Part 20 (1/2)

Ryan glanced over at Susan curiously. ”So what do you think?” she asked.

Susan was surprised. ”What do I think about what?”

Ryan shrugged. ”Well, now that I've weaned you off your vampire fantasies, what do you think of me and my Kind?”

This was a subject to which Susan had given a lot of thought. She wasn't certain, though, exactly how to frame her ideas.

”Well, when I was first examining your anatomy, I kept having the thought that, if I were going to create a perfect human being, I would have created you.”

Ryan was silent.

Susan continued to think aloud. ”I wonder if you're not a form of accelerated evolution.”

”Well that's a new one.”

”What do you mean by that?”

Ryan shrugged. ”I don't mean to disparage your beliefs, but I've been called many things. A demon, an angel, a monster, a witch. And I've been called all these things by people who believed them just as sincerely as you believe what you're saying now.”

Susan was at a loss. ”I don't see how that's the same...”

”That's exactly my point.” Ryan said, staring into her winegla.s.s. ”It is the same. Every century has given me a name, and all believed they had the answer to what I am. The people of my time believed me to be a monster with the same certainty you believe me to be *accelerated evolution.' There is no difference. Two hundred years from now they will have a new name for me, and they will be just as certain as you are now.”

Ryan's words brought silence to Susan. The silence stretched into minutes until Ryan asked,”Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Susan pulled herself out of her reverie and looked to the French windows. She was surprised to see it was dark. She glanced around the room, searching for a clock, but there were none. She glanced down at her watch. It was almost 2 am.

Ryan stood.”I think I'm being a bad influence on you. I forget you don't do as well without sleep as I do.”

Susan stood and the young man appeared at her side, taking her empty winegla.s.s. ”Well, I'm going to check on Jason and Neda, and then I'll head to bed.”

”Good night,” Ryan said, sitting back down.

Susan was almost to the door when she stopped. Ryan was aware of the pause even though her back was to both Susan and the door. Susan had one last question she wanted to ask and Ryan, ever perceptive, braced herself.

”Could I see your Memories if I tasted your blood?”

The question hung heavy in the air. Ryan stared into the fire. Susan thought for a moment that Ryan was not going to answer her, but then she spoke distinctly.

”I am the most powerful of my Kind,” Ryan said slowly, without boasting. ”And my blood would kill you instantly.”

Although Susan could no longer see Ryan, it seemed as if a great heaviness settled over her. Susan turned to leave, not completely certain why she had asked such a question.

Ryan gazed into the fire, taking the last sip from her wine. She stood, threw another log upon the fire, and poured herself another gla.s.s of wine. She settled into the chair once more, pulling a blanket over her legs to ward off an imaginary chill, one she had not felt in reality for centuries.

She enjoyed her conversations with Susan Ryerson, although the Memories the conversations stirred were disturbing. It was bad enough Ryan dreamed vividly of both her Memories and Victor's; now she spent hours awake thinking of her past.

The fire crackled loudly and sparks flew as the log slipped, then settled. Ryan gazed at the wine in her gla.s.s. It was times like these when she could see Victor's face, inhumanly beautiful.

Odd, when one thought about it, how easily Victor had maintained his illusion over so many years. In the world she had been born into, there were no photographs, no way of recording events other than in writing. Only the very wealthy could have paintings commissioned, and even those were a poor reflection of the person sitting for the picture. It was easy for Victor to move through centuries without being noticed, without being tied to another place or time, without being discovered as immortal.

It had been as easy for Ryan to do the same over the years, but it was not as simple now. The first time Ryan had seen a photograph, she had not seen a miracle of technology, but rather the beginning of a new danger. She often wondered if this latent fear had not revealed itself in the myths of their Kind; it was not that they could not see their reflection in a mirror, it was that they did not wish to. If there was no reflection, there was no record.

Prior to her life with Victor, Ryan had so seldom seen her own reflection she did not recognize herself the first time she gazed through Victor's eyes. It had taken her awhile to realize that Victor also saw through her eyes, and longer to realize she could hide nothing from him.

Ryan had no pictures of Victor. No paintings, no photographs, no film, no images of him whatsoever. But it did not matter, because the Memories were etched into her mind forever, as clear as the day they were recorded.

CHAPTER 24.

”WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Ryan leaned over the railing of the s.h.i.+p. They were still miles from sh.o.r.e, but she could just barely make out the land in the distance. A seaman next to them snorted, he could see nothing.

Ryan pushed away from the railing. Victor had tired of war, and tired of their leisure in France, and then tired of his castle in England. But he never tired of showing Ryan the world. It had been his decision to travel across the channel, then south through France, but Ryan's to take a s.h.i.+p through the Mediterranean. Their destination was the Papal States themselves, and ultimately Rome.

”I can't tell. It certainly doesn't look like England.”

Victor laughed. No, it certainly wouldn't be like England.

They landed in port and Victor left instructions to restock the s.h.i.+p with supplies. He and Ryan had needed little on the trip over, but the crew required food and water. The captain leaped to do his master's bidding. After all, his lords.h.i.+p owned the s.h.i.+p.

The two began their journey to the city. They were to meet Marilyn in Rome, but Victor was in no hurry, moving with the leisurely gait of their Kind.

Ryan knew they were going to join Marilyn, and she had mixed emotions. It was difficult for her to remember how long it had been since she had seen the dark-haired woman. After their initial meeting, she and Victor had seen the woman at various social engagements. But Victor tired of the whirlwind of parties with the Others, and once he felt Ryan had received enough exposure, he spirited her away. Ryan remembered that Marilyn had watched her leave with a gaze that made her shudder for many reasons.

Ryan thought back. With her long, strange sleeping patterns intermixed with months of staying awake, it was difficult to judge time. Days blended into weeks which blended into years. Ryan was surprised, perhaps it had been several decades since she had seen Marilyn.

Ryan glanced over at Victor. She was curious why Victor accepted Marilyn's invitation. She knew he did not trust Marilyn around her; she gathered that much from his Memories. But she also knew Victor enjoyed the challenge of Marilyn's presence. Ryan inwardly frowned, perhaps he found her company lacking.

Victor glanced down at his young companion knowingly. She could not know the reservation he had about bringing her within Marilyn's grasp, nor did she realize his reasons for doing so were strictly political. There were strange winds blowing within the papacy, winds that would affect him were he not to take action first. He had not survived for centuries without knowing when he could keep to himself, and when he had to act.

Victor glanced down at Ryan, who was still lost in thought. She was correct; Marilyn did stimulate him. But not to the degree that she herself did. One of Ryan's most endearing qualities was her complete unawareness of her own allure.

It had been a wise decision to keep Ryan cloistered before meeting their Kind. During that first century, Ryan had little to judge herself by except Victor, giving her no concept of how truly powerful she was.

Victor was thoughtful. Even once Ryan had become aware of her place in the hierarchy of their Kind, it seemed to have little affect on her. It wasn't as if she didn't know how powerful she was, it was as if she didn't care.

Victor inwardly smiled. Each pa.s.sing year told him he could not have planned or chosen better.

Ryan realized Victor was immensely pleased with himself for some reason, and she wondered if it was because they would soon see Marilyn. She tentatively touched his mind, feeling only for impressions.

She didn't think so.

Marilyn glanced out the window of the alcove at the two figures below. Victor was speaking graciously to a young woman who was fluttering her fan about her face. Humans, both male and female found Victor devastatingly handsome, and Marilyn herself could hardly disagree. She turned her attention to the girl and her eyes narrowed. As usual, the whelp was dressed as a man.

Ryan possessed the peculiar androgyny of their Kind, and although all were essentially s.e.xless, Ryan seemed to epitomize this genderless quality. Dressed now in breeches, boots, and a loose s.h.i.+rt, it was difficult to determine if she made a more beautiful girl or boy. Even Marilyn had to admit Victor's progeny was stunning.