Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander (25 page)

She regained control of her body in the air, enjoying the sensation of floating. She did a quick somersault with a twist, so she could get a better view of the plummeting aircraft. It was a perfect missile, heading directly into the gaping maw of Nyiragongo. And Nyiragongo had opened that maw wide, spewing lava in a fiery welcome.

Ryan congratulated herself on a perfect plan, then looked down at the rapidly approaching ground. No, she thought, a perfect plan would have entailed a parachute. Invulnerability often made one overlook the simplest of details. This was probably going to hurt.

She hit the canopy of a huge redwood, which hardly slowed her descent. The eighty-six branches that she hit on the way to the ground did slow her slightly more, but she still hit the ground with an impact severe enough to imprint her five feet deep into the damp earth.

Ryan lay on her back in the hole, covered in dirt and vegetation, gazing up at the light filtering through the trees. After the constant roar of the air rushing past her during descent, the forest was eerily silent.

Of course, she thought, it could have been the impact of the bomb that just plummeted to earth that silenced the jungle creatures. She was fairly certain she had broken every bone in her body. She shifted slightly in her hole and confirmed it. This would take at least a week to heal.

Ala sat within her chambers, Kokumuo nearby. The tendrils of her senses were stretched out through the darkness of the jungle, collecting sensations from the flora and fauna throughout. She enjoyed the various impressions of sights and smells that drifted back to her through this extended web.

She cocked her head to one side. There was a great disturbance rippling across her web, but it almost seemed to come from the air above. She stood and moved from her chambers into the outer clearing, turning her gaze to the sky. Kokumuo followed her curiously. He looked up into the sky, but he could see and feel nothing.

But then he felt what Ala felt. In fact, even the youngest among them turned, and all as one turned to distant Nyiragongo. Multiple cries of fear and pain swept through the collective conscious of their Kind, and then were abruptly and emphatically silenced.

Ala listened intently to what could not be heard, testing for the survival of any of those she had sensed. It did not seem possible, but there was no sign of the presence of any of them, even the most powerful among them.

She turned to Kokumuo, who did not understand what he had sensed and looked to her for response.

Ala smiled, and it was blinding in the darkness.

Kokumuo made his way through the jungle, easily sensing ahead of him what he was searching for. As he neared, he glanced up at the path of destruction that came downward through the branches of the giant redwood. He looked to the base of the tree, where the path ended in a hole shaped in the outline of a spread-eagled figure. He walked to the edge of the hole, peering down into it.

“Habari,” Ryan said, greeting him in Swahili. “I hope you’re not going to crucify me because I’m really not up to it right now.

Kokumuo gazed down at the prone figure, assessing her injuries. “If you were more forthcoming with your identity, you would probably be greeted more appropriately.”

Ryan shifted in her hole, causing her to wince in pain. Even so, she could not contain her sense of humor. “I don’t know,” she said, “Many might consider crucifixion an appropriate greeting for me.”

The handsome black man tried to maintain his stern demeanor, but failed, his teeth white against his skin. He motioned to several of the warriors who accompanied him, and they rushed forward, bearing a litter. Under Kokumuo’s watchful gaze, they carefully extricated Ryan from the pit and gently placed her on the stretcher.

The movement was painful to Ryan, but not unbearably so. She relaxed in the sling as they began their trek back through the jungle. Kokumuo gave one last look at the broken branches of the redwood, then walked next to the stretcher.

“So,” he said conversationally, “Did you think you could fly?”

Ryan winced at a slight jar, then relaxed again.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, staring up at the passing canopy. “I try to stay open to new things.”

Ryan awoke in the chambers she had vacated only a week before. She corrected herself. Only a week before she had flown Muenda into an active volcano. She had no idea how long she had been asleep.

Ala entered, sensing that the girl had awakened. She read Ryan’s expression, answering her unasked question.

“Only two weeks, my dear.”

Ryan appeared relieved. “I don’t want the Grand Council to think I am sleeping through my duties,” she said with mild sarcasm.

Ala smiled. “I will be sure to report of your diligence on my continent. You were quite busy in the short time you were here.”

Ryan said nothing, so Ala filled the space.

“The collapse of the South African diamond mine. The opened floodgates of the Kariba dam. The renewed internecine warfare across the entire continent. All reported in world news, but missing the common thread woven throughout.

“Which is?” Ryan asked, knowing the answer.

“That all were intentionally caused, and resulted in an abnormal number of our Kind destroyed, either directly, or by their slaughter of one another.

“And do you mourn the innocents lost?”

“None of our Kind are innocent,” Ala said, a dark look in her eye. Her manner grew casual once more. “And as for the loss of human life? I have much blood on my hands already, simply from my past inaction.”

Ryan was curious. “And why is it that you have chosen inaction when you could be the supreme ruler of all of Africa, if not more?”

Ala looked at her shrewdly. “And why is it that you are not Emperor of the United States, or of England?”

Ryan was thoughtful for a moment. “Because I really don’t care much about the affairs of humans.”

Ryan paused, then continued. “A human once noted that ‘life in an unregulated state of nature is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.’ He concluded that humans accepted the moral constraints of civilization as an alternative.”

Ryan looked up. “I see no superiority in their choice.”

The two settled into silence, which Ryan finally broke. “I don’t know if Muenda is truly dead. He was very ancient and very powerful, and it is possible he survived.”

Ala nodded. “Even if he survived the impact, and if he survived the lava, and if he survived being buried in the center of that mountain, it will be many centuries before he fully recovers.” She shrugged. “And I do not sense his presence at all.”

Ryan agreed. “I do not sense him, either.”

It was Ala’s turn to be thoughtful. “If you had any concern for the ‘innocents’ yourself, you can be secure in the knowledge that your removal of Muenda will save many more than you would ever kill. You have interrupted a blood line that needed to die.”

Ryan took odd comfort in that fact, and again drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER 15

RYAN AGAIN SAT, OR RATHER AGAIN SPRAWLED, in the Great Hall of the Grand Council. The twelve witnesses stood stiffly at attention in their semicircle behind her.

She shifted in her chair, wincing slightly. Although her bones had knit cleanly, she was still a bit sore from her fall from the sky. This tended to make her a bit irritable. The hovering of those behind her made her more so.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, would you all sit down!” she finally blurted out.

The twelve sat down with alacrity, and Edward hid a smile.

Ryan rubbed her head, wincing. The crack in her skull had been particularly slow to heal. And there was little she could take for the pain, as her body treated most drugs with total disregard. She shook off the mild irritation. She had been in far worse pain.

Ryan thought back to her Change. When Victor had first transformed her, the alteration to her physical form had been so dramatic it had been agonizing. The Change was always painful, and the vast majority of times lethal. But Ryan’s had been particularly intense because never in the history of their Kind had anyone been Changed by One so powerful. The pain and exhaustion she had endured resulted in a sleep lasting nearly 14 years immediately following her transformation, during which Victor never left her side.

Ryan became aware that she was under significant scrutiny. She looked up. The five members of the Grand Council had filed in and were already seated, staring at her with expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement to total irritation.

“Are we disturbing you?” Aeron asked sarcastically. He was already angered at the fact that the witnesses were seated. He was more so by the fact that the girl seemed oblivious to them.

“No more than usual,” Ryan said, her focus and humor returning with deadly precision.

“I understand you have been very busy, ma Cherie,” Marilyn said, dispensing with all formality, irritating Aeron even further.

“I am merely following the edict of this Council.”

Marilyn smiled. “I do not think your actions have anything to do with the desires of this Council.”

Ryan smiled as well. “Or perhaps they have everything to do with the desires of this Council.”

Abigail watched the girl carefully. Her recklessness seemed even more pronounced. She noted that the girl shifted with visible, physical discomfort, but if Ryan had sustained the injuries attributed to her, she probably shouldn’t even be conscious yet.

“Is it true that you fell 20,000 feet?” Kusunoki asked, giving voice to Abigail’s thoughts.

“Hmmm,” Ryan said thoughtfully, “I think it was probably closer to 15,000, but it was difficult to tell at that velocity.”

“Then you did kill Muenda,” Abigail said slowly.

The room grew silent as the words and their implications sunk in. Ryan looked at Abigail, then shifted her gaze squarely to Aeron.

“It is likely that he is dead,” Ryan said.

Aeron stared at the girl in cold fury. Never in the chronicles of their Kind had anyone managed to destroy an Old One. None had existed when Victor had performed his duties as hunter, and few had even been as old as he at that time. Although there had been many pitched battles over the years that had resulted in temporary disabling injuries, none of those occupying the upper echelon had ever managed to kill one another, creating a frustrating but secure détente.

That détente had ended. And it wasn’t even the method that she had used, ingenious as it was, that was the most troubling. It was the fact that she could effortlessly penetrate Muenda’s inner circle, disguise herself and her intentions from his entire entourage, and remain completely hidden to Muenda himself, arguably the most paranoid and security-conscious of all of them. That bespoke a mental power and discipline that was inconceivable and incredibly dangerous.

Aeron stared down at the girl. Under normal circumstances, the greater the power of their Kind, the more difficult it was to hide, especially to those of equal or greater power. Their auras shone like fire on a moonless night, easily veiled to the eyes of Young Ones, but blindingly obvious to any beyond the Middle years.

And this girl had an aura like the sun. It was impossible that she could have passed unnoticed.

Ryan was aware of but ignored his scrutiny. “Edward has the current numbers, which once again are easily verified.”

Edward stood, clearing his throat. “The numbers now stand at 16,498 dead, 542 missing and presumed dead, and 456 missing and unaccounted for.”

Ryan sat, examining her fingernails as silence again descended on the Great Hall.

“And which category did you put Muenda in?” Ala asked, her lack of concern for the stratospheric figures evident.

Ryan glanced up, then returned to her perusal of her fingernails. “Until he crawls out of that volcano, I’m going to assume he’s dead,” she said casually.

Abigail glanced over at Ala, her outward expression impassive and her inner guarded as well. She noted that Ala in no way seemed disturbed by the massacre of her kin, and actually seemed pleased. Abigail turned her attention back to the girl. How Ryan had managed to destroy over 16,000 of their Kind without creating enemies of the sovereigns of the continents most affected was astonishing.

Just like Victor, Abigail thought. She had both his finesse and his judgment, and the devastating charm that made her the perfect predator.