Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (2 page)

Ryan, after nearly six hundred years, still could not control an involuntary blush. How this woman could continue to affect her was beyond her understanding.

“The port is A. A. Ferreira Garrafeira, 1863,” Ryan said. “I purchased it in Portugal when it was new.”

“You always were one to defer your pleasure,” Marilyn said.

Victor settled opposite Marilyn while Ryan chose to stand a safe distance away near the mantle of the fireplace. “So what brings you to our humble castle?” Victor asked, his tone of voice indicating he already knew at least some of what she was to say.

“Ancient enemies and new alliances, my lord,” Marilyn said. “I don’t believe that you and your offspring,” she said with a pointed look at Ryan, “Can settle into obscurity once again.”

Victor nodded. That was one consequence of the trial he fully expected, but did not welcome. He gazed into the fire. Ryan had been tried and convicted, ironically enough, of his own murder. It had been by his design that the tribunal had been assembled, and it had served its purpose in reuniting him with his wayward child. But it had also brought to light issues that were not going to go away.

Victor turned his attention to the young woman standing by the mantle, who was young in appearance only. Ryan, as his sole progeny, had vaulted in status through their hierarchy, but not simply because Victor was the very Oldest of their Kind.

Ryan was uniquely powerful among them because she was the only one who had been born Changed. Although their Kind had all once been human, they had been Changed by the sharing of blood and were no longer capable of reproducing. They could Change other humans through the sharing of blood, but could no longer have children as their anatomy was radically altered by the transition.

Ryan was the exception, born to Victor and a human woman in the 14
^th
century, Victor had accomplished the impossible. No one had known that Victor had a prodigy for the first 100 years of her life. He had kept her apart from the Others. And no one certainly knew the secret of Ryan’s origin until six centuries later. Ryan herself had been oblivious to the circumstances of her birth until she began to sense it through Victor’s Memories as they shared blood.

“I knew I shouldn’t have killed you,” Ryan said casually.

Victor’s response was equally understated. “Tried, my dear. Only tried.” He crossed one long leg over the other. “But I agree that the trial has stirred up issues that will not easily go away.”

Marilyn was not finished with her news. “They have reassembled the Grand Council.”

“What for now?” Ryan asked sarcastically, “Have they found something new to charge me with?”

Her father’s response was calm. “I know they have reassembled.”

Ryan turned to him. “Without your permission?”

“Without my permission, but not without my knowledge.” Victor said.

Ryan frowned. “I have little interest in the affairs of the Others, and I have a feeling this conversation is going to do nothing but anger me. I will bid both of you adieu for the moment.”

Ryan turned to leave, but out of the corner of her eye caught a movement that gave her pause. Victor ever-so-slightly winced, almost as if he were in pain. So imperceptible was his flinch that Marilyn did not notice even with preternatural senses.

But not only did Ryan see the flinch, she felt it as it went through her like a shock of electricity. So quickly did Victor recover, however, that Ryan thought she had imagined it. Marilyn noticed nothing and Victor continued their conversation, aware that Ryan was regarding him thoughtfully from the doorway. She finally turned away, walking down the hallway.

With Ryan gone, Marilyn cut to the chase. “You know it is time.”

Victor was calm. “Yes, I know.”

“They will choose her,” Marilyn said.

Victor gazed off after his departing child. “If they are so foolish to do so,” he turned to Marilyn, “then so be it. I cannot save them from a catastrophe they wish to unleash upon themselves.”

CHAPTER 3

THE SMALL BAND OF MEN CONTINUED through the wasted land, led by their young master. The boy drove them mercilessly, but they understood they needed to move quickly to stay ahead of the wave of destruction behind them. Night fell, however, and the men were exhausted. They would not reach the sea tonight.

“My liege, we need to stop.”

The boy turned to Galois, glancing at the tired and dirty men behind him. They hung their heads, ashamed of their fatigue. The boy reluctantly agreed.

“Very well. We will camp here.”

Fires were lit, and the men quickly stuffed moldy bread and cheese in their mouths. There was little conversation and without preamble, most fell into an exhausted sleep.

Galois, however, was still awake and gazed across the fire at the boy. The fair-haired one stared into the flames, the light reflecting in his eyes like some creature of the night. He glanced up at the grizzled man.

“Go to sleep, Galois. I will keep watch.”

Galois nodded. He knew the boy would keep watch. He knew the boy could hear everything that moved in the forest, and had no need of food or rest. He knew that the boy would already be home if it were not for them.

Galois settled by the fire, pulling his rough blanket over him. The boy returned his gaze to the flames, and Galois took comfort in the strange glow in his eyes.

Galois’s dreams were monstrous, full of gory battles and severed limbs, of tortured and maimed women and children, of pus-filled wounds and rivers of blood. He awoke with a start, reaching for his sword. His hand was stayed by a firm grasp, and he looked up to see the boy kneeling over him.

“What is it, my lord?”

“There is something in the forest,” the boy whispered, gazing off at something Galois could not possibly see. “I must go.”

The boy’s words struck terror in the old man’s heart. They were softly spoken, with no hint of fear. But there was an edge to them that Galois rarely if ever heard.

The boy stood, still whispering. “You must keep watch. If I have not returned by dawn, continue without me.”

Marilyn found Ryan in the courtyard, chopping wood. Although wealthy beyond reason, Ryan split firewood because she enjoyed the pure physicality of the act. She set each piece solidly on the stump, then cleanly split it in two without effort. Marilyn watched the girl for a moment, admiring both the rhythm and her form. Movement itself could be an art when it came to Ryan.

Ryan was so immersed in her task that she was oblivious to her surroundings, including Marilyn. She appeared to be in a dreamlike state, so lost in thought was she. Her rhythm quickened and the strength of her blows increased. Her face was expressionless, but somehow it was apparent that whatever world she was in at the moment was not pleasant. In a final, immense blow, Ryan split a piece of wood and the stump beneath it, clear to the earth below.

Ryan stared at the ax for a long moment and the stump. She seemed surprised by her actions, not only that she had split the stump, but that she had been chopping wood at all.

“You seem a bit distracted.”

Ryan glanced up at the dark-haired woman. She had instantly become aware of Marilyn’s presence, once shaken from her reverie. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, saying nothing.

Marilyn was surprised. Ryan almost always had a ready and sarcastic reply.

Ryan set the ax down, brushing her hands on her pants. She was hesitant, then spoke quietly. “I have been dreaming a lot lately, and I am not certain why.”

Marilyn restrained her own, normal banter, mindful of the girl’s mood. “You always did sleep much more than any of our Kind,” Marilyn said thoughtfully. “Victor once told me it is because you bear much more than any of the Others.”

“I don’t know what it is that I bear these days,” Ryan said somberly, gazing off into the distance. “It seems that my life is a waking dream, that I no longer need to sleep to see that world. But many things from the past are weighing heavily.”

Ryan quickly shook her head as if to dispel her own thoughts. “It is of no matter. I will show you to your quarters.” She glanced back at the woman following her, a trace of mischief returning. “They are as far from mine as possible.”

The boy moved through the forest. It was dark, even for his preternatural sight. As he progressed, it seemed almost to grow darker. The trees here were twisted, grotesquely formed. It was all very odd.

The boy stopped, cocking his head to the side. He was trying to get a fix on whatever was ahead of him. His senses strained the blackness before him, although it was neither his sight nor his hearing that he was relying on.

When he first sensed the presence at the campsite, he thought that it was near. But he realized that the strength of the presence was not a function of its proximity, but rather of its power.

The boy knew he was sensing one of his Kind, someone who was extremely powerful. He tried to compare it to those he knew, but it was different somehow, more malevolent. It was at least as powerful as many of the Old Ones.

The boy started forward once more, his misgivings growing, but unfortunately not as quickly as his curiosity.

Once Marilyn was away, Ryan found Victor seated in his study once more. Ryan stared at him a long moment until he looked up.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?”

Victor laughed. “You mean now that I’m back in one piece?”

Ryan had the grace to appear embarrassed. “Uh, yes, now that you have pulled yourself back together.”

Victor gazed at his child a long moment. Their Kind were notoriously difficult to kill, and grew more so as they aged, passing into immortality. As he was the most ancient of their Kind, he should have been invulnerable to any attempt. But none of their Kind had ever faced anyone like his offspring. When Ryan tried to kill him, she finished the job, or nearly so, by eating his remains.

Consistent with the extreme predatory nature of their Kind, Victor was rather proud of her ingenuity.

“I feel fine. Your contributions to my welfare have helped immensely.”

Ryan gazed at his throat. He was talking about her blood, which he returned in kind. She knew that they both had strengthened from the exchange.

“Don’t change the subject. If you are fine, then what did I feel earlier?”

Victor’s expression sobered. He attempted to maintain a light tone, but he would not lie to Ryan.

“I am not certain. It is not the first time I have felt it.”

Ryan felt a coldness in the pit of her stomach, although she attempted to match Victor’s nonchalance.

“Can you describe what you are feeling?”

Victor was thoughtful for a moment. “It is a flash of weakness, a stab of pain. It is brief, then disappears. I thought at first it was still the aftermath from my injuries.”

Victor’s voice trailed off.

“But you no longer think that,” Ryan said quietly.

“No,” he admitted, “It has been only recently that the weakness has appeared. I think it would have appeared much earlier in my recovery if it were related, and if so, not persisted to this day.”

Outwardly Ryan was calm, but it felt as if a sheet of ice water were flowing down her back. Victor was describing what seemed to be a very mild malady.

But her father was immortal, invulnerable, and not prey to maladies. She was greatly concerned.

She hid her unease, at least from her voice if not from her father.

“Well, one good thing. I know a most excellent doctor.”

CHAPTER 4

RYAN STOOD ON THE PRIVATE RUNWAY, the wind whipping her coat around her lithe form. She was again lost in thought, but glanced up when she heard the distant roar of an airplane. It was still far away, and no normal creature could have detected the noise at so great a distance.

The plane was moving fast, and it was only minutes before the sleek jet began its final approach. It lightly touched down in a smooth landing, then taxied toward the lone figure on the field.

The cockpit was blacked out, as were the windows, but Ryan nodded to the pilot, whom she could see. He nodded back deferentially as he brought the jet to a halt in front of her. The door opened and the stairway was extended downward.