Blood Legacy Origin of Species (22 page)

Then Abigail began to see what she had only glimpsed from Susan, subtleties that Ryan herself seemed unaware of. How Madelyn, while expressing disdain for Ryan, continued to take her blood again and again. How her orientation to the girl changed from one of contempt, to grudging respect, to outright desire and possession. How Madelyn had taken her into her inner chambers, then into the inner sanctum as well. And how their relationship changed completely when Ryan began to grow resistant to the neurotoxin and Madelyn seduced her rather than forced her.

Abigail sat back for a moment, digesting this particular angle. The fact that the girl had gone from a tortured, helpless prisoner to one who was in a semi-consensual relationship of near-equals was stunning. Ryan again twitched beneath her hand, and she firmed her grasp, returning to the task at hand.

Abigail next saw events she was familiar with. The arrival of Victor and the forces he had assembled to free Ryan. She watched Ryan’s incredible speed in combat as she seemed to shift into a higher plane to defeat her enemies. And she saw Ryan’s ultimate resignation to her fate as she sensed Madelyn’s awakening.

Abigail leaned forward, holding the girl tightly. This is what she truly wished to see. The girl had confronted Madelyn and taken her blood, nearly destroying herself in the process but giving Madelyn intense pleasure. It was a tactic that almost would have worked had Ryan not revealed in Sharing what she herself was unaware of. Madelyn recognized how dangerous Ryan was, and more importantly, how dangerous she would become, and determined to destroy her.

Ryan moaned aloud and tried to twist away, but Abigail’s iron embrace would not yield. This is where it got truly interesting. As Madelyn moved to kill Ryan, injecting her with a poison that Ryan’s body could not adapt to, something came for Ryan. It was something she had sensed for years, something she had dreaded and feared, something she had entirely misunderstood.

“I want to see her,” Abigail whispered, “show me.”

And Abigail saw her, the creature who came through a rip in the space-time continuum, the slayer of millions, the undisputed ruler of an empire stretching across the cosmos, the unchallenged Queen of an extraterrestrial killing machine. She was beautiful in a chilling, alien, reptilian way, and her power was unimaginable, dwarfing everything around it.

This was Ryan’s grandmother.

Abigail sat back, sated, holding the unconscious girl in her arms. There was more, but it was disjointed, the mass of history that Ravlen had passed on to Ryan about her species, then about the origins of their Kind on earth. This did not interest Abigail.

Rather she was transfixed by the great love and intense fascination that this near-omnipotent alien creature held for Ryan. Even more so was the girl’s reaction to the alien Queen, one of unrestrained passion, obsession and longing, a desire so intense she was willing to sacrifice everything.

Abigail relaxed in the chair, stroking Ryan’s hair. She was far less moved by the vivid and violent account than one would have expected. There was no fear evident, no worry or trepidation, no anger, no real emotional arousal at all. If anything, there was only an overwhelming air of pleasure and satisfaction.

The creature was bending over her, his snout-like nose inches from her face.

“Can I help you?” Ryan asked mildly.

“You sure sleep a lot,” Petrus said.

Ryan sat upward, passing right through the twisted torso. “That is not the first time I’ve heard that criticism.” She waved her hands through him several times, trying to dissipate him as if he were a wisp of smoke.

“You trying to feel me up or what?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, rubbing her temples, “that is exactly what I was trying to do.”

She shifted so at least they were not occupying the same physical space, and he sat down next to her.

“I was actually beginning to miss you,” Ryan said, “I thought perhaps I had solved all my emotional issues and you had disappeared.”

Petrus slapped his knee and chortled. “Ah, we’re just getting started, girly. Seems like you just got a lot more to chew on.”

“And what would you be referring to?” Ryan asked. She put her fingers to the bruise on one side of her neck where she had Shared with Aeron, then the other side where Abigail had taken her fill. Aeron’s bruise was nearly healed whereas Abigail’s more recent damage was still tender. She turned her wrists, noting several additional bruises. As weak as she had been, Abigail had held her tight.

“You’re kind of a trollop,” Petrus said admiringly.

Ryan burst out laughing. “Yes, it’s all fun and games with me.”

Her eyes darkened as she thought about this statement, and Petrus grew cunning.

“So let’s talk about your boyfriend.”

“I would hardly consider Aeron my boyfriend,” she replied.

“Well, he is the only person you’ve actually boned on this planet. I mean, there’s been a lot of metaphorical sex, in fact, you’ve pretty much metaphorically screwed everything that’s moved.”

Ryan gazed at him. “Must you be so crude?”

Petrus shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

Ryan stood, restless. “You’re just jealous.”

“Damned right,” Petrus muttered, “but stop changing the subject.”

“So what about Aeron?” Ryan asked impatiently.

Petrus’ expression grew crafty. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Ryan said stubbornly.

Petrus’ eyes fairly glittered in the dim light. “You can’t play games with me, girly. I live in your head, remember? I know what’s going on up there.”

Ryan decided to test the creature, still not entirely sure he was what he claimed. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What exactly would I tell him?”

The creature was not fooled. “Oh, I don’t know. Tell him about his origins. Tell him how you are responsible for his suffering as a child, the death of his family. Tell him that his captivity and painful transition was on account of you. Tell him about the abominations that were created in your name, tell him how everything that happened to him and to all your Kind was just a step-by-step process to create you.”

“It was not my fault!” Ryan said sharply, stopping the vitriolic tirade. The words echoed in the quiet chamber as the creature smiled a triumphant, bitter caricature of a smile. Ryan was becoming more convinced he truly was a figment of her imagination because their conversation so perfectly mirrored the chaos in her mind. She steadied herself.

“The end result of this ‘horrible’ fate I have inflicted upon him is unimaginable power and immortality, not to mention pleasure that few can even comprehend. And the first time I met Aeron, he was leaning over a table eating one of our Kind,” Ryan said, “So despite the fact that Drake’s birth has tempered him, he is a cold-blooded killer, vicious and unmerciful. I’m not certain this story would even matter to him.”

“Oh,” Petrus said, disappointed, “you’re going to get all logical on me now.”

Ryan felt a sense of relief, as if she had reached some sort of mental detente with herself. Her relief was short-lived.

“So let’s talk about mommy.”

Ryan turned, disdain in her voice. “If we were truly of one mind, you would know that my mother died giving birth to me.”

“Or,” Petrus replied, his tone even more disdainful, “I would know that you experienced all the wonderful things your father did to Elena before she died. I would know you got to feel all of her pain and hopelessness in vivid detail because her blood flows through your veins.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched spasmodically and she had to control herself from charging him, knowing she would simply wind up crashing into the wall again.

“It is a wonder the number of crimes that have been committed in your name,” he said slowly.

Ryan stopped. His words were brutal and true.

“That’s why you’re here,” Ryan said, “isn’t it?”

The creature cocked his head to one side warily.

“That’s why I created you and why you look like this.”

“Like what?” Petrus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Like them,” Ryan said, “like the Others who didn’t make it.”

“What do you mean ‘the Others,’” the creature spat, his voice rising to a squeal of fury, “those fucking abominations weren’t your Kind.”

Ryan looked at him strangely. “Of course they were. What a stupid thing to say.”

The creature was apoplectic. “You have killed thousands of your own Kind! Are you telling me now you’re all soft on those monstrosities that didn’t make it?”

Ryan tried to reconcile the contradiction and found that she could not. Their Kind had instinctively mimicked the species that created them, choosing the strong and the beautiful, culling the weak and defective. Allowing an extreme form of natural selection to take place in the Change itself, its physical and mental demands so intense it generally resulted in death. The cleansing was another instinctive culling, removal of the weakest among them.

“I’m just like her,” she said at last, “aren’t I.”

The creature was silent, but his judgment was complete.

Ryan thought back to the Purge she had conducted, how she had hunted down and slaughtered those deemed unworthy to survive. Even now she could not generate guilt or compassion for the dead.

“So I probably would have killed most of them, too,” Ryan admitted.

“What do mean ‘most’ of them?”

“There were a few I probably would have let live.”

“Oh, really now,” Petrus said in disbelief, his tone acidic, “and just why would you be so merciful?”

“It has nothing to do with mercy,” Ryan said, thinking back through her recent visions, “like the one in the cage with Aeron. There was nothing wrong with him.”

“Nothing wrong with him!” Petrus sputtered, spittle flying from his lips, “he had a fucking ear in the middle of his forehead!”

“You really are inside my head,” Ryan said with wonderment. She shook her head to clear it. “That ear was a little distracting, but it wasn’t worth killing him over.”

Petrus appeared to be choking on something. “Distracting? He was an atrocity, an abortion, a freak!”

Ryan herself was growing angry. “And he was smart, and brave, and loyal and strong. And I, who at times have been tasked as the gatekeeper of my Kind, have killed the venal, the petty, the cowardly, and the terminally stupid. But I would not have killed him.”

It was difficult to tell if Petrus’ mouth was agape because it did not close properly, but he stared hard at Ryan for a very long time. Finally his jaw snapped almost shut.

“So let’s talk about mommy.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” Ryan said tiredly, sprawling into a chair.

“I’m not talking about Elena,” Petrus said, his crafty expression returning. His rheumy eyes flicked to the more prominent of the two bruises on her neck.

“Ah,” Ryan said, “you are referring to Abigail.”

“Yes,” Petrus replied, “most people only have an oedipal conflict with one of their parents, but you seem to have it with both. In fact,” he mused, “you seem to be having it with more than one generation.”

“What does that mean?” Ryan asked, thinking he was referring to Drake.

“Well now you’ve got grandma in the picture as well.”

Ryan tightened up. She wished he had been talking about Drake.

“Yeah,” Petrus continued conversationally, “that’s a big-ass cultural chasm before you; it might even swallow you whole.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Well,” Petrus said, “got be careful with those ‘alien’ relationships. It might be more than just metaphorical sex.”

“You’re a pig,” Ryan said bluntly.

Petrus drew back, offended. “Is that a slur on my nose?’

Ryan glanced darkly at the proboscis. “No, although I wish I had been that clever.”

BLOOD LEGACY

CHAPTER 15

ACCORDING TO EDWARD, Ryan had spent an uneventful period of about twelve hours where she had wandered about the lower levels exploring with great wonderment the things that had been familiar to her for hundreds of years. She presumed that this had been a period of amnesia, since she had no recollection of it. Edward also recorded an approximate two hour period in which she had taken on the violent persona. Edward, through remote control, was able to quickly isolate her to a single rock-walled room, and without stimulus or outlet for the savagery, she had simply sat in the center of the room and nearly burned a hole in the ground with the heat emanating from her body. After that, she had rolled over and gone to sleep.

Ryan sighed. Between the periods of amnesia, savagery, and weakness, plus the conversations with “Petrus,” she felt as if she were completely losing her mind. She was actually looking forward to Marilyn’s arrival so when the raven-haired one did not show up as arranged, Ryan was greatly disappointed. She assumed that something important had come up, but it was unlike Marilyn not to send word. After a few days without contact, even Victor was growing concerned.

“It seems that Marilyn has disappeared.”