Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (35 page)

The men approached Ryan warily and she tensed. She watched the poker wave around the boy’s face and her frustration intensified. With misgivings she allowed the men to wrap the cords around her. She was not concerned for her own safety, but knew now she would be even slower to act because she would have to break the bindings before she could move. She only hoped the crowd would turn its attention towards her and relax their vigil on the children.

It was not to be. The crone sensed the only thing keeping the stranger in check was Franz and Amelia. “Hold the children tight,” she admonished, a mad gleam in her eye.

Even Ryan’s feet were bound and she was lifted up onto the shoulders of the crowd. They seemed surprised at how light she was given her earlier display of strength. It was one more confirmation of the stranger’s unholy status.

The mob screamed and began to run as one towards the river, carrying the demon. They taunted the stranger with curses and obscenities even as they made the sign of the cross to ward off this devil’s influence. As they reached the bank of the river, the men carrying Ryan rushed to the front of the crowd and without hesitation, threw her into the water.

Ryan plunged into the icy depths with a sense of relief. At least down here she could not hear them scream. She saw the legs of several peasants as they waded in to hold her under the water. She did not resist as they drowned her.

Or at least tried to. Ryan gazed at the bottom of the river trying to think of a course of action. Perhaps if she played dead she could catch them off guard. She let her body go limp.

The burgermeister and several other men dragged her from the water, yelling triumphantly. They dragged her limp body onto the dirt shore.

“Cut the demon’s head off,” the crone shouted from the crowd.

Ryan was startled. She had not anticipated this turn of events and rolled just in time as the ax came whistling down, thudding into the damp earth beside her.

The mob screamed in fear, but their terror only fed their hatred. Both children were still held captive and the knife and the poker sprang to positions of readiness once more.

Ryan had never felt so helpless in all her long life. Once again, she was not concerned for her own safety but rather frustrated by her inability to help both children. She glanced up at Amelia who, although now afraid of her, was still praying for the stranger to come to her rescue.

“Trial by fire!” the crone shouted, and Ryan inwardly cursed the bitch. She was lifted and unceremoniously carried into the center of town where another hot poker was acquired. The man holding the iron spat on Ryan as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation.

The red-hot tip seared Ryan’s cheek and she could smell her own flesh burning. The pain was intense but she refused to cry out. This seemed to incite the man and he laid the iron against her thigh.

This was too much for Ryan and her foot flashed out, snapping the man’s thigh in two. He fell to the ground, screaming in agony, the bone protruding through the flesh.

“Burn the boy!” the crone screamed.

Ryan turned to see the poker descend on Franz’s cheek. The boy screamed in pain.

“Stop it,” Ryan shouted, “I won’t fight!”

The poker moved away and Ryan could see the burned flesh. She closed her eyes, feeling absolutely impotent.

Ryan was again lifted onto the shoulders of the mob. She wondered what they had planned for her now. She could see Amelia being dragged along, the hairy arm still pinned around her throat. Franz was half-dragged, half-carried along as well, his tears flowing unchecked down his burned cheek.

Ryan was dragged to the center square where two horses were held in check. The already agitated steeds were frightened by the mob and began struggling against their harnesses.

 Ryan was unbound and ropes were quickly slipped around both wrists. The ropes were attached to the harnesses and the slack taken out, causing Ryan to stand upright with her arms spread wide. She stared at Franz and Amelia who gazed back at her in wordless terror. Ryan felt a sense of helpless resignation about what was to come.

“Hiya!” the burgermeister yelled as he slapped the rump of one horse. Another man slapped the other horse and they began running in opposite directions.

Ryan stared at the children as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. The horses covered the short distance at breakneck speed, spurred on by the jeers of the mob. The sound of their hoofs was drowned out by the screaming crowd.

Both ropes went taut simultaneously, but the crowd did not get their anticipated dismemberment. Instead, Ryan held fast and both horses were stopped in their tracks, toppling backwards as their heads jerked rearward from the force. Both steeds fell to the dust as Ryan stood unmoved.

The crowd was suddenly mute as Ryan slipped the ropes from her wrists, still standing. She raised her head, finally facing the inevitable.

Amelia cried out as the man holding her slit her throat in fear. Ryan closed her eyes as the girl slid to the ground, choking to death on her own blood. Similarly, the crone grabbed the poker and thrust it into Franz’s small torso and he collapsed to the ground, screaming from the burning iron impaled in his gut.

They were petty and impulsive acts of revenge from a mob angered by the denial of their vengeance. The crowd turned to the stranger standing silently in the square, their eyes filled with a rabid hatred and fear of this monster that would not die.

Ryan opened her eyes, and those standing in the forefront of the crowd took a step back. Even those standing in the rear shifted uneasily.

There was a look in the beautiful man’s eyes the villagers had never seen. It was a look of fury that could stoke the fires of hell, as if death itself had taken physical form and was now staring at them across the town square.

Ryan reached up and loosened her hair, causing the blonde locks to fall about her shoulders. This strange act and its effect on her appearance caused much muttering amongst the crowd and more shifting of feet.

Ryan slowly drew her sword, hefting the weight in her hand. She gazed at the blade, then back at the crowd. Regret was intermixed with resignation in her voice, and she shrugged her shoulders.

“You’re right,” she said, “I am Satan.”

Some attempted to flee while others were cut down where they stood. Ryan’s fury fed her already preternatural speed and strength as she began her slaughter. The few villagers who made it into the forest were quickly hunted down by the demon who spared no one, not even the few remaining children.

Ryan leaned against the hilt of her sword, her rage dissipating. Her clothing was covered in blood. She walked to the river and waded into it up to her waist, scrubbing the blood from her arms.

She walked through the now silent village, grabbing a stick from an untended fire. She threw the stick onto the thatched roof of a hut. It crackled for a moment, then caught quickly and spread to the neighboring huts.

Without a backward glance at the conflagration behind her, Ryan walked into the forest. The burn on her cheek and thigh had already begun to heal.

CHAPTER 27

SUSAN WALKED DOWN THE HALLWAY of the mansion, feeling her excitement build. She opened the door to her makeshift lab and was surprised to find it was anything but. She walked into the room, stunned. Her lab had been almost perfectly replicated in one of the wings of Ryan’s manor.

Susan walked around the room, gazing at the equipment. Edward had told her the room was ready for her, but it had taken several days for her to wander over here. Now she was angry with herself for delaying.

She moved to the table. Her final readouts from the lab were laid out. She glanced over to her desk. There was her computer, the display blinking her final words at her. Susan was amazed. This was not a duplication of her lab, this was her lab.

“I hope this is acceptable,” Ryan said from the door.

Susan turned to Ryan. She could see Edward standing behind her. “This is incredible,” she said, “how in the world did you get all of this stuff?” She gestured around the room. “The hospital would never part with this equip—” Susan stopped. “You didn’t steal this, did you?”

Ryan laughed. “No, Edward is much more inventive than that.”

Edward stepped in the room. His face was as impassive as ever, his demeanor as stiff as always, but Susan sensed he was pleased with himself.

“The hospital was reluctant to part with any of the equipment, and certainly were not going to part with any of your research, so we had no other option.”

Susan looked from one to the other in confusion. “So what option did you take?”

Edward deferred to his leader. Ryan shrugged. “I bought the hospital.”

“You did what?” Susan asked in disbelief.

“I bought the hospital,” Ryan repeated, as if it were the only logical solution. “They were particularly unwilling to bargain for your publishing rights, so I bought the hospital right out from under them.”

Susan was flabbergasted. She had no idea how much something like that would cost, but she knew it would be hundreds of millions, if not billions, of dollars. And Ryan spoke as if she had just purchased a new car.

Ryan moved to the table. “It also removed the possibility of any pharmaceutical company using your patents. I don’t think Grantech International has ever met the likes of Edward before.”

Edward was willing to give credit where credit was due. “I don’t think Mr. Grant has ever played hardball with the likes of you, my lord. He will be quite surprised on the morrow.”

Ryan glanced down, controlling a smile. She looked at the paperwork on the table. “I noticed you were doing some more work here,” she said to Susan.

Susan moved to her side, refreshing her memory. “Oh right.” She turned to Ryan. “I was curious how you can drink liquids without them entering your bloodstream. I took a closer look at the original MRI and I think I discovered why.”

Susan pointed to the picture, indicating an area of the throat. “Here where your esophagus and your aorta fuse, there’s a bifurcation.”

Ryan looked to where she pointed. Edward leaned over her shoulder, interested despite himself. “It does appear to branch there,” he said.

Both women looked at him and he had the grace to appear embarrassed. He did not leave, however.

Susan returned to the picture. “Correct. It does appear to branch. I haven’t been able to trace its destination, but it does seem you have at least vestiges of a digestive system. You could probably eat, although I’ve never seen you do it, and your body would shuttle the food through this second pathway.”

Ryan was puzzled. “Then where would it go?”

Susan looked over at the blonde-haired woman. “Well, that’s what I’d like to know. It seems you’d need some way to eliminate waste products. But you don’t,” Susan paused for a moment, then continued, “which is why I have another theory.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t have to do with accelerated evolution, does it?”

Susan frowned at her. “No, not exactly. It has more to do with a perpetual motion machine.”

This definitely piqued Ryan’s curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Susan was thoughtful for a moment, framing her reply. “I think you burn everything you take in, whether it’s oxygen, alcohol, blood products, whatever, you burn it as fuel. I’ve taken your temperature when it was a good 20 degrees higher than any human could withstand.”

“So what happens when I don’t take anything in?”

Susan was quiet for a moment. “I think you shut everything down, just as if you were dead. But your consciousness doesn’t leave. In fact, your body begins running off that.”

Ryan had the distinct feeling Susan was heading somewhere significant. “Why do you think it doesn’t leave? What makes it stay?”

Susan looked at Ryan without wavering. “You do,” she said simply.

Ryan looked at her with her usual polite curiosity. “I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

Susan set the chart down on the table. “One of the first things I noticed about you while you were unconscious was your brainwave pattern. It was very unusual for sleeping. At first I didn’t think much about it because there was so many other things about you that were unique. But I kept returning to it because there was something about it, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.”

Ryan was silent, knowing Susan would continue.