Blood Legacy Origin of Species (2 page)

No, his attention was now fully on the toddler with the two. The boy, or perhaps girl, it was difficult to tell, was simply stunning. Dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes, a perfect rosebud mouth, a light blush on his cheeks, the stranger could not take his eyes from him. It was not normally his nature to desire children, let alone one that appeared to be human, but at that moment he wanted the boy more than he could remember wanting anything in centuries. He fantasized about snatching the child, racing away, then bleeding and killing him at his leisure. The thought gave him such pleasure he unconsciously stepped toward them, nearly giving away his position by moving into the light. He hurriedly stepped back into the lengthening shadows.

Susan Ryerson felt a finger of unease trace its way down her spine. She looked over at her son Jason, then at Drake, who continued to play although he did glance up at her. Susan looked over at the long, black limousine parked some distance away. She had not realized how far into the playground they had moved, and how far that put her from Edward. As if he, too sensed something, the door of the vehicle opened and Edward appeared, his patrician features exhibiting a look of concern as he stared out over the top of the car at them. He glanced around, not entirely disturbed, but clearly intent on joining them.

The stranger felt the other one’s presence immediately. The man approaching appeared physically older although the stranger knew him to be far older than his appearance. This one was closer to his own age and perhaps a match for him, unlike the red-haired one whom he could have easily subdued. The power of this one caused him indecision, and it was perhaps this indecision that saved his life as he was lifted bodily from his hiding place and thrown thirty feet across the playground into the merry-go-round.

Susan smothered a cry and gathered the boys to her. Edward seemed to disappear and reappear at her side. Jason looked on with wide eyes, both fearful and excited while Drake peered at the scene with interest.

The stranger caromed off the merry-go-round and landed face down in the dirt, but he had no chance to even roll over before he was snatched by the scruff of his neck like a dog and dangled several inches off the ground. He stared in terror into a pair of ice blue eyes that held absolutely no mercy. The power of the one holding him was tremendous, beyond anything he had felt before. And like the indecision that had previously delayed his movement and saved his life, the huge differential in ability between the two had the same redemptive effect. The creature holding him was so powerful, the stranger realized he was not worthy of the minor effort it would take to kill him.

Aeron saw that he had made his point and in a parental act of restraint that was completely out of character for him, decided he would not kill the cretin in front of his son. He glanced over at the toddler who was watching the exchange with mild interest and no fear, the look on his face so evocative of his other parent it was startling.

That thought brought a grim smile to Aeron’s features as he turned back to the would-be attacker he now held by the throat. He tightened his grip until a crunching noise was clearly audible, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“You should be thankful his mother isn’t here.”

With that phrase, he tossed the man aside. The stranger bounced twice, landed in an awkward and embarrassing position, then wasted no time scrambling clumsily into the underbrush, disappearing with remarkable haste. Aeron wiped his hands on his pants, then turned to approach the trio that was now a foursome with the protective presence of Edward.

Edward nodded to Aeron. He was not particularly fond of the arrogant English aristocrat, but Aeron was unrelenting when it came to his son, and they had that in common. Aeron lifted the boy into his arms, staring into eyes that were a warmer, deeper blue than his own, eyes that peered out of features that were nearly identical to his mother’s. Aeron turned to Susan.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to accompany you home.”

Susan nodded, blushing slightly. It was difficult being around any of her Kind, but Aeron was one of the Old Ones, possessing a combination of virility and power that was overwhelming. And although she was one of the few Young Ones who would ever be around such power on a continual basis, that continuity did nothing to desensitize her to its presence.

Edward nodded his acquiescence to the accompaniment, and the five took their leave of the playground.

CHAPTER 3

VICTOR SAT WATCHING HIS SLEEPING CHILD in the bed. It reminded him of a much earlier time in her life, when he had first Changed her, causing her to transition from her semi-human form into the immortal creature she was now. She did not look a day older than she did nearly seven hundred years ago, and she had looked barely nineteen then. He wondered if this sleep would be as long as that one and he sincerely hoped not. Ryan had slept almost fourteen years while adapting to her Change.

Victor leaned back. Ryan had slept so long because her Change had been particularly traumatic. Their Kind inhabited a unique, hierarchical society in which power was acquired in three ways. Strength was inherited from the one initiating the transformation; the stronger the mentor, the more powerful the offspring. Sharing blood also transmitted power. And finally power was acquired through simple age; the longer they lived, the more powerful they became.

None of those methods were truly simple, however. The very oldest of their Kind could not initiate Change because their blood was too powerful and the youngest could not because their blood was too weak. Only those occupying the middle ground were capable of “reproduction.” The pleasure of Sharing intensified with power, therefore logically it would seem that the most powerful would desire to share only with others of equal power. This, too, was upended by the fact that killing another in the act of Sharing was the ultimate pleasure, and it was, at least in theory, impossible for the Old Ones to kill one another. Many Young Ones were sacrificed in the name of desire and went to their fate willingly because the pleasure was irresistible, which considerably limited the number who would actually live beyond even a normal human lifespan.

Which was why, Victor mused to himself, his child was so extraordinary. He had Changed her when he should have been far too old to initiate Change; his blood should have destroyed her. If it had not destroyed her during her transition, it should have killed her when they Shared while she was still so young, but instead it just made her more powerful. And although her seven hundred years would have put her high in their hierarchy, instead, she sat atop it because Ryan had surpassed those twice her age. She was arguably the most powerful of their Kind, indeed, even more powerful than him.

This thought gave Victor nothing but pleasure. It was partially explained by the fact that Ryan was also his biological child, something that had been considered impossible because none of their Kind were capable of reproducing outside of the Change. He had hidden the fact that he was Ryan’s father from both Ryan and the Others for most of Ryan’s life, and none, not even he, had an explanation for such an anomaly.

Until quite recently, Victor thought, his expression darkening. Ryan had also given birth to a child, his beautiful grandson, but it was not this thought that darkened his countenance or explained the anomaly. Rather it was the series of events that had left his child in this deep but fitful sleep. He himself had been in a similar sleep, his brought about by Aeron, the father of his grandson. But Ryan had easily dealt with Aeron in Victor’s absence, then assumed the leadership of the hierarchy as had been his wish. At the very height of her achievement, however, she was taken from them by a mysterious and terrifying creature named Madelyn.

Victor’s expression went from dark to black. The more powerful of their Kind could see the Memories of those with whom they Shared, and when Victor awoke from his illness, he immediately availed himself of the gift to quickly catch up with events. He had seen Ryan’s sacrifice, saw her led away as a sheep to slaughter, her acquiescence an attempt to distract Madelyn from destroying them all.

And the plan had worked for a while. Ryan’s dalliance with the creature bought them time, although Ryan paid a terrible price. It was in fact her pain that brought Victor from his unconscious state, his bond with his child so great he could feel it over a vast distance. And he in turn had rallied all their Kind to battle Madelyn and her forces in an attempt to free Ryan.

Victor’s expression changed, his anger transitioning to puzzlement. And this is where it had all gotten very strange. At the end of their battle, it was clear they were gaining the upper hand against Madelyn’s forces, but that Madelyn herself could not be defeated. Ryan had again determined to sacrifice herself in an attempt to defeat Madelyn, an attempt that appeared doomed to failure as Madelyn overpowered her and Ryan hovered on the edge of death.

But then something had happened. Someone, or perhaps something, had intervened. No one was privy to what had actually transpired other than Ryan. All had felt Ryan’s imminent death, then felt something so enormous, so powerful it was impossible to grasp. Ryan then simply disappeared, her presence just absent as if she had vaporized.

Victor stared at his child, examining the hair that was now almost white. Ryan had reappeared a short time later and it was clear something monumental had occurred. But she had merely made a cryptic comment about his mother, told Aeron it was good they had not had a girl, gathered her son to her breast, then went to sleep.

And had remained asleep for three solid weeks now. It seemed that for years now either he or Ryan had been in this position, one incapacitated, the other holding a constant vigil.

Victor was normally incredibly patient. Having lived for well over a millennium, time meant little to him. But the comment about his mother had filled him with a strange sense of dread. Victor had no memory of the woman, nor any knowledge of her existence. Earlier in his life he had assumed she had been human, a noble woman perhaps, but someone whom he had never met. He thought it possible he had been abandoned at birth and simply had no memories of his childhood. As the years went by, these ruminations diminished in importance and frequency until they no longer occupied his thoughts at all.

That is until he conceived Ryan. The improbability of her birth caused him to again ponder his own origins, although the birth brought more questions than answers. Ryan’s unique abilities and ascendance amongst their Kind, as well as her ability to reproduce outside the Change had caused a subtle disquiet in Victor, one he had hidden well over the years.

But now it seemed Ryan might have discovered clues to his origins, in fact, to all of their origins. He had sensed both her epiphany and the shock it had caused her system when she returned.

Victor sighed deeply. And now she slept blithely on, for perhaps weeks, or months, or even years.

The girl was drowning in an ocean of blood. It flowed into her mouth, down her throat, into her lungs and stomach. It flowed into her eyes, her ears, into her nose where the stream joined with the one flowing down her esophagus and windpipe. Strangely, although the sensation was claustrophobic, it was not unpleasant.

There were creatures here, depraved, deformed, mutilated and mutated. They somehow knew her, and with the comfortable discontinuity of the dream world, she accepted their knowledge of her as a given. It was that same illogic that made her accept without question that she knew them as well, and always had, even though she had never seen them or known of them before this moment.

The landscape shifted violently, but with the insouciance of the dreamer, the girl accepted the shift again without question or even surprise. The world was now a mass of writhing tentacles, a snarled collection of limbs lashing about with sensual and maleficent energy. She began to walk across the teeming, shifting mass, but only managed a few steps before the appendages snaked up her legs, around her torso, about her arms, lifting her from her feet gently but firmly. She was pulled down into the squirming mass, and the sensation was exactly as before: smothering but somehow not unpleasant.

As she disappeared beneath the surface, she could hear the gentle malevolent laughter of an ancient and arachnid creature. All previous contact with this creature had filled her with dread and terror, but now she was filled with an odd mixture of melancholy, longing, and resignation.

She had sensed the creature before, but it was only now she understood that it was her grandmother, knowing that the matriarch would only wait so long before she forced the girl’s return.

The visions slipped away, becoming more and more ephemeral as the light beneath her eyelids became more pronounced. The final wisps drifted away as the girl opened her eyes. Although the room was dim, the minimal light seemed very bright and required a slow adjustment, causing the girl to blink, which caused her the same dream-like incongruity of a thought that blinking was not something she did very often.

She looked around the room and recognized nothing. Although she somehow knew of the subtle amnesia that accompanied the transition from dream world to real world, this seemed oddly persistent. There didn’t seem to be anything in the room to anchor her and although she was waiting for a sense of “self” to materialize, nothing was forming. There were books to her right on a bookshelf, and although she knew they were “books” in a generic sense, that understanding had no more foundation than the understanding of the mutilated creatures in her dreams. It just seemed right and natural without any underlying basis that she could grasp. And although she knew they were books, she recognized none of them.