Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan Part 26

"Why would you do that?"

Ryan was contemplative. "Although none of these knew me, word could get back to those who might. Those whom I could not destroy."

Ryan settled into silence, and Susan recognized she would say no more on the matter, so she changed the subject. "When did you first come to the United States?"

"The Americas?" Ryan was thoughtful, "Probably around the middle 1600's, I've never been very good at keeping track of time."

"So you were one of the first settlers here."

Ryan laughed, a short sarcastic laugh. "If you don't count the several million people who were already living on this continent, yes, I was one of the first ones here."

Ryan seemed very bitter right now, and Susan pressed her for more information more to get at her mood than to get at her story. "I guess I didn't realize there were so many," she prompted.

Ryan glanced at her sideways, as if she knew what Susan was doing. She went along with it anyway. "There were millions, at least until we Europeans landed, bringing every sort of pestilence imaginable. I thought the Black Plague was bad, but it killed only one out of every three in my time. The plague here killed 9 out of every 10 Indians."

Susan was astounded at the number. Ryan continued. "And after they welcomed us with open arms." Ryan shook her head. "The settlers never battled any great uncharted wilderness. Large portions of the land were already cultivated by the native people, and once we came with our diseases, they all conveniently died out and left the cleared land to us."

Ryan's voice took on the mesmerizing quality it always did when she began to tell her stories.

"I watched white men acting in the name of their Christian G.o.d, desecrate Indian gravesites, destroy villages, cornfields, whatever they felt like. In all my 700 years, I can't think of a single people so mistreated by history."

Ryan glanced at the empty television screen. "I've watched modern westerns, watched even so-called *politically correct' depictions, and none of them are even close."

"What were the Indians really like?"

"They were a very n.o.ble people. I spent a lot of time with them. They were one of the only people to realize that Victor and I weren't human, and they did so almost immediately."

"They weren't afraid of you?"

Ryan shook her head. "The Indians were very civilized, far more civilized than their barbaric invaders. They had religion, philosophy, art, music, they were excellent linguists, often speaking three or four languages."

Susan nodded. "I remember the stories from World War II, how the Hopi tribe used their language as an unbreakable code."

Ryan glanced over at Susan, c.o.c.king her head to one side. "Did you know there's a far more sinister connection to World War II? Adolph Hitler was a great admirer of the concentration camps the colonists used to round up the Indians. They were very efficient and he admired that."

Susan fell silent, unaware of that fact.

Ryan continued. "The colonists enslaved the Indians, of course, just as they enslaved everyone. That fact doesn't find itself in many textbooks, either." Ryan sighed. "Modern history could at least give credit where credit is due. The Iroquois nation had a confederacy that lasted over 150 years. It showed how to control a large, disparate area and is probably the model that the United States was built upon. The US was a grand experiment, no monarchy, no religion. Yet history acts as if the founding fathers plucked the idea from the sky."

Ryan pulled a coin from her pocket. "Even the great seal of the United States bears the mark of the Iroquois confederacy: the eagle and the arrows. But again, this fact finds itself in few textbooks."

"Did you practice a trade?" Susan asked.

"Victor and I were wealthy beyond belief, even then. We still had all our lands in England, which had grown. We were in every type of commerce imaginable. s.h.i.+pping, mining, farming..."

This thought brought a slightly mischievous smile to Ryan's face.

"What?" Susan prompted her.

"I used to own a hemp farm."

"You grew marijuana?"

Ryan shook her head. "No, hemp, probably the most versatile plant on this planet. A good hemp plant grows twenty feet in a year. You can make paper, clothing, fuel, all sorts of products from it. It was quite respectable back then. Both Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson grew hemp, although I didn't know them personally."

Ryan was always a wealth of interesting information. "When did it become illegal?" Susan asked.

"Not until the middle part of this century, and then mostly for political reasons. It had nothing to do with any *war on drugs.' It had a lot to do with very powerful companies making products which hemp could make cheaper and more efficiently. Hemp became *marijuana' right after the Spanish-American war, when anything Mexican was bad." Ryan sighed, "Leave it to the United States to morally cloud an issue that's about nothing more than money."

Ryan stopped suddenly, putting her hand to her temple.

"Your headache?" Susan asked.

Ryan nodded. "It seems to have returned."

Susan was concerned for Ryan, concerned about the unusual headache and her subdued demeanor.

Ryan stood up abruptly. "Perhaps we should go out. Perhaps I have been trapped in this place too long. The rain has stopped, the sun is coming out. Let's go into the city."

Susan went to fetch Jason. Neda had dressed him and combed his hair. The older woman declined to join them, and Susan had the suspicion that the older woman would be in the heated spa before they left the driveway.

Edward, on the other hand, was not pleased with their expedition. It was evident to Susan that he, too, was concerned about Ryan's strange mood.

Ryan took Susan and Jason to a French restaurant. Edward took a post outside while they were escorted to a table. Susan and Jason ate the three course special and Ryan drank only wine.

Too quickly the meal was over and the three set out for a walk in the cool night air. Ryan did not see Edward upon their exit, but this did not concern her. Jason held Susan's hand as Ryan loped along beside them, hands thrust casually in her pockets.

They walked to the outdoor mall adjacent to the park, which was now closed for the evening. Streetlights threw soft light on the benches and planters, creating long shadows of the shop corners. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, which were slightly damp from the night air, and their voices and laughter drifted gently through the settling fog.

Susan was surprised there were no other people in the mall. Generally, the walkways were filled with young couples pus.h.i.+ng strollers, or older couples out for an evening walk. She glanced at her watch. It was getting late, but usually there were people out far after midnight. The normal security guards seemed to be missing as well. Were she not with Ryan, Susan might have been concerned.

Jason was talking non-stop and his voice echoed eerily in the empty mall. Susan glanced over, catching an uncharacteristic gesture from Ryan out of the corner of her eye. Ryan raised her hand to her forehead, a slight grimace of pain on her face.

"Are you all right?" Susan asked.

Jason stopped, concerned he had missed something. Ryan shook her head. "It's nothing, I'm fine," she said. Apparently another stabbing pain struck her as she again grimaced. "This is so unusual for me," she murmured.

That was exactly why Susan was so concerned. The three started forward but had only taken three steps when Ryan abruptly stopped, raising her hand.

Jason and Susan also abruptly stopped. Susan started to say something, but the sudden tension in Ryan's body stopped her. She and Jason both stood silently, watching her, then glancing around them.

Ryan's senses strained the darkness in front of her. She c.o.c.ked her head to one side, as if listening to some sound that only she could hear. Susan watched the woman with growing premonition and fear. Ryan had a look of dawning recognition on her face, intermixed with anger. Her next words did not allay Susan's fears.

"Stay close," she ordered in a whisper. Her words were casual, unconcerned, but her posture was alert as she gazed into the darkness around them. There was almost a sense of resignation about her.

The first figure slipped from the shadows to the left of them. A young man, dark-haired and handsome, moving with a lithe and preternatural grace. A second figure appeared next to him, an Asian woman, both stunning and exotic.

A pair of platinum-haired twins stepped from the shadows to the right, and then a red-haired, green-eyed beauty next to them. The auburn-haired one was accompanied by an ebony Adonis, a man so dark he appeared as one with the night.

Figures began to step from the shadows in every direction until Ryan and her companions were completely surrounded. All possessed an unnatural beauty and moved with the lithe grace Susan had come to a.s.sociate with Ryan. Susan realized with great trepidation that these people were Ryan's Kind.

They were the Others.

Ryan watched impa.s.sively as they revealed themselves, the slightest trace of anger the only emotion on her face. Susan unconsciously moved closer to Ryan, noting that although they were surrounded, none of the Others dared come too near. They were aligned as if standing outside some hidden boundary, some line of demarcation they dared not cross.

Ryan turned, gazing into the nearby shadows. She had an air of expectancy about her, as if she already knew who was there.

On silent command, the figures in the circle parted and a dark-haired woman moved into the circle, not hesitating at the line of demarcation.

Susan stared at the raven-haired beauty, stunned. The woman was ravis.h.i.+ng, so beautiful there seemed to be a radiance about her. The silence in the courtyard was complete. Ryan simply stood there and Susan knew who the woman was before Ryan spoke the name.

"h.e.l.lo Marilyn," Ryan said dryly. There was the faintest hint of mocking in her voice, and a trace of amus.e.m.e.nt.

Marilyn stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of Ryan. She took the girl's measure from head to toe, and there was an overt sensuality and subtle insolence to the inspection.

Ryan would not allow herself to rise to Marilyn's baiting, and the dark-haired woman started towards her. It was with a certain annoyance she realized Marilyn was still slightly taller than her. She was also acutely aware of how much physically younger she looked than Marilyn and most of those surrounding her. In a people where appearances could be deceiving, Ryan decided they could also be incredibly inconvenient.

Marilyn stopped only inches from Ryan, gazing down at the girl. She very slowly raised her hand to Ryan's chin, tilting it upward. She leaned down and kissed her chastely on the lips, lingering slightly before she raised her head. Her eyes danced with her usual wicked humor.

"h.e.l.lo, little one," she said.

Ryan again suppressed the reaction Marilyn sought, but Marilyn felt the suppression and smiled knowingly.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Ryan asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"As much as I always enjoy your company," Marilyn began, her emphasis on "enjoy" p.r.o.nounced, "I'm afraid this is strictly business."

The false regret in Marilyn's tone set off a warning for Ryan. She c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "What kind of business?"

There was the smallest hint of satisfaction, even triumph in Marilyn's tone. "I have been ordered to bring you before the Grand Council."

"I was unaware of the existence of a *Grand Council'," Ryan said, her sarcasm now evident.

"It was convened out of necessity," Marilyn said with a significant pause, "after the death of our leader."

Ryan's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but Marilyn noted even this facial gesture. Her tone cooled and became vaguely threatening. "The Grand Council requests your presence to answer for the death of your mentor, Victor Alexander."

If Ryan was moved by the accusation or the implied threat, it was not evident. Nor was any sign of repentance. She lowered her voice until it was a seductive whisper, heard by all but meant for Marilyn alone.

"Since when is murder a crime amongst our Kind?"

The enticement in the girl's voice pulled at Marilyn and she was startled at the strength of it. Startled and pleased. She gazed at Ryan knowingly and she too lowered her voice to barely a whisper.

"You will not be tried for the crime of murder, but for regicide. That, and your failure to take his place."

The Others were quite aware of the war the two Old Ones were waging. It was mesmerizing, giving them a glimpse of power few dreamed even existed. Even the human woman sensed the power struggle between the two, a struggle as much about seduction as it was about strength.

"And do you intend to take me by force?" Ryan said mockingly.

Marilyn smiled, the double entendre not lost on her. "No my dear," she said with her false regret, "as enjoyable as that might be, I don't believe it will be necessary." She glanced meaningfully at Susan Ryerson, then down at her son. "Although I'm quite convinced of your invulnerability, I don't think your human companions would survive the struggle."

Ryan felt cold fingers creep around her heart. She glanced at Susan and Jason. She had known better. A lesson ignored was a lesson unlearned.

Susan stared at Ryan, stark realization in her eyes. Edward had been right.

Ryan stared at Susan for a long moment, then turned back to Marilyn, her words casual but with no sense of defeat about them.

"Very well, I will come with you. But I want you to know this," she said, pausing. Something very subtle changed in Ryan's demeanor and those in the shadows s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. "If anything happens to Dr. Ryerson or her son," she said casually, glancing around the circle with mild contempt, "I will destroy everyone here." Her icy, unblinking stare returned to Marilyn.

"Including you."

The silence was complete. No one moved, no one breathed. There was no mocking in Marilyn's eyes, no sarcastic retort. She nodded in understanding, almost in deference, and gestured for Ryan to accompany her.

Ryan preceded her through the opening the Others made in the circle, and the circle collapsed behind them. Susan and Jason were drawn along behind in the crowd. When they exited onto the street, Susan was reminded of the material power these people wielded.

Jason stared in amazement at the line of limousines that stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. The long, sleek cars gleamed blackly under the streetlights, reminding Susan uncomfortably of an infinite funeral procession.

Susan watched as Ryan approached the door that was held open for her. She was struck by the deference with which Ryan was being treated. Prisoner or not, the awe in which she was held was evident.

Susan started to follow Ryan and she was grabbed roughly from behind by a young woman. Faster than the eye could see, Ryan was there between them, holding the Young One off the ground by her throat.

In the same instant, Marilyn was behind Ryan, slipping her arm about her waist and pulling her to her. She leaned over her shoulder, brus.h.i.+ng her lips against Ryan's throat, then whispering in her ear.

"Let her go, Ryan, she's young and stupid and she forgets herself."

Ryan stared down at the Young One, her fury and frustration threatening to explode. But the combination of Marilyn's touch and the whispered reasoning distracted her. Her grip on the wide-eyed girl loosened.

Marilyn's hand brushed Ryan's hair from the nape of her neck, and the gesture was so familiar and seductive, Ryan closed her eyes against the sensation. She released the girl, who staggered backwards.

Marilyn held her for a moment longer to make certain Ryan's temper had indeed cooled. She gazed past Ryan to where Susan Ryerson was standing. There was no fear in the Susan's eyes, but rather the beginnings of a suspicion.

Susan, watching the scene, was again struck by the deference with which Ryan was treated. Marilyn had twice chosen not to confront Ryan, but rather to beguile her. It made her wonder if Marilyn chose the path of least resistance out of necessity, if she was indeed powerful enough to defeat Ryan.

Marilyn stared at her impa.s.sively, as if reading her mind, then slowly smiled.

Susan mentally added another option. Or perhaps Marilyn chose that path simply because she enjoyed it.

Ryan relaxed and Marilyn released her. Ryan stepped away from the dark-haired woman into the waiting limousine. Marilyn motioned for Susan and her son to ride in the same vehicle, then she herself climbed in after Susan.

Susan sat next to Ryan and Jason sat between them, clutching his mother. He wanted to go to Ryan, but her body language was closed to him. She gazed out the window at nothing as they began moving.

Marilyn's attention was fully on Ryan. She examined the girl's features. Physically, Ryan had hardly changed. She was taller, her shoulders broader, but she was still slender. She still had the face of an angel, with the high cheekbones and the too perfect mouth.

Marilyn's eyes narrowed. On the other hand, Ryan had changed dramatically in other ways.

It had taken all of Marilyn's composure to appear unruffled at the first sight of Ryan. She thought back centuries before as she lay by the girl's side, when Ryan had first displayed her formidable temper. Marilyn remembered her premonition at how powerful Ryan would become, how great her magnetism would be.

Marilyn's first thought upon mentally touching Ryan this evening was how badly underestimated that prediction had been. Ryan's charisma was staggering. Although Marilyn sensed that she herself was still the more powerful of the two, it was not by as great a margin as she would have wished, especially considering the disparity in their ages. The whelp had made up considerable ground in the last two centuries.