Blood Legacy: The House Of Alexander Part 2

"Hmmm," Ryan said thoughtfully, "After 700 years you'd think I'd be used to these teeth."

Marilyn was not fooled, knowing the mishap was not accidental. But she mistook Ryan's motives. "You could simply disagree with me, my dear," she said, her eyes drawn to the blood, "You don't have to win an argument unfairly."

Faster than even preternatural eyes could see, Marilyn's hand flashed across the table, s.n.a.t.c.hing Ryan's wrist. She snapped Ryan forward until Ryan was pressed against the edge of the table, instantly reminding her how incredibly fast and strong Marilyn was.

The abrupt action startled both Susan and Jason, and Jason looked fearfully towards his mother. Susan herself could not look away from the unfolding drama. But in the back of her mind, she knew there had been no crumb to brush away.

Victor looked on, still impa.s.sive. The drawing of blood had increased the tension at the table a hundredfold, and his internal tension by equal degree. The sight of Ryan's blood created an ache that could be removed in only one way; he knew Marilyn felt the agony as well. But because he fully understood Ryan's deception, he could not intervene.

Marilyn's eyes never left Ryan's, and she held the wrist between them. Very slowly she turned the wrist, putting an obvious strain on Ryan's arm. The cut was now centered over Marilyn's wine gla.s.s, and the small stream of blood ran from Ryan's knuckle down her wrist. It was suspended as a droplet for an eternal instance, then gravity overcame it and it plopped into Marilyn's wine gla.s.s.

Marilyn released Ryan's arm, and Ryan leaned back rubbing her wrist in a distinctly human gesture. Marilyn raised the gla.s.s, swirling the blood into the little wine remaining.

"To you, my dear," she said, raising the gla.s.s to Ryan. She held Ryan's gaze as she finished the drink.

Ryan felt the sensation ripple through her and Marilyn smiled. Susan swallowed heavily as Jason sat across from her, his eyes nearly the size of his plate. Ryan glanced down at the wound, which was already healing.

Victor regained his composure, although outwardly it was not apparent he had lost it. He glanced over at Ryan, who was still staring at the healing cut.

"Perhaps I could give you some first aid with that?" he said somewhat sarcastically.

He rose from the table, nodding to Susan. "I know you and your son are tired from your journey." He motioned and a servant materialized. "Please escort Dr. Ryerson to her suite." He turned to Marilyn, "I will discuss more with you later."

Marilyn dabbed her mouth with a napkin, making no attempt to disguise her delight at the situation. "I live to serve you, my lord."

Ryan gave Marilyn a baleful look as she got up from the table and followed her father, feeling as if she were suddenly twelve years old again.

Ryan followed Victor into his chambers. She could sense his exasperation with her.

"Must you always tempt Marilyn so?"

Ryan hid a smile. "You were the one who was nearly falling into your plate. I was hardly tempting her. It was more of a tactical diversion."

"Ah, yes," Victor said, settling into a chair. "But you always seem to utilize a tactic which nearly sends her into a frenzy. It is a good thing she exercises self-control."

Ryan sprawled next to him in an oversized easy chair. "Hmmm... interesting characterization. Self-control is not something I would normally a.s.sociate with Marilyn. Besides, you were the one who promised me to her in payment."

Victor picked up a nearby newspaper, reading the headline. "Yes," he said absently, "I'm afraid I've created a monster."

Ryan wasn't certain if he was referring to her or Marilyn. "No, dear father," she said, a.s.suming he meant her, "You did that nearly 700 years ago." Ryan grew serious, changing the subject. "What is wrong with you? Are you in pain?"

Victor set the newspaper down. There was a fatigue surrounding him that disturbed Ryan almost as much as his more obvious symptoms.

"I am not certain," he said, "It has been only recently that I have felt...".

His words trailed off. Felt what? he thought to himself. There was no precedent for what he was feeling. Although their Kind could feel pain (and withstand it in great measure) he had never felt it without an immediate discernible cause, such as a knife stuck in his chest.

"I feel almost as if I am getting sick," Victor said finally.

Ryan stared at him. "That's impossible. We do not get sick. We do not fall ill. We do not age, we do not die. You told me that yourself, and nothing in my seven centuries has shown it to be otherwise."

Victor nodded. "I do not disagree."

He fell into a contemplative silence. Ryan fell silent as well, but her restlessness quickly overcame her and she rose to her feet.

"Dr. Ryerson will be rested by the morrow. As soon as Marilyn is on her way, Susan can begin examining you. If anyone can figure out what is going on, it will be her."

Victor glanced up at Ryan. "Where are you going?"

Ryan's eyes were filled with dark humor. "To make certain that Marilyn is quickly on her way."

Susan tiptoed down the long hallway, feeling slightly ridiculous. She was jumping at shadows. All she wanted was something to drink, and she didn't want to bother the servants. They could all probably see her, anyway, in their spooky, ephemeral movement about the castle. It felt as if they were all around her, ghosts from a different time, from a different place, and perhaps a different species.

Susan realized she was holding her breath, frightening herself with her ridiculous thoughts. Nothing would happen to her while she was under Ryan's protection.

A figure materialized out of the shadows directly in front of her, startling her. She barely stifled a scream, struggling to retain her outward composure.

"h.e.l.lo, Marilyn. I didn't see you there."

Marilyn gazed down at the red-haired woman, and Susan inadvertently took a step back. Marilyn smiled, showing her teeth slightly. She seemed to disappear and simultaneously reappear behind Susan, leaning over her shoulder, so close they were nearly touching.

"So, Dr. Ryerson," she said, whispering in her ear, "While you are so busy revealing the secrets of my Kind, have you given any more thought to becoming one?"

Susan steeled herself, willing herself not to move.

Marilyn continued whispering, now in the other ear. "I understand I have the chosen lineage, that you will become one of my offspring. Perhaps I could accelerate that process, make it happen right now?"

"And instead you would kill her instantly," Ryan said dryly from the shadows. "You know your blood is too powerful to Change her, so unless you have one of your 'children' readily available, I suggest you stand down."

Marilyn smiled and stepped back from Susan. Susan staggered, because although they had not been physically touching, the dark-haired woman had definitely been holding her. Ryan caught Susan's arm and steadied her, guiding her so that she stood behind her.

"I was just looking for the kitchen," Susan said, embarra.s.sed. She tried to shake her feeling of disorientation, knowing it had nothing to do with the layout of the castle.

Ryan nodded her head in the direction opposite that which Susan was heading. "It is down the hall, through the courtyard, and to the right."

Ryan watched Susan move unsteadily down the hall, then turned to Marilyn.

"That wasn't very nice."

Marilyn was amused. "You say that as if it's a characteristic you would normally attribute to me."

"You are right," Ryan replied, "I stand corrected."

Marilyn moved closer to Ryan, and Ryan felt the dark-haired woman's influence settle over her. She, like Susan, had to will herself not to move. Susan was lucky Marilyn had not killed her on the spot. Marilyn's voice again settled into a conspiratorial whisper.

"I am concerned about you, little one."

Ryan tried not to bristle at the nickname. Marilyn had used it against her for almost six centuries and Ryan still could not quell the irritation it aroused.

"And why are you concerned about me?" she replied. "You had no concerns for my welfare when you pulled me from my seclusion and put me on trial."

"Ah, yes. The trial." Marilyn stared off in the distance as if reminiscing about a fond memory. She brought herself back to the present, and her expression darkened. "That will seem a very small thing compared to what you face now."

Ryan's frustration was evident. "Then perhaps you or my dear father could bring yourself to let me in on whatever horrible thing it is that I face. The sooner I meet it and destroy it, the better off I will be."

Marilyn shook her head. "Actually, I am afraid that is exactly what you will do. But it is not my place to tell you things that should come from Victor."

Faster than any human eye could see, Ryan pinned Marilyn against the wall, surprising the other woman completely. Although Marilyn was slightly taller than Ryan, they were now eye-to-eye.

"There are other ways I could find out," Ryan whispered between clenched teeth. "Ways I am sure you would find enjoyable."

Marilyn's gaze traveled down to Ryan's lips, then to her throat. "You should be careful, ma Cherie," she whispered, "You will get the information you seek, but I will get far more than that. And your father will not be happy about either."

Ryan realized immediately that she had made a tactical error. In terms of sheer power, Ryan was probably the superior. But in terms of seduction, Marilyn had few if any equals among their Kind. Ryan became conscious of the fact that Marilyn was now holding her waist as tightly as Ryan was holding her shoulders.

"So what now, little one?" Marilyn asked languidly. "Do you want to finish what you started at dinner?"

Ryan stared at the woman, at a loss. No matter how powerful she had become, Marilyn still seemed to have her at a disadvantage. Marilyn wielded some sort of influence over her that belied understanding.

"Ahem."

The sound of a throat clearing caused Ryan to look over. Susan was standing in the hallway, an uncomfortable look on her face, a diet c.o.ke in her hand.

"Um, excuse me. I think my room is that way."

Marilyn gave Ryan one last languid look, then pushed her away. She stood upright, smoothing her clothing, amused.

"Ah, dear doctor. Perfect timing as always. When you are my offspring, we shall have to take steps to remedy that."

Ryan involuntarily shuddered, trying to shake her dazed feeling. Marilyn's lips twitched into a smile. As she moved past Ryan, she brushed a kiss on the throbbing veins in Ryan's neck. She turned again to Susan.

"I will be taking my leave this evening. As much as I have enjoyed this brief stay, I have business to attend to." Marilyn turned to Ryan again, "Please pay my respects to your father."

Before Ryan could frame a response, Marilyn was gone. Susan did not even see her leave, so quickly did the woman vanish. Ryan stood staring down the empty hallway.

"I hate that woman."

Susan took a sip of her diet c.o.ke. She raised an eyebrow as she brushed past Ryan.

"Yes, I can see that."

CHAPTER 5.

THE WIND WHIPPED AROUND the eaves of the castle. Ryan sat perched on the very edge of the stone turret, oblivious to the cold rain swirling around her.

Marilyn was gone. Dr. Ryerson and her young son were fast asleep. Her father was resting in the far part of the castle. She could sense that he, too, was lost in thought.

Events were accelerating, Ryan could feel it. Pieces were moving about a ma.s.sive chessboard, p.a.w.ns that had been positioned centuries before and unmoved since.

The image of the chess game brought a flood of unwelcome memories, thoughts that Ryan had deliberately suppressed for ages. But in her current dark mood, Ryan could not stop the Memories that pulled her into an ancient world that might as well have existed yesterday.

The boy came into a clearing and onto the courtyard of a monstrously large citadel. It seemed a dark and twisted place, so far from any other settlements. Hidden deep in the forest, there didn't seem to be any roads leading to the structure. Odd, because it seemed it would take a large contingency to care for such a castle.

The boy moved closer. And it had been cared for. Although there seemed something unclean about the place, it was actually meticulously maintained. There was dim light streaming from the castle, every room seemed lit by flame.

Whatever the boy felt was in here. Something powerful. And Old. And in a very strange sense, unspeakably evil.

The boy c.o.c.ked his head to one side. That was odd. It was unlike their Kind to judge things as good or evil, in so ambivalent a state did they live. And yet that was the word that came to his mind in trying to a.s.sess what he was feeling. Whatever was in front of him felt evil.

Against his better judgment, he crossed the wooden drawbridge, his footsteps echoing on the planks.

He moved into an empty courtyard. Torches burned brightly in the night, barely flickering in the still air. They seemed almost to welcome him, as if he had been expected. The door to the vestibule stood open. He hesitated briefly, then moved inside.

He moved through shadowy hallways, also lit with torches that flickered as he pa.s.sed. He could see an opening that led to a great hall that appeared lit by a hundred candles. The light stretched out into the hallway, dancing at his feet, making strange and ominous patterns. He gazed at the light and prepared to step into it. Something caught his eye, however, and he moved to a shadowed alcove.

A chess board was set up, the pieces arranged as if the players had paused in the midst of their battle. The boy ignored the grotesque, demonic renditions of the cla.s.sical pieces and instead concentrated briefly on the positions on the board. After only a slight pause, he moved a twisted, foam-mouthed horse to a new position. Satisfied with the result, he stepped back into the hallway and stood in the entrance to the lighted room.

The room was filled with a hundred candles, or perhaps a thousand. The flickering light snaked up the walls, writhing with the shadows.

"h.e.l.lo little one."

The voice was smooth, melodious, mesmerizing, terrifying. It possessed an amused malevolence and sensuality that pulled the boy into the room as if it had wrapped itself about his slender form and lifted him off his feet.

"I've been waiting for you."

The boy stepped into the light, uncertain if he was in fact seeing what was before his eyes.

An Old One sat before the great table. His hair was fair, lighter than the boy's, his features older, aristocratic, handsome. His eyes were striking, an icy pale blue that stole one's breath like a bitterly cold wind. His eyes traveled slowly up and down the boy's frame.

"Now how is that I have never met you?" he asked languorously.

The boy did not answer. His eyes drifted downward to the table in front of the man.

It was covered in blood, with chunks of flesh spread about the surface in neat patterns. The rib cage was picked bare and several bones were pulled from the carca.s.s. It was nearly unrecognizable, but the beautiful, untouched head attached to the b.l.o.o.d.y spinal cord gave the disbelieving boy the confirmation he sought. He raised his gaze back to the icy blue eyes.

"Did you know," the man said conversationally, "That you can kill our Kind by eating them?"

The boy's voice was steady, but he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. "No, I cannot say that I knew that."

The man raised his eyes to the dark hallway and a servant scurried from the shadows. The man raised his foot to the table and kicked the body to the floor. "Take it away," he said in a tone that indicated neither the body nor the situation was of any significance.

The man stood up and the boy inadvertently took a step backward. The man smiled a shark's smile. "Skittish, aren't we? Of course I could make you come to me, so you may as well put yourself at ease since you really have no choice in the matter."