Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (27 page)

Ryan was extremely confused. There were too many competing sensations right now, too many things she did not understand. She pressed backwards into Victor, wishing she could saddle another horse and leave.

A stabbing pain suddenly raced through Ryan’s head, followed by a mind-shattering silent scream. She stood upright, stunned by the mental onslaught, and more stunned by the lack of reaction around her.

Few people seemed to even hear the silent scream, and fewer seemed to care. It was the Old Ones who tilted their heads slightly at the sensation, and their responses ranged from mild regret to amusement. The younger Ones appeared oblivious to the sound, neither hearing the cry nor feeling the pain that Ryan did.

She turned to Victor who knew what she was feeling and what she had heard, but he could not comfort her right now. He simply lifted two fingers and pressed them to her lips to silence any questions that might be forthcoming.

Ryan kept her tongue and turned back around, only to find Marilyn watching her closely. She had not missed Ryan’s reaction, nor had Abigail. Abigail fluttered her fan in front of her face, but her eyes were locked with those of Victor, full of the knowledge of the implications of Ryan’s reaction.

Victor was unperturbed. He, too, knew the implications of Ryan’s abilities. He kept Abigail’s gaze, however, for he did not care.

Ryan sensed a restlessness in the room, especially amongst the Old Ones. Some unseen chain of events had just been set into motion. People began to draw near to one another, and there seemed to be some sort of hidden order to the pairing. She sensed Victor’s restlessness and turned to him in question. She heard the voice in her mind.

We must leave.

Ryan nodded imperceptibly and made ready to leave. Victor addressed Abigail and Marilyn.

“If you ladies will excuse us, we will be retiring.”

Abigail nodded, a knowing look on her face. She would be retiring herself shortly.

Marilyn watched Victor lead Ryan from the room, and Abigail watched her. A mixture of emotion was on the dark-haired woman’s face: anger, jealousy, but mostly desire.

Abigail turned to the young man who approached her. He was not an Old One, but neither was he terribly young. It would be a coup for him if she accepted his invitation, but he might make for an interesting evening.

Abigail accepted his proffered hand and she began to leave. She nodded to Marilyn, who was still standing as if frozen in place. Marilyn was already surrounded by those vying for her attention, and more than likely would accept more than one invitation.

But for the moment Marilyn stood unmoved by the attention. She returned Abigail’s nod, her face returning to its icy repose. But her eyes returned to the now-empty door and the dangerous desire still burned within them.

Abigail’s final fleeting thought as she left the room was one of curiosity. She knew Marilyn’s bloodlust was for Victor, as always.

But she also wondered how much of that bloodlust was now directed at Victor’s dark and bewitching child.

Victor spirited Ryan away from the gathering and they fled on foot into the night. When they reached the outskirts of the city it was evidently Victor’s intention to stop.

But the gathering had left Ryan with a strange, pent-up energy. She did not wish to stop and continued on foot, laughing at Victor’s stern orders to halt.

Victor watched his wild prodigy run into the night with exasperation. The gathering had left him with pent-up energy as well, but he knew what release he needed. He set out after Ryan.

She was fast, Victor thought to himself, and agile. Although this annoyed him as he had to chase her, it was coupled with a sense of pride.

Ryan sensed that Victor was not angry with her and increased her speed. She knew if she could reach the trees, she might have a chance at escaping him in the undergrowth. She could then take to the treetops and possibly outdistance him.

Victor sensed her intention and decided he was tired of this game.

Ryan was running full-tilt now but seemed to lose contact with Victor. She turned her head because she no longer sensed him behind her.

She ran headlong into an object that did not move, knocking her to the ground. Victor was no longer behind her because he was standing in front of her. Although she was knocked backward several feet, the collision did not move him.

“That’s not fair,” Ryan said, brushing herself off with feigned irritation. In reality she was fascinated when Victor revealed the full scope of his abilities.

She leaped to her feet but again he was there. She made as if to dodge around him but he grasped her by her shirt collar and lifted her effortlessly off her feet.

Denied of all leverage, she could do little but struggle in his grasp. He drew her close, gazing into her eyes with his preternatural amusement.

“Just so you have no doubt who is the master here.”

Ryan held his gaze, cunning in her own. “I have none,” she said.

In a lightning movement she leaned forward and fastened her arms about his neck, slicing into the flesh with her razor-sharp teeth. The move was unanticipated and Victor was so simultaneously startled and aroused, he could do little but wrap his arms about her as she began to drink.

Her hunger was so overpowering to him he staggered backward until he found a seat on a nearby stump. He intertwined his fingers in her hair as she fed off him, and he felt her mind become one with his. The sensation was one of ecstasy, almost as much an ecstasy of the mind as of the body.

He could control how much access she had to his Memories, to a degree. But the link between the two of them was powerful and grew more powerful each time they Shared.

Victor’s own hunger was immense and as soon as he sensed she was sated he pulled her from his neck and set upon her own. He had near-absolute access to her mind and he saw the events of the night through her eyes. The blood flowing back into his body was powerful, and each time they Shared it became more so.

CHAPTER 23

VICTOR WATCHED RYAN MOVE UP THE WALKWAY away from his carriage. Abigail waved to him from the doorway and he nodded to her before he slapped the reins onto the horse’s back.

He had misgivings about leaving Ryan, but he knew she would be safer with Abigail than by herself right now. He did not completely trust Abigail, but he trusted her more than any of the Others. And he could not take Ryan with him.

Ryan had her own misgivings, but they had nothing to do with Abigail. She did not understand why she could not accompany Victor. She had been apart from him in the past, often for long periods of time. But her introduction to the Others filled her with questions and feelings that Victor had not yet had time to address. His absence right now was at the very least inopportune.

Ryan tried to tell herself that was all there was to it as she walked up the steps. She was dressed in her usual attire, an oversized shirt tucked into leather breeches which in turn were tucked into high boots. Ryan cared little for fashion and generally went about dressed as a man.

Abigail, on the other hand, was dressed in her usual finery. She eyed the youngster coming up the walk. Of course, if she looked the way Ryan looked in her clothing, she probably would dress that way, too.

Abigail was like most of her Kind, appreciative of all that was aesthetic. It explained why most of their Kind were extremely pleasing to the eye; they were attracted to only the most handsome of humans. Abigail watched the lithe figure come up the stairs; Victor had chosen well.

Ryan greeted Abigail, very much aware of the woman’s presence. Abigail watched the flush creep into the girl’s cheeks and felt her own inner response. This was going to be more difficult than she had imagined and she mentally reminded herself of both her promise and loyalty to Victor. It might be a good idea to set the girl on her own for a little while.

One of the servants showed Ryan about the grounds. The huntmaster’s bitch had just given birth to a litter of pups and Ryan spent some time playing with the tiny hounds. When she had finished her tour, she returned to the house, seeking Abigail out.

Abigail was seated in the salon working on some stitchery. She raised her eyebrows upon Ryan’s entrance, but continued her work. Ryan sat down restlessly on a nearby settee, watching Abigail’s fingers fly.

It was not Abigail’s duty to entertain Ryan, but she felt some obligation to keep the youngster occupied. Abigail smiled at that thought. Youngster, the girl was probably over a hundred years old.

It was Ryan who broke their silence however, and she did so with a question that was surprisingly blunt.

“Abigail, what did I feel at the gathering the other night?”

Abigail’s fingers paused. “You do not know?”

Ryan shook her head. “No, I have no idea.”

Abigail’s fingers began to move once more, but now more slowly. “How much do you know about our Kind?”

Ryan shrugged. “Very little. I did not know there were Others until Victor and I came here.”

Abigail’s fingers stopped again and this time she had to make a grab for her tapestry as it began to slip to the floor. “You know nothing of our Kind?”

Ryan sensed the surprise and disapproval in Abigail’s voice. She shook her head.

Abigail began stitching again, thoughtfully. She knew why Victor had kept Ryan ignorant of their Kind. She glanced sideways at the girl; she probably would have done the same if Ryan belonged to her. Abigail returned her attention to her stitchery. Victor’s instructions had been quite specific, but he had mentioned nothing about educating the child.

“Do you remember the Young One, Jacque? I introduced him to you early in the evening.”

Ryan had a vague recollection of the blond-haired young man. She nodded.

“What you felt was his death.”

Ryan’s head jerked up. “What do you mean his death? Who killed him?”

Abigail smiled. “He chose to Share with someone much more powerful than himself, and that person chose to kill him.”

Ryan was dumbfounded. “But why?”

Abigail continued to stitch, indifferent to the topic at hand but entertained by Ryan’s reaction. “Because we are predators, my dear. Like the wolves and the bears. But unlike these animals, we prey on our own Kind, and there is nothing in the world more pleasurable than Sharing unto death.”

Ryan attempted to absorb this information. It seemed so strange to hear these words from a woman who had the air of a nurturing matriarch. “Then he was killed for someone’s pleasure?”

Abigail again smiled, a very predatory smile. “It is our way.”

Ryan was silent and Abigail casually continued. “But you should not have felt his death.”

“Why not?” Ryan asked.

Abigail thrust the needle through the tapestry. “Because you are too young. No one within a hundred years of you even felt a whisper of his cry, and yet you felt it as strongly as an Old One.” She looked pointedly at Ryan. “And it affected you much more than an Old One because you are so young and not ready to deal with such things.”

Ryan again sensed disapproval in Abigail’s voice, and this time she gave voice to her observation. “You seem to bear some sort of reproach for me.”

Abigail delicately threaded another needle. Her words were still casual, but full of meaning. “I don’t know if reproach is the proper term. I am curious because,” she paused, seeking the right words, “well, simply because you should not exist.”

Ryan was more baffled than offended. “Why should I not exist?”

Abigail began stitching with her red thread. “As we grow older, we become more powerful. After a certain age, we can no longer reproduce because the blood becomes poisonous to humans. Victor is the oldest One of all, and he is many centuries past where he should be able to have offspring.”

“And yet here I am,” Ryan said.

Abigail nodded, her words significant. “Yes, here you are.”

Ryan was silent, but it was a silence filled with questions and one she could not keep. “Why are there not more of us?”

Abigail smiled. “There are many reasons why our numbers are so small. First off, very few of us can reproduce. Young Ones are not powerful enough to initiate change, and Old Ones are too powerful. Only those occupying the middle ground are capable of initiating the Change.” Abigail glanced up at Ryan, her words layered with meaning. “Under normal circumstances.”