Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (21 page)

Victor laughed mockingly. “I am but one man. I have no armies, no foot soldiers. I have nothing to offer the King but my sword.”

The messenger bowed his head once more. “That is all he requests, my lord.”

Victor pondered the man’s words. He had foreseen such a request. Each King had approached him over the years, all drawn by the legend of his family’s prowess in battle. He had been careful that none should see him in their old age, and each new King thought he was his father’s son, asking him to stand by England’s side.

He had no wish to fight for this King’s cause, nor any man’s. But he had learned over time that denying a King’s request was more trouble than it was worth. He did not fear the King, but had found it fruitful to respond to the throne’s wishes. It generally brought him much reward, and enough respect and fear that he and his own were left alone in his remote lands.

Victor glanced down at the still-bowing man. And of course, he thought to himself, he did so ever love a good battle.

“You tell your King I will be in Agincourt before the new moon.”

The messenger stood, surprised that his lordship knew of the King’s location. It had been an unplanned destination as Henry had intended to march to Calais, but had been thwarted by the flooded Somme. This man somehow already knew where the King was headed. It was enough he said he would be there.

“Thank you my lord, and godspeed.”

The messenger and two guards exited as Victor sat thoughtfully on his dais. Ryan moved from the shadows to his side. She waited expectantly for him to say something, and when he did not, she drew a dagger and began sharpening the edge with a flint. The silence became too great for her and at last she spoke.

“You will, of course, take me.”

Victor looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Right now, my dear? You are so demanding.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed in anger, and with a flick of her wrist she sent the dagger sailing towards his throat. His hand moved too fast for even her eyes to see and he plucked the knife from the air.

Ryan stamped her foot. “I meant ‘take me with you.’ And if you do not, you will not be ‘taking me’ any time soon, either.”

“Oh really,” Victor said, fingering the blade, “as if you had any say in that.”

As he finished his last word, his wrist flicked and the dagger flew back towards its owner, swifter and as true as she had thrown it. She cried out in pain as the knife impaled her just below her collarbone. She gazed down at the hilt of the dagger, her eyes burning with anger.

Victor was immediately mesmerized by the blood that began pouring from the wound, staining the white shirt. Once again he had underestimated the effect she had on him. He had to forcibly restrain himself from leaping from his chair.

“Come here,” he commanded through clenched teeth.

Ryan gazed down at the blood on her hands and at the growing crimson stain on her shirt. She looked up at him defiantly. “I will not.”

Victor felt his hunger as if it were a thing alive. He could not take his eyes from the scarlet stain. There was a growing hoarseness in his voice.

“If the distance between you and I is too great even at this moment, what makes you think I could travel further without you?” Victor dragged his eyes from the blood to stare into her own. His words were evenly spaced and brooked no further disobedience. “Now, come here!”

Ryan moved toward him, knowing she could not further defy him. But she lingered, still angry, and he snatched her from her feet, dragging her to the chair with him. She was seated on his lap, facing him and he yanked the dagger from her chest. He buried his face in her bloody shirt and covered the wound with his mouth.

The pain from the wound was intense, but the pleasure from Victor’s feeding was more so. As soon as her blood began to pulse through his veins, she began to see the visions.

She had seen them before when they had Shared, and each time they became clearer. She saw them vaguely when Victor fed upon her, more clearly when she fed upon him, and most clearly when they Shared together. She did not understand what she was seeing, nor did she have any control over the apparitions. The pictures came to her as dreams.

She could feel Victor’s pleasure intensify as he was reaching satiety, and was so attuned to him she did not hesitate when he pulled away and leaned back, opening his throat to her. Ryan leaned forward, allowing her razor sharp teeth to whisper over the skin on his neck. Blood began pulsing into her mouth, giving Victor’s engorged veins the release they needed and feeding her hunger.

The visions became startlingly clear and she nearly pulled away from him in her dismay. He had anticipated her reaction and held her close, forcing her to continue.

Ryan saw a young peasant boy, fair-haired and fair-skinned. She saw her mother standing by the boy, and then her father pounding away at an anvil. They looked as they had decades before, long even before they had been killed in Derek’s raid.

The vision changed and now she was chasing someone through the forest. It appeared to be an older boy, but still a child. The boy was agile but she was catching him easily. She leapt upon him, dragging him to her.

In shock, Ryan pulled away from Victor and the vision slipped away from her. She stared at her mentor in horror and dawning understanding.

“That was me, wasn’t it?”

Victor stared at the youngster on his lap. She was nearing her eighth decade, but to him she was still a child. He wiped the blood from his mouth.

“Yes,” he said calmly, “that was you.”

Ryan still did not completely understand. “How could I see myself,” she stopped, struggling for words, “in that way?”

Victor readjusted her weight, sitting up slightly. “Because you are looking through my eyes.”

Ryan now pulled completely away from him, standing up. Victor let her go.

She stared at the man in front of her, a man who knew everything about her, but who suddenly seemed a stranger to her.

“You fed on me when I was a child.”

Victor nodded, unperturbed. “I Shared with you when you were an infant, and then again as a young child. I gave you my blood when you were still human.”

Ryan looked at him accusingly. “You tried to kill me. You made me deathly ill. My father thought I had sinned against God to bring such a plague on myself.”

“It is what saved your life time and time again,” Victor said angrily, “and gave you strength that no mortal could have. It lessened the pain of your Change because you had already begun to Change long before I took you.”

Ryan stared at him, realizing a further implication. “Then you planned my Change long before it ever took place. You planned everything.”

Victor looked at her with his unblinking gaze and a fire burned there that wasn’t all anger. “You were perfect in every way. I could not take the chance you would fall prey to some disease or be killed by some outlaw. I made certain you would survive until you could be Changed, and even then I could not wait and Changed you too soon.”

Ryan wanted to ask him what he meant by “too soon,” but another question fought its way to the surface. “How did you know I would be ‘perfect’?”

Victor’s face became impassive, and he wore a dispassionate expression normally reserved for his underlings. “I just knew,” he said.

Ryan was suddenly uncertain. Victor rarely kept things from her, but as she watched him walk from the room she had the distinct feeling he was doing so now.

CHAPTER 18

SUSAN PULLED INTO THE 24-HOUR MINI-MARKET. She normally didn’t shop here and rarely even came to this neighborhood, but Neda had called and asked her to pick up some milk on the way home. She didn’t see the harm in running in and running out.

She stepped from her Lexus. The parking lot was dirty. The trash bin was overflowing with garbage and the surrounding area smelled strongly of urine. Susan glanced up at the sun, relieved that she still had another hour or so of sunlight. She set the car alarm, then walked across the parking lot to the store.

The odor of mildew from the refrigeration unit was nearly enough to end Susan’s search. But a few milk cartons with expiration dates indicating they were fairly fresh caught her eye. She snatched one, quickly paid for it, then exited back into the parking lot.

She was nearing her car when she sensed a presence behind her. She glanced back and saw two men following her, then a third behind them. Oddly enough they were dressed in business suits. Any other time she would have been relieved by their attire. But it was so inconsistent with this neighborhood that she quickened her step, her heart picking up pace as well.

 She was too far from the store entrance now and didn’t think she could get into her car before the men caught up with her. She briefly contemplated standing her ground, but then decided that three against one were not good odds. In a hasty decision she would regret, she walked past her car in the hope that there was an establishment nearby that she could duck into. She turned the corner and was alarmed to see there were no storefronts along this row of buildings, no crowds for her to disappear into. She quickened her step until now she was almost at a jog. A glance back told her the men were keeping pace with her, removing any remaining doubt they were indeed stalking her.

Susan broke into a run and she heard an exclamation as the men behind her began to give chase. She was surprised they did not catch her immediately. In fact, she managed half a block in high heels before the closest one caught her. She started to scream, but the man quickly put his hand over her mouth.

“Don’t make this difficult on yourself, Dr. Ryerson.”

Susan’s eyes were wide. One of the men removed a roll of duct tape from his pocket and Susan began struggling. A black Lincoln town car with tinted windows pulled to the curb, and the man holding her tried to pull her toward the door. Susan resisted, stomping her heel down on his instep. He swore and released her.  The larger of the other two wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. He lifted her off the ground while the other tried to tape her kicking legs. The scene up until that moment had been almost comical. But then the one who had received the spiked heel stepped forward and slugged Susan in the face. She instantly stopped struggling and hung limply in the large man’s arms.

A strange, tuneless whistle drifted over the sounds of distant traffic, and the men, as one, turned to look up the street.

A tall figure dressed in dark clothing came strolling down the sidewalk, hands in pockets. The approaching woman did not seem overly concerned with the scene ahead of her, and that in itself was enough to give the men pause. They seemed confused by her presence, uncertain what to do.

Ryan removed her hand from her pocket and began to run it along the chain-link fence bordering the sidewalk. Without removing her eyes from the three men, she let her hand drift up the fence. As she walked, she began casually brushing it along the barbed wire. She appeared almost to caress the wire, then gripped it in the palm of her hand, still moving. The barbs sliced into her flesh as she slid her hand down the wire and blood began to flow down her arm. As she stepped away from the fence she clenched her fist and snapped the wire from the post, wrapping the barbed strand around her knuckles.

The men were frozen, stunned by the act of self-mutilation and the fact it appeared to have no effect on the woman walking towards them. A very primal fear began to grow in all of them, but not soon enough for it to save them.

Ryan hit the first man with her makeshift brass knuckles and drove him into the ground. She turned on the next man who tried to strike her, but she easily blocked the blow and raked the barbs across his cheek. He was the one who had struck Susan. Ryan palmed his face in her hand and with little more than a shove, threw his entire body backward, headfirst through the passenger window of the towncar. The car squealed off, the man’s limp body hanging from the window.

The last man huddled behind Susan and Ryan reached down, grabbing the man’s shirt collar. She picked him up contemptuously and threw him like a rag doll against the wall. He fell into a crumpled heap.

Ryan tossed the barbed wire aside and with her other hand leaned down. In her oddly chivalrous manner, she helped Susan to her feet. She touched the bruise that was forming on Susan’s cheek.

“So tell me, dear doctor, is your research worth this?”

Susan was shaken, but also angry. “How long is this going to go on?” she asked accusingly. “How many of your ‘kind’ are going to come after me?”

Ryan shook her head. “Oh no,” she said, glancing down at the unconscious man. “these are not my Kind.”