Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (40 page)

Ryan interrupted. “So stipulated,” she said impatiently, silencing them both. Her gaze drifted to Marilyn. “It is well-known I killed Victor.”

The prosecuting attorney seemed surprised at his own victory, and settled back into his chair. Edward sat down, unperturbed at this turn of events. Abigail continued.

“In order to judge the validity of your defense, we must examine the events surrounding the incident. I will allow the prosecution to begin its case.”

The prosecuting attorney stood. “Very well, your honor, I would like to call to the stand my first witness, Dr. Susan Ryerson.”

Ryan’s head jerked up in surprise. Edward sighed. Susan looked over at Ryan, then stood uncertainly. Marilyn gestured Susan towards a seat next to the judge’s stand.

Susan settled into the cushioned seat, very aware of Abigail’s proximity. Abigail gazed down at Susan with a sort of motherly sympathy. “There’s no need to swear you in, Dr. Ryerson. We will know instantly if you’re lying.”

Sympathetic or not, Susan did not miss the threat lurking in Abigail’s words. She nodded her understanding, remaining remarkably poised. She turned her attention to the prosecuting attorney.

“Dr. Ryerson, can you describe the circumstances under which you first came to meet Ryan Alexander?”

Susan was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Were they asking her if she stole the body from the morgue? She didn’t think so. “Ryan came to the hospital as a patient.” She stopped. “No, that’s not entirely correct. She came to the hospital as a corpse. The coroner discovered her in the morgue and determined she was not dead, but rather comatose.”

The prosecutor nodded, willing to let this version of the truth stand. “And can you describe the defendant’s physical condition at that time?”

Edward leaned forward and began to take notes as Susan continued.

“Ryan was in a deep vegetative state. She had no vital signs, no blood pressure, no heartbeat, no respirations. She had sustained several ‘mortal’ injuries, including fractures to both her skull and femur. Even so, she exhibited an extraordinary amount of brainwave activity, which is why I put her in intensive care.”

Ryan smiled as Susan’s heartbeat jumped up, indicating the lie. Abigail turned to look down on her as Susan desperately tried to calm herself.

Edward fingered his pen, scratched something on his pad, then abruptly stood. “Your honor,” he began, “I object to this line of questioning based upon relevance, or rather lack of relevance, to the case at hand.”

Abigail appeared entertained by this early conflict. She turned to the prosecutor expectantly. “Well counselor?”

The handsome black man was unperturbed. “Your honor, I’m simply laying a foundation for my future argument, which will reveal itself as I continue.”

Abigail turned back to Edward. “I will allow it for the time being, counsel.” She smiled down at Susan. “You’ll have to be patient, we’re rarely if ever in a hurry.”

Edward returned to his seat and the prosecutor turned his attention back to Susan.

“Please continue, doctor. How did Ryan’s healing progress?”

Susan looked over at Ryan as she spoke. “Ryan’s healing was remarkable. Once she received a blood transfusion—”

The prosecutor interrupted her. “A blood transfusion? Human blood?”

Susan nodded and a slight murmur went through the courtroom. Susan felt the need to explain. “It was human blood at first, but it quickly took on properties I’d never seen before, properties I came to associate with Ryan.”

The prosecutor was helpful. “Properties such as—?”

Susan shrugged. “Heightened immunity, predatory blood cells, an extraordinary adaptive system…”

The prosecutor nodded his understanding as Susan trailed off. “And how long did it take Ryan to heal completely?”

Susan was thoughtful for a moment. “I would say it took about three weeks.”

This time the murmur in the courtroom was more pronounced. Edward himself was caught off guard, if such a thing were possible. Three weeks was unexpectedly short. He stood.

“Your honor, the prosecution has failed to show the relevance of this line of questioning. I’m going to have to object once more.”

The prosecutor started to interject his counter-argument, but Abigail waved him off, her eyes on Ryan. “I see little objection coming from your client, counsel, which leads me to believe she herself understands the relevance of this line of questioning.”

Edward turned to Ryan. Ryan’s reply was casual. “I have a feeling I know where this is going.”

 Abigail nodded, her eyes gleaming. “I’m going to allow him to continue.”

Edward sat down, the beginnings of a suspicion forming. Two hundred years to prepare for this moment, and apparently his client hadn’t told him everything.

The prosecutor turned his attention back to Susan. “I believe you had the opportunity to examine another one of our Kind,” he said, pausing for effect, “a Young One.”

Susan’s eyes shifted to Ryan and her sudden uncertainty was evident to all in the room. Ryan waved her off. “By all means, Dr. Ryerson, please be truthful.” She turned her head, addressing no one in particular. “Yes, yes, I killed him, too.”

Susan looked around. Neither the prosecutor or the judge seemed startled at this admission, nor did they give any indication it was significant. She glanced over at Marilyn, who seemed to be presiding in some sort of bailiff position. Marilyn actually appeared amused at the admission.

The prosecutor gently prompted Susan. “Doctor?”

Susan began slowly. “Yes, I examined another one of your Kind. I performed a complete post-mortem examination, as well as an autopsy.”

The prosecutor nodded, his words thoughtful. “And how would you compare his anatomy to Ryan’s? And please keep it in layman’s terms, Dr. Ryerson,” he interjected before Susan could begin. “Very few of our Kind are doctors because we have little need of them.”

This brought a few chuckles from about the room, allowing Susan to gather her thoughts. Even with the additional time, however, she could think of only one thing to say.

“They’re different.”

Silence abruptly settled on the room once more. Ryan herself leaned forward, for the first time demonstrating any interest at all in the proceedings. The autopsy had been so recent, they had not discussed Susan’s findings.

Susan looked at Ryan, gathering strength from her. “The anatomy of the Young One was very different from Ryan’s.”

The prosecutor shrugged. “You say different. How different, doctor? Significantly different?”

Susan seemed oddly hesitant. “I don’t know much about the anatomy of your Kind…”

The prosecutor became abruptly firm. “Doctor, in your medical opinion, was Ryan’s anatomy significantly different from the Young One?”

Susan stared at Ryan, who was waiting for her reply. “Yes,” she said at last, “significantly different.”

Susan could see the next question coming before the one word slipped from the prosecutor’s lips.

“How?”

Ryan was waiting for Susan’s answer, as was the rest of the room. Susan released her breath, unaware she had been holding it. “The Young One’s anatomy was more similar to a human being’s. He lacked many of the adaptations Ryan possessed, adaptations which made her so unique.”

“Unique,” the prosecutor said, savoring the word. “And did you form any opinion as to why this difference existed?”

Edward stood. “Objection, your honor. Calls for speculation.”

Abigail’s eyes were not on the attorney but on his client. For once Ryan did not hold her gaze, but rather looked down at her hands. Abigail turned her attention to Edward. “Overruled. Susan Ryerson is a medical doctor and capable of rendering an expert opinion on this matter.”

Edward took his seat, his misgivings growing. Ryan turned her attention back to Susan.

“I thought perhaps it was because Ryan was so much older,” Susan began, “that she had changed over time—”

“Oh really,” the prosecutor interrupted smoothly. He strode across the room to Susan and leaned against the railing in front of her. He lowered his voice, and his words were slightly mocking. “Is that what you really think?”

Susan held his gaze for a moment, then looked past him to Ryan. She shook her head. “No,” she said simply, “that’s not what I think.”

The prosecutor maintained his position a moment longer, then abruptly stepped back from the railing. He bowed slightly.

 “Thank you Dr. Ryerson, that is all I have.”

Edward was surprised by the abrupt ending. Evidently the prosecution did not wish to pursue their line of questioning any further although he was uncertain what they had just established. He wrote on the pad in front of him, knowing any whisper would be heard throughout the hall. He handed the message to Ryan. It read, “Is there something I should know?”

Ryan shook her head. “Ignorance is bliss,” she said aloud. Abigail stared down at her, eyes gleaming. Edward stood.

“I have no questions for the witness, your Honor.”

Edward took his seat Susan vacated the stand. Ryan glanced over at him. “How much do I pay you for such brilliant cross-examination?” she asked wryly.

He pushed his chair into the table. “Not enough,” he said briskly.

Susan took the seat on Ryan’s other side, glancing over at her apologetically. Ryan shook her head as if it were no matter. But as she glanced up at Marilyn, who was now regarding her thoughtfully, she knew the damage had already begun.

The prosecuting attorney stood and addressed Abigail politely. “Your honor, I would now like to call to the stand Marilyn de Fontesque.”

Marilyn moved to the stand with elegant grace. She settled comfortably into the seat, her eyes on Ryan.

The prosecutor bowed to her. “Madam,” he began respectfully, “would you please describe the circumstances under which you first came to know the defendant.”

Marilyn smiled, as if the memory gave her great pleasure. “Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was in France during the first part of the 15th century.” She turned to Abigail. “We had not seen Victor in some time when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere with this half-wild creature in tow.”

Abigail nodded in agreement, as if the memory also gave her pleasure. Evidently joining in on Marilyn’s testimony did not seem improper procedure to her.

The prosecutor saw no problem in it, either, and addressed his questioning as much to Abigail as he did to Marilyn. “And can you describe your impression upon seeing her?”

Both were thoughtful, and it was Abigail who responded first. “I thought she was exquisite. So young, and yet so powerful,” she remembered fondly. She shrugged. “And of course, so impossible.”

The prosecutor raised an eyebrow. “Why impossible?”

Marilyn fielded this question. “Victor should not have been able to Change her. He was too old and too powerful.”

Abigail nodded her agreement. The prosecutor nodded as well. “For the record, your honor, would you state why Victor was too old? We all, of course, know why, but I think it should be explicitly stated for the record.”

Ryan did not hide her derision. An explicit statement had nothing to do with procedure. An explicit statement had everything to do with creating an impact.

Abigail gazed at Ryan knowingly. “Certainly, counsel. Procedure dictates.” She smoothed her robes and began to tell her story.

“Ours is a hierarchy of power. Unlike normal man, who grows more frail as he ages, we grow more powerful. The more powerful we become, the less capable we are of being destroyed, until we come to a point where death is no longer a threat.”

Abigail took that moment to glance at Ryan. “At least in theory.” She turned back to the courtroom, continuing. “We also become more powerful through the act of Sharing. To Share with One more powerful than yourself is the greatest pleasure because the younger is strengthened by the blood of the elder.” Abigail appeared to momentarily digress, “Although sharing with a Young One is a pleasant experience, nonetheless. And it is one of life’s greatest pleasures to Share unto death.”

“In fact,” Abigail said mildly and without remorse, “quite often, the younger ones are killed. Only the very strong of the Young will survive. They are either seduced by their mentor or others, and are killed or enslaved. Even if they are enslaved they may not survive the passions of their masters. It is only when they reach a certain age, usually several centuries, that they move beyond death and are not threatened with destruction.”