Blood Legacy Origin of Species (14 page)

Kusunoki half-held, half-pinned her, trying to control her movement because he feared she would injure herself. It was almost as if she was having a seizure, so violent and involuntary was her thrashing. Her body temperature was dropping rapidly, and was in fact heading in the opposite direction as it was now far below normal. With a last gasp, Ryan opened hazel eyes filled with despair that were focused on nothing, then went unconscious.

Kusunoki was greatly saddened. It almost seemed his beloved pupil was possessed by Oni, or in fact had become one herself. He lifted her into his arms and began his long trek back.

CHAPTER 10

SHE WATCHED THE YOUNG MAN on the horse with her glittering green eyes. She had heard rumors of his birth for almost two decades, yet none of her spies had seen him in the presence of the hated one. In fact, it seemed the dark-haired man whom she despised had gone out of his way to keep this one isolated, even from his own kind.

It was very strange, she thought to herself. At first she suspected that the hated one had become aware of her, or perhaps aware of some of her minions. Although she tried to keep him under constant watch, she also kept her distance because his strength and senses were daunting. She knew that the time had not yet come for action, that her forces would have to outnumber his by thousands, if not tens of thousands, in order to have any hope of victory. Her people were strong and brave, but they were no match for him.

This one, however, she thought as she eyed the youth, now this one she could easily destroy. Maybe that was the reason the dark- haired man kept him a secret even from his own kind: the boy was too vulnerable.

Lia easily kept pace with the young man even though he was on horseback. She moved through the forest like a monstrous, graceful beast. Several times the young man stopped and looked back as if he sensed he was being followed, but each time he shook his head in consternation, as if he were simply imagining things. On one such stop and cautious perusal of the forest, Lia was close enough to finally get a good look at him. The beauty of his features enraged her, the golden hair, the sensual mouth, the dark eyelashes framing eyes of an indeterminate color. But something else caught her attention and she had to look closer. With a shock, she realized that the young man was actually a girl. Her shock transitioned to intrigue, staying her hand once again from what probably would have been an effortless attack.

She continued to follow the girl and became aware that a few of the dark-haired man’s kind were some distance ahead of them. The girl was oblivious, or at least was until the smoke from the burning village became more apparent. The girl’s concern was evident and she kicked her horse into a sprint while Lia easily kept pace behind.

Those in the village had meant something to the girl, and the acts perpetrated upon them reminded Lia of the death and destruction that had given birth to her current form. Perhaps it was this stab of empathy that again caused her to pause, paralyzing her so that she did little more than watch as the girl buried her dead. She inwardly cursed as the girl set out after the band that had left such carnage in their wake. She had just passed up a prime opportunity to kill the brat.

The girl had surprising stamina, requiring little in terms of food and rest, which again made Lia wonder if there could be any truth to the rumors regarding this one. None of her people were capable of reproducing; they could only infect one another through blood. It brought her bitter delight that none of the dark-haired man’s kind could reproduce, either, although it did seem they got a great deal more joy from biting one another than her people. It was odd to her that this man had infected no one.

Years ago, her scouts began reporting rumors that the man had finally transformed someone, although it seemed to be a child, which made no sense to Lia. Children did not survive the transformation, not within her people and not amongst the dark-haired man’s kind. Which is why the rumor grew that the man had actually fathered the child.

Lia had dismissed the rumors, but now that she was following this one, she began to have doubts. The girl did not seem to be transformed, but nor did she appear to be human. She was far too fast and too strong for a human, especially a human female. And although she did not appear to have preternatural senses, she did appear to have some extrasensory abilities. And when she caught up to the band of men who had destroyed her village, she unleashed a bloodbath that was a joy to behold.

The green-eyed woman blended into the forest, watching the girl slaughter the men one after the other. A few of the band were actually transformed, young no doubt, but they should have been more than a match for the girl. She cut them down in her fury, even the last who was very strong, the one who told the girl that hell would wait for her anyway.

When it was over, the girl was exhausted and Lia knew it was time for her to strike. But just when she was moving into position, she felt another presence in the forest, one that was rapidly approaching, one that was immensely powerful, and one that would discover her existence if she attacked. Lia cursed herself, knowing that her opportunity had just passed.

What she could not know is that it would be centuries before she would have another chance. The girl might have been human or might not have been, but within days that issue would become moot as the girl would move beyond the realm of mortality forever.

Susan entered a very somber scene. Victor sat before the fire, his elbow propped on the armrest and his chin resting on his fist. Kusunoki stood a short distance away near the mantle, and Abigail and Marilyn sat on the overstuffed couch. A large screen television was tuned to a newscast that was describing a terrorist attack in a nearby city. Aeron entered from the opposite side of the room about the same time as Susan. All eyes turned to her.

“Ryan is resting,” Susan said, “her memory seems normal right now although she remembers nothing after awakening in Marilyn’s penthouse. She’s describing a pronounced feeling of weakness, but nothing physically seems abnormal with her other than the fact that her body temperature is very low.”

“She does not feel weak to me,” Abigail commented, “she feels just as powerful as always.”

“That’s the same as before,” Victor said. “She could barely hold her head up, yet you could feel the power flow from her.”

“Yes,” Susan agreed, “she continues to pass through these phases. But they don’t seem to have any pattern in terms of length or frequency, or even in terms of what might be a triggering event. It’s all very frustrating and random.”

The room grew quiet as the various members contemplated Ryan’s condition. Susan’s attention was drawn to the television screen in which a reporter was standing in front of Marilyn’s hotel and describing in great detail the terrorist attack that had occurred. The devastation across the city that Ryan left in her wake was attributed to several incidents unrelated to the terrorist attack, including a drunk driver who smashed full speed through a wall in a parking structure.

“Odd that they’re not even close to what really happened,” Susan said, more to herself than anyone in the room.

“Not so odd,” Victor said with a pointed look at Abigail, and Marilyn glanced her way as well.

Abigail smiled her serene smile. “It is not so difficult to control the media when you own it.”

This did not surprise Susan, although in this day and age of polarized politics she wondered what side Abigail had come down on.

“So do you favor conservative or liberal media outlets?” Susan asked.

“You misunderstand, my dear,” Abigail replied, “I own all of them.”

This was a rather stunning assertion, although somehow from Abigail, not that stunning.

“An amateur could create a news empire, then use it to espouse a particular rigid point of view,” Abigail explained, “but a far more sophisticated approach would be to buy opposing networks, then pit them against one another in a constant battle of extremism.” She smoothed her skirt, “and when you own all of them, it’s a simple matter to keep the world in a perpetual state of confusion and misdirection through the elevation of irrelevant and petty matters. There’s a reason public discourse is now no more than a constant stream of ambiguous assertions, tautologies, and ‘straw man’ arguments.”

“And that reason is?” Susan asked, appalled at her cynicism.

“Well, primarily,” Abigail said without a hint of remorse, “because I like it that way. But it also allows our Kind to hide in plain sight. Which normally is not necessary, but occasionally,” she said, glancing at the havoc on the television screen, “becomes an issue.”

“And I apologize for that,” Ryan said, “it seems that I am once again at fault in drawing unwanted attention.”

All eyes turned to the figure in the doorway. Ryan looked pale but was otherwise steady on her feet. Edward was respectfully behind her but within arm’s reach if need be.

“Should you be out of bed?” Victor asked.

“This will only take a minute,” Ryan said stiffly. She turned to Kusunoki. “Are you still my Second?”

Kusunoki bowed low. “Of course, my lord. I live to serve you.”

The gesture touched Ryan. She did not know exactly what had transpired during her latest blackout, but she knew it had not been good and that her mentor had borne the brunt of it. She returned his bow.

“Then I wish you to assemble the Grand Council in ten days’ time.”

Kusunoki glanced around the room, his expression saying what he would not. Ryan understood perfectly.

“I realize all but Ala are already present, but I wish a formal gathering in the Council chambers.”

Abigail watched the girl closely. “And the reason for this assembly?”

Ryan had begun to slump a little due to fatigue, but at this question she straightened to her full height.

“It is clear that I am no longer fit to serve as King. In ten days’ time, the Grand Council will meet and I will relinquish the throne to Victor.”

It was not an unexpected pronouncement but it still weighed heavily on everyone in the room, and most heavily on Victor.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I am willing to assume command of the hierarchy on an interim basis until you recover.”

“No,” Ryan said firmly, “you will be King again.” She again turned to Kusunoki.

“I have a secondary purpose for wishing to travel to the Grand Council chambers. My last act as ruler will be to confine myself to my quarters there. My first choice would have been my island in the Atlantic,” she said, looking pointedly at Aeron, “but I blew that up.”

Aeron shifted uncomfortably. She had destroyed the island in a retaliatory attempt to kill him.

“Nevertheless,” Ryan continued, “the Grand Council chambers are a perfect location for incarceration. Ten stories underground, a limited number of exits, and walls that are ten feet thick. If that can’t hold me when I,” she paused, searching for words, “when I’m out of control, then I’m not sure what will.”

“I will begin moving my medical equipment there immediately,” Susan said without hesitation.

The red-head’s forceful response caught Ryan off-guard, and Susan pressed the matter before she could object.

“Jason enjoyed the time he spent there and I’m sure he’ll look forward to going back. And I’m not stopping my research until I can figure out what’s going on with you.”

“Drake and I will join you as well, of course,” Victor added. “If you are ‘indisposed’,” he said, phrasing the condition delicately, “then I will care for him.”

“I am sure you will have lots of company, Ma Cherie,” Marilyn said, “I kind of like you with maroon eyes.”

For some reason, this description made Ryan look at Abigail, who merely smiled her enigmatic smile. Ryan had the strangest feeling that Abigail, too, liked her with maroon eyes, but for far different reasons than Marilyn. But she did not have the strength right now to decipher Abigail’s ever-mysterious motives.

“If this is acceptable,” Ryan said to Kusunoki, “then I will leave the arrangements to you.” Ryan’s fatigue was obvious. “And I will take my leave.”

Ryan left with Edward at her side.

The room was quiet for a moment, then Susan started toward the door, wishing to check on her patient.

“A moment, Dr. Ryerson,” Abigail said with her gentle, steely authority.

Susan turned back.

“Have you found anything in your examination of Ryan to explain any of this?” Abigail asked.

“No,” Susan said, her disappointment evident, “Ryan had some memory loss when she was fighting off that virus. But that was different. While she was in the phase, she still remembered who she was and acted accordingly, she just couldn’t remember what she did after the fact. That’s not that unusual and can result from injury, illness, traumatic events, etc. And later, Ryan did recall most of what she did during those time periods, which again is consistent with temporary, short-term memory loss. But for her to lose all memory completely and have no sense of even who she is, that is far different.”

“And the ‘savage’ phase?” Abigail pressed.

“I am at a loss,” Susan admitted. “Obviously I have been unable to examine her in this phase, so I’m not certain if there are physiological changes taking place that revert when she returns to normal. But I have found no permanent changes in her after the fact.”