Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (19 page)

Edward was unswayed. “She may sow the seeds of your destruction.”

Ryan shrugged. “So be it,” she said.

Edward turned away. He knew the conversation was over, but his concern for his master would not let him stop.

“You have brought up the specter of your past. The Others may consider this as great a crime.”

Ryan’s look turned sardonic. “I sincerely doubt that, Edward. I am damned a thousand times over for that. I don’t think consorting with a human will add to my sentence.”

“It is not consorting with a human they will charge you with, but rather violating the code of secrecy. Our Kind has not survived for thousands of years by winding up on the front page of Newsweek Magazine, nor by becoming medical experiments for those whose ambition might betray us.”

Ryan’s anger was evident, perhaps fueled by the knowledge that Edward was right. “I,” she said with emphasis, “have been around for a great many of those years. I know the punishment for revealing our Kind. If I felt I was jeopardizing our secrecy, I would never submit to Dr. Ryerson’s examination. It is why I forbade her to publish anything else.”

Edward turned away from her to stare out the window. “It may already be too late,” he said, resignation in his voice. “The Others sent their first ‘emissary’ when the dear doctor had done no more than publish a few cryptic results in an obscure medical journal. Their willingness to take immediate action should convince you this is a most serious matter to them.”

Ryan, too, gazed out the window. “It will be a more serious matter to them if they choose to take me on.”

Edward did not reply.

The limousine came to a stop and Ryan exited onto the marble staircase. Tired or not, she took the stairs three at a time, strolling into the foyer. Edward entered behind her and she turned to him. He sighed, then bowed, knowing how utterly strong-willed his master was.

Ryan went upstairs to her bed. She undressed, then pulled the goosedown comforter over her. She was momentarily lost in the sensation of the fabric against her skin, and it took several minutes for the sensation to pass. Her senses were such that the tiniest of pleasures, unnoticed by most humans, was sufficient to create considerable bliss. It had taken years for her to learn not to be driven to distraction by such stimuli.

Ryan felt sleep steal over her quickly, as it always did. She knew she would dream vivid dreams that were less dreams than pure memories.

The girl awoke, feeling an extraordinary sense of peace. She glanced around, thinking the Man would be here, but he was not. She was in the same room, but now an old woman sat at the foot of the bed.

The girl stared at the woman, thinking she looked strangely familiar. Perhaps it was her daughter she had seen earlier.

Victor entered the room, knowing his charge was now awake. “Miriam, you may leave now.”

The girl looked closer at the woman as she hobbled out of the room. She still looked remarkably familiar. Victor watched her expression with amusement. “Do you know how long you’ve been asleep, Rhian?”

Ryan looked up at the man. She knew that she had a name yet had not heard it but once or twice in her life. She had always been known simply as “the blacksmith’s son,” or some variation thereof. She had forgotten she had a name. She shook her head.

“Have I slept more than a day?”

Victor laughed. “Yes, I would say more than a day.”

Ryan looked about the room. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

It seemed as if she could see every little crack in the wall, and there were colors coming from the fire in the hearth, colors she had never seen before. She pulled herself from the bed, and was surprised at how light on her feet she felt. She moved to the fireplace and put her hand in the color. It was warm, and the darker the color, the hotter it became.

The sensation of heat on her skin was nearly overwhelming as she felt it in every part of her body. She pulled her hand away, startled.

Victor watched his prodigy begin to adapt to her new senses. They would continue to change over time, but it was generally this first adjustment that was the most difficult.

Ryan stood staring into the fire, her mind a jumble of events. Something within her had radically altered, but she was not certain what it was.

“How long have I slept?” she asked quietly, her back to Victor.

Victor was silent a long moment, then responded. “Fourteen years.”

Ryan turned to him, stunned. “That is not possible.”

Victor shrugged. “You saw Miriam. She has not aged as well as you have.”

Ryan looked down at her hands, and except for her sudden, extraordinary clarity of vision, they looked exactly the same. She touched her hand to her cheek, and it was as smooth as it had been before. Ryan looked at him.

“You have not changed, either. How can this be?”

“I do not change. Nor will you. Ever.”

Ryan was suddenly desperately afraid of this man and darted for the door. She was inhumanly fast but he was more so. He picked her up and she struggled with him.

“You,” he said, grappling with her, “are already too strong.” His tone was not at all displeased and Ryan even sensed a trace of pride as he fought to gain control of her. She realized how futile her position was and settled.

Victor looked down at her. “You will not change. You will not grow old, and you will not die.”

Ryan pulled away from him, now even more afraid. “This is blasphemy. If I do not die, how will my soul be redeemed?”

Victor’s sarcasm was evident. “I care nothing for the redemption of your soul. If you do not die, then it is no concern.”

Ryan ran to the hearth and plucked the dagger from the wall there. She held the knife to her throat, threatening.

“If I cannot die, then this will not hurt me.”

Victor elegantly sprawled into a chair, unconcerned. “Oh, it will hurt you. But it will not kill you. Go ahead,” he challenged, his eyes gleaming, “cut your throat.”

Ryan swallowed hard. She had never been afraid of death and did not fear it now. She would wake up tomorrow in the afterworld and this sacrilege would be gone. She took a deep breath, then raked the knife across her throat.

Blood spurted out and Victor, although feigning indifference, could not contain himself. In seconds he was on his knees holding his dark child. The blood flowed freely into his mouth.

Ryan lay there, realizing she had played into his hands. Although mild dizziness overtook her, death was nowhere near as the warmth began to spread throughout her body. Because of where Ryan had slit her throat, Victor’s neck was at such an angle that his throbbing neck veins were nearly pressed against Ryan’s lips.

Ryan nearly moaned in despair. What madness and depravity was this? That she should crave something so unholy, so unnatural?

“Do it,” Victor commanded through gritted teeth. His own passion was consuming him.

Ryan could not fight the strange desire and leaned forward, biting him. She was surprised at the ease with which her teeth pierced his skin, but her surprise gave way to ecstasy as his blood flowed into her body.

The strange pictures came to her again, almost as if she was seeing through someone else’s eyes. But the pictures were fuzzy and unclear and made no sense to her. Once more, it was different; this time more powerful, more painfully beautiful. She could stay at that peak of pleasure longer, but again in the end, had to pull away.

She collapsed on the floor, her heart pounding.

A scream startled Ryan from the floor and she sprang to her knees, but not as quickly as Victor sprang to his feet. Miriam was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with terror at the sight of the two covered in blood. In two quick steps, Victor was at her side and broke her neck.

She fell to the ground with a thud.

Ryan looked at the dead woman on the floor. She looked at Victor standing over his faithful maid, covered in blood with an expression of mild exasperation on his face. She looked down at herself, her white shirt a crimson red.

Victor watched the girl on the floor. He knew this was a pivotal moment. It would be quite possible for her to break, and although he could make her as physically powerful as possible, he could do nothing to strengthen her mental state.

Ryan very carefully stood, as if the act itself could bring her stability. She glanced at the woman on the floor. She glanced at Victor, covered in blood. She glanced down at her soiled clothing.

“Do you,” she said, steadying herself, “do you have another shirt I can wear?”

Victor’s face was impassive but he inwardly smiled. He had chosen well.

CHAPTER 16

SUSAN PACED AROUND THE OBSERVATION CUBICLE in her laboratory. She was not expecting Ryan for another hour, but she was impatient to begin. Not only was she driven by the possibility of medical knowledge, now there was an alien, medieval world flitting through her mind.

Susan glanced in at the empty bed where Ryan had once laid. What did one do when faced with the impossible? In the movies, the characters made one or two objections, then settled upon the most unlikely of explanations. These explanations never caused the mind-altering, life-changing experience they would in reality. Most people could not accept something as simple as death without months of an adjustment process called grief. Yet characters on television accepted UFO’s, beings from space, aliens, supernatural experiences, etc., without them making so much as an indentation on their mental landscape.

What did one do when faced with the impossible?

Susan would like to have discounted Ryan as mentally unstable. But other than her fantastic story, she demonstrated no signs of mental instability. In fact, she was extremely articulate and intelligent. Susan actually enjoyed listening to her, if she could just get past her discomfort over the content.

And then there were the physical aspects of Ryan that were, well, also impossible. Her anatomy was completely foreign. She had healed from injuries that would have killed anyone else, and had done so in a matter of days. She had already demonstrated levels of strength far beyond those of a normal human.

Susan stopped herself. This was going nowhere, because she was trying to think of Ryan in comparison to a normal human. Ryan was not a normal human, if she could be considered human at all.

Susan felt an odd sense of relief at having finally, even if silently, voiced the thought. Perhaps Ryan wasn’t human. There were a lot of different species on earth. Perhaps she was a different form of primate, an offshoot of humans or a different branch of the family tree. Evolution said it could happen, humans just didn’t think of it as happening to them.

Susan mentally went over what she knew about Ryan. She had to admit, if she were going to create a being with an extended lifespan, she would certainly include all the ingredients in Ryan’s blood. And if she were going to genetically engineer a vampire, it really would not have need of a stomach, and its esophagus should certainly be connected to its heart.

This thought was extremely sobering to Susan.

But Ryan had treated the idea of a vampire with disdain. Was it just a matter of semantics? Could it be possible that such a creature could exist, living off the blood of others? Mosquitoes did, as did leeches. Would it be possible for a creature the size of a human to adapt in such a way? What chemical interactions would be involved? What nutrient breakdown of the blood could support such a creature?

The complexity of the questions was mind-boggling. It was as if all rules were broken and re-written for Ryan to exist. Susan was overwhelmed by the possibilities.

She shook her head to clear it. No sense in becoming overwhelmed before she even got started. She leaned around the corner to peer out into the hallway. The portion she could see was empty. She glanced at her watch and decided to make a dash for the restroom before Ryan arrived.

She stared into the bathroom mirror, plucking at her red hair. She saw many of her son’s features staring back at her: the green eyes, the light sprinkle of freckles across the nose, the rosy cheeks. The thought of her son brought a smile to her face. Although Jason had gotten most of his looks from her, he had Brent’s gentleness and irrepressible sense of humor. She was glad Jason seemed to get the best of both of them. Susan washed her hands, dried them on a towel, then exited the restroom.