Blood Legacy: The House of Alexander Read Free

boy returned his gaze to the flames, and Galois took comfort in the strange glow in his eyes.
    Galois’s dreams were monstrous, full of gory battles and severed limbs, of tortured and maimed women and children, of pus-filled wounds and rivers of blood. He awoke with a start, reaching for his sword. His hand was stayed by a firm grasp, and he looked up to see the boy kneeling over him.
    “What is it, my lord?”
    “There is something in the forest,” the boy whispered, gazing off at something Galois could not possibly see. “I must go.”
    The boy’s words struck terror in the old man’s heart. They were softly spoken, with no hint of fear. But there was an edge to them that Galois rarely if ever heard.
    The boy stood, still whispering. “You must keep watch. If I have not returned by dawn, continue without me.”
    Marilyn found Ryan in the courtyard, chopping wood. Although wealthy beyond reason, Ryan split firewood because she enjoyed the pure physicality of the act. She set each piece solidly on the stump, then cleanly split it in two without effort. Marilyn watched the girl for a moment, admiring both the rhythm and her form. Movement itself could be an art when it came to Ryan.
    Ryan was so immersed in her task that she was oblivious to her surroundings, including Marilyn. She appeared to be in a dreamlike state, so lost in thought was she. Her rhythm quickened and the strength of her blows increased. Her face was expressionless, but somehow it was apparent that whatever world she was in at the moment was not pleasant. In a final, immense blow, Ryan split a piece of wood and the stump beneath it, clear to the earth below.
    Ryan stared at the ax for a long moment and the stump. She seemed surprised by her actions, not only that she had split the stump, but that she had been chopping wood at all.
    “You seem a bit distracted.”
    Ryan glanced up at the dark-haired woman. She had instantly become aware of Marilyn’s presence, once shaken from her reverie. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, saying nothing.
    Marilyn was surprised. Ryan almost always had a ready and sarcastic reply.
    Ryan set the ax down, brushing her hands on her pants. She was hesitant, then spoke quietly. “I have been dreaming a lot lately, and I am not certain why.”
    Marilyn restrained her own, normal banter, mindful of the girl’s mood. “You always did sleep much more than any of our Kind,” Marilyn said thoughtfully. “Victor once told me it is because you bear much more than any of the Others.”
    “I don’t know what it is that I bear these days,” Ryan said somberly, gazing off into the distance. “It seems that my life is a waking dream, that I no longer need to sleep to see that world. But many things from the past are weighing heavily.”
    Ryan quickly shook her head as if to dispel her own thoughts. “It is of no matter. I will show you to your quarters.” She glanced back at the woman following her, a trace of mischief returning. “They are as far from mine as possible.”
    The boy moved through the forest. It was dark, even for his preternatural sight. As he progressed, it seemed almost to grow darker. The trees here were twisted, grotesquely formed. It was all very odd.
    The boy stopped, cocking his head to the side. He was trying to get a fix on whatever was ahead of him. His senses strained the blackness before him, although it was neither his sight nor his hearing that he was relying on.
    When he first sensed the presence at the campsite, he thought that it was near. But he realized that the strength of the presence was not a function of its proximity, but rather of its power.
    The boy knew he was sensing one of his Kind, someone who was extremely powerful. He tried to compare it to those he knew, but it was different somehow, more malevolent. It was at least as powerful as many of the Old Ones.
    The boy started forward once more, his misgivings growing, but unfortunately not as quickly as his