at her mildly. “Yes ma’am.”

Susan blushed, aware that she had fallen into her role as doctor. Still, she leaned closer to where Ryan’s hand had rested. There was the faintest outline of her palm.

“Are you applying enough pressure to create that indentation?”

Ryan, too, leaned closer, surprised at the outline. “No,” she said, “I’m not applying any pressure at all.” She glanced upward at the reddish rock. “I believe some of this rock is hematite, which would not be that difficult to scratch. But I don’t think I’m applying enough pressure to do so.”

Susan was always surprised at Ryan’s breadth of knowledge, and Ryan seemed to know her thoughts.

“I have learned a few things in 700 years,” Ryan said with a wicked grin. She turned back to the rock. “But I remember this particular fact from my human upbringing. My first father was a blacksmith, and hematite is nothing more than iron ore.”

The final piece clicked into place in Susan’s brain, Ryan noticed her expression.

“What?” Ryan asked.

Susan tried to control her excitement. As dreadful as their current situation was, nothing could decrease her enthusiasm for her research.

“When I was studying your anatomy, I kept trying to figure out how you could survive without eating.”

“I remember the conversation,” Ryan said.

“Right,” Susan said, “one of my working theories was that you absorb what you need from the environment around you.”

“Okay,” Ryan said slowly, staring at the imprint on the wall.

“Have you taken any blood from Madelyn?” Susan asked.

“No,” Ryan said vehemently.

“And yet you continue to replace your blood supply at an extraordinary rate.” Susan glanced around the room. “The climate here is very humid. I imagine you can pull moisture from the air.” Susan nodded to the imprint in the wall. “And hematite and hemoglobin sound similar for a reason.”

“Iron,” Ryan said, comprehending.

“Yes,” Susan agreed, “I think you are pulling the iron your body needs from the rock itself.”

“So I am like some great frog,” Ryan said mischievously.

“Right,” Susan said, caught up in her enthusiasm. “Wait, what? No.” She frowned at Ryan, knowing what she was implying. “True, certain amphibians absorb nutrients through their skin, but I hardly think this is a comparison.”

Ryan was already walking back toward the couch, seeing that Drake was awake. He was watching them intently, and Ryan scooped him up and tossed him in the air.

“Did you hear that, little one?” Ryan asked him. “Now I am the frog king.”

Drake seemed delighted by this news, and Susan sighed in exasperation. Ryan was never impressed by the miracle of her own anatomy.

“And now you,” Ryan said, tossing him upward once more, “are the frog prince.”

This news sent the toddler into fits of laughter, and the two fell to the couch together. Ryan shifted the boy’s weight, settling him comfortably on her lap. Susan realized the brief exertion had tired her. She sat back down near Ryan.

Ryan was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. The subject of her thoughts became apparent when she addressed Susan.

“Have you noticed a strangeness about Madelyn?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” Susan asked.

“Yes,” Ryan said, “other than the obvious. I mean, I know she is very ancient for our Kind, but every once in awhile…” Ryan thought about the shimmer she had seen, the shifting of the image. The thoughts troubled her, so she merely shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Susan tried to be helpful, but was uncertain what Ryan was getting at. “I have noticed that her speech is very strange, but I assume it is because her native language is very old, perhaps not even spoken anymore.”

Ryan nodded. “I was thinking Sumerian, one of the few language isolates.”

Susan was shocked. “You think Madelyn is 6000 years old?”

Ryan shrugged. “It would not surprise me. Her power is immense. I have no way of even comprehending its extent.”

Susan felt hopelessness return. That would mean Madelyn was well over three times Victor’s age. Something occurred to her.

“Then it is no wonder she has captured you,” Susan said.