Blood Legacy Origin of Species (18 page)

“So you don’t think these phases are part of a second Change?” Ryan asked.

“No,” Susan said, her conviction growing, “I think they’re your mind’s attempt to fight it off.”

Several hours later, Ryan sat alone in her chambers before the dying fire. Susan had taken Drake and put him to bed with Jason. Victor went to make arrangements for the upcoming council meeting. Abigail, Aeron, and Marilyn would be arriving soon.

Because her thoughts were still full of Susan’s recent conversation, she was not surprised to see the creature Petrus reappear.

“So it’s true,” Ryan said, “you are officially my imaginary friend.”

Petrus cocked his head to one side, surprised at the phrase. “You would consider me a friend?” he wheezed.

“Sure, why not,” Ryan said, “you haven’t tried to kill me or hurt anyone I love. I mean, look at Aeron. He did both those things and I had sex with him.”

“So do you want to have sex with me?” the creature said slyly, a bit of drool hanging from his mouth.

Ryan turned a dispassionate gaze on him and to his enormous surprise, there was no disgust or loathing at the question. “Do you think we would be genetically compatible?” she asked doubtfully, “I seem to have a very narrow range of reproductive options, at least on this planet.”

The creature stood there, mouth agape at the casual, matter-of-fact response. He sought any sort of come-back, then settled for a snorted reply accompanied by a black look.

“You are an odd creature, Ryan Alexander.”

“Then I seem to be in good company,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

Petrus moved closer and plopped down in the chair across from her. He seemed to have a filmy, sebaceous substance on his skin that should have stained the fabric but appeared to be doing no such thing. Ryan examined the phenomenon. “I still am not certain of the significance of your current form, if you are in fact a figment of my imagination.”

“You mean why am I so goddamned ugly?”

“You seem to have some issues with that, maybe we should discuss them.”

Petrus leaned forward. “You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t have any problem looking like me, or if you had a son that looked like me instead of that perfect little replica of you.”

“No,” Ryan said honestly, “I can’t say that. I, like everyone else, am a product of my genes, my environment, my experiences, my culture. I think I’m perhaps a bit more flexible than most because I’ve seen and experienced so much, including things that never actually happened to me. But now that I’m considering the possibility of growing tentacles or claws, or some appendage that does god-knows-what, I begin to understand the relativity of it all.”

“Oh, so now you’ve obtained perfect enlightenment,” Petrus said caustically.

“Not even close,” Ryan admitted, “but I do wonder if I’d been born a member of this other species, would I be proud of my tentacles? Would I look forward to growing a claw? Would I be boasting that my claw is bigger than your claw?”

Ryan sighed. “That still doesn’t explain why I’ve chosen you in this form as opposed to a ‘perfect little replica’ of me.”

“Why do you think?” Petrus asked, leaning forward expectantly. Evidently her imaginary friend was greatly interested in this topic.

Ryan gazed at him, the sagging skin, the rows of uneven teeth that poked through the slit-like mouth, the reddened, knobby protrusions that erupted upward on his skin like permanent boils.

“I think it has something to do with what happened here when my father was born.”

“Ah,” Petrus said, settling in. “So grandma did do a number on you.”

Ryan would not rise to his baiting. “I’m not certain what bothers me. I’ve killed a lot of people in my life, probably tens of thousands. I’ve killed for a multitude of reasons. I’ve killed in war, I’ve killed in peace. I’ve killed humans and thousands of my own Kind. I even attempted to kill my own father.”

“And eat him,” Petrus reminded her.

“Yes, and eat him,” Ryan agreed. “So I have very few moral qualms about killing.”

“But—?” Petrus prompted.

“I keep thinking,” Ryan said, her gaze distant, “about the humans that were experimented upon by Ravlen’s kind. The ones they attempted reproduction with, the ones they genetically modified and mutated, the ones they tortured and killed trying to find companions for my father.”

“The abominations,” Petrus finished for her.

“Well,” Ryan said, her gaze still in a far off place, reliving memories that pre-dated her birth by 700 years. “I don’t know if I would call them that. And it wasn’t their appearance that gives me such pause,” she said, searching for the words to describe what she was feeling, “it was their suffering.”

“And where did you get that insight from? Whose memories are those?” Petrus said bitterly, “Was that from Madelyn’s blood or Grandma’s?”

Ryan clenched her fists, controlling the flare of anger. She did not want more camera footage of her, this time tackling an empty chair.

“You look like them, you know, the ones who didn’t make it.” Ryan said simply.

“I hate you, Ryan Alexander,” the creature said, coughing on a secretion.

The comment should have wounded her, or angered her, or engendered any sort of emotion at all. But she was beginning to understand what was happening to her mind as it attempted to adapt to the unspeakable.

“I know,” she said without judgment, and the creature disappeared.

CHAPTER 13

THE MEMBERS OF THE GRAND COUNCIL sat in the great hall waiting for their leader. Abigail was seated in the middle with Ala and Kusunoki on one side and Marilyn and Aeron on the other. They did not wait very long as Ryan strode into the room, followed by Victor and Edward. Ryan appeared quite normal and was in a relatively good mood.

Both Abigail and Ala reached out to mentally touch the girl, and both received the same impression. Ryan’s mood was genuine, a combination of pleasure and relief to be returning command of the hierarchy to Victor. But there was also a mild underlying sense of melancholy. Ryan began without hesitation.

“When I assumed command of the hierarchy, it was my right to dissolve the Grand Council and it was my choice to request its continuation, a request that was graciously granted by the members before me.”

“I stand before you today with another request. That you accept my resignation from the position and return the crown to its rightful possessor, Victor Alexander.”

“And your reason for this request?” Abigail asked out of formality. There were very few acceptable reasons for the transfer.

“My health has made me currently unsuitable for the position and I do not feel I can effectively serve.”

Abigail nodded. It was one of the acceptable reasons. “And are there any challenges to this transfer of power?” she asked rhetorically.

Ryan cast a glance in Aeron’s direction, as did Victor and Edward. He seemed amused by the attention.

“Not at this time,” he replied.

“Are there any objections to this transfer of power?” Abigail asked. She glanced down the table.

“I approve,” Ala said.

“As do I,” Kusunoki said.

“And I,” Marilyn added.

There was a slight pause as Aeron cleared his throat, apparently having some difficult getting the words out. “I agree as well,” he said stiffly.

Abigail turned her attention back to Ryan. “As do I,” she said. “Then it is decided by unanimous decree that Victor Alexander assume the throne once more.”

This was a far different scene than the triumphant coronation in which Ryan had assumed the throne, but no one wished for that type of pomp under the current circumstances, least of all Victor.

“And now there is the matter of naming your Second, Victor,” Abigail said, moving to the final piece of business.

Victor turned to Ryan but as he knew she would, she shook her head. “I’m not fit to serve in that capacity, either.”

They had already discussed this at length and Victor knew she would not yield. He turned back to the Council. “I ask Kusunoki Masahige to act as my Second.”

Kusunoki stood and bowed low. “I accept this great honor with respect and humility,” he said, pausing, “but only on an interim basis.” His gaze was on Ryan. “Once the crown prince is fit again, I expect her to assume her place as Second.”

Ryan bowed. “I will do as you wish.” She then turned to Victor, bowing again. “My king.”

Victor smiled and brushed her hair from her eyes. “My prince.”

And for the briefest of moments, everything was as it should be.

Ryan was back in her chambers, locked in by choice although she felt perfectly fine at the moment. Susan was still searching for a pattern in the occurrence of the phases, recording their onset and termination as precisely as possible, but they still seemed frustratingly random.

That did not appear to deter certain individuals, however, and the locks on her door were designed to keep her in, not others out.

“You are awfully brave at the moment,” Ryan said over her shoulder.

Aeron moved into her line of sight. “And you seem almost normal. And in a far better mood than I’ve seen you in a while.”

“That’s funny coming from you who are known for your sunny disposition.”

Ryan reached for the glass of wine at her elbow and took a drink. Aeron watched the graceful movement, noting the unintended sensuality that permeated every gesture this girl made. “Would you like a drink?” Ryan asked.

“What are you offering?”

Ryan smiled. “You are brave tonight,” she commented, “I’m not certain of the wisdom of Sharing with me right now.”

“Marilyn did not seem to have any ill effects,” Aeron replied, a trace of jealousy in his voice.

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” Ryan said, “as I have no memory of that encounter.” She handed him a glass of wine.

Something caught Aeron’s eye. He placed the wine on the table and went to a nearby shelf, returning with a chess set.

“Would you like to play?” he asked.

“I don’t know, our last game took over four hundred years and ended quite badly, if I remember.”

Aeron set the board down and began arranging the pieces. “I thought it ended quite well, with the two of us in bed.”

Ryan began setting up her own pieces. “You have a selective memory. That was several moves before it ended. The game was actually over when I put you in checkmate and then blew up my island.”

“Ah yes,” Aeron said in his clipped, aristocratic accent, “it’s all coming back to me now.”

Ryan could not help but smile. In terms of dysfunctional family dynamics, she had to be in some class all her own. The game board was prepared.

“We normally have some sort of wager at this point,” Aeron said.

Ryan allowed her eyes to drift down his perfect male form.

“And what exactly is it that you want?”

“We could try for a girl this time,” Aeron said.

“You,” Ryan said pointedly, “have no concept of what a bad idea that is. Besides, I have a feeling that I’m rarely capable of reproduction. Susan’s friend, that ‘Courtney’ character, likened it to something called ‘Pon Far,’ but I have no idea what that is. My general understanding is that it means mating happens only once in a great while.”

Aeron stared at the artery visible in her throat. “There are other things we could do that are just as enjoyable.”

“You have never been one for subtlety,” Ryan said, moving the Queen’s pawn forward, “speak your terms.”

Aeron moved his pawn to counter the classic opening. “I want your blood, of course. And what is it you want if you win?”

Ryan stopped, suddenly deadly serious. “I want you to take care of Drake. If something happens to me, regardless of how you feel about Victor or the Others, I want you to protect our son.”

Aeron also stopped, perhaps even more serious than her. “You ask in wager for something you already possess.”

Ryan assessed him at length, then returned her attention to the board. “So do you,” she said, smiling. She moved her bishop into an attack position.

Aeron stared at the girl in front of him for a long moment. Although he had known her and probably been in love with her for centuries, she never ceased to surprise him. He moved his piece to defend against the “Queen’s Gambit.”

“This is probably unwise.”

Victor analyzed Abigail’s statement. “If Ryan wishes to dally with Aeron, I will not interfere.”

“You mean you have no qualms sacrificing him should she lose control.”

“No,” Victor said, “that is not what I mean although it is a true statement. If Aeron wishes to play with fire and burns himself, I cannot prevent that. But even if Ryan transitions to her most vulnerable state, where she has no memory of who she is, she is still more powerful than him.”

Abigail was mildly surprised at the response. Victor was normally adamantly opposed to any contact between Aeron and Ryan.

“This is about Drake,” she said.