Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (24 page)

“Is that a satellite receiver?”

Ala was amused. “We are not savages, my dear. We honor an ancient way of life, but that does not mean we have not evolved. I do enjoy occasionally watching CNN.”

“Hmmm,” Ryan said, “And the crucifixion, was that part of the old world or the new one?”

Ala smiled. “Kokumuo is greatly embarrassed. You hid yourself well, and he is ashamed both by the way you were treated and the fact that he did not detect your identity.”

“And why would Kokumuo care who I am?”

Ala hid her smile. The girl was once again oblivious to her sovereignty, which carried authority even in this place. Ala chose not to explain the former, but rather the latter.

“Your father is revered here, and not in some foolish ‘superior white man’ way.”

Ryan sat up in the bath, curious. She had seen Memories from this place, but they were ancient and unclear. “And why is that?”

“Long before it became a more common name, they called him Shombay, or ‘he who walks like a lion’.” Ala’s melodic voice deepened, taking on a mesmerizing quality. “The original chieftain here, over a thousand years ago, was an evil man.” Ala paused, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. She continued. “Given immortality, he chose to crush any of those not of his tribe. He created internecine warfare that lives to this day in the children of Africa.”

Ryan listened thoughtfully as Ala continued, wondering what this had to do with Victor. Ala answered her unspoken question in her next sentence.

“Your father destroyed him in the first millennial purge.”

Ryan’s thoughts deepened, and she had a sudden prescience. “This chieftain was your mentor.”

Ala nodded, her dark eyes gleaming. “You have much of your father’s insight.”

Ryan shook her head, abruptly standing up in the bath. She grasped a towel from the rack and stepped onto the smooth floor. “I have none of my father’s sight,” she said, wrapping the towel about her waist. She pulled another towel from the rack and quickly dried. She examined some cloth that was also draped over the rack, then pulled a simple patterned one. She expertly tied the sarong about her waist, then another one about her upper body. She turned to Ala, and the distance between them seemed to disappear. The silence in the room was complete, and outside as well, as if everyone and everything within a thousand miles had frozen in place.

So what is it that you want from me, Rhiannon Alexander? Ala said without speaking.

The words whispered through Ryan’s head as she gazed across the room at the primordial goddess.

“You know what I want,” Ryan said, speaking aloud.

Ala smiled, her white teeth startling against the darkness of her skin. “I will not offer you the same bargain that Kusunoki did.”

Before Ryan could object, she continued. “And you have nothing to hide because I already know of your father’s illness.”

Ryan stared at her. She had suspected as much. “You have the sight as well.”

Ala shook her head. “I have the second sight, Victor the third. I see things as they are now, Victor sees things as they will be.”

Ryan could not keep the bitterness from her voice. “And is your sight clearer than his? For it seems he could not prevent his fate.”

Ala’s voice was suddenly gentle. “Perhaps he did not want to, child.”

Ryan looked down, clenching her jaw and her fists. “He said the future was unclear. That he didn’t know if he would come out the other side.”

Ala nodded. “That is the way it is. Like a reflection in muddied water.” She watched the girl for a moment, watched the emotions flicker across her face, saw the faraway look in her eye and wanted to go there with her. Her voice grew more gentle, but full of meaning.

“So, my sacrificial lamb. You are going to have to satisfy more than just my curiosity.”

Ryan glanced up, immediately drawn to the power of that mellow voice. She felt the great tendrils of Ala’s power branch out and wrap around her, holding her tight. She stood for a moment, eyes closed, feeling the magnetic pull of the earth itself emanating from the woman across from her.

“Come here, child,” Ala whispered.

And Ryan moved to her, stopping but two steps beneath her and kneeling but one. Ryan leaned forward into the great expanse of her breasts and Ala welcomed her into that motherly warmth. The tendrils wrapped tighter. She cradled the girl’s head in her hands, and brushed her perfect teeth across the girl’s neck. The vein opened and began to spill its dark power into her body.

Ala shuddered from the monstrous yet delicious sensations that tore through her body. The visions came to her immediately, briefly indistinct then springing into painful and beautiful clarity. She saw the girl’s life stretch out before her, saw her as a child, as a soldier, as a Young One who was never truly Young. She saw Ryan’s passionate couplings with Victor, and Kusunoki, and Marilyn. She saw Abigail’s long and convoluted seduction that had not yet come to fruition. She saw the dangerous game Ryan played with Aeron, and saw perhaps clearer than the girl did how intensely he desired her.

Ryan saw Ala’s life as well, and it rushed toward her in all its sensual spirituality. She saw Ala’s birth, and her Change. She saw Ala conspire with Victor to destroy her mentor, and she smiled at a recklessness she had never know him to have. She saw Kusunoki, and the deep relationship he had with Ala over the centuries. She saw Ala create Kokumuo, and saw her withdraw into the mountains of the Congo, tired of the senseless strife of humanity. She saw her deeply divided over that withdrawal as the Europeans came and stole the princes and princesses of Africa, enslaving them. She saw Ala pondering the approaching storm, when the Europeans and their children would exhaust the resources of the kingdom of Babylon and again turn their attention to the riches of her dark continent.

The world turned blood-red, and Ryan was again in the netherworld. She stood at the edge of this world, the red sky at her back, staring into the blackness. It was as always, a vast nothingness, a yawning abyss that called to her.

But this time it was different. Ryan strained, peering into the darkness. She could see nothing.

“I must see more.”

Ala leaned back from the girl, who although far from death had weakened considerably. The girl was barely conscious, whispering something. Ala shifted her position slightly, cradling her on her lap. “Here,” she said, “Take this.”

She brushed her teeth across her own wrist, bringing the blood to the surface. She pressed the wrist to the girl’s lips, returning the power she had only so recently taken.

Ryan gasped at the shock, grateful for the dark gift. Although the physiological satisfaction was immense, Ryan was more focused on returning to the edge of the darkness. “I need you to continue feeding,” she murmured, “I need your sight.”

Ala raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to ask me twice, child.” And she sliced open the other side of Ryan’s neck, drawing her blood into her.

The bond created by their simultaneous feeding was powerful, and Ryan was instantly back in the netherworld. She sensed Ala behind her, farther from the edge than Ryan and closer than she wanted to be. Ryan turned to her and Ala saw how truly powerful this child really was. She stood at the edge of death, unafraid, glancing back with mischief in her eye.

Don’t you want to come with me?

Ala shook her head, scolding. Do what you came for.

Ryan turned back to the darkness and took a step closer. There was something there, the barest hint of a presence. Ryan extended her senses warily, then withdrew in shock.

The presence was powerful, more powerful than anything Ryan had ever felt before. More powerful than she could even comprehend. It had a prehistoric, monstrous quality to it, an alien, reptilian impression that made Ryan feel as if she were suddenly covered with hideous crawling insects. Ryan stepped backward. Being irreligious became irrelevant; the presence was demonic.

The words came whispering towards her in a strange tongue that somehow she could understand.

“I’m…Coming—.”

The words hissed out of the darkness at her, sibilant and terrifying. They cut through her like shards of ice and she stumbled backward in horror. She felt a hand grab hers, and suddenly she was not in the netherworld but in Ala’s chambers in the middle of the Congo. The woman held her, staring down at her in concern.

“What is it, child?”

Ryan realized that, although she had taken Ala to the edge, Ala had not seen what she had seen. She closed her eyes, immediately shuttering the image and placing it far away.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. “Nothing at all.” She held herself stiffly for a moment, then buried her head against Ala.

Ala stroked the girl’s hair, concerned. She had enjoyed the union immensely, but toward the end something had changed.

For the most infinitesimal of moments, she thought the fearless One had been afraid.

CHAPTER 14

THE JET WAITED NEAR THE PRIVATE HANGAR off the runway of the Ndjili International Airport. Although privately owned, the plane was outfitted with the latest military hardware. Large enough to act as a cargo carrier, its primary mission was to transport personnel.

Numerous black-garbed figures milled about outside the plane, wearing dark sunglasses and cradling automatic weapons. As if the weapons weren’t threatening enough, there was a sinister, other-worldly quality to the men themselves. They seemed to move with an unnatural grace and strength.

As one, the men became aware of something, although what it was did not become apparent until several moments later when a string of black limousines with heavily armed escorts passed through the gate. Impossibly, this seemed to make the men slightly nervous, although it was difficult to imagine that anything could frighten them.

The limousines came to a stop in front of the jet, and numerous men began exiting, again all dressed in black with dark sunglasses. Finally, the occupant of the lead car exited and it became apparent what the men were frightened of.

Well over six feet tall and cruelly handsome, Muenda surveyed the surrounding men with a piercing stare. His name, “one who cares for others,” was a great irony for Muenda cared for no one but himself. He ruled his followers through fear and punishment, and terrorized any who stood against him. Many followed willingly, but it was only because Muenda allowed them to sate their bloodlust in every base way imaginable.

Satisfied with his inspection, Muenda boarded the plane, as did nearly all of the men. They settled into the luxurious accommodations inside.

The plane taxied on the runway and took off to the west. Muenda was impressed with the pilot’s touch on the controls; he was getting better. Muenda settled into his seat, his ugly thoughts his own.

Although his Change centuries before had given him immortality and untold power, it was one of his few regrets that he had lost the ability for sexual congress. He was looking forward to Rwanda. As was his custom, he would arrange for women to be raped for his enjoyment while he satisfied his bloodlust with one of his Kind. The only difficulty was finding suitable virgins, which was getting more and more challenging. Somehow the superstitious fools had gotten it in their heads that they could cure AIDs by having sex with a virgin. Now the only virgins they could find were girls of seven or eight years old.

Muenda smiled. That was all right with him. He settled deeper into his chair, the images his thoughts brought him unpleasantly entertaining. This occupied him for some time until he felt a subtle shift in the flight path of the airplane. He frowned. Perhaps this pilot wasn’t as good as he thought. Muenda was just preparing to send someone forward to berate the man when the airplane dramatically increased airspeed, violently lurched, then went into a 40 degree angle dive nose down.

Anyone who was standing was thrown rearward in the plane, and the g-forces were so great it pinned everyone in place. Although every creature in the plane possessed preternatural strength, without leverage to fight against the terrific strain of gravity, the strength was useless. A few tried to claw their way forward to the cockpit, but merely ended up tearing off whatever piece of metal or fabric they were clinging to.

The pilot in the cockpit, however, was well-prepared and had arranged straps to give her the needed leverage. Ryan held tightly to the metal mesh, locking the plane into its intended path. Exerting tremendous effort, she pulled a 9 mm handgun from her coat and shot out the side window, creating an immediate, powerful suction with the dramatic pressure change. With one last glance at the looming mountain and one quick adjustment of the controls, she let go of the mesh strap, allowing herself to be sucked out of the plane.