Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (30 page)

But she did not go far, merely falling onto the balcony of Alan Grant’s penthouse. She held her head, deeply confused for a moment, trying to focus and make sense of the suddenly very normal world around her.

She stood, blinking in the darkness, still unsteady. She realized the virus must have taken hold of her system once more. Odd, she thought, looking around. She didn’t see Alan Grant anywhere.

Ryan peered over the side, somewhat relieved that she did not see his mangled body forty stories below. She shrugged. It wasn’t that she would have minded killing him. She would just like to be there for the experience.

She couldn’t bother herself with such minor details at this stage of the game. She opened the sliding glass door and lifted the laptop, tucking it under her arm. She took the elevator down to the street below, and disappeared into the night.

The homicide detectives trying to piece together the murder of Alan Grant spent weeks trying to reconstruct the events preceding his death. It just didn’t make sense. First off, they couldn’t even identify the exact scene of the crime, although his body had been shoved through a plate glass window and remained there until found by a cleaning lady. The problem was, the plate glass window was thirty stories above ground, and Grant had been shoved from the outside in.

As if that weren’t odd enough, the glass window was eight city blocks from his penthouse, and no one could see any connection between his domicile and his eventual resting place. Various scenarios were put forth, including the most likely, in which he was thrown from a hovering helicopter. Even that seemed far-fetched, however, as no one had reported seeing or hearing any helicopter in the area, and the force and trajectory weren’t quite right for a hovering aircraft.

Having run out of ideas and prepared to close the case, the lead detective joked that the only true scenario that fit all the facts was that he had been fired out of a cannon from his penthouse balcony, or that someone had picked him up by his ankles and thrown him clear across the city.

CHAPTER 18

RYAN PUSHED THROUGH THE DOORS of the city library, sensing the presence of Young Ones. Because of her preoccupation with tracking down David Goldstein and Alan Grant, she had not been as vigilant in her ‘cleansing’ this past month. It would be a simple enough matter to add quickly to her numbers.

Ryan frowned at the thought of Grant. She had read the accounts in the newspaper and realized that she had killed him in another one of her black-outs. Fortunately Edward was already fast at work following the money trail from the data on the pilfered computer. In his last communiqué with her, Edward relayed he was getting close.

Ryan’s expression grew more grim. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t guess who was behind it. She just needed to know the degree of participation from the Others, and needed the proof prior to the next Council Meeting.

Ryan entered the elevator, extending her senses upward. She looked at the available buttons and smiled. She pressed one that was unmarked, and the elevator lurched upward.

The doors opened and she stepped out onto the floor of what looked like a normal library. The only difference was that those milling about were all her Kind. They looked up, surprised when they did not recognize her.

Ryan quickly masked her presence, curious about the Young Ones. They sat about, engaged in serious conversation or studying. Others sat before computer terminals, turning slightly at her arrival.

An attractive girl in glasses approached her. She reminded Ryan somewhat of Susan Ryerson.

“Hi,” the girl said uncertainly, “Um, welcome to our library.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said politely. She took in the room with a single glance. “Do you mind if I look around?”

“No, of course not,” the girl said quickly. “I will introduce you. My name is Courtney.”

“Courtney,” Ryan said, trying the name out as if it were something new. “My name is Ryan.”

The girl smiled. “Ryan, excellent.” She grabbed Ryan’s sleeve and began leading her reluctant guest around the room. “This is Troy.”

Ryan nodded to a young black man seated in front of a computer screen. He waved awkwardly.

“This is Michelle.” Courtney pointed to a dark-haired girl peering shyly over a textbook.

Ryan continued nodding as Courtney whirled her around the room, introducing her with great enthusiasm. She was greeted with degrees of curiosity and timidity. Ryan was greatly amused by this gathering, never quite having seen anything like it.

“So,” Courtney asked, “What do you think?”

Ryan had no idea what she was talking about. “Um, very nice,” she said.

“Yeah, it seemed that there was just such a need among our Kind.”

Ryan glanced over at her, hoping she would continue so she would have some idea of how to respond.

“If we’re going to be immortal, it seems that there should be some attempt to stay abreast of knowledge. To be a kind of repository of science for our people.”

“Ah,” Ryan said with dawning understanding. “There is a word for you.” She glanced around the room. “It is a modern word, and I am not completely familiar with it.”

“Geeks?” Troy offered helpfully.

Ryan shook her head. “No, no, it is something similar to that. But that is not exactly it.”

“Nerds?” Michelle proffered.

“Yes,” Ryan said, pointing to her. “That is it. You are,” she paused, carefully trying out the unfamiliar word, “Nerds.” She raised an eyebrow, commenting under her breath, “Marilyn would be so surprised.”

“Who is Marilyn?” Courtney asked, puzzled.

Ryan shook her head. “Never mind. If you are to be the repository of knowledge for our Kind, don’t you think you should have someone older in your group?”

“Well,” Courtney said, wrinkling her brow, “How old are you?”

Ryan cleared her throat, but before she could respond, the elevator doors opened. Courtney squealed in delight.

“Oh great, Raphael is here.”

A devilishly handsome black man stepped from the elevator. His close-cropped hair accentuated his fine features, and his teeth shown brilliantly when he flashed a smile to the group.

“Hi all,” he said. He slowed when he saw Ryan.

Ryan quickly took his measure. Two hundred years, no more, but he was obviously the oldest member of the group. He maintained his friendly demeanor, but was cautious. That did not stop him from extending his hand to her in greeting.

“Hi. My name is Raphael.”

Ryan took his hand, and time stopped for Raphael.

“You are the hunter,” he said quietly, both fear and resignation in his voice.

Ryan sensed the fear was for this companions, the resignation for himself.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I am.” She released his hand and turned from him, suddenly tired. “But I am not hunting today.”

Raphael was not certain he understood. “Why not?”

Ryan turned back to him, amused. “Are you asking me why I won’t kill you?”

Raphael’s words tumbled out. “No, of course not. I mean, forgive me, my lord.” He started to bow on one knee, as did the others in the room.

Ryan waved her hand in exasperation. “Please stop that. It gets very old after awhile.”

Raphael stood uncertainly. “So why is it that you are here?”

Ryan sprawled into one of the overstuffed library chairs. “I was just making my rounds.”

The others in the room were stunned into immobility, because as Ryan sat down, she no longer hid her presence from them. They could feel and see the full force of her magnetism. It inspired both fear and longing in them, creating desires that were previously unknown.

Ryan, of course, was oblivious to this. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then rubbed her temple.

“Is there-” Raphael approached hesitantly. “Is there something I can get for you?”

“Mmm, no,” Ryan said, “Thank you. I should probably be on my way before too long.” She gave him a sidelong glance, “I do have a job to do right now.”

The others who had been surreptitiously listening all found something with which to occupy themselves. They were all suddenly very industrious.

Raphael glanced around, then back at Ryan, grinning. Ryan assessed him once more. He was very charming and charismatic, courageous without being too bold.

“How old are you Raphael?”

Raphael seemed a little embarrassed. “I was born almost 200 years ago. I was Changed when I was twenty-eight.”

Ryan quite openly examined him, continuing her mild interrogation. “Are you capable of initiating the Change?”

Raphael gave the appearance of blushing, quite a feat considering the darkness of his skin. “I, I think so,” he said nervously. “I’m not sure.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never tried?”

“I mean I Share and all that,” he said uncomfortably, “I just never—.”

He stopped, then looked Ryan square in the eye, getting to the point. “It’s a lot of responsibility,” he said. “Or at least it should be. I don’t want to do it with just anyone.”

“Hmmm,” Ryan said, “As I said before, Marilyn would be so shocked.”

Raphael at least knew who Marilyn was. “You have met the mother of our line?”

Ryan nodded. “Oh yes, I have known her for many centuries.”

Raphael’s eyes gleamed at the thought. “I would like to meet her some day.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ryan said, more to herself than Raphael.

Ryan abruptly stood, and the room again went silent. Ryan extended her hand to Raphael, who took it, bowing deeply.

“I live to serve you, my lord.”

Ryan nodded. “I will see you again, Raphael. Probably sooner than you know.

Raphael again bowed, but Ryan was gone, using neither the elevator nor the stairs, but simply disappearing.

CHAPTER 19

RYAN HAD BUT A FEW DAYS before the next Council meeting. The virus was stirring more frequently in her system, and she had a desire to see her father before she met with the Others again. Edward was not present at the island when she arrived, but Susan relayed that he had left to handle a few business affairs in Europe prior to their rendezvous at the meeting. Ryan’s return was fortuitous in timing because within hours of her arrival, Susan had substantial news.

“I think I know what is causing the uncontrolled mutation.”

Ryan was cautious but hopeful. “That is excellent news. What word?”

Susan dumped a load of charts onto the table in front of Ryan, but for once did not use them.

“I think someone examining the ‘I’ compound in your genetic make-up discovered it could be used as a mutagen because of its unique pairing capabilities. The discovery was probably completely accidental, because that is how I stumbled across it.”

Ryan was trying to sort through what she was saying. “The ‘I’ compound was the unknown base in our genetic profile, the one that does not exist in human beings.”

Susan nodded excitedly. “Or in any of the Others, at least those I have examined. But it did have the ability to pair with any of the other bases in the nucleic acid. Someone genetically altered strands containing this particular base and somehow re-introduced it to you and Victor. The mutated structure continued to divide within cells unchecked, much like cancer.”

“So someone basically turned our own anatomy against us.”

Susan nodded. “And did so in a way that would affect only you and Victor, based upon your unique genetic profile.”

“So,” Ryan said thoughtfully, “I am back to the original question of why it is not affecting me as it is my father.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m not certain. It might be because Victor was infected first, or it might be because the pathogen was created from your blood, giving you more natural immunity.”

Ryan thought through the implications. “The most obvious method of transmission would be through the act of Sharing. Prior to my father falling ill, I had Shared with only him and Marilyn. My father also Shared with Marilyn, and perhaps Abigail as well.”

“Do you think Marilyn was the carrier?”

“If she was, then she was unaware of it, of that I’m certain.” Ryan’s expression darkened. “Although I know for a fact that she Shared with Aeron. It is possible that he infected her, either directly or by passing it through himself.”