Blood Legacy: The House Of Alexander Part 16

"I do not have my father's sight. But I do not foresee that happening."

Marilyn laid with the girl for hours, feeling the heat emanating from the sleeping form pressed against her. Marilyn finally pulled away, only because she had pressing business to attend to. Otherwise, she admitted to herself as she departed, she might well have never left again.

Ryan lay on her stomach in a feverish, exhausted sleep. Normally, even soundly unconscious, she would have been aware of anyone's presence in the room. But this particular presence was used to moving about clandestinely, ethereal and undetectable.

Abigail stood at the foot of the bed, gazing down coolly at the p.r.o.ne figure. She moved alongside the bed, trailing her hand up the girl's calf, along the length of her thigh, then across the tight muscles of the her back. She brushed her hand lightly along the girl's cheekbone, tracing its outline. She ran her fingers through the blond hair, causing the girl to stir and murmur in her sleep.

Abigail allowed her presence to settle on the girl like a mantle, calming her and keeping her from awakening. Although there were no outward cues that the girl had fallen into a deeper sleep, Abigail knew it was so.

Abigail stood in the darkness gazing down at the sleeping figure thoughtfully far into the night.

CHAPTER 13.

THE FIGURE MOVED THROUGH the dense tangle of the jungle. Completely covered in an elaborate pattern of black and green paint, it was difficult to tell if the person was wearing clothing, or indeed, even if it was male or female, as it shifted ephemerally in and out of the forest. It would seem that the paint was for camouflage, so perfectly did it blend into the dark vegetation. But that theory was shattered by the shock of pale hair that was uncaringly exposed. As the figure loped through the forest like some great jungle cat, the grace and power on display made it apparent the figure had no need for disguise, and that the paint was merely for effect.

And a terrifying effect it was, yielding something fierce and primordial. Even the huge, coiled pythons and the occasional mountain gorilla gave this one wide berth.

Ryan smiled, and her teeth were blinding white against the dark green paint. This place stirred something deep within her, something primitive and primeval. Perhaps it was because she had Memories of this place, but they were not her own. She inhaled deeply the fecund, verdant earth, the wondrous cacophony of smells that competed for her senses. She wondered why she had not spent more time in this birthplace of humanity. She glanced at a parrot on a nearby branch, who gazed at her curiously but unafraid. A nearby bon.o.bo screeched an alarm and raced off to tell his family of the strange animal he had seen in the jungle. She again smiled and continued on her way.

It began to rain again, and Ryan lifted her face to the dripping water. The water gave life to the rubber trees, the oil palms, the banana, coconut and plantains. It nourished the teak and the ebony trees, the cedar and the mahogany, and created the monstrous redwoods that dwarfed her, both in size and in longevity. She touched one great trunk, marveling that it was a sapling at the time she was born, when the black prince ruled England and the French and the English were gearing up for a war that would span lifetimes. The water ran down her arms, down into the earth, snaking into tributaries that ran back to the ma.s.sive river that ran for thousands of miles through the heart of this country.

Ryan began climbing the gradually rising series of plateaus that bordered the east. The physical effort required of her was minimal, but she paced herself out of habits acquired centuries before. The Great Rift Valley was still miles away.

Time pa.s.sed, and the sun rose and set. The vegetation began to change, becoming near impenetrable. Ryan again smiled. An excellent location, the approach nearly impa.s.sable and deeply hidden. There would be a few recreationally scaling the mountain peaks from the other side, and there were many who lived in the shadow of Nyiragongo, close enough to be subject to the volcano's whims. But there was no one here. At least no one human.

Ryan began to feel the presence of those in the jungle around her, circling warily, uncertain of the One who was walking through their midst. Ryan stepped into a beam of light filtering through the trees. She concentrated, blurring her mental impression. There was only One who could now see her as she truly was, and that One already knew she was coming.

Ryan continued through the trees, feeling the Others as they got closer. She was surprised at their great number. It seemed she was to receive quite a welcoming committee. But then, she imagined they received few visitors here. When she knew she was completely surrounded, she stopped.

The jungle around her barely moved, so quietly did they step. But Ryan heard them as clearly as if had they been thundering through the undergrowth. She stood, blurring her presence further until it was as camouflaged as her skin.

The first One stepped from the jungle in front of her, and from an ancient world.

Ryan had seen many soldiers in her journey across Africa, but they had been modern solders with a.s.sault rifles swung over their shoulders and bandoliers across their chests. They rode about in dusty jeeps with surly expressions, scattering hungry children, and emaciated livestock. Had she been less focused on her mission she would have slaughtered them all, save for perhaps the child soldiers, and even they might have been too indoctrinated to allow to live.

But this One stepping from the forest night was an ancient warrior. Magnificently tall, his ebony skin gleamed in the darkness. Naked to the waist, he wore an intricately woven necklace and full headdress. He carried a spear, which seemed more for show than from actual need. He was Old, perhaps older than Ryan herself, and very powerful. Ryan had to concentrate greatly to deflect his probing.

Another stepped from the jungle, this One dressed in more elaborate garb, perhaps that of a holy man. He, too, probed Ryan with ancient senses. There pa.s.sed some silent communication between the two men, and then the jungle came alive as dozens, perhaps hundreds appeared. They were all glorious, with beautiful features and flashing white teeth, sinewy muscles flexing beneath gleaming skin barely covered with intricately woven skirts. Some wore detailed masks, and others wore beards, but most were clean-shaven.

They all stood staring at the strange creature before them, who seemed to shift before their gaze. The girl was a foreigner and garbed strangely, not simply from another tribe, but from another planet.

Ryan stared back at them, fascinated. They were her Kind, but different from the Others, possessing an amazing physicality and a primal energy. Drums began off in the distance. There seemed to be some silent debate among the leaders as to the next step, but that was quickly decided. They as one moved toward Ryan, and as one seized her arms and legs, thrusting her toward the sky. They began moving as a great blanket of humanity, picking their way effortlessly through the thick tangle of vines and branches. Ryan felt herself tossed above the great wave, handed from person to person as they ran en ma.s.se in one direction.

Ryan relaxed, staring upward as the canopy overhead flashed by. It seemed that regardless of time, place, or culture, she could always manage to anger the locals suffciently for them to execute her. Burned at the stake, drowned as a witch, pulled apart by horses, they were all attempted a.s.sa.s.sinations she could claim on her resume.

As they stepped into a clearing in the shadow of the mountain, Ryan inwardly cursed the not-so-subtle influences of Christianity on the African culture. She was dumped unceremoniously to the ground in front of a twelve foot high cross. Apparently she was going to be able to add crucifixion to her list of accomplishments.

The night was falling and torches were lit, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. A Young One grabbed her arm and before she could suppress her preternatural reflexes, she had flung him halfway across the court, knocking two of the flaming torches to the ground. She was quickly set upon by a group of the muscular warriors, and she ceased resistance.

The cross was removed from the deep hole that held it upright and laid on the ground behind Ryan. Her arms were pulled to an outstretched position and she was pulled backward onto the cross. Ropes were tied tightly about her ankles, and around both arms, pinning her to the wooden frame. The Old One who had first stepped from the jungle approached, a great mallet in his hands.

Kok.u.muo stared down at the girl lying on the cross. Oddly enough, she showed no fear of what was about to happen, nor did she appear to be offering any resistance, other than flinging Kijana across the clearing like a toy. He again tried to get a fix on this one, tried to get a feel for her power. But she gazed at him impa.s.sively, and if he could get a singular emotion from her, it was that she was mildly entertained.

That would change soon enough. He motioned for the iron spikes, and two men rushed forward, placing the spikes in the center of the girl's palms. She did not even curl her fingers.

Kok.u.muo straddled her and slammed the mallet downward, hammering the spike through the flesh and into the wood. There was no scream of pain, no writhing in agony. The girl did wince, but it was a reaction more commensurate with the stubbing of a toe than the damage he was inflicting. He slammed the mallet down on the other spike, and it again went through the flesh and into the wood with a loud "thwack."

The girl winced and twisted slightly, this reaction more appropriate to an attack of mild indigestion. Kok.u.muo frowned and stepped back, motioning for the holy man to approach. The holy man stepped forward and gestured impatiently to the group hovering a safe distance off. They rushed forward, uprighting the cross and returning it to its hole in the ground. Ryan again winced as it jarred, settling into place. The drums increased their tempo.

The holy man drew his Nsakara blade, and it was Ryan's turn to frown. Now this was probably going to hurt. He approached her, and, mumbling some ancient incantation, drew a line of blood from Ryan's left shoulder to her wrist. The wound began to seep immediately. He carved another line down her right arm, then two across her torso, intersecting at her sternum. All of the wounds began to seep blood, running down her body and dripping into the dirt below.

There was a sudden shifting in the throng at the sight of the blood. None of their Kind was immune to the bloodl.u.s.t, no matter the ceremony. Ryan stared down insolently at Kok.u.muo. She sensed his hunger increase exponentially. She held his gaze and, for just the briefest of moments, revealed herself to him.

Kok.u.muo staggered backward. His thoughts coalesced at frightening speed, and he lunged forward to stop the holy man, but he was not quick enough.

The holy man plunged the blade into Ryan's left side, just beneath the ribs and upward toward the heart. This caused Ryan significant pain, and she m.u.f.fled a centuries-old expletive under her breath. She closed her eyes and shifted uncomfortably at the pain of the impaled weapon.

The drums stopped abruptly and there was complete silence in the torch-lit courtyard. A murmur went through the crowd, and Ryan opened her eyes. The throng was parting like a great sea before a gorgeous, ebony G.o.ddess. The woman was dressed in elaborate robes, intricately decorated with symbols of the night sky. She gazed at the girl on the cross, her eyes following the rivulets of blood that streamed down the lean, muscular frame. The G.o.ddess stopped before the girl, her eyes caressing each crimson path. She finally turned her attention upward, and her tone was unaccountably amused.

"I find you most curious, Rhiannon Alexander," Ala said.

The name sent a ripple through the throng, and those who had dared raise their hand in the crucifixion took a step backward. Ryan stared down at her wordlessly as Ala continued.

"And why is it that you have allowed them to do this to you?"

Ryan smiled a wicked smile. "Because you wished it."

Ala felt the subtle sensation pa.s.s through her, the invitation, the enticement. She stepped forward, pretending to examine the impaled weapon thoughtfully. She then grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled it sharply downward. Ryan m.u.f.fled a groan, shifting again. Actually, she thought, that felt a lot better.

Ala raised the crimson blade, touching it to her lips. Ryan felt the tremor pa.s.s through her as Ala tasted her blood. Ala held her gaze, invitation in her own eyes. She lowered the blade.

"You have allowed yourself to be sacrificed to honor me." She glanced at the unique markings on Ryan's body. "And I see that you have honored me further by dressing in so ancient a way that even the oldest here would not remember it. And how is that you discovered this array?"

Ryan, although completely caught up in the moment, could not control her wayward sense of humor. "Internet," she replied.

Ala smiled, amused despite herself. That information was not available anywhere on that living web of knowledge. It could only be obtained at great effort and great expense.

"Hmmm-mm," was all she said on that matter. She turned slightly. "Well, my sacrificial lamb, come down off of your cross."

Ryan sighed with mock relief. "I thought you would never ask."

With little more of a flexing of her shoulders, Ryan snapped the cross lengthwise, splintering the wood in all directions. She shrugged, and the ropes snapped, whipping wildly about as she landed lightly on her feet. Now, attached only to the crossbeam by the spikes, she braced herself, and pulled sharply forward. The nails came free of the wood, still impaled in her palms by her clenched fists. The heavy beam fell to the ground with a thud. Ryan gazed at the nails, puzzling how to remove them since both hands were affected. She was about to use her teeth when that mellow, melodic voice stopped her.

"Allow me to help you with those," Ala said, holding one injured hand. She pulled the spike from the center of Ryan's hand, then raised the hand, palm upward. She gently kissed the injury, then repeated the process with the other hand. Ryan's eyes were locked with hers over the already healing flesh. Ala felt the shiver of excitement the girl tried, and failed, to suppress.

Ala did not release the girl's hand, but rather placed it on her own and began leading her from the courtyard. The two ancient Ones walked from the clearing arm in arm, disappearing into the side of the mountain.

Kok.u.muo glanced over at the holy man, who was staring after the two. He would not want to be him at this moment. He looked back at the side of the mountain. He was not real happy about being himself.

Ryan was shown into a sumptuous room decorated with African and Egyptian artwork from across the centuries. Steps wide enough to comfortably sit on were carved from solid rock and led down into the center of the room. To the left on a raised platform was a sleeping area draped with translucent veils. There was the sound of running water from a waterfall that flowed from a hole in the ceiling and disappeared into the floor. A depression around the waterfall was worn into the wall, creating a natural shower. Ryan walked over to the waterfall and put her hand into the stream of water. It was frigid, obviously warming little with its trip down the mountain. She glanced over next to it, where steam rose from a raised bath.

A beautiful young woman came in carrying another jug of hot water. She added it to the steaming water. She lowered her eyes demurely.

"Would you like a.s.sistance bathing?"

"Ummm," Ryan said uncertainly, "I don't think so. Thank you."

The woman nodded, her disappointment obvious. She disappeared from the room.

Ryan quickly removed what little clothing she was wearing and stepped into the waterfall. The shock of ice cold water felt good, as did the spice scented soap which lathered her skin. She scrubbed the paint from her body with the pumice stone, careful to avoid her injuries. She took a moment to examine them. The shallow cuts down her arms and across her chest had already begun healing. They were now thin red lines. She glanced at the back of her hands, then turned them over to look at the palms. The wounds had closed on both sides. She flexed the hands experimentally.

She turned her attention to the knife wound in her side. That was a different story. That cut had been much deeper, and although it was healing quickly, it still seeped a small amount of blood. Ryan put pressure on it, as if willing it to close.

"I trust your injuries are not causing you too great of discomfort."

Ryan glanced over her shoulder as Ala entered the room, then back down at her wound. "It's but a scratch."

Ala settled onto a cushion on an upper step and took the opportunity to examine the girl's physical form. She had a great appreciation for the aesthetics of their Kind, and this One was exceptional, especially for a European. Standing over six feet tall with well-built shoulders and a muscular back tapering to a slender waist, the girl had the sinews of a lioness. Her lower body was built for power and speed, with long, slender legs and well-developed muscles that rippled beneath the skin when she moved.

Ryan was aware but unabashed at the keen inspection. It was not a question of immodesty, but rather that she felt no more vulnerable naked than she did fully clothed. She stepped from the frigid waterfall into the nearby bath. The huge temperature differential brought its own pleasure as she settled into the steaming water up to her neck. She was about to comment on how well these accommodations integrated with the natural surroundings when something in the corner caught her eye.

"Is that a satellite receiver?"

Ala was amused. "We are not savages, my dear. We honor an ancient way of life, but that does not mean we have not evolved. I do enjoy occasionally watching CNN."

"Hmmm," Ryan said, "And the crucifixion, was that part of the old world or the new one?"

Ala smiled. "Kok.u.muo is greatly embarra.s.sed. You hid yourself well, and he is ashamed both by the way you were treated and the fact that he did not detect your ident.i.ty."

"And why would Kok.u.muo care who I am?"

Ala hid her smile. The girl was once again oblivious to her sovereignty, which carried authority even in this place. Ala chose not to explain the former, but rather the latter.

"Your father is revered here, and not in some foolish 'superior white man' way."

Ryan sat up in the bath, curious. She had seen Memories from this place, but they were ancient and unclear. "And why is that?"

"Long before it became a more common name, they called him s...o...b..y, or 'he who walks like a lion'." Ala's melodic voice deepened, taking on a mesmerizing quality. "The original chieftain here, over a thousand years ago, was an evil man." Ala paused, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. She continued. "Given immortality, he chose to crush any of those not of his tribe. He created internecine warfare that lives to this day in the children of Africa."

Ryan listened thoughtfully as Ala continued, wondering what this had to do with Victor. Ala answered her unspoken question in her next sentence.

"Your father destroyed him in the first millennial purge."

Ryan's thoughts deepened, and she had a sudden prescience. "This chieftain was your mentor."

Ala nodded, her dark eyes gleaming. "You have much of your father's insight."

Ryan shook her head, abruptly standing up in the bath. She grasped a towel from the rack and stepped onto the smooth floor. "I have none of my father's sight," she said, wrapping the towel about her waist. She pulled another towel from the rack and quickly dried. She examined some cloth that was also draped over the rack, then pulled a simple patterned one. She expertly tied the sarong about her waist, then another one about her upper body. She turned to Ala, and the distance between them seemed to disappear. The silence in the room was complete, and outside as well, as if everyone and everything within a thousand miles had frozen in place.

So what is it that you want from me, Rhiannon Alexander? Ala said without speaking.

The words whispered through Ryan's head as she gazed across the room at the primordial G.o.ddess.

"You know what I want," Ryan said, speaking aloud.

Ala smiled, her white teeth startling against the darkness of her skin. "I will not offer you the same bargain that Kusunoki did."

Before Ryan could object, she continued. "And you have nothing to hide because I already know of your father's illness."

Ryan stared at her. She had suspected as much. "You have the sight as well."

Ala shook her head. "I have the second sight, Victor the third. I see things as they are now, Victor sees things as they will be."

Ryan could not keep the bitterness from her voice. "And is your sight clearer than his? For it seems he could not prevent his fate."

Ala's voice was suddenly gentle. "Perhaps he did not want to, child."

Ryan looked down, clenching her jaw and her fists. "He said the future was unclear. That he didn't know if he would come out the other side."

Ala nodded. "That is the way it is. Like a reflection in muddied water." She watched the girl for a moment, watched the emotions flicker across her face, saw the faraway look in her eye and wanted to go there with her. Her voice grew more gentle, but full of meaning.

"So, my sacrificial lamb. You are going to have to satisfy more than just my curiosity."

Ryan glanced up, immediately drawn to the power of that mellow voice. She felt the great tendrils of Ala's power branch out and wrap around her, holding her tight. She stood for a moment, eyes closed, feeling the magnetic pull of the earth itself emanating from the woman across from her.

"Come here, child," Ala whispered.

And Ryan moved to her, stopping but two steps beneath her and kneeling but one. Ryan leaned forward into the great expanse of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and Ala welcomed her into that motherly warmth. The tendrils wrapped tighter. She cradled the girl's head in her hands, and brushed her perfect teeth across the girl's neck. The vein opened and began to spill its dark power into her body.

Ala shuddered from the monstrous yet delicious sensations that tore through her body. The visions came to her immediately, briefly indistinct then springing into painful and beautiful clarity. She saw the girl's life stretch out before her, saw her as a child, as a soldier, as a Young One who was never truly Young. She saw Ryan's pa.s.sionate couplings with Victor, and Kusunoki, and Marilyn. She saw Abigail's long and convoluted seduction that had not yet come to fruition. She saw the dangerous game Ryan played with Aeron, and saw perhaps clearer than the girl did how intensely he desired her.

Ryan saw Ala's life as well, and it rushed toward her in all its sensual spirituality. She saw Ala's birth, and her Change. She saw Ala conspire with Victor to destroy her mentor, and she smiled at a recklessness she had never know him to have. She saw Kusunoki, and the deep relationship he had with Ala over the centuries. She saw Ala create Kok.u.muo, and saw her withdraw into the mountains of the Congo, tired of the senseless strife of humanity. She saw her deeply divided over that withdrawal as the Europeans came and stole the princes and princesses of Africa, enslaving them. She saw Ala pondering the approaching storm, when the Europeans and their children would exhaust the resources of the kingdom of Babylon and again turn their attention to the riches of her dark continent.

The world turned blood-red, and Ryan was again in the netherworld. She stood at the edge of this world, the red sky at her back, staring into the blackness. It was as always, a vast nothingness, a yawning abyss that called to her.

But this time it was different. Ryan strained, peering into the darkness. She could see nothing.

"I must see more."

Ala leaned back from the girl, who although far from death had weakened considerably. The girl was barely conscious, whispering something. Ala shifted her position slightly, cradling her on her lap. "Here," she said, "Take this."

She brushed her teeth across her own wrist, bringing the blood to the surface. She pressed the wrist to the girl's lips, returning the power she had only so recently taken.