Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne (24 page)

“I am sorry,” she stammered, feeling the need to explain, “it’s just that I have studied Ryan’s system so extensively, I can’t think of anything that would affect her that way.” Susan thought back to her research. “I couldn’t even get a needle beneath her skin.”

This statement triggered something else in Victor. He sorted through the Memories once more, a strange sensation akin to remembering something he himself had never personally experienced. “You’re right,” he said slowly, “Ryan was surprised both by the drug and the way it was administered. It seems to be some sort of material she has never seen before. Her restraints were made of the same material, and she could not budge them.”

“What does the place look like where she is being held?” Kusunoki asked.

“She has seen only her cell, which is solid rock,” Victor said, visualizing the room in which Ryan was being held. “She believes the surrounding structure is rock as well, but she has no idea how large it is.”

“What does she know of Madelyn?” Abigail asked, voicing the question all wanted answered but none wanted to ask.

Victor’s expression grew dark. “Madelyn is immeasurably powerful, so much so that Ryan believes the woman could kill her at any time. It is Ryan’s belief that Madelyn nearly did so when she fed upon her, and it was only Madelyn’s restraint that kept her alive.”

“Then Madelyn does want her alive,” Abigail noted.

“At least for now,” Victor said. “Ryan is uncertain how long that will continue.” As painful as it was for him, he relived Ryan’s Memories of Madelyn’s first attack. Those at the table lowered their eyes, the anguish reflected in his eyes too much to bear.

“Ryan feels no mental or physical bond with Madelyn when she takes her blood, nor is there any pleasure. There is only pain.” Victor grew puzzled. “There is also some sort of paralysis that accompanies the act.”

“Perhaps Madelyn transmits some type of neurotoxin with her bite.”

All eyes again turned toward the voice at the end of the table, and Susan inwardly cursed her newly-acquired Tourette’s syndrome. The conversation was, however, in her area of expertise.

“I have not studied your–” Susan stopped, correcting herself, “–our Kind exhaustively, and I’ve not seen it in anyone I’ve studied. But certain species like snakes and spiders are capable of transmitting a neurotoxin that paralyzes their prey.” She looked up at Victor. “It sounds almost like what you’re describing.”

Victor nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.” The train of thought brought something extremely significant into focus. “Ryan does not think Madelyn, nor any of her men, can read her thoughts.”

“What?” Ala asked, stunned. “Is she certain?”

Victor shook his head. “Not entirely. It could be a trick. But Ryan is fairly certain they are not adept at reading her mind. And it is why she was forbidden to communicate with us in that manner. Apparently Madelyn can sense the flow of communication, but cannot sense the content.”

“How can this be?” Ala asked, her disbelief evident. “How can they be so powerful yet lack such a fundamental skill?”

Victor was uncertain. “Well, not all of our Kind possess such a gift, but still…” His voice trailed off, and it was apparent he was dissatisfied with his own explanation. He again turned his attention to the far end of the table.

Susan was deep in thought, and suddenly realized everyone at the table was looking at her expectantly. Reluctantly, she gave voice to her musings.

“I once had a conversation with Ryan, describing her as a form of accelerated evolution. But evolution is not merely a forward progression of never-ending improvement. There is a reason why Darwin used the term ‘descent of man,’ not ascent, and it is often misunderstood.”

“Go on,” Victor said.

“Evolution,” Susan explained, “involves adaptations that are advantageous for a particular set of circumstances. If those circumstances change, then the adaptations may no longer be advantageous. It has very little to do with progress or advancement, but rather suitability.”

“So how does that fit in with Madelyn’s abilities or inabilities?” Victor asked.

Susan was reflective. “If Madelyn, as you are suggesting, is significantly older than any of you, and has lived separately under different conditions, she may have developed different skills.”

“Or perhaps she is so old that she has actually lost skills that are unnecessary to her,” Marilyn commented.

It was such a prescient comment and so out-of-character coming from Marilyn’s mouth it momentarily silenced everyone at the table. They simply stared at her.

“I do occasionally read a book or two,” Marilyn commented dryly.

As sober as the conversation was, Susan hid a smile. She mentally returned to her analogy, carefully searching for flaws. “Traits that are advantageous are generally passed along by reproduction and mutations may take millions of years to take hold. However, I watched Ryan’s body adapt to certain stresses in ways that I can only describe as mutagenic. And since your Kind, at least traditionally, creates offspring by Sharing blood, the entire process may be accelerated to,” Susan shook her head, “to almost real-time.”

“So what you are saying,” Victor said slowly, “is that Madelyn may have taken a different evolutionary path.”

Susan nodded, “Or merely may be further along the same path. It’s hard to say without knowing her background.”

“And I think that is what concerns me the most,” Victor said, “that I know nothing of her past. I find it impossible that none of us have ever heard of One this powerful.”

Everyone nodded agreement.

“Does Ryan know why she has been taken?” Abigail asked.

Victor again sorted through the confused maze of thoughts, perceptions, feelings, and sensations, none of which belonged to him. He saw through Ryan’s eyes, saw the disdain and condescension with which Madelyn treated her.

But Victor saw something else, something Ryan could not see. It was one of the unique features of perception through Memory. Although he saw the world through Ryan’s eyes, as if he were actually her, he also retained the ability to process the information with his own mind.

“Ryan believes Madelyn is just toying with her,” he said slowly, “keeping her alive until she is done playing with her.”

Abigail picked up on Victor’s hesitation. “But you do not believe that.”

“No,” Victor said, searching his thoughts for the subtle cues Ryan had missed, “I don’t believe that at all.” He pieced together the few images of Madelyn that troubled him, as well as the fleeting impressions of Ryan’s captors and Madelyn’s chief familiar. He carefully chose his words.

“Ryan is an infant to Madelyn, young, weak, and powerless.”

Those around the table had difficulty grasping the concept that Ryan could ever be considered in such a way. Victor seemed to fall into a dark reverie.

“So…?” Abigail finally prompted.

“So Madelyn cannot figure out why Ryan satisfies her.”

Victor glanced up, his certainty growing. “And although it is more of a guess than any impression from Ryan’s Memories, I believe it has been a very long time since anyone has satisfied Madelyn.”

CHAPTER 26

RYAN WAS ONCE MORE ON HER BACK, staring up at the rock ceiling. It was how she spent most of her time, the hours that she did not spend sleeping or in meditation. She had no real concept of the passage of time. There was no natural light and therefore no cues. It was difficult to even tell where the artificial light was coming from in her cell.

It was one of the pieces of information Ryan filed away. Although her prison cell appeared ancient, almost like the medieval castles of her childhood, its construction was far more modern and precise. Ryan examined the rock wall. It was meticulously smooth, with no signs of tool markings, almost as if it had been removed as a single whole from a mountainside. The wall to her right was different, constructed of large bricks made of the same rock material. But again, the bricks were unreasonably precise, meticulously sized and placed in an unusual geometric pattern.

Ryan stood upright and moved to the solid rock wall. She placed her hands on the smooth surface. Perhaps it had not been removed from the mountainside but was still a part of the mountain. That would mean she was in some sort of mountain range.

Ryan sighed and turned away. It could just as easily mean she was ten stories underground, and the rock cut from earth much like the chambers of the Grand Council. She sat back down on her slab. And the compound she was in could easily be older than a medieval castle because, although the construction was extremely advanced, it did not seem new.

The heavy door to her cell whispered open, another oddity of construction. By appearance it should have creaked open, pressed inward only with great effort. Instead, it opened smoothly by some silent mechanical means.

A young guard entered and Ryan eyed him with contempt. All of the guards were brutal and dismissive, but this one in particular grated on her. He was arrogant and cruel with a thinly-concealed streak of sadism. He looked at her in a way that suggested he would like to do many evil things to her if the opportunity ever arose.

She ignored him, if for no other reason than she knew it would irritate him. He seemed in a particularly foul mood today. He thoroughly examined Ryan’s cell, which never ceased to amuse her since she had no idea what they thought she could accomplish in her solid rock jail.

“Stand up,” he ordered harshly.

Apparently Ryan was a little too leisurely in her response, and he grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to her feet. He spun her around and began to roughly search her, his hands lingering in certain sensitive areas. Ryan glanced down. She found the display irritating but only mildly so because she possessed no shame regarding her body. One could not humiliate someone who refused to be humiliated.

The guard spun her around again so she was facing him, and as he did so, Ryan felt something bump her leg. As the guard continued his search, Ryan casually glanced down, trying to identify the object. When she did so, her heart leaped.

It was a sword.

Ryan surreptitiously examined the blade hanging from the guard’s side. The entire time she had been captive, she had not seen a single weapon in anyone’s possession, nor anything that could even be used as a weapon. But this man was wearing a wicked-looking blade that appeared to be made of the same material as the needle that had slipped so effortlessly beneath her skin. It was close to the color of steel, but with a bluish-gray cast to it, and shaped somewhat like a katana, but with a broader blade.

Desperately trying to contain her excitement, Ryan calmed herself and focused. In all of her skirmishes with the guards, the only ability she had that was somewhat equal was her speed. They were all much stronger than her, but her preternatural reflexes had caused much damage.

Ryan inspected the sword as the guard continued his rough search. It appeared to be contained in a somewhat untraditional sheath, but drawn in much the same way as the ones she was familiar with. She focused all of her concentration, visualizing her next act.

“You know,” the guard said, “when the mistress tires of you, she will give you to us.” He stood upright, and the leer on his face was there only for a fraction of a second.

“I don’t think so,” Ryan said.

The sword was in her hand, seemingly having materialized there through thought alone. She swung a slicing blow across his neck, decapitating him instantly. His head fell to the ground and rolled to the side, but his body still stood there as if not quite certain what had happened. Ryan felt all of her helplessness coalesce into rage, and she swung the sword again, this time slicing the torso lengthwise in two. It fell neatly into two halves.

Ryan stared at the sword in wonder. It was a magnificent blade, having cut through the man as if he were a statue made from butter. But the lethality of the weapon was a little disconcerting as well. Ryan knew that if it could kill the guard that easily, it could kill her as well. She had no doubt that such a sword could slice through her skin and bone effortlessly.

Ryan smiled grimly. That was a trade she was willing to make.

She turned at the commotion at the door. Two more guards rushed in, stunned at the sight that greeted them. Unfortunately for them, they were not armed. With two more swings of the deadly sword, they went down in a spray of blood.

Ryan stepped over the bodies and pushed through the door. She was in a long hallway with numerous doorways and corridors branching off to each side. The walls were of the same rock construction as her cell. Ryan felt powerful misgivings. If this hallway was any indication of the size of this place, it was enormous.