Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (43 page)

“You cut him to pieces and ate him,” the prosecutor repeated. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes,” Ryan said simply, “I did.”

The prosecutor walked back to his table and sat down heavily. He seemed unable to come to grips with what Ryan had just revealed. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “I have a hard time thinking of anything that would make such an act justifiable homicide.”

Ryan’s casual tone changed to one of steel. There was no sign of contrition or compromise in her voice. “That is because you have not seen what I have seen.”

It was Abigail who would be the first to capitalize on Ryan’s slip. “And what would that be, Ryan?” she asked smoothly.

Ryan’s jaw tightened as she realized her mistake. She felt Abigail’s sudden presence in her mind, and Marilyn’s as well. Although they could not take her thoughts, they could certainly take her feelings, and that was what was betraying her right now.

The prosecutor, like all predators, sensed her sudden weakness. He stood and began circling for his attack.

“What did you see, Ryan? What was so horrible that would make you want to destroy Victor?”

Ryan closed her eyes, trying to shut out the presence of the Others, but even more, trying to shut out the flood of Memories coming back to her. The pain in her head was intense, and the pain in her heart more so.

The prosecutor changed tactics. “So you killed him, you killed him in a horrible manner.” He began to speculate, re-living the crime. “And then, covered in blood, you go to Marilyn, and you confess.”

Ryan closed her eyes even tighter, as if she could drown out his voice. The prosecutor was aware of her reaction and was encouraged to continue.

“But it’s not a full confession. Marilyn accuses you of regicide, a tragic crime, but your reply is ‘No, I have done worse than that’.”

The prosecutor moved closer to Ryan, his insistence beginning to wear on her. “I have done worse than that,” he repeated.

He moved even closer to Ryan, his words becoming seductive. “What could be worse than that, Ryan?” He leaned closer until his voice was hypnotic in her ear, his words wearing her down. “Victor was like a lover to you, he gave you everything.”

“What could be worse than regicide, Ryan?” he whispered in her ear. “What could be worse than killing the man who gave you immortality, your lover, your mentor, your King?”

Ryan’s head snapped upward and her unblinking gaze fixed upon the prosecutor. Her jaw was set, and when she finally spoke, her voice was steel.

“I will speak no more.”

The prosecutor stood upright. He realized that no amount of persuasion or threat would make Ryan speak further. Abigail realized this as well, and softly rapped her gavel.

“The defendant may step down.”

Ryan stepped down from the stand, brushing by Marilyn as she did so. Marilyn gazed down at her coolly as she passed. Ryan stalked to her seat and sat down heavily, her barely contained fury evident. She stood up abruptly, startling those nearest her. Her words were scathing as she addressed Abigail.

“I weary of this charade, Abigail. So what now? You find me guilty? And what then?” she asked sarcastically. “Are you going to have me killed?”

Abigail shook her head, unperturbed at Ryan’s temper. “You ever were the impatient one. No,” she said, answering Ryan’s question, “I told you many centuries ago I don’t believe you can be killed.”

“So what then?” Ryan demanded, “What is my punishment?”

Abigail smiled her enigmatic smile. “We felt perhaps an ‘in-custody’ situation would be appropriate.”

Ryan nodded as if in understanding. “Oh, I see. And whose custody might that be? Yours, Abigail?”

Abigail shook her head regretfully. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Ryan turned to Marilyn. “Yours?”

Marilyn smiled her cool smile, but she, too, shook her head. Ryan turned back to Abigail, her mounting frustration evident.

 “Who’s?”

Abigail glanced down at the paperwork in front of her and Marilyn also looked carefully away. After shuffling the paperwork, Abigail looked down at Ryan. “We feel you should be remanded to the custody of the only One who has any hope of controlling you.” She said enigmatically, then paused, “But first we must call our final witness.”

Ryan made an impatient gesture and sat down. A stabbing pain in her head made her reach for her temples. Susan looked over at her with concern. Ryan rubbed her temples vigorously, as if trying to leech the pain away. She dropped her hands in frustration, as if unable to comprehend what was wrong with her. Susan reached over and lightly grasped her arm in comfort.

Ryan glanced over to reassure Susan, but the words died on her lips as a strange look passed over her features. She turned away from Susan, staring ahead of her as if hearing some sound far off in the distance. Her hands again returned to her temples. The look on her face changed to one of concern, then disbelief. The color drained from her face as she slowly lowered her hands to the table in front of her, a look of dawning comprehension and shock on her fine features. She slowly shook her head.

Ryan took a deep breath and pushed her chair away from the table, seemingly exerting tremendous effort just to stand. She partially leaned on the table in front of her, then with another great effort stood fully upright, her eyes focused on the table in front of her. She steadied herself as all eyes focused on her.

And then she turned around.

At first, no one could grasp the look of stunned disbelief on Ryan’s features, and indeed, it was Susan Ryerson who first turned to see what the young woman was looking at. The Others realized that Ryan was looking past them and they, too, turned to see what she was looking at.

At first they saw and felt nothing.

Then, they felt something extraordinary.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped from the shadows of the alcove into the light.

Ryan flinched as if physically struck and staggered against the edge of the table. Susan instinctively moved to help her, but her eyes did not leave the man as she slipped an arm about Ryan’s waist.

The dark-haired man was easily the most beautiful human she had ever seen, rivaled perhaps only by Ryan herself. Tall and elegant, his broad shoulders tapered to a slender waist that was accentuated by the well-tailored suit he wore. His dark hair was immaculate, worn just above the collar, with the slightest touch of gray at the sides. He had fine features and piercing black eyes that were focused on no one but Ryan. His too-perfect mouth looked strangely familiar to Susan, but she did not have the time or wits about her to place it.

Susan knew who the man was, but turned to Ryan for confirmation. Ryan could not take her eyes from him, but silently spoke the name.

Victor.

The man’s gaze moved briefly to the lips that wordlessly spoke his name, and there was the slightest trace of amusement in what could otherwise be described only as cold fury. Susan’s one coherent thought was that once again, Ryan had given a rather watered-down description of their relationship. The eroticism and attraction between the two was unmistakable, as tangible as if they had been fully embracing. Victor’s gaze flickered up until his eyes locked with Ryan’s. He stepped forward.

The full force of his power became evident in the room and those who had known him in name only suddenly realized how little they knew. Victor moved with the preternatural grace of their Kind, and he moved with the dignity of a King.

Ryan could not move, could not speak, could only stand wordlessly watching her mentor approach. She was remotely aware of Marilyn slipping in behind her, but her attention was on Victor.

She stood upright as he approached, and did not resist when he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. He gently brushed a kiss across her skin.

“Hello my dear, I’ve missed you.”

The greeting was sardonic and there was the slightest trace of amusement in his eyes. But the amusement did not hide the dangerous glint that resided there as well.

Ryan gazed at the hand he held in front of her. She felt Marilyn’s presence behind her, felt the hundreds of eyes from the courtroom upon her, felt Abigail hungrily watching for her reaction. She knew she had been maneuvered into this situation, had been manipulated by forces wanting to see her humbled, wanting to see her lose control. Her jaw tightened imperceptibly as she straightened to her full height, gazing steadily into Victor’s eyes. She had but a single card to play in a game she had seemingly already lost.

“Hello,” she said with a slight but significant pause.

 “Father.”

Victor’s mouth twitched, but beyond that, he showed little reaction. The amusement was more evident in his eyes now.

It took a moment for the implications of what Ryan said to sink into anyone else. It wasn’t so much what she had said but the way she had said it, and Victor’s reaction. The uncertainty in the room was palpable, as was the growing confusion.

Marilyn stepped forward, glancing at Ryan, then at Victor. Her voice showed the beginnings of a suspicion.

“What did she mean by that?”

Victor shrugged elegantly, as if this revelation were of no matter. “I assure you she does not mean it in a metaphorical sense.” He turned his attention back to Ryan. “I see we are going to get right to the point. I imagine I should take the stand.”

He released Ryan’s hand and moved to the witness stand. Marilyn gazed after him, then turned to glance at Ryan with suspicion and disbelief. She stared at her a long moment, as if trying to comprehend what was happening.

Abigail herself was quite stunned by this turn of events. She had expected Victor’s appearance, but the youngster had quite effectively blunted that impact with her own startling revelation. Abigail still was not certain if the child meant what she thought she meant.

Victor settled into the chair, his mannerisms highly reminiscent of the One who had so recently vacated the stand. He had the same cat-like grace Ryan demonstrated in her elegant sprawl, although Victor possessed more elegance and less sprawl than his unruly child.

The prosecutor stood uncertainly but Abigail would have no more of proper procedure.

“Just what exactly did she mean by that, Victor?”

Victor turned to gaze at Abigail, raising an eyebrow at her impropriety. He turned his gaze back to Ryan, his eyes caressing her.

“Rhiannon Alexander is my child in every way. I am responsible for her Change, and I am also her father.”

The explosion in the courtroom was immediate. Abigail did not even attempt to regain control, so shocked was she herself. Edward turned to look at his client, stunned. Marilyn stood, her anger evident.

“That’s impossible. None of us are capable of reproducing outside the Change.”

Victor did not react to Marilyn’s anger, indeed, did little more than shrug. The room quieted as his gaze returned to Ryan. “Many things are impossible,” he said, softly echoing Ryan’s earlier testimony, “and now I have done them all.”

The room again exploded into exclamations of shock and disbelief. The only person who appeared curiously unmoved was Ryan herself as she sat gazing unblinkingly at her father.

Abigail rapped her gavel several times to regain control and the room quieted. She turned to Victor.

“And her mother,” she paused, looking over at Ryan, “her mother was human?”

Victor nodded. “Yes, Elena was human.”

“So that was her name,” Ryan said, softly sarcastic.

Both Abigail and Marilyn turned at Ryan’s tone, and Marilyn’s eyes narrowed. So this was the point of rift between the two.

Victor’s tone hardened slightly. “Yes,” he said, his own tone slightly sarcastic, “that was her name.”

Victor’s voice lowered, was unapologetic. “I told you that you were perfect in every way.” He shook his head. “You were never human.”

Ryan looked down at the table in front of her, her jaw clenching and unclenching as Victor continued.

“Your mother was spirited and intelligent and beautiful beyond belief, and I chose her out of thousands who were willing.”

Ryan’s head snapped upward. “But she was not willing,” she said softly, evenly, staring him in the eye.

Victor did not deny this. “No,” he said simply, “she was not willing.”