Blood Legacy Origin of Species (33 page)

Petrus turned a troubled gaze on the silver-haired man. He did not know that, and he wondered if Lia did.

The silver-haired man was now even more stunned. There was no way she could know that. They had left few alive and all had been mind-wiped. The look on this girl’s face, however, told him that she knew far more than what she had just presented.

The soldiers stepped forward to take custody of Ryan, but she glared at them and Petrus and Susan did not relinquish their support of her. So instead, the soldiers surrounded the trio and they moved into the elevator.

The interior of the elevator was uncomfortably familiar to Ryan, the geometric shapes, the hieroglyphic writing. She could actually read some of the script, but stopped herself when the silver-haired man began watching her closely. She turned her attention inward.

The Others were here, Victor, Abigail, Ala, Marilyn, and Kusunoki. Her son was here as well. She briefly touched him, then turned to Susan.

“Your son is fine,” she said. “Jason is frightened but unharmed, and he and Drake are together.”

The silver-haired man was intrigued. He was wondering if he could gain permission from the commander to do exploratory surgery on her brain. Although he had many less invasive and more advanced methods at his disposal, vivisection was his favorite. While entertaining this pleasant thought, he looked back at the girl and froze. She was gazing at him with such a look of contempt, such a look of utter disdain that it took his breath away. He was not certain why because she was powerless at the moment, but something in that gaze was unnervingly familiar.

The doors opened and the silver-haired man’s disquiet was so great that for a moment he did not move. He shook himself free of the spell and stepped out. Ryan, her supporters, and her cohort of soldiers followed him out onto the huge platform.

A gasp attracted her attention and she turned to Ala, who was on the platform to her left. Ryan had tried to prepare the Others about her appearance, but the earth mother was devastated by Ryan’s injuries. Marilyn was also appalled. Ryan made eye contact with Kusunoki, and the two examined one another’s various traumas, then both slowly smiled. They always were two of a kind.

Ryan turned her attention to Edward, then Victor, whose anger at the condition of his child was apparent. He was tightly in control, but just barely. Jason clung to Victor’s side. Drake, in the arms of his grandfather, gazed at his mother somberly. He, more than anything, wanted to rush across the platform to her, but that action had killed his father.

Ryan mentally touched him, gently but firmly. That was not your fault, Ryan said to him, and it would pain Aeron to think you blame yourself. I will take care of this, she promised, I will fulfill your father’s last wishes.

The last of the Old Ones stood apart from the Others. Although everyone was restrained by several soldiers, Abigail seemed to have a small army about her. This was odd because there was no agitation within her at all, she was serene. It was odder still because none of the soldiers stood too near her, rather monitored her from a distance as if some force field were surrounding her person. The elegant matriarch examined Ryan’s cuts and bruises almost languorously and Ryan had to smile at the sensuality in that gaze. Ryan then turned her attention to the last person on the stage. She knew him as well. She recognized him from the early memories of Aeron and Lia, and more recently, from those of her son. He was the butcher from the original experiment, the brute enforcer of the party.

And he was the one who had killed Aeron.

The scar-faced man sneered at the girl who was brought onto the platform. She was hardly the threat that had been described. In fact at the moment she appeared little more than a weak, wounded animal. She could barely stand upright and had to be supported by that pathetic little mutant and the anemic red-head.

Ryan’s eyes burned into him. She wanted to direct all of her attention toward him but something else was approaching, something monumental and massively powerful. A woman with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes strode onto the platform. She moved with an alien grace and had a profound coldness at her center. She was undeniably beautiful, but it was the same unnatural beauty that Madelyn had possessed, and her presence shifted in and out of focus just like Madelyn’s.

But here is where the comparisons stopped. This woman was clearly Madelyn’s superior and Ryan struggled against the feelings of despair this created.

Tra’e’ela examined the girl, having quite the opposite impression as her dim-witted cohort. This infant impressed her far more than she had expected. Nowhere near as powerful as her, or even as her two officers, but far more than she had anticipated. But it was not this strength that caught her attention. No, there was also something else, something perhaps that only she was attuned to. The girl appeared to be hiding something, and doing so quite skillfully. It was a gift that, had she been born into their kind, would have marked her even at a young age as destined for the Stealth. And the fact that the girl had developed the skill with no training whatsoever was startling.

But meaningless at the moment.

“Ryan Alexander,” the woman said. Ryan noted the same sibilance on the “x” that Madelyn had used in her pronunciation and it gave her a chill. She composed herself.

“And what is it you want from me?” Ryan asked.

“There is nothing that I want from you,” the woman said, coldly amused. “There is nothing you can offer me, nothing you can give. You have nothing to bargain with.”

It should have been a devastating pronouncement, but after a pause, it engendered the gentlest of responses.

“Did Aeron recognize you?” Ryan asked softly, subtle steel in the question.

This in turn generated a pause from Tra’e’ela. This girl was full of surprises.

“No,” she said simply, “he did not.”

This drew curious looks from everyone in the room, first at the blonde woman, then at Ryan.

“Good.” Ryan said.

Tra’e’ela marveled at the girl. The response was relieved but carried a hint of veiled threat, as if there would have been consequences had she answered differently. She turned to the scar-faced man. “You may proceed.”

The scar-faced man drew a large rectangle in the air, and while he was waiting for the image to form, he addressed Ryan.

“I understand you tried to sway Lia,” he said sarcastically. “Did you really think a few hours spent with you would be enough to overcome a thousand years of bitterness?” He laughed, a harsh mocking sound. “You aren’t that charming.”

Ryan’s shoulders slumped slightly and Petrus unconsciously mirrored the gesture. The holographic image formed in the air, a mutant minion appeared, then Lia herself. She was gloriously imperious and the Others looked upon her in fascination. Petrus had attracted quite a bit of attention upon his arrival, but Lia’s presence and physical appearance attracted ten-fold.

“Yes?” she said with just enough disdain to irritate the scar-faced man.

“I trust your troops are in position?”

“Yes,” Lia replied.

The scar-faced man turned to Ryan. “She has been waiting for this moment for centuries. She will unleash all her forces upon your kind. They are far more numerous than you and will hunt your people down one by one until all are slaughtered.”

“And why would you do this if we are so insignificant to you?” Ryan asked.

The man sneered. “We left a lot of loose ends on this planet and I prefer things much ‘cleaner.’ I’m pleased at the chance to set things right.” He returned to the holographic image. “You may give the order to proceed.”

Lia engaged in some sort of discussion with someone off screen, then returned to the current conversation. “There seems to be some sort of parliamentary issue.”

The scar-faced man bristled while the silver-haired man had a sudden sense of foreboding. “What kind of issue?” the brute demanded.

“Well it appears that this particular order can only be issued by the commander-in-chief of my military forces.”

The man began grinding his teeth. “Then have him issue it,” he said, spitting out the words.

“Well I can’t,” Lia said calmly, “because I just delivered her to you. You will have to deal with her personally. Goodbye.”

The holograph vaporized and the scar-faced man stood staring at the empty air in fury.

Ryan had been studiously examining her fingernails during the transmission, and now looked to the scar faced man, her expression deadly. Her words were stunning and simple.

“I guess I really am that charming.”

Tra’e’ela struggled to suppress a smile. The scar on the man’s face was throbbing. Petrus looked at Ryan in disbelief and admiration.

“My god,” he said under his breath but clearly audible, “you will fuck anything that moves.” He knew he should stop himself but he just couldn’t. “So, was it metaphorical sex? Or actual sex?” he asked with a sidelong glance.

“That is none of your business,” Ryan said, not the least perturbed at the rude questioning or implication. She addressed scar face. “And just for the record, I won’t be giving that order.”

Tra’e’ela stepped forward. Although this was entertaining, she could not let it spin out of control. “This changes nothing,” she said.

“Oh,” Ryan said, “I’m afraid it does.” She shifted, turning her head and cracking her neck loudly. “Petrus?”

Petrus glanced down at his watch. “You have about eight seconds, boss.”

“Thank you,” she said, “I thought it was getting a little warm in here.”

Susan took a large step back.

The heat began to emanate off Ryan’s body in waves that everyone could see. Ryan bent over, her entire body tensing, every muscle in stark relief, the veins on her arms coming to the surface in an attempt to dissipate the inferno rising in her. She slowly unfolded to her full height, neither weakness nor injury touching her any longer. She snapped out her right arm, setting the broken bone in place. She shifted her left shoulder in a violent movement, setting it back into position. Ligaments popped and cartilage crunched as joints re-aligned themselves, and her spine cracked as it adjusted into place. The cuts and bruises on her arms, neck, and face began to visibly heal. When Ryan opened her eyes, they were dark maroon.

Tra’e’ela looked at the girl in astonishment. Her power had just increased by orders of magnitude. Although she still was nowhere near Tra’e’ela’s own abilities, she was now the equal of many of the soldiers in the room. In their curious, violent lexicon, the girl had gone from “insignificant-opponent-of-no-concern” to “slightly-dangerous-opponent-who-might-succeed-by-luck.” It was not a particularly advanced category of adversary, but it made dealing with her far more complicated.

“Ryan?” Petrus said uncertainly, “do you know who I am?”

The girl turned with her slow, feral movement. She leaned down to sniff him, and Petrus was afraid for a moment that she was going to eat him.

“You are Petrus,” she said, then clarified, “not Petrussss.”

“Right,” Petrus said, still a little nervous. The fact that she remembered their earlier conversation and found it humorous was promising. “Do you recognize the Others?”

Ryan turned her attention to the Others, one by one. She assessed Marilyn, then Ala, then Kusunoki. The examination burned through all of them, a violent, sensual, possessive appraisal that might as well have left a physical mark.

“Mon Dieu,” Marilyn murmured.

Ryan then looked to Edward, then Victor, her eyes lingering on him, then to her son, her eyes lingering even longer. She looked at Jason, which then brought her attention around to Susan. It was almost as if she were rebuilding memories on the fly. Susan bore the burning assessment, quite certain a PET scan would reveal Ryan’s brain to be on fire.

The maroon eyes then shifted to Abigail, pausing for an interminable length of time. Her scrutiny of the matriarch was intense, perhaps matched only by the matriarch’s scrutiny of her. The creature smiled and turned back to Petrus.

“Yesss,” she said, “I know them.”

“Good,” Petrus said, “and do you know them?” he asked, indicating the three standing in front of them.

Ryan turned to the silver-haired man who had moved to a position of safety behind several soldiers. He, too, felt the spike in the girl’s power and although she was still no match for him, he was not taking any chances. The maroon-eyed creature gazed at him dismissively, and moved on.

Her eyes settled on the blonde woman, examining her from head to toe, and Tra’e’ela again marveled at the audacity of this little creature. The girl had transformed into a remarkable specimen, one with no inhibition and no fear, and one with quite a wicked sense of humor which was evident as her gaze lingered. Tra’e’ela actually felt herself respond to the girl’s malevolent playfulness and quickly shielded herself. This caused only a twitch of a smile on that perfect mouth, and then the girl moved on.

Her gaze settled on the scar-faced man, and all playfulness disappeared. The malevolence, however, fully remained. The look in those burning eyes was so searing it was a wonder the man did not burst into flames.

“Yes,” Ryan said, at last responding to Petrus’ inquiry. “I know them.”

The scar-faced man was incensed. As much as he wanted to, he could not turn his fury against the girl. To do so would mean the failure of their mission and the annihilation of his line. But he could certainly turn his rage against that traitorous little abomination.