Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne (31 page)

“You grow more trying and less entertaining each day, Ryan Alexander,” Madelyn hissed between clenched teeth.

Ryan was on the verge of spewing a sarcastic retort when she became aware of something different about Madelyn. Or perhaps in her previously weakened condition, she had simply not noticed it.

Madelyn normally wore clothing that covered nearly every square inch of her body. And although her customary flowing garments hinted at the well-formed body that might lie beneath, Ryan had only the firmness of their usual forced contact to assess that probability.

That was, until today.

Ryan felt the color and heat seep into her own cheeks. She looked to the right, trying to feign interest in the blank wall, then to the left, apparently mesmerized by a nondescript table. Her eyes swept the room, searching for anything to alight on, until finally, reluctantly, she met Madelyn’s gaze once more.

As Ryan’s flustered inspection of the room took place, Madelyn’s expression changed from anger to curiosity, then to dawning understanding and amusement. Her anger dissipated entirely as she noted the girl’s high color and chagrined look.

“I stand corrected,” Madelyn said, “you are still very entertaining.”

Ryan could no longer meet her eye and returned to her desperate perusal of the room, seeking anywhere for her errant glance to settle. She could feel the relationship between her and Madelyn subtly shift once more, moving in a very dangerous direction. Madelyn seemed to finally become aware of the shift, as well. She leaned very close to Ryan.

“I asked you in the beginning if you would fight me,” Madelyn whispered, “and you said you would not because it was futile.” Ryan’s heightened senses made the whisper torturous in her ear. Madelyn shifted, bringing the torment her other side. “Very soon you will not fight because you do not wish to.”

Ryan began struggling, and Madelyn laughingly bit her. Ryan welcomed the pain, and felt the paralysis begin to seep into her body. She tried to push Madelyn away, but the woman easily caught her wrist, imprisoning it despite her efforts.

Madelyn stopped for a moment, staring at the wrist she held in her hand. There was a look of amazement on her face, and a bit of wonder in her tone.

“You grow resistant to my bite,” Madelyn said, oddly pleased.

Ryan stopped as well, staring at the imprisoned wrist. Generally by this time she was completely paralyzed, and although she could feel the paralysis progressing, she was still able to generate significant movement. She stared at Madelyn.

“One day it will not affect me at all,” Ryan promised defiantly, “even if it takes a thousand years.”

Madelyn gazed down at her with gentle mocking. “Do you really think you could satisfy me for a thousand years?”

Although the paralysis was progressing, Ryan’s gaze and voice were steady. “Yes,” she said simply, “I do.”

Madelyn leaned forward and bit her again, taking a long drink that made Ryan’s knees give way. “I almost believe you could,” Madelyn murmured, settling down to drain her.

Ryan awoke to find Drake curled up on her chest. She was relieved to see she was back in the outer chambers, alone with her son and Susan.

“How are you feeling?” Ryan and Susan asked at the same time.

Ryan nodded for Susan to go first.

“I am fine,” Susan said, self-consciously brushing her hair. “I awoke when you were gone, and assumed Madelyn had returned.”

Ryan’s expression darkened, thinking of Madelyn’s last feeding. “I am that woman’s dog.”

“What?” Susan asked, astonished at the characterization.

“I am like some favored pet,” Ryan elaborated.

Susan did not bother to hide her skepticism. “Ryan, I think there is far more to it than that, and if it means anything, so does your father.”

Ryan was doubtful, although she respected Susan’s opinion and most certainly Victor’s. Susan continued.

“For instance, when Drake and I were first brought here, Madelyn’s assistant was shocked that we were placed here in her outer chambers. If I am correct, it is a huge honor just to see this room. It is certainly not anywhere prisoners would ever be kept.”

Ryan listened to Susan’s reasoning.

“And,” Susan said, “from what I understand, no one goes into the inner chambers.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, but did not relent, possibly because she did not want to think otherwise.

“Even a dog sleeps at the foot of his master’s bed.”

The two settled into silence, a silence that was finally broken by Ryan’s verbalization of her musings.

“Did you know there are another set of doors in Madelyn’s inner chambers?” Ryan said, her curiosity evident. “I wonder what is behind those?”

Susan felt a distinct sense of foreboding. She was quite certain Ryan was going to find out what was behind those doors.

CHAPTER 31

VICTOR SET THE SWORD DOWN, and Kusunoki followed suit. As Victor’s strength returned, he spent hours sparring with Kusunoki, partially to hone his skill and partially to burn off energy. Kusunoki greatly enjoyed the contests because although Victor’s style of fighting was distinctly different than Ryan’s, he was a master swordsman and as difficult to defeat as she was. Ala and her men sat and watched the two while Jason and Edward sat nearby. After Susan disappeared, Ala had made a point of looking after the boy, as had Edward.

“Thank you, Kusunoki,” Victor said.

Kusunoki bowed. “The pleasure is mine, my lord. I am glad to see you are fully recovered.”

“Almost, my friend,” Victor said, “almost.” A servant approached and Victor took the damp cloth he proffered. He set to wiping his hands clean, absorbed in the action. But as he continued to clean his hands, his motions slowed, then stopped. He stood unmoving.

Kusunoki watched Victor, aware of his pause. The dark-haired man had a far-away look in his eye, as if he were seeing something from a great distance.

“What is it, my lord?” Kusunoki asked.

Victor’s gaze refocused on his surroundings. “It is the oddest thing,” he replied, “I feel almost as if someone is trying to communicate with me, sending me images although no words.”

Kusunoki felt a twinge of hope and cast a glance in Ala’s direction. Although he and Victor were speaking quietly, he knew she could easily hear their conversation.

“Is it Ryan?” Kusunoki asked, giving voice to his hope.

“No,” Victor said, a strange look on his face “at least not directly.”

“I am afraid I do not understand, my lord,” Kusunoki said.

Victor glanced at the samurai, then over at Ala. His gaze settled on Jason for a long moment before he turned back to the Kusunoki.

“It seems impossible, but I think the images are coming from my grandson.”

Ryan leaned back in a chair, Drake resting against her chest and napping. Susan sat across from her, reading one of the books that had been provided her. For the moment, Ryan was almost content. It was gift Kusunoki had spent decades trying to give her, the ability to stay in the moment. With her restless spirit and wandering mind, it had been nearly impossible at times, but for this small interval, she was at peace.

That peace was disrupted when Madelyn strode through the door, her gown flowing about her. She took in the familial scene, her face expressionless. Ryan tightened as she approached and Drake awakened, but Madelyn did not pause and continued up the stairs to her inner chambers, disappearing within.

Ryan relaxed, and Drake settled back down. She ran her fingers through his silky black hair. It reminded her so much of Victor it made her heart ache.

Although Susan was not nearly as attuned to the emotions of their Kind as Ryan was, Susan was particularly adept at sensing Ryan’s. There was a pensiveness about Ryan, a restlessness that appeared when Madelyn did. Susan examined her friend, noting the high cheek bones, the perfect mouth, the eyes that constantly shifted in hue. Susan noted that Ryan’s hair was now so light it was almost white. When she stood up, Susan noticed the same, lithe athleticism and grace that had astonished Susan the first time she saw her.

Ryan ran her fingers through Drake’s hair once more, and for a long moment stared into his blue eyes. She then walked over to Susan and handed the child to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind watching Drake for a moment, there is something I must do.”

The resignation in Ryan’s voice sent a shudder through Susan. “Ryan—” Susan began.

Ryan gently cut her off. “I will be fine,” she said. She glanced up a the double doors. “I will be back in a little while.”

Drake somberly watched his mother as she mounted the stairs.

Once Ryan was at the top of the steps, she paused in front of the double doors, but only for a brief instant. She reached out and touched the engraved surface, and was not surprised when it whispered open before her. She turned and gave Drake and Susan one last glance, then stepped inside. The doors whispered closed behind her.

The inner chamber was empty. Ryan paused in the entryway, glancing about the room. She walked over to the table and picked up the glass decanter, examining the red liquid within. She swirled it for a moment, then set the carafe back down. She walked over to the bed, then ran her hand along the sheet. It was a strange fabric, like many things in this place, familiar, but not quite identifiable to her.

Ryan turned to the center of the room, to the few steps that led up to the other set of double doors. She hesitated, but only a moment, then approached the stairs. She took them two at a time, her steps echoing in the empty chamber, then stood before the entryway. These doors were even more elaborately engraved than the outer ones, the same geometric patterns representing something equally unfathomable but doing so with more urgency. Although incomprehensible to Ryan, she somehow knew them to be a warning. Very slowly, she extended her hand to the door and pressed her fingers to the surface. And very slowly, with a barely audible click, the lock released and the door whispered open.

Ryan stepped into something that was not a room.

The walls seemed to shift, shimmering with tantalizing glimpses of things that were not there. Hideous objects took shape in her peripheral vision, solidifying, then disappearing when she turned to look at them fully. She looked at the floor in front of her, blurred her gaze, and tried not to focus on any one thing.

The walls were alive. They twisted and turned like the inside of some great beast. Tentacles slithered outward then snapped back. Claw-like appendages encrusted with scales clacked sharply together, creating an accompaniment to the wet sliding sounds. It was dark and warm, and the air was heavy and moist.

Ryan tried not to look directly at the walls, but rather see them out of the edge of her vision. She could see what looked to be fangs, and slime-covered carcasses of creatures she had never seen before. Ryan jumped at the hand on her shoulder.

“Entrance into the inner sanctuary is punishable by death,” Madelyn whispered into her ear.

Ryan did not sense any anger at her presence, but rather pleasure, as if her arrival had been expected. “Then kill me,” Ryan replied shortly.

Madelyn laughed as she pulled the girl down onto some type of ledge.

“There are worse things than death, Ryan Alexander,” she said.

Ryan desperately tried to control her fear. The ledge itself seemed to be alive, the same tentacles snaking up the sides then across towards her. It was difficult to tell if the appendages were plant or animal, or even what they were attached to. They wrapped about her arms, slithered across her torso, then snaked up her calve. The hellish limb moved to caress her inner thigh, then moved obscenely to caress a more sensitive area.

“No!” Ryan cried out, struggling wildly. She tried to free herself from the tentacles, but the harder she struggled, the tighter they held. One snaked its way about her throat, pinning her down so that she could not even see, and another snaked up her shirt and began tracing the lean muscles of her torso. The clacking and slithering in the room seemed to reach a crescendo, drowning out even the pounding of Ryan’s heart.

And then all was silent.

Madelyn was propped on an elbow, staring down at her with amusement. Other than her hand, which rested on Ryan’s stomach, there was nothing in the bed with them. Ryan glanced around the room in disbelief.

There was nothing there. The walls were completely white. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and in fact, there was nothing in the room at all other than the bed, Madelyn, and her. The inner sanctuary was empty and pristine.