Blood Legacy Origin of Species (5 page)

Edward entered the control room and skillfully manipulated the system. The only one who was perhaps more skilled with the technology was Jason, but he was asleep right now. Victor stood back from the screens. Although he was anxious to see what, if anything, was recorded, the video playback at thirty frames per second was too slow for his preternatural eyes. Additionally, although the resolution was relatively high definition, the picture would appear to him as little more than dots, like an impressionist painting up close. Edward seemed to have found some visual work-around and quickly found what he was looking for.

“It looks like Ryan left about an hour ago,” he said examining the footage. He switched camera views. “She was on foot and nothing appears out of the ordinary.”

“Which direction did she go?” Victor demanded.

“She left by the east gate, a little over fifty minutes ago.”

Susan was hopeful. “Perhaps she just wanted some fresh—,”

But she was speaking only to an empty corner, because Victor had disappeared.

“—air.”

Susan turned to Edward. “I am constantly reminded of how much those two are alike.”

The young woman was sitting beneath a tree. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and light filtered through the leaves, casting shadowed patterns on the ground. The girl gathered a handful of the rich, composted soil, marveling at the coolness of the dark earth in her hand.

She glanced around. She had no idea where she was, or in the oddest sense, even who she was. It was mildly disturbing, but she was distracted by the golden dust motes floating in the sunbeams that pierced the canopy. The intricate pattern of the bark of the tree in front of her also mesmerized her, the design endlessly repeating on a smaller and smaller scale until it seemed she could see the molecular structure of the organism itself.

She glanced around. She knew all of these things, tree, sunlight, soil, but with no particular memory of how she knew them, nor any memory of knowing them before this moment. She grasped another handful of damp earth. The feel of the soil was luxurious, soft and silken in the palm of her hand. It was deathly silent in the small clearing, and although the girl sensed insects, birds, and small mammals nearby, they made no sound at all, as if something dangerous had entered their realm and all were instinctively silenced.

The girl felt something and took a moment to analyze the sensation. She thought for a moment that she was hungry, but that seemed an inadequate representation of the feeling. She considered thirst as a possibility, and that seemed closer to the mark but again somehow inadequate. It was some type of craving coupled with a desire that was sensual but not sexual in nature. This thought gave her pause because at the moment she could not quite remember what sex was.

She let the thought drift away. The heat in her body seemed to be rising, as evidenced by the steam rising from the damp earth surrounding her. The water vapor fascinated her and would have held her attention for quite some time was it not for the fact that something was approaching.

Victor entered the clearing. He was following both the physical and sensory trail that Ryan left in her wake, although the sensory signs were confusing. It felt like Ryan, yet not quite right. He was relieved to see her seated so casually, apparently unharmed; but again, something was not quite right.

The girl stared at the dark-haired man, examining him intently. She did not know him, but he seemed familiar in some vague sense, as if he reminded her of someone she could not remember. More than anything, he stimulated some devilishly predatory response in her. She analyzed the feeling with the same dispassionate interest she had held for the water vapor. He was incredibly handsome, but the feeling was distinctly non-sexual in nature. It felt more like…

It felt like she wanted to kill him. And then maybe eat him.

Victor knew something was terribly wrong, even more wrong than the earlier amnesia and subsequent weakness. Ryan did not appear at all weak at the moment. Her skin had transitioned from the previous deathly pallor to a deep flush, giving her an almost feverish appearance. Her gaze, however, was not dull with fever but penetratingly clear. Her eyes appeared almost brown, but when she shifted and the light struck her iris, Victor could see that they were actually a deep maroon.

“Ryan?” Victor said carefully, slowly moving into the clearing.

The name was like a drop of water, and had it landed in a still pool it would have rippled outward and touched shores that would have grounded her. But instead, it dripped into a maelstrom in which it had no effect at all. She simply looked at him.

Victor stepped closer, still moving slowly. Ryan stared at him, no recognition in her eyes whatsoever. A slight smile played about her lips and there was a wicked glint in her eye. It was difficult for Victor to suppress his own predatory response because he knew exactly what she was doing, even if she did not. He braced himself.

She sprang at him and even though he anticipated the move and knew how preternaturally fast she was, he was still knocked from his feet. He rolled as she dove at him, coming to his feet as she recklessly went head-first into a tree. The tree split upon impact, cracking loudly, half crashing to the ground and half remaining upright at an uncertain angle. Victor took that opportunity to tackle her, pinning her to another tree, but his grip was awkward and she flung him to the side, laughing.

He came after her again and she launched a flurry of strikes at him, ending with a kick to his midsection that sent him flying across the clearing. As she stalked toward him, he let loose his own kick which sent her staggering in the opposite direction, causing her to laugh some more. It seemed her mirth was having a more debilitating effect than his blows, but Victor did not care. He would press any advantage he had. He again tackled her around the shoulders, shoving her backward into a tree. This time his grip was sure and he pinned her with his enormous strength.

She struggled for a moment, face-to-face with him, then relaxed. She appeared more entertained by her predicament than concerned. Victor stared at his dangerously rambunctious child, torn. It had been his intent simply to bring her home safely, but her violent antics had so incited his blood lust it was all he could do not to tear into her neck and drink her dry. Any warnings Dr. Ryerson had passed on were ephemeral memories.

The girl examined the man’s handsome features, the sharp cheekbones, the sensual mouth, the brooding dark eyes that were filled with a myriad of emotions. Her eyes drifted downward to the vein throbbing in his neck, but her gaze jerked further downward to a spot of red on his collarbone. It was a small cut, just a nick really, seeping just a tiny amount of blood.

The girl raised her eyes to his once more and Victor felt a sense of deep foreboding. Impossibly, he felt himself slowly and inexorably lifted off his feet. And Ryan was doing so effortlessly with a strength he had never felt in anyone. Rather than bend down to adjust her position, she was casually moving him into the position she wanted. She raised him just enough so that the wound was on level with her mouth, then pulled him forward with the same slow inevitability. Victor watched with a mixture of fascination and despair, impotence and desire.

Her lips burned on the wound, but if the effect on Victor was profound it was more so on Ryan. The second the blood touched her lips, her head shot backward, striking the tree behind her with great force. Her eyes rolled upward, then returned, unfocused. She released him and he landed on his feet, grasping her as she collapsed. He lifted her into his arms as she went limp and unconscious.

Victor stared down at his daughter, the heat from her body emanating off in infrared waves that he could see. In seconds, she had gone from that monstrously powerful creature to this feverish child lost in a delirious sleep. It was almost as if she was two different people.

He sighed, starting for home. He had the feeling this was going to get much, much worse.

Lia was awakened by someone shaking her shoulder. She recognized the man, the one with the scar that had leered at her and committed the unspeakable acts.

“Get up,” he said roughly.

Lia was stunned. During her entire captivity, not one of the demons had ever spoken a word that she understood. And now this one was speaking to her clearly in her own language.

“Get up!” he repeated angrily, dragging her upright.

Lia stood, barely keeping her feet as the man hurried her through the cage door. He thrust her before him and she struggled to maintain balance, using legs that had seen little motion in the last few years. She was rushed through a hallway with solid rock walls adorned with geometric patterns, allowed no time to examine their strangeness.

The man pushed her into a room and closed the door behind them.

Lia stopped. On a slab before her was a man. He was dark-haired and beautiful, and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. His physical form was perfect, a stark contrast to her mutilation. She was very aware of her leathery skin and the horns on the sides of her head.

“Do you see this one?” the man said in his harsh, rasping tongue.

Lia nodded fearfully. She thought the demon might kill the beautiful man right in front of her, but instead he leaned close, forcing her to take a good look at the sleeping face. The demon whispered in her ear, telling a hideous story, his words brutal and impossible to believe. But as he spoke and the words tumbled out in bitter stream, Lia’s posture stiffened. Her striking green eyes began to glitter, taking on the sheen and hardness of emeralds. She gazed at the dark-haired man and felt a hatred so intense it seemed it would burn her from the inside out.

The demon pulled her away, practically dragging her down the corridor. He led her through the shadows to a small side gate, then shoved her through the opening. She sprawled onto the ground, her legs still barely functioning. She did not understand why any of this was happening, but she was not going to question her freedom. She stood, a naked figure whose chameleon-like skin camouflaged her in the darkness, and began limping from the fortress. With every step away from the despised prison, her legs felt stronger, and soon she was walking, then running. The cool night air was decadent on her skin, and for the briefest of moments, pleasure pierced the veil of pain that covered her unceasingly.

Lia fled into the night without the slightest idea of where she was going, overcome by an almost rapacious exuberance.

Edward and Susan met Victor in the courtyard. Susan gasped. Edward was more restrained, but even he could not restrict his commentary.

“Oh my,” he murmured.

Victor was carrying Ryan, who appeared to be sick or injured as well as unconscious. Both were disheveled and dirty, and their clothing was torn. Angry welts and bruises were visible on their skin. Because of the nearly unmatched power of each, it was not hard to guess how their conditions came about.

“Yes, yes,” Victor sighed, “we did this to each other.”

This was less shocking to Edward than to Susan, who was still getting used to the casual violence that permeated Victor and Ryan’s relationship. Edward, for his part, wasn’t even really surprised although he was concerned about his master’s current condition.

“Shall I dare ask how this came about?” he prompted, examining Ryan’s limp form.

“Let’s get her settled,” Victor said.

Within minutes, Ryan was back in her bed. Staff members materialized and under Susan’s guidance, cleaned the wounds that were already healing. Ryan shifted fitfully at the attention but did not awaken. Jason entered, leading Drake by the hand. For once Drake did not run forward but pressed close to his friend.

Victor watched the ministrations silently. He had no idea what had happened although it was clear that Ryan had suffered another bout of amnesia. But this one was dramatically different from the one before. Whereas previously she had seemed almost vulnerable, this time she was recklessly out-of-control. And she had exhibited strength that was stunning.

Victor’s expression grew grim. And that was not even what had made her so dangerous. She had also exhibited a rash abandon coupled with a wicked sense of humor, a combination that would make her irresistible to their Kind. Even he had difficulty controlling his passion when attempting to subdue her because she was appealing to, and in fact reveling in, their most primal instincts.

Victor sighed, and Edward turned to him expectantly.

“I’m going to need some help.”

CHAPTER 6

RYAN OPENED HER EYES. Drake was no longer sleeping with her, but that was not surprising because it felt like she had been asleep awhile. She was surprised to see Victor at the foot of her bed who, aware of her awakening, was examining her warily. Her eyes shifted to the fading bruise on his cheek, then drifted downward to the welts on his arms.

“Well, what happened to you?” she asked.

Victor said nothing but cast his own eyes downward, and Ryan followed his gaze. She, too, had welts and bruises covering her arms.

Ryan’s tone filled with self-recrimination and resignation. “What did I do now?”

“You don’t remember?” Victor asked.

Ryan shook her head. “The last thing I recall is Drake reading to me.”