Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (14 page)

Ryan replaced the scissors, then picked up a scalpel. “That seems a good approach. Have you found anything, yet?”

Susan showed the graph to Ryan. “Well, I found this, which made no sense at all to me.”

Ryan examined the graph, which showed a gradual increase that transitioned into a much sharper increase. “What is this?”

Susan examined the graph herself. “It’s the histamine levels in Victor’s blood, which rose exponentially the few days you were gone.”

Ryan set the scalpel down, puzzled. “And why would that happen?”

Susan was thinking aloud. “Well, I’m not really sure. Histamine occurs in all the soft tissues of the body and is formed by the removal of acid from amino acids, similar to serotonin, dopamine, and adrenaline.” Susan traced the line on the chart with her finger.

“Normal blood histamine levels are between 40 and 70 mg. Levels that are too low can cause hallucinations and paranoia. Levels that are too high can cause overstimulation, rapid thoughts, sensory distortion, and a ridiculously high pain threshold.”

Susan appeared slightly embarrassed. “And although this is probably not applicable to your father, blood histamine levels in humans directly affect sexual behavior. A low level causes lack of sexual desire and a high level causes over-sexed behavior.”

Ryan stared at the chart. Victor’s levels had been high from the start, but had increased to pathological levels. “So what do you make of this?”

Susan was suddenly very uncertain. “I have a theory,” she said hesitantly, “But it’s very speculative.”

Ryan glanced up at her. “Please continue.”

Susan still hesitated “There is some fairly recent research tying histamine levels in the brain to a physiological state in which central nervous system activity is deeply depressed, maintained at a very low but functionally responsive level.” She paused again. “This ‘state’ allows the body to conserve energy and down-regulate cellular functions such as rate of respiration and blood flow.”

Ryan processed the technical information. “And what is this ‘state’ you refer to?”

Susan cleared her throat. “It’s called hibernation.”

Ryan stared at the red-headed woman. “You think my father is hibernating?”

Susan’s discomfiture was evident. “I don’t know. I told you it was very speculative. But I saw something very similar in your system when you were recovering from your wounds the first time I saw you. It is possible that Victor’s system knew it was under significant attack and began to shut down in order to minimize the damage.”

Ryan was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. “I think that your approach should also focus on an artificial agent rather than a natural event.”

Susan wasn’t quite sure she understood. “What do you mean?”

Ryan’s words were quiet but there was an edge to her tone. “I don’t believe that this is a natural virus or infection. I believe that this was an attack on my father.”

Susan considered her words. “Then that would mean that someone has considerable knowledge of Victor’s anatomy, that they were able to design a pathogen capable of overcoming his immune system.” She shook her head. “I just don’t see how that’s possible.”

Ryan was uncertain herself. “I know. But you have to consider the resources of those who stand against us.” She gestured to the roomful of medical equipment. “This is effortless for any of my Kind. They simply have to find the right person to get to.”

Aeron sat at his dinner table in a darkness lit only by flickering candles and the licking flames of the fireplace. There were times when he despised the harsh, artificial glow of the modern light bulb. And fluorescent lights were in a loathed category all their own. Halogen, Aeron thought as he gazed balefully at the waiting figure in the doorway, halogen made him want to kill someone.

The frightened servant stepped forward, knowing that the news he had for his master would not be taken well. He stood, nearly shaking, unwilling to speak until spoken to.

Aeron fingered the silverware of his place setting, particularly the knife. It was long, thin, and sharp, appearing to be a utensil more suited for a surgical procedure than an elegant dinner. He tapped his fingers on the crisp, clean, tablecloth.

“Well?” he said finally, his voice smooth and deceptively calm.

The servant swallowed hard. “There is no sign of them, my lord.” He swallowed again. “They seem to have disappeared.”

“Ah,” Aeron said lightly. He rearranged the silverware, as if giving great thought to its relative placement. He was not pleased with the arrangement, and moved it back to its original position. He was considering moving it again when he became aware of the groveling servant once more.

“When?” he asked, his tone still light.

“They were tracked to their primary residence immediately following the meeting of the Grand Council. The residence was placed under observation, but after no signs of movement for several days, the residence was entered. There was no sign of either of the Alexanders. Ryan Alexander’s manservant, Edward, was missing, as was the human female doctor and her son.”

Aeron nodded, his expression still deceptively calm. “And when do you think they left?”

The servant, uncertain how to reply, made the mistake of stating the obvious. “Sometime between Ryan Alexander’s arrival and when we entered the premises.”

“Really?” Aeron said. “You think?” His expression grew cold. “Minutes,” he said. “She was gone within minutes.” He was having difficulty maintaining his air of calmness, although his tone was still tightly controlled. He moved the silverware again. “And, attempts to locate them-?”

The servant shook his head. “All have failed. My lord, it is literally as if they have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Aeron nodded. “Ah,” was all he said. He delicately picked up the knife.

CHAPTER 9

Ryan stood at the door of the discotheque. Located in the heart of a monstrous city, it was known to be a hotspot for tourists.

It was also full of Young Ones, Ryan thought to herself, she could feel them in all of their worldly, naïve stupor, intoxicated with new, unimagined pleasures. She entered the club.

At first glance, the scene was so stereotypical of modern vampire movies that she thought it could not possibly be real. No one from her Kind could possibly find this situation interesting or stimulating. She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

The room was filled with beautiful young people, all in various states of undress, undulating to some horrible electronic noise. The lights were flashing on and off, reflecting from an endless array of mirrors. The air was thick with smoke and fog, pierced only by the red and blue lasers shooting from a rotating ball.

Ryan stared, aghast. Even if she had not been compelled by decree, she would have killed them all simply for subjecting her to such stupidity.

She strolled into the nightclub, a dark-clothed figure who moved almost languorously in contrast to the frenetic movement all around her. She attracted no attention, ignored by Young Ones who still habitually mistook physical appearance for actual age. She walked up to the bar, and the bartender leaned over to her.

“I don’t suppose you have any decent wine?” Ryan asked.

The bartender hesitated. There was something odd about the girl’s voice. Although the din in the place was deafening, she was speaking in normal tones and he could easily hear her. The voice itself was odd, with a strange inflection and an authority that was far beyond her age. When she turned her gaze upon him, he froze, the glass he had been drying now motionless in his hand.

“I don’t think we have anything that would be acceptable to you.”

Ryan nodded. “I think you’re right.”

She turned, and the bartender had the impression that she moved in slow motion, an utter stillness about her in the mass of frenzied, writhing bodies. As he watched her walk toward the door, strangely, the movements seemed to reverse themselves. It was she who now appeared to be moving at normal speed, but the motion of everyone else in the room had slowed to a crawl. The faces and bodies of the dancers were frozen, contorted like those in an unfortunately-timed photograph. All the while the black-garbed figure walked leisurely toward the exit.

The bartender felt ice wash through his body. He dropped the glass and sprang toward the door, but he, too, was frozen in time. As the girl turned and smiled a wicked smile at him, he knew that he would never bridge the gap between them, that she had all the time in the universe, and that she would be a world away before the glass hit the floor.

He was right on all counts but one. The glass never hit the floor because the floor disappeared in an explosion of glass, metal, and fire.

Ryan walked up the steps to the church, glancing at the light streaming through the elaborate stained glass windows. It made beautiful patterns in the night, a stark contrast to the source material of hellfire and damnation depicted in the frames.

She pushed through the doors, brushing by an usher who seemed unaware of her presence, his gaze passing right through her. She pushed through another set of doors and settled into the rearmost pew, one of the few empty in the congregation. Her arrival attracted no attention, caused no interruption in the service.

Ryan glanced around the chapel. The décor was one she associated with modern Christian broadcasts, spectacles she occasionally watched with equal parts horror and fascination. It had that curious mixture of attempted humility and tasteless opulence: an overabundance of gold leaf everywhere, excruciatingly intricate faux woodwork, an immense, oversized cross that Jesus Christ and all twelve disciples could not have carried. Elaborate sconces and candlesticks lit the room, casting flickering shadows on the stained glass that continued its depictions of the most horrific portions of the bible down the walls.

Ryan frowned. The message was clear: self-sacrifice promoted everywhere but here. She leaned back in her seat, her thoughts drifting to her childhood. The Church had been all-powerful then, immoral and corrupt. It had enslaved an ignorant populace, peasants like herself who had been illiterate and incapable of reading the word of god written in the incomprehensible language of Latin. She had killed a priest in the act of raping a child, and in return had nearly been executed. It was only the hidden intervention of Victor that saved her life.

Ryan smiled, and it wasn’t pleasant to see. In her seven centuries, she had slain thousands, but the priest had been her first, and one of the most enjoyable.

She turned her attention to the current religious figure, idly examining him. He was handsome enough, with words that had a musical quality, volume that rose and fell, diction that was commanding and cajoling, conspiratorial and patronizing, promising and threatening. His voice drifted over his enraptured congregation, and Ryan felt her irritation stir. If there was anything worse than a religious charlatan, it was a religious charlatan who was one of her Kind.

There was considerable movement in the assembly, and it was apparent some sort of ceremony was beginning. Chalices were brought forward to the altar, and members of the congregation began to pair off. Ryan realized that some sort of communion was being offered, although she doubted this was exactly what Christ had in mind.

A beautiful young woman stood and walked the aisle to the pastor. The rapt congregation waited in a mixture of anticipation, worship, and lust. The woman kneeled, offering her wrists. Attendants to the pastor stepped forward with chalices and jewel-encrusted daggers. Simultaneously, with well-practiced moves, they sliced the woman’s wrists and began draining her blood into the goblets. The woman moaned in agony and ecstasy, and the pastor cupped his hand beneath her chin, causing her to rise. The attendants did not spill a drop as they rose with her. The pastor said some incantation, then lowered his head to her neck, slicing into her throat with his teeth.

Ryan watched the spectacle with only mild interest, turning her attention to those surrounding her. They were being driven into bloodlust, stoked by their religious fervor. When the woman at the altar collapsed, they were driven nearly to a frenzy, and began pairing with one another.

Ryan was curiously unmoved by the scene. She had been witness to much depravity during her long life, and this barely on her scale. If these people wished to Share in the context of a religious experience, so be it. But she did have a job to do.

The pastor immediately noticed the tall figure as she stood in the back of the church, incredulous that he had not seen the golden-haired stranger before. She was startlingly beautiful, with a unique presence that seemed to shift the space around her. She was a welcome addition to his flock and he motioned for her to step forward.