Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (22 page)

Ryan’s reply brought Susan up short. “Not your kind?” She, too, looked down at the unconscious man. “Then who are these people? What do they want with me?”

Ryan shook her head, holding out her arm to Susan. “I do not know.” Her eyes swept the deserted street. “But I will find out.”

Susan took the proffered arm, then brushed at her skirt in embarrassment. “You’re quite strong.”

Ryan smiled without revealing her teeth. “Fight or flight syndrome, I’m sure.” She turned to look down the block, her amusement evident. “But I never flee.”

 Susan noticed the damage to Ryan’s hand. The physician in her, and possibly some sort of mothering instinct came into play. She removed her arm from Ryan’s and took the damaged hand in her own.

“That wasn’t very intelligent,” she said, examining the hand.

Ryan pulled her hand from the doctor’s grasp and raised it to her own lips. “It’s not as if it’s going to kill me,” she said, looking at Susan over the hand and gently sucking the blood from the wound.

Susan watched her with a sense of morbid fascination. It was an utterly self-sensual act, and it seemed to slow the bleeding.

“What are you doing?” Susan asked, not certain she wanted to know.

The blood had stopped and Ryan wiped her lips. “Well, I’ve heard the act of Sharing is similar to sex, so this must be akin to masturbation.” She turned on her heel. “So glad I could share that with you,” she said over her shoulder.

Susan watched as the woman began to stroll unhurriedly down the street once more. “Is that what you call it,” Susan asked when she caught up with her, “Sharing?”

Ryan shrugged, hands in pockets once more. “For lack of a better term. It is appropriate.”

“Well, the ones who are killed might object to it,” Susan said.

Ryan glanced over at her. “I have killed a lot of people and have very little moral objection to it. But I have never killed anyone in the act of Sharing.”

Susan was confused. “Then how do you feed?”

Ryan stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean, ‘feed’? Are you still caught up in your vampire fantasies?”

Susan was slightly embarrassed. “Well, I just assumed from your story that—”

“That what? That I roam the night seeking innocent victims so I can suck their blood?” Ryan had a look of distaste on her features. “How disgusting.”

Now Susan was really confused. “Well, I was just trying to come up with a hypothesis that fits the information you’ve given me, which you have to admit is pretty sketchy.”

The look of distaste was still on Ryan’s face as she began walking again. “But human blood would do nothing for me. And it tastes like salt. Try downing a salt shaker and tell me if that’s enjoyable for you.”

Susan did not think she would accept this particular challenge. “Then why was Victor different? I don’t understand.”

They were now back at her car. Ryan indicated that Susan should give her the keys. Susan did so, not exactly certain why.

“Victor was not human, nor am I. We don’t feed on humans, but on our own Kind.”

Ryan opened the passenger door and held it open for her. She then walked around the rear of the vehicle and let herself in the driver’s door. She moved the seat rearward then examined the keys carefully. She chose the correct key for the ignition and started the car. She pulled the Lexus smoothly away from the curb.

Susan wanted to continue their conversation, but Ryan’s driving was now taking all of her attention. Although her driving was extremely skillful, she was traveling a good 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. In no time at all, they were pulling into Susan’s driveway. Mr. Earl was on the porch.

Wordlessly, Ryan exited the vehicle and rounded the car. She helped Susan from the vehicle and handed her the keys. She turned and began to walk down the street.

“So tell me,” Susan called out after her, “are you spending all your time just following me around, waiting for me to get into trouble?”

Ryan turned. “No, not exactly, I’ve just been lucky.”

Susan unconsciously lifted her hand to the bruise on her cheek. Ryan nodded her farewell and turned away. Susan watched as the woman disappeared into the dusk.

Goldstein was startled to see two men in business suits push their way into his office. It was late, and he was not expecting them to return. Upon closer inspection, he realized that these were not even the same men who had been there earlier.

“Who’s the other woman?” the first one asked.

Goldstein shook his head. “What are you talking about? What other woman?”

The first man looked to the second and some silent communication passed between the two of them. He turned back to Goldstein. “Our employer is not going to be happy at this turn of events.”

Goldstein was exasperated. “What in the hell are you talking about? I tried to get you whatever information you wanted, but I can’t even get into the goddamned lab. The only other thing you asked me to do was call you next time Susan Ryerson left work. Which I did.”

The two men glanced at one another once more. The first nodded stiffly. “Very well. Perhaps you won’t be of much use to us after all. We will relay your lack of competence to our employer, and he may decide he no longer has need of your services.”

Goldstein watched the door close behind the two men.  He silently cursed Susan Ryerson under his breath. That bitch would be his downfall yet.

He pushed away from his desk and stood up. He moved to the coat rack near his door and snatched his overcoat. He grabbed his hat, inadvertently wrinkling it, and struggled to put his coat on. He started to put his hat on, then paused. He looked back at his desk. He stood there for a moment, contemplating. He turned away from the desk angrily and crushed the hat onto his head. He reached for the doorknob, but again paused.

Frustrated by his own indecision, he snatched the hat from his head and threw it on the ground. He removed his overcoat and tossed it in the general direction of the coat rack, ignoring the fact that it fell to the floor. He marched back to his desk.

He pulled the false panel from underneath the desktop and leaned down to dial the combination to the safe. He dialed it incorrectly the first time and swore under his breath. The second time the lock released with a barely audible click and Goldstein opened the door. He carefully removed the object within and settled into his chair.

Goldstein stared into the vial of blood. Although it was not refrigerated and no attempt had been made to preserve it, the blood had not coagulated, dried, or changed color as it was supposed to. He inverted the vial. The bright red liquid flowed from one end to the other. He uprighted it, and the liquid flowed back to the other end. He sat back in his chair, holding the vial up to the light. The thick red fluid coated the glass, then pooled at the bottom once more. He stared at the blood, as if his observation alone could unlock the secrets it held.

David Goldstein would sit that way long into the night, his hat and coat forgotten on the floor.

CHAPTER 19

EDWARD STEPPED FROM THE LIMOUSINE and glanced upward at the glass and steel skyscraper. What an utterly soulless piece of architecture, he thought to himself. No sense of grace, beauty, or refinement. It was all metal and right angles. He walked up the steps, swinging his cane. The automatic doors swung inward to admit him.

Edward crossed the lobby and stepped into the waiting elevator. He pressed the button to the top floor, ignoring the curious gazes of the other passengers. By the time the conveyance reached his destination, he was the sole occupant of the car. He stepped out into sumptuous surroundings and sniffed disapprovingly. These furnishings were as garish and tasteless as the building itself.

He approached the receptionist, who eyed him from her workstation. Two large men in dark suits stood a few feet away from her on either side. Edward smiled graciously and extended his card to her. He spoke in his utterly refined way.

“I believe Mr. Grant is expecting me.”

The receptionist glanced at the card, and her demeanor changed immediately. “Oh yes, Mr. Evans. Mr. Grant is waiting for you now.”

Edward was ushered into the huge corner office. He was not surprised that his large, dark-suited escort did not leave when the door shut behind him. The chair behind the executive desk swiveled around, and Alan Grant replaced the phone receiver in its cradle.

“Mr. Evans,” he said without rising, “please take a seat.”

Edward stepped forward and settled into the chair. He leaned back, at ease, and folded his hands in front of him.

Grant stared at him for a long moment, then cut to the chase. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Mr. Evans. I don’t normally see anyone. But when I receive a message from one of the most prestigious law firms in town telling me that it would be in my best interest to grant you an audience, it piques my interest. Especially when they won’t tell me why I should I meet with you, or even who you are.”

Edward was silent for awhile longer, allowing Grant’s irritation to grow. He finally spoke. “I am here on behalf of Dr. Susan Ryerson.”

If Grant was surprised at the statement, he hid it well. Or he would have had the person sitting across from him not heard the increase in his heart rate. Grant attempted a mocking laugh, but Edward heard the hollowness in that as well. He smiled a tight smile, revealing no teeth. He continued.

“I understand you have attempted to purchase the rights to Dr. Ryerson’s research and that the hospital has refused you.”

Grant shrugged. “Grantech International is the world’s largest pharmaceutical company. We would be very interested in Dr. Ryerson’s research. But this is not the first time we’ve been turned down.”

“And is it your policy to pursue alternative methods to obtain what you want?” Edward asked smoothly.

Alan Grant’s face was expressionless, and in fact his demeanor would have been frightening to someone who had any reason to fear physical harm. But Edward could hear the unevenness of his heartbeat, sense his agitation. He was not fooled by the calm arrogance of Grant’s reply.

“I certainly hope you’re not falsely accusing me of something, Mr. Evans. I would regret having to send my attorneys after you.”

Edward very slowly smiled, gazing at Grant with his unblinking stare. “Yes,” he said simply, “you would.” He abruptly stood, the action so quick it startled the bodyguard by the door. He placed a card on the desk in front of Grant, bowing from the waist.

“I just wanted you to know that Dr. Ryerson is currently under contract with my employer. Any further attempt to obtain her services will be viewed with some hostility. Good day, Mr. Grant.”

Grant was dumbfounded. But before he could signal his bodyguard, the elderly gentleman was gone. Although he hadn’t appeared to move in any great hurry, he had simply disappeared.

The bodyguard went out into the hallway, which was empty in both directions. He leaned back in the door, shaking his head. Grant waved him off, furious.

How dare that British buffoon come in here, threaten him, then just disappear. He picked up the card, then threw it down. “Timeless Enterprises,” what kind of stupid name was that. He picked it up again. There wasn’t even an address or a phone number on the card. It said simply, “If we need you, we’ll call.”

Grant’s anger burned. He was not used to anyone competing with him in terms of arrogance, let alone beating him at it so soundly. He sat down heavily in his chair, fuming. He was tempted to send his men after the Brit, ordering them to drag him back here and beat him senseless.

He turned his chair to look out over the city. He would not admit to anyone, not even to himself that it was not restraint that kept him from doing so, but perhaps the tiniest trace of fear.

Ryan sat gazing into the fire in her den. She cocked her head to one side. Although the gate was a quarter of a mile away, she could hear the limousine coming up the drive. That would mean Edward was returning.

She listened patiently as the footsteps came up the staircase. Within moments, her faithful servant came through the doors. He bowed his head in subservience, but his tone was chiding.

“It is worse than we thought.”

Ryan sighed. “No, Edward. I am certain it is worse than I thought. But nothing is ever as bad as you believe it to be. What news?”