Amelia cried out as the man holding her slit her throat in fear. Ryan closed her eyes as the girl slid to the ground, choking to death on her own blood. Similarly, the crone grabbed the poker and thrust it into Franz's small torso and he collapsed to the ground, screaming from the burning iron impaled in his gut.

They were petty and impulsive acts of revenge from a mob angered by the denial of their vengeance. The crowd turned to the stranger standing silently in the square, their eyes filled with a rabid hatred and fear of this monster that would not die.

Ryan opened her eyes, and those standing in the forefront of the crowd took a step back. Even those standing in the rear shifted uneasily.

There was a look in the beautiful man's eyes the villagers had never seen. It was a look of fury that could stoke the fires of h.e.l.l, as if death itself had taken physical form and was now staring at them across the town square.

Ryan reached up and loosened her hair, causing the blonde locks to fall about her shoulders. This strange act and its effect on her appearance caused much muttering amongst the crowd and more shifting of feet.

Ryan slowly drew her sword, hefting the weight in her hand. She gazed at the blade, then back at the crowd. Regret was intermixed with resignation in her voice, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"You're right," she said, "I am Satan."

Some attempted to flee while others were cut down where they stood. Ryan's fury fed her already preternatural speed and strength as she began her slaughter. The few villagers who made it into the forest were quickly hunted down by the demon who spared no one, not even the few remaining children.

Ryan leaned against the hilt of her sword, her rage dissipating. Her clothing was covered in blood. She walked to the river and waded into it up to her waist, scrubbing the blood from her arms.

She walked through the now silent village, grabbing a stick from an untended fire. She threw the stick onto the thatched roof of a hut. It crackled for a moment, then caught quickly and spread to the neighboring huts.

Without a backward glance at the conflagration behind her, Ryan walked into the forest. The burn on her cheek and thigh had already begun to heal.

CHAPTER 27.

SUSAN WALKED DOWN THE HALLWAY of the mansion, feeling her excitement build. She opened the door to her makeshift lab and was surprised to find it was anything but. She walked into the room, stunned. Her lab had been almost perfectly replicated in one of the wings of Ryan's manor.

Susan walked around the room, gazing at the equipment. Edward had told her the room was ready for her, but it had taken several days for her to wander over here. Now she was angry with herself for delaying.

She moved to the table. Her final readouts from the lab were laid out. She glanced over to her desk. There was her computer, the display blinking her final words at her. Susan was amazed. This was not a duplication of her lab, this was her lab.

"I hope this is acceptable," Ryan said from the door.

Susan turned to Ryan. She could see Edward standing behind her. "This is incredible," she said, "how in the world did you get all of this stuff?" She gestured around the room. "The hospital would never part with this equip-" Susan stopped. "You didn't steal this, did you?"

Ryan laughed. "No, Edward is much more inventive than that."

Edward stepped in the room. His face was as impa.s.sive as ever, his demeanor as stiff as always, but Susan sensed he was pleased with himself.

"The hospital was reluctant to part with any of the equipment, and certainly were not going to part with any of your research, so we had no other option."

Susan looked from one to the other in confusion. "So what option did you take?"

Edward deferred to his leader. Ryan shrugged. "I bought the hospital."

"You did what?" Susan asked in disbelief.

"I bought the hospital," Ryan repeated, as if it were the only logical solution. "They were particularly unwilling to bargain for your publishing rights, so I bought the hospital right out from under them."

Susan was flabbergasted. She had no idea how much something like that would cost, but she knew it would be hundreds of millions, if not billions, of dollars. And Ryan spoke as if she had just purchased a new car.

Ryan moved to the table. "It also removed the possibility of any pharmaceutical company using your patents. I don't think Grantech International has ever met the likes of Edward before."

Edward was willing to give credit where credit was due. "I don't think Mr. Grant has ever played hardball with the likes of you, my lord. He will be quite surprised on the morrow."

Ryan glanced down, controlling a smile. She looked at the paperwork on the table. "I noticed you were doing some more work here," she said to Susan.

Susan moved to her side, refreshing her memory. "Oh right." She turned to Ryan. "I was curious how you can drink liquids without them entering your bloodstream. I took a closer look at the original MRI and I think I discovered why."

Susan pointed to the picture, indicating an area of the throat. "Here where your esophagus and your aorta fuse, there's a bifurcation."

Ryan looked to where she pointed. Edward leaned over her shoulder, interested despite himself. "It does appear to branch there," he said.

Both women looked at him and he had the grace to appear embarra.s.sed. He did not leave, however.

Susan returned to the picture. "Correct. It does appear to branch. I haven't been able to trace its destination, but it does seem you have at least vestiges of a digestive system. You could probably eat, although I've never seen you do it, and your body would shuttle the food through this second pathway."

Ryan was puzzled. "Then where would it go?"

Susan looked over at the blonde-haired woman. "Well, that's what I'd like to know. It seems you'd need some way to eliminate waste products. But you don't," Susan paused for a moment, then continued, "which is why I have another theory."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't have to do with accelerated evolution, does it?"

Susan frowned at her. "No, not exactly. It has more to do with a perpetual motion machine."

This definitely piqued Ryan's curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"

Susan was thoughtful for a moment, framing her reply. "I think you burn everything you take in, whether it's oxygen, alcohol, blood products, whatever, you burn it as fuel. I've taken your temperature when it was a good 20 degrees higher than any human could withstand."

"So what happens when I don't take anything in?"

Susan was quiet for a moment. "I think you shut everything down, just as if you were dead. But your consciousness doesn't leave. In fact, your body begins running off that."

Ryan had the distinct feeling Susan was heading somewhere significant. "Why do you think it doesn't leave? What makes it stay?"

Susan looked at Ryan without wavering. "You do," she said simply.

Ryan looked at her with her usual polite curiosity. "I'm afraid I'm not following you."

Susan set the chart down on the table. "One of the first things I noticed about you while you were unconscious was your brainwave pattern. It was very unusual for sleeping. At first I didn't think much about it because there was so many other things about you that were unique. But I kept returning to it because there was something about it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on."

Ryan was silent, knowing Susan would continue.

"I was thumbing through my books the other day when I came across a text on *psychoneuroimmunology,' also known as the brain/body connection."

Ryan nodded. "A much neglected topic in western medicine."

Susan did not disagree. "I think I discovered one of the most important differences between you and a normal human."

Ryan was cautious. "And what would that be?"

"You never sleep."

Edward snorted, reminding Susan of his presence. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to Susan. "I sleep all the time. I sleep more than any of my Kind. I sleep for years at a time."

Susan shook her head. "You're not sleeping," she said, pausing. "You're meditating."

This statement silenced both Ryan and Edward. Susan picked up the chart. "Your brainwaves, they never represent sleep, even when you're dreaming. I didn't recognize the pattern at first because it shouldn't have been there. Then I saw the same pattern in that book. Your brainwaves show the cla.s.sic configuration of relaxed alertness, or a perfect meditative state."

Ryan still did not speak as Susan continued. "They've done studies with Buddhist monks who've shown remarkable improvement in awareness and visual acuity after meditating." She changed the subject. "How's your sense of taste?"

Ryan glanced at Edward. She was thoughtful. "I never really noticed any difference from my Change."

Susan nodded as if this were further validation. "Taste is the one sense not enhanced through meditation. No one knows why."

Susan went to search for a book on her desk. "Before I left the lab, I went to pick up a medical text on meditation." She pushed some papers around. "Ah, here it is. Remember when we talked about your senses crossing over? When you see heat or hear colors?"

Ryan nodded and Susan thumbed through the book. "It's called synesthesia. It's a byproduct of meditation."

Ryan slowly took the book from Susan's hand as Susan continued. "If the greatest mystics of all time could meditate as you do, over the span of centuries, they might have some of your abilities. All your senses are amplified, your sight, your hearing. Do you know the primary result of meditation?"

Ryan shook her head.

"It controls blood flow."

Ryan stared down at the book in her hand. "What exactly is *psychoneuroimmunology'?"

"It's a fairly new field of medicine which believes that thoughts can physically affect the body."

Ryan smiled wryly, turning to Edward. "It's not new. They once called them *humours'."

Susan continued. "At first I thought your resistance to pain might be a result of certain hormonal responses. For example, your thymus gland secretes an incredible amount of thymosin fraction 5, which powerfully stimulates certain adrenal hormones that effect your central nervous system."

"I take it that's not a sufficient explanation?" Ryan asked wryly.

Susan shook her head. "No. Like I said, I thought that way at first."

"So," Ryan said, "Why don't I feel pain the way you do?"

Susan pointed at the book. "The decrease in pain stimuli is not due to chemical processes, but rather mental ones. Your body feels the same pain as anyone else, but your mind has altered the way it perceives it."

Ryan stared at her own hands in puzzlement, as if they were suddenly foreign objects.

Susan continued. "A lower pain threshold is not necessarily a good thing unless an organism can heal itself the way you do. Then pain is simply an unnecessary nuisance, one your body has obviously dealt with."

Edward cleared his throat and Ryan realized it was time for them to go. She bowed to Susan. "We must finish the paperwork on the acquisition of the hospital." She turned to leave, then stopped.

"Oh, and by the way?" Ryan said casually, "A transition team is already in place in the hospital. The majority of the staff will be kept on. However, initial interviews with the nurses in ER revealed that there is one gentleman who is particularly disliked by all colleagues. I hope you're not too disappointed that Dr. David Goldstein will no longer be a member of the faculty."

Susan tried to appear unconcerned, as if it were no matter to her. "It's your hospital."

Ryan gave a short bow. "Very well," she said, and disappeared.

Susan looked down at the MRI printout in front of her. She wondered what it would be like to be Ryan, to wield that much power. She wondered what it would be like to be at the top of the food chain.

Susan stared at the paperwork. That a.n.a.logy wasn't completely correct, she thought to herself. Ryan wasn't at the top of the food chain, she was outside of it entirely.

Alan Grant sat brooding in his corner office. He had left explicit instructions not to be disturbed, so the knock at the door did nothing to improve his mood.

A man in a dark suit leaned in the doorway. "I have news I think you'll want to hear, Mr. Grant."

Grant glowered at him. "I hope for your sake that you're correct. I told that feeble-minded receptionist of mine that I wanted no visitors."

The man pushed his way into the room. "We received word this morning that St. Mary's Hospital was purchased by a private bidder."

Grant was astounded. "What? Are you telling me the hospital was purchased by a single person? Who the f.u.c.k was it, Bill Gates?"

The messenger shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, no sir. From my understanding, Bill Gates would have had to take out a loan to finance the purchase, and this was a cash deal."

Grant could not hide his astonishment. "Impossible! No one has that much money. There aren't very many people in the world with that kind of capital. No one else was interested in this hospital."

"Well sir, apparently someone was. The transaction is complete."

Grant's face turned apoplectic. He picked up a paperweight and hurled it at the messenger. It barely missed the man, and he quickly scurried through the door, pulling it shut behind him.

Grant picked up another paperweight and started to hurl it after the first one, but stopped himself. He glanced down at the marble block, hefting it in his hand. He carefully set it back down on the desk.

He settled into his cushioned chair, patting his shirt pocket. He felt the rea.s.suring outline of the solid, cylindrical object and unb.u.t.toned his shirt pocket. He removed the blood vial and held it up to the light. The plasma swirled, then settled into a smug, tranquil inertness.

CHAPTER 28.

VICTOR FELT RYAN'S RETURN even though she was still a great distance away. He sensed something in her mood, a sort of despair he had never known to plague her. Although he knew she was still far away, he put his things aside and waited for her.

Ryan could see the castle from a great distance. It had been modified many times over the last decades, but the primary structure still stood. The hills surrounding it were dark green from spring rain.