Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne (32 page)

“Did you see something?” Madelyn asked mockingly.

Ryan gazed up at her, but said nothing. She was completely losing her mind.

Madelyn’s hand began to retrace the pattern on Ryan’s midsection. Ryan, still befuddled, became aware of the sensation and looked down at the hand as if it were a foreign object. Although her right side was pinned beneath Madelyn, her left arm was free. She reached down and grabbed Madelyn’s wrist, halting the movement.

“Stop it,” Ryan said, none too certainly.

“Stop what?” Madelyn replied, still mocking. She easily shook her wrist from Ryan’s grasp, and continued to do as she wished.

Ryan tried to shift away from her, but her movement seemed only to please Madelyn more. Ryan made a genuine effort to free herself, only to find her free wrist pinned as tightly as the rest of her body.

“Stop it,” Ryan repeated, gazing up at her nemesis.

Madelyn, finally aware of what was transpiring, simply stared down at her, fully entertained.

“Who knew, Ryan Alexander,” Madelyn asked, gently sarcastic, “that pleasure would be far more dangerous to you than pain?”

Ryan closed her eyes, knowing she was lost. The razor-sharp teeth whispered across her throat, but it was not pain that caused her to arch upward. Madelyn was not causing her pain, nor was she paralyzing her. Ryan tried one last time to push Madelyn away, but the effort was as weak as it was futile. And Madelyn enjoyed the girl twist beneath her so much, she wondered why she had ever paralyzed her at all.

“Stop,” Ryan said between clenched teeth, “it.”

“You already said that, little one,” Madelyn said, still gently mocking. She paused in her feeding only long enough to get the words out.

And Ryan was lost. The sensation of having Madelyn take her blood, sans the pain and the paralysis, was as extraordinary as Ryan had known it would be. The waves of pleasure that washed through her were almost unbearable. And when the languor began to steal over her, Ryan knew she would welcome death.

For Madelyn, the experience was just as extraordinary. Taking the girl by force was one thing; having her yield to pleasure was another entirely. It seemed to intensify the experience a hundredfold. Having the girl cling to her as opposed to push her away inflamed her desire. She knew she was having one of the consummate experiences of her life, and just as surely knew that she would not kill the girl, no matter how much she wanted to.

When at last sated, Madelyn lay atop the girl, uncertain she could even move. She was finally able to roll to the side, where she lay staring up at the ceiling for quite some time. At last, she felt she had somewhat regained her senses, and propped herself up onto her side, gazing down at her unconscious prisoner.

The girl was far more dangerous than she had imagined.

CHAPTER 32

RYAN SAT IN THE OUTER CHAMBERS in a perfect meditative state. She was aware of Susan and Drake’s presence, especially the latter as he sat in her lap as she sat cross-legged on the floor. He himself seemed to possess a focused mindfulness at the moment. Susan watched the two, once again marveling at the similarity of their features. It was growing more pronounced as Drake lost some of his chubbiness and began to grow leaner. The fact that Drake was beginning to acquire some of Ryan’s mannerisms made the resemblance all the more striking.

Susan glanced up but Ryan did not as Madelyn exited from her inner chambers. Madelyn glanced at Susan dismissively, then paused when she saw Ryan. She examined her for a moment, then turned to the lift. As the elevator doors opened, Susan could see Harrian standing inside. The doors closed behind them.

As the elevator began to move downward, Madelyn turned to her chief of staff.

“I want you to double the guards on duty.”

Harrian turned to the Queen, surprised. “As you wish, Your Majesty. Is there something in particular you wish them to be aware of?”

Madelyn shook her head. She had nothing to go on other than a nebulous feeling.

“No, I just want them to be extra vigilant this evening.”

Harrian bowed low. “As you wish, my Queen.”

Victor stood in the shadows of the mountain fortress, gazing upward at the magnificent structure. Although he had seen the citadel vaguely in his visions, seeing its actual construction was both awe-inspiring and dispiriting. The architecture itself was incredible, but he had grossly underestimated the size of the fortress.

Kusunoki stood silently at his side, also assessing the vast size of the stronghold. He was mentally calculating how many men were probably stationed within the fort, based upon what he could see. The number was devastating.

“My lord,” Kusunoki said quietly, “I will follow you into any battle, but we are too few.”

Victor clenched his jaw, knowing the truth in Kusunoki’s words.

When he had sent out the general call for assembly, he had been gratified at the overwhelming response. Most of those who volunteered for the mission, however, had to be turned away. Knowing the strength of their adversaries, only the most powerful of their Kind were accepted. The rest would have been little more than cannon fodder, and as Victor was not certain of success as an outcome, he preferred the others go into hiding if the mission failed.

Victor turned back to look at the troops waiting in the shadows. Nearly three hundred of their Kind, none less than seven centuries old. All hand-picked by their lieges for their power and fighting ability. Aeron’s line was well-represented, and he stood at the head of the men and women who were his offspring. Kusunoki’s line, all dressed in black and carrying their traditional weaponry, stood calm and ready. Both Abigail and Marilyn had come, and although both preferred other methods of conquest, Victor knew them to be outstanding fighters. Their carefully chosen warriors stood by, tense but prepared. Perhaps the most striking present were of Ala’s line, the ebony warriors choosing to fight almost naked, their dark skin covered with ancient, fearsome markings. Ala herself wore the garments of the warrior queen of her people. There were others present, representing a vast, cross-section of their Kind.

Victor turned back to gaze at the citadel, his frustration palpable. Just the logistics of preparing such an assault were overwhelming. He had to deal with the surveillance he knew he was under, which fortunately had lessened as time had passed. Apparently Madelyn had so little respect for them as foes, the observation had been cursory at best. Then the matter of getting everyone to such a remote location, again, under secrecy without generating alarm, had been nearly impossible.

And now they stood before the gates, within striking distance, and Victor could taste defeat. He himself would gladly storm the citadel, but he could hardly lead his Kind to what surely would be total annihilation. And if Madelyn destroyed the greatest of their Kind here, it would be a simple matter for her to track down the Others and destroy them.

Kusunoki could feel Victor’s absolute frustration. “Are you getting any sign or signal from Ryan through Drake?”

Victor calmed himself, careful to maintain his mental shield. All of them were controlling their mental presence. Although Ryan was certain these men could not sense their thoughts, she was not entirely certain they could not sense their presence. Madelyn’s men did seem to possess some sort of the psychic gifts of their Kind, just in a cruder way.

Victor’s expression changed slightly, and Kusunoki noted a look of surprise on his features.

“What is it?” Kusunoki asked.

“Ryan,” Victor said, looking upward at the citadel, “is telling us to wait.”

Ryan carefully set Drake to the side, then unfolded herself lithely upward. She lifted her son, smiled into his blue eyes, then handed him to Susan. Susan glanced up at her friend, a look of concern in her eyes. Ryan was acting strangely, very methodically but with an air of melancholy. She had a curious mixture of resignation and relief, like a death row inmate who has just finished his last meal.

Ryan’s next actions did not allay Susan’s concerns. Ryan walked to the outer wall and placed her fingers in the grout lines. As she had done so many times before, she began rhythmically tracing their outlines. She did so as a study of concentration, tracing and retracing the geometric patterns.

Susan watched her friend, wondering if perhaps she had finally gone mad.

Kusunoki watched Victor closely. He had not stopped pacing for the last few hours. He approached his liege.

“Do you know how long we are supposed to wait?” Kusunoki asked.

Victor shook his head. “No,” he said. Both men glanced up as Abigail approached, a strange look on her face.

“Someone is coming,” she said.

Victor glanced into the blackness behind them. He had avoided extending his senses, but this was a strength of Abigail’s, so he had no reason to doubt her.

“Is it a rear attack?” he asked.

“No,” she said, the strangeness of her expression increasing, “it is not Madelyn’s men.”

Victor again peered into the darkness, willing his preternatural sight to reveal who advanced.

Abigail’s expression changed to one of wonder. “They are our Kind, but I do not recognize any of them.” She continued to assess the sensation. “And they are many.”

Victor and Kusunoki looked at one another, then began making their way to the rear of the assembly. This began to attract attention, and soon everyone was peering into the blackness behind them to see who approached.

One by one they began to slip from the shadows. Dark-haired and dark-eyed with olive skin, they wore flowing black robes and carried fearsome weaponry. Their headgear was black, and many of their faces were covered. Those few with uncovered faces revealed intricate paintings across their cheeks, just above their beards.

Kusunoki stared at the army in amazement. They were all Old Ones, more than he had thought existed.

“Who are they?” he asked.

Victor smiled. “They are Janissaries,” he replied.

The lead Janissary stopped in front of Victor. He gave a short bow. “I am captain of the guard,” he stated, “and we are at your service.”

Victor stared at the assembly in wonder. “How many of you are there?”

The captain gave another short bow. “We are five hundred in number.”

Victor took a deep breath, unusual for him, because unlike Ryan, he did not maintain his human gestures. But this time he did.

“You will have to thank your master for me,” Victor said.

The captain shook his head vigorously. “I cannot do that, my lord.”

Victor looked at him curiously. “And why is that?”

“Because you must thank him yourself.”

It was not the captain who spoke, but a voice from the crowd of men that was now parting. The speaker stepped forward.

“Although thanks is really unnecessary,” Saladin said.

Victor stepped forward, embracing his friend with great emotion. “Assalamu alaikum,” he said, grasping Saladin’s forearm.

“And to you be peace with God’s mercy,” Saladin replied, his fondness for the other man obvious.

The Others present, especially the very oldest among them, stood in stunned silence. Abigail leaned slightly toward Marilyn.

“I hate it that Victor is able to keep such secrets from me,” she said to Marilyn under her breath.

Marilyn was examining the newcomers with great appreciation. “And Mon Dieu, what a secret.”

Victor stepped back from his friend. “You have broken your solitude, my brother.”

Saladin shrugged. “I did not think I would ever find another battle worth fighting.” He glanced up at the citadel. “Apparently I was wrong.”

After quick introductions, the leaders began to hurriedly alter their strategy, preparing their next move.

Ryan was a study of concentration, carefully tracing the geometric patterns with a single-mindedness that was almost frightening to Susan. Ryan had increased the pace of her tracing, continuing with that inexorable rhythm. It was gripping to watch, but in a deeply disturbing way. Susan was about to say something to her when Ryan stopped abruptly. Ryan put her hands flat on the surface of the wall, then rested her forehead against the smooth stone for a moment.

“Um, Ryan?” Susan asked.

Ryan did not answer. Instead, she gathered all of her strength, braced herself, and began to push outward.