Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (47 page)

Victor smiled, his eyes gleaming. “There is still much I can teach you.”

On the last word, he thrust forward, even faster than Ryan’s initial attack. Ryan parried but the attack was a feint and she was forced to step back to counter his second strike.

“Hmmm,” she said, swinging her sword as if just loosening up. “Very nice.”

On the last word she again thrust forward, striking with incredible force. Victor blocked the blow and Ryan lunged sideways, jabbing forward. Victor parried. Ryan began to deliver a flurry of blows and Victor parried them almost before they were initiated. So rapid were the exchanges and so graceful were the participants, the battle appeared to be almost a dance.

Offense and defense changed rapidly; the aggressor could only hold such a position until the other altered tactics, at which times the roles would shift dramatically. One moment Ryan would appear to be winning the fight in splendid fashion; the next moment she would be diving to avoid decapitation.

The battle was as much a mental one as a physical one. So great were both their reflexes that ground was only gained by correct anticipation. So evenly matched were the two opponents that ground was only lost by an incorrect guess.

Victor was enjoying himself immensely. He was stronger than Ryan but, by the gods, she was fast. Her fighting style was so similar to his own he could almost predict her strategy. But she would occasionally switch up, utilizing new tactics, and only his own preternatural reflexes would save him. She was merciless, never relenting and capitalizing on the slightest mistake.

As far as Ryan could see, however, Victor wasn’t making any. His style was deadly precise, as it had always been. Any passion Victor felt was harnessed and expressed in his lethal swordsmanship. No matter what combination of tactics she placed together, he seemed to defend against them effortlessly, transitioning into an attack which often left her stumbling backwards to regroup.

On one of the rare occasions when Ryan appeared to be winning their very physical chess game, she took the opportunity to flee. It didn’t seem that either was making any headway in the flatlands so she decided to change the battleground. A thick cover of trees might give her the advantage. She headed for the forest, glancing over her shoulder as the first light of day peaked over the far hills.

Susan opened her eyes. She turned her head, surprised to see the amount of light streaming through the closed blinds. The sun was obviously already high in the sky. She turned to look at Jason who was lying in the bed next to her. He was still sound asleep. She wondered if he had slept at all when they had been apart.

Susan’s thoughts turned to Ryan and she gently disentangled herself from her sleeping son. As she sat upright, she saw a new set of clothing laid out. She quietly dressed, then peered out the doorway. She squared her shoulders and moved into the hallway.

She walked through the great mansion. It seemed empty of people, but did not feel so. She had fleeting impressions of movement, of shadowy figures seen only out of the corner of her eye. She suddenly knew what Jason meant by “creepy.” Susan wondered why Ryan had human servants, but Victor’s were of their Kind.

She did not find Ryan, but found the next best thing. Edward was seated on the verandah sipping a glass of champagne. He seemed troubled, although his face bore his usual impassive expression.

Susan glanced around the courtyard. “Where are Ryan and her father?”

He was silent for a long moment, gazing off in the distance. He appeared to be listening to something Susan could not hear. He took another sip of champagne, then broke his silence. “Ryan and her father are fighting.”

Susan sat down heavily, trying to quell her upset feelings. “I did not think either of them were the type to continuously argue.”

Edward shook his head. “No,” he said, “you don’t understand. They are actually, physically, engaged in battle.”

Susan turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Edward said with emphasis, “they are engaged in a duel.”

Susan let out a small gasp. “A duel? With what? And for how long?”

Edward’s gaze was distant again. “I believe they’re using swords,” he said his accent pronounced, “and the battle has lasted almost ten hours now.”

Susan was shocked. “How long will it last?”

Edward shrugged his shoulders, resigned. “If I know those two, it could go on for days.”

Ryan was hiding behind the tree that under normal circumstances would provide both cover and concealment. With Victor, however, it provided only cover because she could not hide from him.

Ryan was incorrect. It would not provide cover, either. The sword came whistling through the air and took out a huge chunk of wood as bark went flying everywhere. It was nearly enough to topple the tree, and aided by a good push from Ryan, it did so. The tree went crashing down in Victor’s direction, splintering wood everywhere as it fell to the ground with a tremendous thud.

But Victor was no longer there, and only his mocking laughter drifting through the forest gave any indication that he had been.

Ryan frowned. Their cat-and-mouse game continually shifted, with each taking turns in the roles. In the last hours, however, she seemed to be spending far more time as the mouse. Her senses strained the forest in front of her as she began to move forward.

She could feel him in front of her because his presence was immense. But she could not accurately pinpoint his location because he was clouding her mind.

From the very onset of their battle, Ryan had been amazed by Victor’s prowess; her respect for his abilities had been vigorously renewed. Victor had always possessed a combination of pure strength and exquisite skill that made him a formidable adversary. But now it seemed it was coupled with a mental power that made him unconquerable. Ryan did not know if Victor had recently acquired this power or if she had just been unaware of it before.

Ryan chastised herself as she silently crept through the forest. Victor had taught her better than that. No enemy was unconquerable.

She ducked as the sword came slicing out of nowhere. Victor materialized behind her and it was only her own extrasensory abilities that kept her from being decapitated. Her anger flared and she struck out at him, launching a flurry of blows that he defended against, forcing her to step back. His defense was effective, but Ryan was glad to see it was not effortless.

Victor paused, stepping back out of reach of his angry child. He lowered his sword, his words casual.

 “Not bad. I’m glad to see you listened to at least a few of the things I taught you.”

Ryan was suddenly defensive. “I listened to everything you taught me.” She turned his challenge back to him. “And was I such a poor student?”

Victor shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “No, not at all.”

Ryan raised her sword as if to renew the battle, then lowered it as a thought drifted across her mental peripheral vision. Victor was aware of her brief deliberation and struck before the thought could formulate.

Ryan’s sword came up as if with a mind of its own. The incoming blade was deflected upward and Ryan was already countering downward. But Victor effortlessly stepped out of harm’s way and the sword tip dug into the soft, wet earth instead.

The musing again drifted across Ryan’s mind, unformed and obscure. There was something about Victor’s abilities, something very akin to hers, something very different from the Others…

Ryan stood upright, the sword held loosely in her hand. “You’re not like the Others.”

 Victor held his own sword loosely, casually examining it in the fading light. Ryan marched towards him, holding her sword in front of her. The tip of the sword wavered near his heart.

“You’re hiding something else.”

Victor gazed down at her. He shrugged casually, arrogantly. “There are many things you do not know.”

The sword tip thrust into his clothing, threatening to tear the fabric. “You are more like me than the Others.”

Victor glanced down at the sword poking him in the chest. “I would suggest,” he said mildly, “that you remove that.”

Ryan did not move the sword and Victor’s weapon flashed upward. Even though Ryan knew what he would do, she still could not counter his phenomenal speed. Sparks flew and her sword nearly flew from her grasp as he smashed the weapon from its threatening position. He brought his own weapon to bear and now it was Ryan who found herself with a sword tip at her throat.

The tip of the sword wavered, caressing the air in front of Ryan’s face. Victor’s attention was focused on the end of the weapon, and on the throat that lay just beyond it.

“No,” he said, distracted by the blood he could see pounding in her carotid artery, “I am not like the Others.”

The sword wavered, this time actually touching Ryan’s skin. She shivered as the cold steel grazed her throat, but the shiver was not from fear.

Victor gazed at the tip of the sword, now pressed against his child’s throat. His words were entirely conversational, although it was apparent his attention was elsewhere. “And you, you are not even half human.”

Ryan stared at him down the long length of the sword. “What are you saying?”

The sword again wavered, this time tracing the outline of her cheekbone, then her jaw.

“I think it’s quite obvious what I’m saying.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Then you were not fully human, either.”

Victor shrugged, as if it was no matter, and it was in this moment Ryan took the opportunity to strike. Her sword came flashing upward as she simultaneously stepped to the right, turning her head. The move was similar to Victor’s but just different enough and so skillfully executed that it was successful.

Or nearly so.

A fine, red line appeared on Ryan’s cheek as blood began to seep from the wound. Ryan’s hand slowly found its way to her cheekbone, her fingers touching the cut and coming away crimson. She gazed at the blood on her fingers, then at her father.

“First blood,” Victor said, his tone casual but the look in his eyes not.

Ryan raised her sword but Victor grabbed the weapon by its blade, oblivious to its sharp edges. He yanked it from her grasp, ignoring the wounds it inflicted upon him to do so. He raised the tip of his sword to her throat, this time moving closer.

Ryan felt the tip press against her throat and felt the blood on her cheek begin to slowly make its way downward.

“I,” she said evenly, “will not yield to you.”

Victor smiled, remembering a defiant little peasant boy nearly seven centuries earlier. “You already have,” was his reply.

With one quick flick of his wrist, the sword sliced into Ryan’s neck. The pain from the cut made Ryan gasp but it was not pain that buckled her knees when Victor moved behind her. She felt arms embrace and imprison her, felt his mouth cover the blood pulsing from her neck.

Victor himself was nearly overcome with emotion from the moment her blood touched his lips. He knew his dark child had become strong, but until that moment when her blood began to mix with his, he had truly not known the extent of her power.

He staggered backward, barely aware of his surroundings and unwilling to break their long overdue embrace for even a moment. He found the rock and settled upon it, drawing her lithe frame close to him. Her blood continued to pour into him, seemingly endless, and he did not feel it when she drew his wrist to her lips, letting razor-sharp teeth whisper over his skin.

Their union became total. Ryan’s powerful heart fell into synchrony with his. She saw his death through his eyes, felt the pain of the blood-red haze he had spent so many months in. She walked with him and as him through a shadowy netherland, coming to a stop at the edge of a great chasm. She stood on the edge of a brink and looked into a blackness so complete that no light could escape nor exist within it. She turned from the brink to look back at the only thing possessing the power to pull him away from death, and was shocked to find she was looking at herself.

Victor, in turn, saw the death of Ryan’s mother through Ryan’s eyes, and then through Elena’s eyes. To suddenly feel Elena’s helplessness and terror was like the shock of ice-cold water. Never having experienced the Memories of a human, he suddenly understood the impact of Elena’s death upon Ryan. The realization that the woman was her real mother had created a mind-numbing horror in Ryan, one which self-preservation had replaced by fury.