Blood Legacy Origin of Species (34 page)

“I knew your kind were not be trusted,” he said, spitting the words out. He took a step forward and Petrus shrank back. Ryan stepped in front of him.

“Petrus and all his people are now under my protection.” Her verbal abilities in the savage form seemed to be returning. “If you wish to deal with him, you deal with me.”

The arrogance of the whelp was finally too much for the scar-faced man and he snapped. “Fine!” he said, stalking toward her.

It was beyond imagination that anyone would actually disobey the edict of her Majesty, and for that reason, Tra’e’ela was just slightly slow to react. Ryan went face-to-face with the scar-faced man and with horror Tra’e’ela recognized his intent. She saw the end of her career, the end of her life, and the end of anything and everything that had ever had even the remotest connection to her.

“No!” she cried out, but it was too late. The two combatants stood eye-to-eye, one now brutally impaled.

Several light years away, the Empress of half the known universe was overseeing the execution of her current conquered foe. It was a quadrupedal, silicon-based life form that had surrendered, but not soon enough for her satisfaction. She paused in her proceedings, turning her head slightly. She sensed the events as they occurred, transmitted across the thread that bound her to her grandchild, the filament that draped across the curvature of space time. She smiled at the enormous spike of energy, then returned to her decapitation.

The scar faced man stared into the maroon eyes, and Ryan stared back at him. Slowly, the light began to die in his eyes while all looked on in confusion, with one exception.

What no one could see was that as the man extended the deadly claw from his midsection, Ryan appeared to shift into a higher plane, moving so quickly that not even preternatural eyes could track her. From Ryan’s perspective, however, the events felt leisurely and she had all the time in the world to step to the side as the claw slashed outward. And because the appendage missed its target, it overextended, leaving the cartilaginous connective tissue at the joint exposed. Ryan took advantage of the vulnerability and with incredible strength, snapped the claw at its base and shoved it back into the man’s own torso, just as he was injecting his poison.

And now she stood eye-to-eye with him as he gurgled with the effects of his own venom and the amputated joint continued to reflexively inject poison into his torso. He slowly sunk to his knees, then keeled over to the ground with a thud. He twitched twice, then was dead.

Tra’e’ela stared on in amazement. She was not quite certain what had just happened, but she felt a tremendous spike in energy, something that she had felt only a few times in her life. It had lasted no more than a fraction of a second, but it had been immense. It could not possibly have come from this girl.

The soldiers were confused as well, so they began operating according to instinct and moved in to battle the girl. The entire thing was beginning to spin out of control, the potential for unconstrained violence almost assured. And then, if possible, the girl did something even more extraordinary.

“An’l’athas.”

The effect of the command was immediate. Everyone froze, staring at the girl who had just uttered the phrase. And it wasn’t so much the phrase, which simply meant “stop,” but the manner in which it was uttered.

Not only was the command spoken fluently with perfect enunciation and diction, but in the seven distinct forms within their language, this particular one was reserved exclusively for the royal family. No one else was allowed to speak it, and most weren’t even able to pronounce it. The soldiers shifted about, uncertain whether this was a legitimate order or the ultimate sacrilege. Ryan turned to the blonde haired woman, speaking distinctly and with authority.

“Aeron was Arl’antham to me,” Ryan said. She nodded toward the dead man at her feet. “Therefore, by right, his life was mine to take in exchange.”

Tra’e’ela was stunned, not only that the girl again spoke their language, but at the complexity of the legal argument she was presenting. She looked down at the dead man, weighed the proclamation, considered the evidence, assessed the applicability of the law, and made her decision.

“She is right,” Tra’e’ela said. She turned to her men. “You will stand down.” Then, as if it were no matter, she turned to the Others. “And set them free.”

This latter action surprised Ryan, and as her father, son, and the Others were released, she stared at her captor in suspicion. She had the feeling that she had just passed some elaborate test. This feeling was confirmed when the blonde woman approached and stood before her, gazing down at her with cool amusement. For a long moment she was silent, simply examining the girl before her. She finally spoke.

“My loyalty to the Empress is absolute and I would never question her or her motives. But I confess that when I was sent on this mission I inwardly felt it ridiculous that I was to come to this planet to babysit an infant.” She examined the maroon eyes, the high cheek bones, the flushed cheeks, and her eyes lingered on that perfect, familiar mouth. “I think now I begin to understand.”

Ryan could not read this woman very well, but she could read this particular emotion.

“I thought there wasn’t anything you wanted from me.”

Tra’e’ela found the girl immensely entertaining. “We’ll see,” she said simply.

The response filled Ryan with disquiet and she turned away as her father approached with Drake in his arms. She made it only a step when Tra’e’ela’s words stopped her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. I will be here until he is grown,” she said, nodding at Drake, “and then you and I will return to the Empress.”

Ryan turned back to her with the unblinking gaze of her Kind. “We’ll see,” she replied.

Tra’e’ela merely smiled, then turned and walked away.

Victor approached his child. He was cautious because he could still see the heat coming off her in waves, and could sense that she was just barely in control.

“Should I dare ask what ‘Arl’antham’ means?”

Ryan reached out to touch her son and caressed his cheek. She wanted to hold him, yet she did not trust herself right now, either. Although her memory seemed fully functioning and her mind stable, she was still struggling with impulse control, and all of her impulses were violent.

“There is no equivalent term in our language, but for them, it is a more intimate designation than family, more intimate than a lover or mate.” The hue in Ryan’s eyes briefly shifted, almost returning to normal, but then went back to the dark maroon. “A lyrical translation would be ‘a life that hangs in the balance.’” She looked down at the dead man, then off at nothing. “But the most accurate translation is that Aeron was mine to kill, and mine alone.”

She turned to Petrus. “How long do I have?”

Petrus looked at his watch. “About twenty-two more minutes, then you return to normal.”

“I am not entirely in control,” Ryan admitted to Victor, “so I think I am going to go cool off.” She gave a quick glance to Petrus. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“Of course,” he said a little gruffly, unable to hide a flush of pleasure.

Victor bowed to the little creature. “Thank you, Petrus,” he said formally, and Petrus turned bright pink.

Victor held Drake tightly and watched as the creature loped along at Ryan’s side. Petrus’ raspy conversation drifted back to them.

“So, now really, was it metaphorical or actual…?”

Petrus and Ryan walked from the platform into the hallway. Ryan wanted to leave the dreaded facility as quickly as possible, but knew in her current condition it would be wiser to wait for her phase to shift. She felt like smashing something.

A figure at the far end of the hallway gave her pause. Abigail stood waiting for her.

“Petrus, why don’t you leave me alone for a moment?”

Petrus eyed the figure. “You should be careful with that one.”

“I always am,” Ryan said to him, and he left with one last look over his shoulder at the silhouetted figure down the hall.

Ryan approached the beautiful older woman. Abigail watched the animal-like stealth of the maroon-eyed creature with great pleasure. Ryan stopped before her, a volcano on the verge of eruption, innumerable emotions flowing through her.

“Hello little one,” Abigail said.

Ryan did not respond, instead still analyzing her, studying her with great intensity.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes,” Ryan said. She stopped, uncertain. “And no.”

Abigail took this opportunity to move around Ryan, appraising her from every angle. When Abigail moved behind her, Ryan could not feel her and it took all of her willpower to remain still. The matriarch sensed the agitation in the girl and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“And do you wish to fight me?” she said, clearly entertained by the unrest she was causing within her quarry.

Ryan turned her head to look at Abigail who was still standing behind her.

“It is you who do not wish to fight me.”

Abigail laughed softly. “And why is that?”

“Because you don’t want the Others to know.”

Abigail again circled Ryan, now stopping in front of the girl.

“Know what?” she said mockingly, “that you can defeat me?”

Ryan’s maroon eyes fairly glowed. “No,” she said simply, “that even now, I cannot.”

Abigail gave a sharp inhalation of pleasure. The observation was startling and delightful. She leaned forward, placing her hand on Ryan’s cheek.

“You are such a clever girl,” Abigail said, “it is why your grandmother loves you so.” She gave her a very gentle kiss on her other cheek, then again whispered in her ear.

“But unfortunately for you, you will not remember most of this conversation twenty minutes from now.”

The elegant woman turned and swept gracefully from the corridor, and Ryan watched her until she disappeared. She then stood there, motionless, staring at nothing for nineteen more minutes.

EPILOGUE I

THIS HAD NOT TURNED OUT the way she planned.

Lia looked at herself in the mirror, her thoughts not on her reflection but on the girl who had so recently vacated her royal chambers. For years she had dreamed of this day, the opportunity to inflict humiliation and pain on the object of her hatred, but almost immediately that fantasy had turned sideways.

The girl submitted without struggle to the blows that Lia delivered, but as the blood rose in welts on her skin, Lia had a most unusual response. She had experienced blood lust often in her years, but it was a violent and unpleasant urge, filled with anxiety and rage. When Lia gave into the impulse it was dissatisfying, not the least bit enjoyable and generally ended in a gory carnage.

But a different type of tension was rising in her at the moment, one that uncoiled in her midsection and was closer to desire than rage. Her blows from the whip slowed, the force lessened. The girl took that opportunity to stretch, a lithe, feline movement.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Lia said in disbelief.

Ryan rolled over, her eyes twinkling with wicked humor. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It seems to be some deep character flaw within me.” She stretched again. “Granted, I cannot say I would enjoy the chronic pain that you experience, but pleasure and pain have always been very close for me.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” Lia said with bitterness.

Ryan became serious, but there was still a gleam in her eye. “I could show you,” she said. She took the fingernails of her left hand and traced them lightly over the vein in her neck, creating a deeper wound than any of Lia’s blows. The blood began to flow down her already red-stained shirt.

It was too much for Lia. She set upon the girl, taking her to the floor, fastening on the wound that poured that dark gift. And the moment her lips touched the blood, she was connected to the girl in a way she had never been connected to anyone. She saw her own Memories through Ryan’s eyes, her life as a human, her captivity, her release. And she saw Ryan’s Memories, her childhood, her battles, her loves, her losses, the many pleasures and pains she had endured. She saw and felt Ryan’s own horror at the species that had spawned her, and saw her ambivalence, despair and resignation at her fate.

But something else was happening as well. As the blood flowed through her veins, Lia could feel its fiery progress. It flowed through every artery, every vein, every capillary, diffusing out to organs and glands, burning and cleansing everything it touched. Atoms, molecules, genes began shifting, re-organizing, re-aligning. And as the adjustment took place, Lia’s pain disappeared.

She finally broke away, her veins filled to bursting. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at the elaborate, demonic relief on the ceiling. Ryan rested for a moment, also staring up at the ceiling. She was still in her weak phase and she was now even more weakened by the loss of blood. She did manage to roll over on her side and propped herself up on her elbow, examining the demon goddess next to her.

“My pain is gone,” Lia said.

“Good,” Ryan said, and Lia noted that when the girl smiled such a gentle smile, she looked to be no more than a child.