Blood Legacy Origin of Species (24 page)

So she sat in the tree top as hours went by, extending her senses throughout the jungle to assess the unknown. She felt nothing and was disappointed. She began to fear she would transition into one of her phases, either forgetting who and what she was in the top of the tree, or grow weak and cling to the trunk, possibly falling hundreds of feet to the ground below. Or worse, she could transition into the savage who would then probably start eating everything it could find in the jungle.

Instead, she just sat as patiently as she could in the top of the tree.

Kokumuo moved stealthily through the foliage. He could sense something but it was ephemeral, something he could not grasp or identify. He had experienced the same sensation when his queen had disappeared. Something not quite right.

He stopped, his nostrils flaring and the muscles rippling across his chest beneath his ebony skin. He froze, extending his senses in all directions, desperately trying to diagnose the disturbance. He steeled himself, knowing that except Ala, there was no one more powerful than him on this continent.

Which is why he was quite surprised when he was snatched and hauled upward over thirty feet before he even realized what was happening. He was gripped tightly with a hand over his mouth. He stared into the eyes of Ryan Alexander as she balanced the two of them effortlessly on a slender branch.

“Shh,” she said quietly, removing her hand from his mouth and releasing him.

“You came,” he whispered in disbelief and gratitude.

“Of course I did,” Ryan said, “I would do anything for Ala. Although,” she confessed, “I’m not at my best right now.”

Kokumuo nodded. “Yes, Kusunoki called. He said that if your eyes turn maroon…”

They looked at one another and finished the sentence together.

“Run.”

Ryan nodded. “Yes, that’s good advice. I would run from myself if I could. Or so I’ve heard. Anyway, tell me what’s happened.”

Kokumuo shifted his position in the tree, resting on his haunches. “Ala went for a walk in the jungle as she always does, to commune with the spirits of nature and her ancestors.”

He paused, thinking back to the incident. “Then she was just gone. There was no warning, no signs, no indication that she was even in trouble. Just one moment she was there, and the next minute she was gone.”

“Did you trace back to her last location?”

Kokumuo’s expression told her what she did not want to hear. “Yes, and there were signs of a struggle. Although we sensed nothing, it does not seem that she went quietly.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ryan said, thinking of the warrior queen. “But I have no idea what could take her, or, in fact, Marilyn as well.”

Ryan again extended her senses and was again frustrated that she felt nothing. But somehow she knew instinctively what their path should be.

“You need to take all of your kin into the mountain,” Ryan said, “and I’ll stay here until I figure out what’s going on.”

Kokumuo started to object but she placed her hand on his chest, silencing him.

“You would be a good ally, but in Ala’s absence, you need to protect your tribe. And if they’re still vulnerable, then I’ll be vulnerable because I’ll have to act to protect them.”

Kokumuo nodded his understanding. As much as he wished to stay by her side and fight whatever unknown adversary awaited them, he understood her logic.

Ryan stared out into the jungle. “If all that I love is protected,” she said, “then I can act without restraint.”

She turned back to him. “Now go, and I’ll find your queen.”

Ryan crouched on the lowest branch of the tree. She had been in exactly this position for almost thirty-six hours, an estimate of time based purely on the changing light filtering through the trees.

“You look like a gargoyle.”

Ryan turned her gaze to the creature on the branch next to her. “You’re one to talk.”

“And what does that mean?” Petrus demanded with indignation.

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, glancing at his posture which perfectly mimicked hers, “you tell me.”

“Oh,” Petrus said. He plopped on to the branch, his legs dangling from the limb, his relaxed posture now in stark contrast to her alertness. “So how long are you going to stand here?”

“As long as it takes,” Ryan responded, turning back to her assessment of the jungle. Her senses strained to pick up anything.

“Good thing you’re immortal,” Petrus said, picking a leaf from a branch, “we could be here for the next hundred years.”

“No,” Ryan said, “I’m quite sure I don’t have that long.”

“Ah,” Petrus said, “that’s right. Grandma’s got you on a short leash.”

Ryan was primed for a retort but it died on her lips. She turned to the west, extending her senses to their maximum. She focused, stunned at what she was feeling. This was not possible. Petrus jerked his head to the west as well and the movement caught Ryan’s eye. A look of fear passed over his features and he glanced at his watch. Ryan’s eyes narrowed at the peculiar movements.

“You sense that as well.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Petrus said, his fear evident. He glanced at his watch again.

Ryan turned her attention back to the west. She was not confident in her abilities right now, but she recognized that sensory signature. It was something very dangerous that should not be here.

Petrus seemed to be engaged in some sort of internal countdown, now staring at his watch non-stop.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked in exasperation. She turned to the jungle around her. “And why is it so damned hot all of a sudden?”

Ryan bent over in pain, gripping the tree branch with a powerful grasp. Her torso twisted, almost as if she were attempting to writhe out of her skin. The seizure lasted perhaps thirty seconds before her locked muscles loosened into lithe, sinewy movement. She leaned her head back, cracking her neck loudly, then turned back to Petrus. She crouched on the limb like a beast. Her eyes were a dark maroon, the color of deeply oxygenated blood.

“Wow,” Petrus said.

The creature examined him, the maroon eyes assessing, weighing, then determining that attack was not an option.

“You’re smarter than you look in that form,” Petrus commented. The creature smiled and turned away from him, looking off to the west.

“Do you know who I am?” Petrus asked curiously, and the creature turned back to him. After a long moment, she spoke.

“You are Petrusssss,” she said, drawing out the last consonant in a snake-like hiss, as if conversation were unwieldy for her.

“Well, not ‘Petrusssss’,” he said mockingly, “just Petrus.”

“Okay, pig-man,” she said simply.

Petrus was indignant once more. “Oh, I see you’re an asshole in this form as well.”

The girl smiled and Petrus realized she was far more intelligent than she was letting on. She turned back to the west.

“Do you know what that is?” Petrus asked, nodding in the direction she was so intently staring.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Okay,” Petrus said, still not certain of her IQ at this point. “Why don’t you humor me?”

The girl turned back to him and he realized she was more than intelligent. “You know what that is,” she said with dark amusement.

“Well, let’s pretend I don’t.”

The maroon-eyed Ryan stared out into the jungle. “That’s a blue man.”

Petrus grew cold. She knew exactly what was out there. She turned her unblinking gaze back to him, still finding humor in the situation. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

It was a comment without accusation, but it engendered a defensive response. “Of course I’m afraid of him,” Petrus said, “only an idiot would not be afraid of that.”

“Hmm,” was all the creature said, falling back into silence.

The silence wore on Petrus and he finally had to break it. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

“No,” the creature said, “I killed a lot of blue men. Hard to kill. But not impossible.”

“You killed blue men?” Petrus said in disbelief.

“Yes,” the creature replied. “I had a good sword,” she admitted, then after a short silence. “Going to have to kill this one with my hands.”

“Wait,” Petrus said, “you’re going to go after this one?”

“Of course,” the creature said in amusement, “what else would I do?”

Petrus did not like this conversation. “Well, we could run, we could hide, we could do all sorts of things that are non-suicidal.”

“Hmm,” the creature said again, “that’s no fun.”

“You are more and more like your grandmother every day,” Petrus said.

The creature merely smiled and with a great leap was off across the canopy of the jungle.

“Jesus Christ,” Petrus muttered to himself.

Ryan, or whatever was left of Ryan in her current form, leaped from limb to limb with great savage joy. Even in her current manifestation, however, she was lucid enough to control her aura, prompted more by predatory instinct than strategy. She quickly closed on the sensory residue left by the “blue man,” following tracks that were as visible to her as if they been neon signs.

She came upon a clearing, sensing that her prey was near, and she stopped, stilling herself and everything around her into absolute motionlessness. The man entered the clearing from the west and the creature, as fearless as it was, remained still.

He was tall and muscular, his features cruel and similar to the others like him. He was bipedal and could have passed for human if his skin had not had a bluish cast to it. Although the creature could remember little, she remembered this man, or rather those like him, possibly because she had only the most primitive feeling for them: hatred.

She lifted her head, sniffing the wind. This one was a scout and he was alone.

The man stopped in the center of the clearing, examining the jungle around him. The ignorant savages that populated this area were no threat to him. His party had acquired their quarry with little effort. Still he felt a sense of unease.

The girl crouched in the tree, but it was not indecision that stayed her hand. A multitude of images associated with the blue men rushed into the vortex of her mind, a series of geometric patterns and hieroglyphic lettering, a prison of solid rock, a woman who injected her with poison that ate through her system like acid. She could place none of the images or memories, had no context for the events or locations, and the fire in her body began burning through the mental montage, turning it into nothing more than white light.

The white light was pleasant, because then all she could remember was anger.

The man’s unease grew marked, a feeling he was greatly unfamiliar with when facing such underwhelming opponents. He slowly turned in a circle, perusing the jungle around him, and when he had turned three quarters, he stopped abruptly, face-to-face with a girl.

He was stunned. It did not seem possible, but this was the primary target standing right in front of him. A cruel smile twisted his face. Could he be more fortunate? What stroke of luck had dropped this prize into his arms? Although only a low-level soldier, he could already see his own rise in station, the wealth and prestige that would follow from the capture of such a prisoner.

He examined her. Apparently reports of the danger she posed were exaggerated. She was not particularly large or powerful and seemed quite content to stand there in front of him, a slight smile on her lips and a somewhat maniacal look in her eye. He did note the strange color of her iris, something that had not been in his briefings. He would probably receive recognition for this discovery as well.

He nonchalantly removed a metal rope from his belt. It was a grayish-blue color, flexible, and incredibly strong with a tensile strength that vastly exceeded even Nanocarbon fibers. Under the right circumstances, it could act as a super-conductor, making it ideal for torture as well as restraint. He fingered the rope, analyzing his approach. He could probably pin her with his superior strength, then tie both her hands and feet. That seemed a good approach, especially since she was still merely standing in front of him with no apparent inclination to move.

He stepped toward her but that was far as he would get. She moved so fast she seemed to disappear, then yanked the rope from his hand with such force it amputated two of his fingers. He started to scream but could get nothing out as the rope was wrapped about his neck, cutting off the vocalization. With a vicious snap, the girl tightened the metal rope in a garrote maneuver so brutal it decapitated the man instantly. Blood spurted from the neck of the collapsing torso, spraying her arms and burning like acid. His head rolled off into the underbrush, a look of stunned surprise frozen on the bluish features.

The creature muffled a groan of pain. Even in her state of hyper-arousal, the pain of contact with the blood was extreme. She collapsed on the ground, trying to rub the liquid from her arms with the dirt and leaves on the jungle floor. The power it had taken to move so quickly had drained her completely. She felt darkness closing in on her, and with one last vicious kick at the torso to her left, she drifted into unconsciousness.