Blood Legacy: The House Of Alexander Part 3

The boy felt light-headed, dizzy from the proximity to so much blood and the proximity to so powerful an Old One. Truly, this man's power rivaled that of most he had met. Still, the boy's voice held steady. "You seem very certain of that fact, having no idea who I am."

The man stopped, as if this puzzled him. "Which leads me to my earlier question. How is that I have never met you?" He took a few steps toward the boy, a.s.sessing him, then turned his back, speaking over his shoulder as he gazed into the fire thoughtfully.

"You are not an Old One, but not a Young One either." He turned to gaze at the boy. "I would guess a few hundred years old, no more."

The boy said nothing, and the man turned to him once more, staring intently. "But there is something about you that I cannot quite place. Something that is not quite right."

The boy felt they were heading toward dangerous ground and began guarding his thoughts. The man felt this, and it intrigued him.

"Come here."

The boy said nothing, simply shook his head.

The man seemed pleasantly surprised at the resistance. Usually, it took but one command.

"I said, come here."

Something flickered deep in the boy's eyes, and again he shook his head. But this time there was a mental rebuke as well: No.

The fair-haired man was amazed and delighted at the voice in his head. The whelp was full of surprises.

"You must know that I find defiance irresistibly attractive." The man's voice hardened. "And utterly futile. I will not say it again. Come here."

The boy's voice hardened as well, and this time he spoke aloud. "It is good you will not say it again, because my answer will not change. I said no."

The man took a step toward the boy and the boy reached for his sword, but both froze as if suddenly locked in time.

Perhaps it was because they now stood but a few feet apart, or perhaps it was because their anger had moved them beyond their defenses, but in that instant, they were totally revealed to one another.

The man gazed down at the boy in astonishment. He had known that the boy was a girl even from a great distance off. It did not surprise him nor did it matter; he dismissed it. What was staggering was the amount of power the "boy" possessed. It ran through the child like a raging torrent, uncontrolled, bottomless, and largely untapped.

Had the boy not been frozen in place, he would have staggered backward from the mental blow of the man's presence. He had grossly underestimated this One's power, sensing a force he had felt in only one other, his mentor.

The man slowly looked the boy up and down, marveling at the sensations he was now perceiving. His hunger was returning. "Who has made you?" he whispered in wonder.

The boy did not respond, then tried to hide from the sudden invasion of his mind. But the man's power was too great and the boy felt a sharp pain in his head as the man found the name he sought.

The ice-blue eyes s.h.i.+fted through a myriad of emotions: disbelief, amazement, and then slowly dawning delight.

"That is not possible," the man said. "It is not possible that Victor could have Changed you."

The boy spoke with a bravado he did not feel. "And yet here I am."

"Yes," the man said contemplatively. "Here you are." He paused, his perusal of the boy's form continuing. "And what is your name?"

The boy no longer tried to hide his thoughts, knowing it was futile. "My name is Rhian."

The man smiled his shark's smile. "My name is Aeron."

Before the boy was even aware of movement, the man was at his side, his hand covering his own on the hilt of the sword. "You will not need this," he said, removing the sword from the boy's side.

The boy was furious at himself. The anger helped clear some of the stupor that was falling over him. But the man would have none of it, moving closer to him and speaking in his hypnotic voice.

"Won't you come and rest with me for a moment?"

The boy shook his head, but could not resist when the man led him by the arm to a nearby settee. He felt light-headed and slightly nauseous, knowing the man was exerting tremendous power to influence him. His skull felt like it was going to explode.

The man sat, but the boy resisted his attempt to pull him downward. Aeron sat back comfortably, amused at the boy's continued resistance. The boy might not sit, but he was not going anywhere.

"So I see we are at an impa.s.se," he said conversationally, playing with the edge of the boy's leather jerkin. "I am not used to being told no. It is somewhat stimulating."

His voice hardened. "But all games must come to an end."

His ice-blue eyes locked with those of the boy's. "Come here," he said softly.

The boy closed his eyes, as if he could shut the man out. But truly it was too late for that. And although he did not obey, nor did he resist when the man pulled him gently but firmly onto the couch.

He was sitting next to the man, his head on the man's shoulder, the man's arm draped around him. The man toyed with his blond hair, and the sensation made him shudder.

Aeron, for his part, was enamored with the boy. Normally, he would not dally like this, given only to the pa.s.sion of killing. Nothing satiated him, so there was no antic.i.p.ation, no expectation of gratification. Only the truly ancient among their Kind could come close to satisfying his desires, and even those rare unions left him unfulfilled.

But glancing down at the boy, he was experiencing a pleasure that was unknown to him. Perhaps it was the thought that he was going to kill Victor's child. Or perhaps it was the thought that the power coursing through the slender body next to him would soon be coursing through his. Or perhaps it was simply the expectation that the boy would fight to the end.

No matter. It would end as all the others.

The boy struggled to concentrate, momentarily regaining lost ground when he pushed the man from his mind. In that instance he steeled himself, focusing all his power on resisting seduction. He realized he most likely would not escape, but he would not go willingly.

Aeron was impressed with the boy's fort.i.tude. His mental discipline was as great as many twice his age, and it was the mental gifts of their Kind that separated those who would otherwise be equals. It separated the mediocre from the extraordinary when all else was the same.

And this One was truly extraordinary. Aeron glanced down at the beautiful creature in his arms. His grip began to slowly tighten.

The boy fought the pressure, holding his arms stiffly. He felt as if he were being crushed. If he had needed to breathe, he would have been unable. Worse, he felt his arms began to weaken, as if they no longer had the will or strength to push this man away.

If that was the case, that was not Aeron's impression at all. He was astonished at the boy's strength, and found himself actually straining to physically overcome him.

"I will not yield to you," the boy whispered defiantly through clenched teeth.

Aeron was now close enough to the boy's throat that his lips brushed the throbbing jugular vein. "You realize that changes nothing," he replied.

And with that, his razor sharp teeth brushed the skin, easily slicing through a surface that was impenetrable to most steel.

The shock was immediate and profound. As the blood flowed into his body, Aeron was stunned to feel his heart stumble within his chest, expanding to accommodate the force that surged through it. The boy's Memories were instantaneous and unbearably intense. They flew at him so quickly he could not place them in any coherent context. He saw Victor, and fire, and a blond woman, and thousands of soldiers, but he could sort none of it. These were not the normal Memories of their Kind, that ebbed and flowed lazily toward him as he Shared, that settled into mediocrity as he killed his prey.

These were the Memories of One whose veins flowed with fire.

Aeron was fascinated.

The boy felt the shock as well as he connected with the man. It was one of his peculiarities, the ability to join with the one who fed upon him, as opposed to merely the one he fed upon. Aeron sensed this and was incredulous. He realized the boy could see his Memories even though none of his blood had pa.s.sed the boy's lips. He also realized that this amazing creature had never been fed off by anyone other than Victor. And this fact astonished him more than anything that had preceded this moment.

For the boy, the man's Memories were horrifying, and he could make no more sense of Aeron's past than Aeron could make of his. All he saw was blood and flesh, and a hunger that could not be filled by all the death in the world. The man's power was overwhelming, his magnetism devastating, and the boy felt himself drawn to the blackness that always waited just beyond the fire, the blackness from which none of their Kind ever returned.

Aeron felt the boy's heart fight back, and it excited him. He felt himself on the verge of loss of control, careening toward the fire, wanting to waltz the boy into the flames so he could then fling him off the edge into the darkness.

But something else was in play as well. Aeron did not want this feeling to end, he did not want the blood to ever stop surging through his veins. For once he felt himself teetering on the edge of that cliff and contemplating the ultimate pleasure of going over it himself.

The boy felt his heart strain against the quickening pace of the man's hunger. He felt himself begin to weaken, knowing that he was dangerously close to slipping away. The man's hunger was immense, his pace continuing to quicken, and the boy was lost in a blood-red netherworld. The world was on fire, and there was nothing but the boy and the man and the darkness. The boy turned to the blackness and Aeron stood behind him, waiting for him to step off as they all did.

But instead, the boy turned to him. There was no desperation in his eyes, no fear, no drunken desire, no crazed longing, no begging, no pleading, nor any of the thousands of reactions Aeron had seen just prior to killing his prey.

Instead, the boy stood there, balancing playfully on the edge with a knowing look in his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. He gazed into ice-blue eyes with eyes that were now the color of fire.

"Come with me," came the whispered, intoxicating invitation.

And then the world disappeared in flames and Aeron felt his heart explode within his chest. He was no longer in the blood-red netherworld, but back in the great room with the light from a thousand candles flickering on the unconscious boy in his arms. He stared down in stunned disbelief at the pale, p.r.o.ne figure.

No one had ever satisfied his demonic thirst, let alone tempted him with death itself. He searched himself. He had no urge to rip the boy's flesh from his body and consume it, no need to devour him to fill the void that could not be filled.

He glanced down at the boy. He did want to destroy him, but that was the desire of all their Kind. He wanted to kill him in the act of Sharing, because there was no greater pleasure. But, he admitted to himself, that might very well be impossible with this One.

"But I shall enjoy trying," Aeron murmured to himself, stroking the boy's hair. "We did not even complete half the act. I can't imagine what it will be like when my blood pa.s.ses your lips."

"You will never, ever, have that experience."

Aeron's expression darkened but he did not move. Instead his hand drifted to settle on the boy.

"Why, Victor, what an unexpected pleasure."

Victor Alexander stepped from the shadows, his expression one of barely-contained fury. It was only the vulnerability of his unconscious prodigy that kept him from attacking and utterly destroying this man.

Aeron was wary. He had been caught off guard by Victor's approach, so lost in the act of Sharing had he been. But he was also delighted by the situation. He moved his hand possessively to stroke the boy's hair.

Victor's jaw clenched and Aeron could hear his teeth grinding together. It did not stop him however, and he moved on to stroke the boy's cheek.

"So you must tell me, old friend," Aeron said casually, "How you managed to produce such an amazing offspring." He paused for effect, "Because I really quite enjoyed him."

It was too much for Victor, who leaped toward his enemy. But Aeron had goaded the attack for a reason, and he was on his feet in an instant. He held the unconscious boy between them.

"Do you wish to challenge me?" he said mockingly, in complete control. "You know I live for that day."

Victor was quietly sarcastic. "You would take my place in the hierarchy. Yet you just pa.s.sed the opportunity to destroy my heir."

Aeron smiled down at the p.r.o.ne figure he held. "I will avail myself of that opportunity some time in the future." Aeron dropped all pretenses and dropped the boy to the ground with a thud. Victor did not glance down. He drew his sword as Aeron drew his.

The two flew into combat, swords throwing sparks as they collided with tremendous force. Aeron was flush with blood, power roaring through his veins, but Victor was fed with an inner fury that had no end. It took but three blows and both swords shattered, and the men were locked shoulder to shoulder.

It was one of the dilemmas of the most powerful of their Kind. If two were evenly-matched, it was difficult to find weapons that could withstand the fight as long as the combatants. And when reflexes were near instantaneous and skill was equal, it would come to a deadlock.

But in this case, although the pair was near evenly-matched, Victor had the slightest edge, and it was all he needed to slowly begin overpowering Aeron. This appeared to cause Aeron little concern.

He stumbled rearward, jostling a table and knocking dozens of candles over. Victor caught the gleam in his adversary's eye, but it was too late. Aeron s.n.a.t.c.hed a now flaming tapestry from the table and flung it toward him.

Victor stepped aside easily and was already moving toward his opponent. But he was half a step off as Aeron knocked more candles to the ground, lighting the woven mats covering the floor.

The room was quickly engulfed in flame and Victor realized Aeron's intent as their eyes met. Aeron smiled a wicked smile. In a flash, he flung a flaming tapestry toward the p.r.o.ne figure on the floor. It was a perfect toss, settling over the crumpled form.

Victor leaped to the boy's side, s.n.a.t.c.hing the tapestry from him. The flames would not kill him, but the wounds would be painful in his weakened state. He gazed up in fury at Aeron, who observed the scene with pleasure.

"One of the downfalls of emotional entanglement," Aeron said with thinly-veiled contempt, flames licking around him. "Unfortunately, as much as I am enjoying this little reunion, I am going to have to bring it to an end."

Aeron slammed his shoulder into one of the weight-bearing pillars of the great room. In an instant, cracks appeared overhead as dust and rocks began to pour from the ceiling above.

Aeron winked, "I have to douse this fire somehow."

Victor did not hesitate. He lifted the boy in his arms, and in one great leap was out the window of the room that was now collapsing behind him. Before he had landed on his feet, the castle caved inward in an explosion of rock and rubble. He moved with blinding speed out of reach of the flying debris.

Once a safe distance away, he stopped and looked down at the boy. He wanted to go back and settle this matter with Aeron, but truly his prodigy's condition was more pressing. He was relieved to feel the boy stir.

The boy opened his eyes, focusing on Victor. He turned away. "I am sorry. I tried to resist him."

Victor's relief was immense, and the boy took comfort in that. Victor shook his head. "There is no need for remorse. You could not have withstood Aeron. Most do not even survive."

Victor's thoughts turned inward. This both puzzled and disturbed him. Aeron was known for destroying their Kind, which in itself was neither immoral nor unjust. What separated Aeron from the Others was his choice to humiliate and desecrate, seducing lesser beings to an ign.o.ble and painful death.

Whether or not Aeron could have destroyed his progeny was debatable. He could, however, have caused injury that would have taken decades to heal.

Victor was distracted from his thoughts as the boy stirred again, fading in and out of consciousness.

"How," the boy began, "How is it that you knew where to find me?"

"It was not so much where," Victor replied. "As when." His next words provided no explanation. "Time and distance are not so very different things."

This made no sense at all to the boy, and Victor shook his head. "You need to rest. We have a long journey home."

The boy settled his head onto Victor's shoulder, and Victor started through the forest, his thoughts returning to Aeron. He had been furious when he felt Aeron begin to bend the boy to his will, and his concern had been great. Aeron's atrocities were well known.

But now, in a way, Victor's concern was even greater. He did not think that Aeron could have killed his offspring.

But it bothered him that Aeron had not even tried.

CHAPTER 6.

THE SUN ROSE INTO A BRIGHT RED SKY, telling Ryan the rain from the night before would continue. Storm clouds gathering on the horizon to the west told the same story. It was good the jet was approaching. In an hour the weather would make landing impossible.