Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (45 page)

This admission did not make Susan feel any better. Victor took another long pull on the cigar, then blew the smoke out, watching it curl upward in the light from the lanterns. He turned to Susan. “You must remember, Dr. Ryerson, that I am not human, nor is Ryan. Human taboos against incest serve a very real purpose, but they serve no purpose amongst our Kind. For me to blindly follow a cultural more which is inapplicable would be foolish.” Victor watched the smoke curl upward. “Not to mention the fact it would have kept me from creating the greatest of our Kind to ever walk this earth.”

Susan stared at him. “So is Ryan the greatest of your Kind?”

Victor shook his head. “Not yet. But she will be one day.”

Susan had a sudden and strange insight. “This does not cause you concern.”

It was not a question, but Victor answered it anyway. “Of course not, dear doctor.”

Susan was beginning to understand things about Victor that even Ryan did not. He seemed aware of her sudden prescience and gazed at her through the smoke, contemplating.

Susan stared at him her suspicions growing. “You knew she would try to kill you.”

Victor shrugged, the nonchalant gesture so reminiscent of Ryan that Susan for a moment had to remember whom she was speaking to. “Of course. Ryan is the most efficient predator I have ever known.” There was not the slightest bit of condemnation in the statement. The words were spoken casually and if anything, with a trace of pride. Victor took another long drag on the cigar, then watched the smoke curl upward. “I did not know, however, that she would be so creative in her attempt, nor did I know it would take me nearly two centuries to recover.”

Victor cocked his head to one side as if listening to something far off in the distance. He changed the subject. “Your son seems to be sleeping soundly. If you yourself are not tired, you are free to move about the grounds. I would ask you not to leave because I have a gift for you.”

Victor seemed restless, although Susan could not put her finger on exactly what gave that impression. Outwardly, he was as calm and elegant as ever. Susan put a voice to her suspicions.

“Where’s Ryan?”

Victor was not the least bit fooled by the casualness of her inquisition. “She’s with Marilyn,” he said calmly.

Susan watched his expressionless face, choosing her words carefully. “That does not please you.”

Victor chose his words just as carefully. “It does not displease me. It is something that must be done.”

Victor stood abruptly, extending his hand for Susan’s. Susan raised her arm and he grasped her hand, kissing it. He bowed. “Thank you for your time.”

Susan watched the dark-haired man leave the room, noting that he and Ryan even stalked the same.

Ryan was stalking about the room, covering the full length of the suite. Marilyn watched the youngster’s agitation from her vantagepoint on the sofa. She had always enjoyed watching the girl, and was especially enjoying it now. Ryan was attempting to conceal her anxiety by moving about the room, but her activity betrayed more than it concealed.

Abigail also watched the girl, albeit more surreptitiously than Marilyn. Her fingers were busy with the blanket she was knitting, but her eyes followed Victor’s child about the room.

Ryan stopped to pick up a brass letter opener, absently fingering the object, and Abigail was reminded of a similar scene many centuries before. Ryan replaced the object and resumed her pacing. Abigail smiled. It was a similar scene, but Ryan was no longer a Young One. She was still intoxicatingly vulnerable, but now it was the vulnerability of a trapped wild animal.

Abigail glanced up at the doorway, cocking her head to one side. Victor would not come to rescue her from Marilyn this time.

Ryan moved to the fireplace, but she could not feel the heat from the flames because her own skin was so hot. She was startled by a cool hand on the back of her neck, brushing her hair away.

“Come and sit with me awhile,” Marilyn whispered into her ear.

The words were half-invitation, half-command. Ryan turned and Marilyn was already re-seated on the sofa, as if she had never left. Ryan walked past Abigail and sat down stiffly on the sofa. Marilyn reached over and intertwined a strand of Ryan’s hair around her finger.

“Do you remember,” she began conversationally, “how the three of us sat like this years ago?”

Abigail smiled. She remembered.

Ryan frowned. She remembered as well.

Marilyn continued. “That was when you were but an infant, long before the Americas, long before you became so angry at Victor.”

Ryan did not want to think back, but the Memories always kept the past so well in focus. She felt her anger at Victor momentarily flare.

Abigail was watching the girl shrewdly. “I remember, Marilyn, that this ‘infant’ nearly seduced you while you were attempting to seduce her.”

Marilyn’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Abigail. “If I remember,” she said icily, “you were the one who was entranced, unwilling and incapable of stopping me even though you were supposed to be ‘baby-sitting’.”

“Unwilling,” Abigail corrected, carrying a stitch, “but not incapable.”

Marilyn shrugged, as if it were no matter. She turned her attention back to Ryan, who was starting to relax against her will. Marilyn had always had this affect on her.

Marilyn moved closer to Ryan. The hand that caressed the hair now caressed the vein in her throat. Marilyn leaned closer, whispering in Ryan’s ear.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Ryan shook her head barely able to keep her eyes open. She felt a languor steal over her entire body. The intoxicating whisper continued.

“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, when you ran into the room, late for Victor’s party, dressed like a stable boy.”

Marilyn pulled several cushions onto her lap and then gently guided Ryan until she was half-supported by the pile of pillows. Ryan’s body felt leaden and the coolness of the cushions felt good against her flushed skin. Marilyn again caressed the vein in her throat and this time Ryan closed her eyes, shuddering from the sensations.

Marilyn noted the response and smiled. She glanced at Abigail, who had stopped knitting and was now captivated by the scene. Marilyn leaned down and brushed her lips against the girl’s throat, her eyes on Abigail. She spoke to Ryan. “How long has it been since you’ve Shared?”

Ryan at first did not understand the question. Even when she did, it was difficult to frame an answer because of her mind’s muddled state.

“I’ve never Shared with anyone but Victor.”

The answer so startled Marilyn that she momentarily drew back. Abigail herself was shocked at the reply. Although it seemed a perfectly logical answer, and indeed, the only answer the girl could have given, it seemed unfathomable that Ryan had not Shared in nearly two centuries.

“Oh my,” was all Marilyn could say. She gazed down at the youngster who appeared to be in almost a drugged state, and then could not restrain herself any longer.

Ryan felt the sharp pain, both familiar and sweet. Its fire raced from her throat to her heart, and then to every extremity. She moaned and tried to twist out of Marilyn’s grasp, but Marilyn was powerful and readjusted her grip. Ryan wanted nothing more than to give herself over to the sensation, but found that she could not. The languor was trying to steal into the deepest recesses of her mind, but a small part of her was watching dispassionately.

Marilyn was astounded by the power of the One she had just taken on. Warmth flooded every part of her body as the blood of Victor’s dark child filled her veins. Wave after wave of pleasure began pounding through her body, coursing through her veins with every powerful beat of Ryan’s heart.

Images flooded her mind, images so painfully bright and beautiful it made Marilyn feel things she had never felt before. She wanted to laugh and to cry and to let this powerful heart beat for her forever.

The rhythm did not slow, rather it seemed almost to pick up pace. Marilyn felt she could lose herself in this pulse. There was nothing beyond this rhythm. Just the pulse and the pause between the pulses.

The threat of the languor was even greater now for Ryan. She wanted nothing more than to lay her head down on Marilyn’s lap, to just surrender to the dark-haired woman’s embrace. She felt that even were she to give in to the lassitude now, Marilyn would be more than satisfied. She had felt the woman’s astonishment at her power.

But it was not enough for Ryan, and although it took all of her strength, she reached up to stroke Marilyn’s cheek.

Marilyn felt the touch, even in the throes of her passion. Her astonishment cut through her fevered feeding, and she realized one Need had been replaced by another. Her appetite had been sated and she was filled to bursting; now she desperately ached for release.

She realized what the girl was offering her.

She pulled away, gazing down at the demonic angel who had placed her in this position. Ryan gazed up at her, her movements still leaden but her eyes quite clear as she ran her thumb down the engorged vein in Marilyn’s throat.

Ask me, came the voice inside Marilyn’s head.

Marilyn wanted to moan in frustration, but not as much as she wanted the girl’s teeth at her throat.

Do it.

Imperceptibly, Ryan shook her head. Ask me, came the voice.

Marilyn’s frustration was immense. She wanted to tear the girl limb-from-limb. But not as much as she wanted to surrender.

“Please,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

Ryan interlaced her fingers behind Marilyn’s neck and pulled her downward, not gently. Her razor-sharp teeth bit into the soft skin and Marilyn arched upward but not away. Ryan held her firmly as the dark-haired woman’s blood poured into her mouth.

Images began pouring into Ryan’s mind and she began to see and experience Marilyn’s life. Ryan felt suddenly as if she were Sharing with many strangers as well, and realized she was seeing every person Marilyn had ever Shared with. Not only was she seeing them through Marilyn’s eyes, but she was feeling them as well, all distinctly yet all at the same time. Suddenly the images shifted violently and began to multiply, and Ryan was startled to realize she was now seeing and experiencing every person each of these people had Shared with. The visions began to branch out like some great tree spanning all of time, and Ryan’s mind joined with thousands as they fed or were fed upon, as they killed or were killed.

The release was extraordinary for Marilyn. She saw and felt the visions as well, and although she was the carrier of such Memories, she herself had never seen them. She felt her own heart racing faster and faster, and it suddenly occurred to her the girl might kill her.

Instead of frightening her, the thought was exhilarating. She remembered what it was like to have this feeling, to be so completely out of control that not even death mattered. It was reckless, it was damning, it was euphoric, it was delirious.

It was ecstasy.

Ryan felt her own heart take over Marilyn’s, pushing it faster and faster. She felt the woman above her move, but it was to pull her closer, not push her away. She suddenly understood the drive of their Kind, why it was so wondrous to kill another in passion. It was diabolical, it was wicked, it was pure self-gratification.

It was ecstasy.

Marilyn’s heart stopped and Ryan hovered on the edge of pushing her into the blackness from which she might not return.

And then Ryan pulled away, pulling Marilyn away from the brink with her.

The dark-haired woman collapsed and within minutes was comatose. Ryan held her, somewhat bewildered over what had just occurred. She finally gently disentangled herself from Marilyn, and adjusted the other woman’s position so she appeared comfortable on the sofa. Ryan adjusted the cushion under Marilyn’s head, then without really knowing why, removed the coverlet from a nearby chair and draped it over the sleeping woman.

“She won’t get cold, my dear. None of us do, remember?”

Ryan jerked upward startled. She had completely forgotten about Abigail, who was now sitting across the room in the shadows.

Abigail had moved to her current seating position for exactly that reason: she could see without being seen. She had also moved there because she had just witnessed one of the most extraordinarily erotic events of her life. She had watched many couplings over the years and voyeuristically enjoyed Sharing almost as much as the act itself. But she realized early on in this one that she was not going to be able to maintain her air of amused unconcern.