Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

  Blood Recall

  Blood Destiny, Book 11

  Connie Suttle

  Copyright © 2018, by Connie Suttle

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 1-63478-022-1

  ISBN-13: 978-1-63478-022-3

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents portrayed within its pages are purely fictitious and a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book, whole or in part, MAY NOT be copied or reproduced by electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying or the implementation of any type of storage or retrieval system) without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Published by:

  SubtleDemon Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 95696

  Oklahoma City, OK 73143

  Cover art by Renee Barratt @ The Cover Counts

  For Sharyn and Dolly—Stay strong.

  To Walter, Joe, Larry, Lee, Dianne, Sarah and Mark.

  Thank you.

  Author’s note

  Warning!

  Blood Recall contains references (and possible spoilers) to the following series:

  Blood Destiny Series

  God Wars Series

  High Demon Series

  Latter Day Demons Series

  R-D Series

  First Ordinance Series

  BlackWing Pirates Series

  If you haven't read these series, you may become confused, disoriented, or read things that will ruin the aforementioned series.

  You have been warned…

  Chapter 1

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "They're two, and tearing into everything," I shook my head as Wynter ran through the arboretum, screeching at the top of her lungs while Wayne chased after her. "What they can't destroy with their hands, they rip to shreds with their teeth."

  "So, they're werewolves, through and through?" Breanne sipped the tea we'd been served to hide a self-satisfied smile.

  "It sure looks that way. For the past two months, I've started every conversation between Winkler and me with, 'your children,' followed by some form of damage report."

  "Does it make him feel guilty?"

  "Hell no. He grins and congratulates them on their newest mode of destruction."

  "Have they destroyed anything that can't be replaced?"

  "Not yet—but Connegar was recruited in making one mishap go away. He said, 'children make mistakes,' put the splintered chair back together and disappeared. Don't even get me started on the potty training fiascoes."

  "Marking territory?"

  "I said don't get me started. I don't know how Sandra has any hair left—because every day there's at least three hair-pull-worthy stunts performed by the werewolf twins."

  "It's a phase," Bree waved a hand, as if that dismissed continuous damage at the hands and teeth of my youngest.

  "You want something," I accused, changing the subject.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because that's how you roll."

  "I rolled down a hill, once. In Texas. Prickly pear will make you rethink those decisions."

  "Ah, Texas. I remember it well." I did—I'd spent plenty of time in Texas, with Winkler, Gavin and a whole bunch of others.

  "I'm glad you said that."

  "Said what?" I studied my sister while suspicions formed.

  "That you remember Texas."

  "I also remember the Alamo, but then lots of people do. What's going on?" I gave my sister a deliberate glare-frown.

  "Well, there's a bit of a snag," Bree said, before sipping more tea.

  "A snag?"

  "As in a snag that happened because of rogue gods and timeline shifts," Bree sighed. "If something isn't done to set it right, then people could die before they're supposed to die and the timeline will be fucked and so will everything else."

  "What are you planning to do about it?" I asked politely.

  "I shouldn't do anything, or it could become worse."

  "I don't like where this is headed," I began. "I have things to do and twins to keep out of trouble."

  "You can bend time," Bree pointed at me. "Same as I can. Plus, help coming from you during this time will be welcomed, while a stranger showing up will be perceived as suspicious. In the extreme."

  "So it's somebody I know," I drew in a breath.

  "Several someones you know. When you figure this out, and you will, you'll be out for blood."

  "Right. Where and when, so I can make a decision."

  "Do you remember when you were sent to Refizan to help Dragon?"

  "I do."

  "Good. It's happening in Texas, right about that time. If you don't go, Winkler, Trajan and at least half the Dallas Pack will die. You see what kind of snag this is, now?"

  "Fucking hell." I was already on my feet and hauling ass toward my suite to throw clothes in a suitcase.

  Past, Dallas, Texas

  Lissa

  I only had sketchy information to go on; Bree had given me as little as possible to get me on my way. Here I was, too, in the mansion next door to Winkler's because it was currently for sale, the owners were out of the country and Winkler would end up buying it for me anyway.

  Just in case, though, I asked Connegar and Reemagar to handle my occupation of it, and they'd made arrangements to lease it temporarily. They'd also made sure it was supplied with everything I'd need while I was there, and I owed them both a big hug and a kiss for it.

  I'd have gone to Winkler's front door and rang the bell to let him know I'd arrived, but Kellee, in her pregnant splendor, was there and I sure as hell didn't want to get in the middle of that predicament. Too, Bree said I was only able to use the abilities I'd had at that time—outwardly, anyway.

  Plus, the whole thing had to be kept from the Vampire Council, because let's face it—they thought I was far away and safe from Xenides and his army.

  Asshole Xenides would be dealt with later—by the former me. This time, there were new assholes and my job was to eliminate them and keep them from joining Xenides' bunch.

  Except I didn't know exactly who they were. Bree said I'd figure out.

  Yay.

  I held a current cell phone in my hand, rather than a comp-vid. I discovered I missed my comp-vid—a lot—when I dialed Winkler's private number and listened to it ring.

  "Winkler, this is Lissa," I told his phone, in response to it asking for a message to be left. "Call me as soon as you can at this number. Thanks."

  Tossing the cell phone on the bed in the massive master suite, I considered taking my clothes out of the case and putting them in the closet.

  Except it could be a useless gesture—I didn't know what the problem was and could end up in Timbuktu for all I knew. Winkler had a private jet and used it often; I had the idea I'd be going with him wherever the trouble was.

  In the meantime, I could go to the grocery store. I hadn't shopped for my own groceries in at least a century—somebody else did it. I had two credit cards Bree handed to me, courtesy of the Larentii, who were geniuses at that sort of thing. Grabbing my cell phone and stuffing it in the purse I brought with me, I misted to the nearest grocery store to stock my mansion in Dallas.

  Austin, Texas

  Winkler

  "You've been hacked—pure and simple, and now we have thieves who've made off with two million while we're standing here scratching our heads."

  Trajan spoke for me—since I was angry enough to tear into the bank president and a couple of flunkies who cowered behind him.

  The bank wasn't covered by Winkler Security, but I had a safe deposit box there. It belonged to my father and I'd kept it all these years,
when I should have put it in a more secure location.

  And one closer to home.

  Two million wasn't the only thing the thieves had made off with—they'd taken some of my mother's jewelry and a ring my father wore upon occasion. The ring had been passed down through centuries from father to son, and was worth quite a lot in its own right.

  I didn't point out that the thieves could have walked into the vault and taken whatever they wanted, including a ton of cash, but the only thing broken into and stolen was the safe deposit box I rented.

  The bank hadn't called me either, until mid-afternoon, claiming they hadn't detected the theft until then.

  "We don't know what to say, and I'll look into getting your things back," the president warbled. The police were doing the usual—dusting for prints and searching security videos, but the cameras all failed while the thieves were inside the bank.

  We had nothing to go on, no witnesses, and every outside camera lens had been spray-painted over or exposed to such bright light it couldn't record anything except that.

  "Come on, boss, there's nothing we can do from here," Trajan took my arm. I needed inside the vault where the box had been to sniff around. I needed Lissa to get me in there in the worst way, but the vamps had her off somewhere and hidden, so nobody could reach her.

  Attempting to cool my temper a few hundred degrees, I allowed Trajan to steer me toward the front door.

  "I wish we could get Lissa on this," Trajan mumbled as we walked through the door and headed for the SUV. "She'd have it sorted."

  "Just what I was thinking," I growled, letting the wolf show his displeasure. If Kellee weren't in the house, I'd probably go home and start throwing things before letting the wolf loose.

  "Full moon in three days," Trajan whispered as we loaded into the SUV and buckled in. This was the worst time for something like this to happen, and I wondered briefly if it were by design before dismissing it.

  Nearly three hours later and long after sunset, we were almost home when Trajan asked the question. "Want ice cream, boss?"

  "Maybe a tub of ice cream. And a bottle of Scotch."

  "Well, we have the Scotch, but we're out of tubs of ice cream. Here's the grocery store. We can load up and go home."

  "What happened to all the ice cream?" I glared at Trajan.

  "Don't look at me. Kellee went through two tubs in two days."

  "Damn. Pull into the parking lot. We'll buy sixteen tubs. Maybe that'll last two weeks."

  "If we're lucky."

  We found a parking place, slid out of the truck and headed for the front door. Past those and to the left was the frozen food section.

  And the ice cream.

  Maybe Kellee's pregnancy was affecting me. They said fathers often had sympathy pains. Maybe hunger pangs, too. I sure as hell wanted some ice cream, ever since Trajan mentioned it.

  Trajan was thinking, at least, and grabbed a shopping cart to load the ice cream. I heard its bad wheel clacking behind me as I headed for the frozen treats like a wolf on a scent. The glass doors were opened quickly once I arrived, and I began hefting half-gallon tubs of ice cream at Trajan like a quarterback doing lateral passes.

  The fourteenth tub ended up on the floor at my feet however, when someone spoke beside me.

  "Winkler, what the hell are you doing?" Lissa demanded. The tub of rocky road I was about to flip toward Trajan landed on the tiled floor with frozen thump.

  Chapter 2

  Lissa

  "I left you a message. Maybe if you'd check your phone now and then," I accused while we stood in the checkout line to pay.

  "Baby, I'm just glad you're here. It's like somebody answered a prayer or something," Winkler drawled. He wasn't handsome or anything, no matter where or when he was.

  "Hmmph," I shook my head at him, attempting to shake away my thoughts. I couldn't cast a sly glance at this Winkler and meet him in the bedroom later.

  "We ah, have things to tell you," Trajan said, piling tubs of ice cream on the conveyor belt.

  "You need that much?" I lifted an eyebrow at Winkler.

  "Kellee," he grumped softly.

  "Like you won't be eating half of it," I poked his shoulder.

  "Never said I wouldn't. I'd be buying half that if it was just for me."

  "At least you're honest."

  "Why are you buying groceries?" Winkler asked. "Did you come to cook for us?"

  Uh-oh. I was still drinking blood in this time period. Food consumption and day-walking wouldn't come until later.

  "Yep," I lied. "I know how you like to eat."

  "Good. You staying at the house?"

  "I'm next door—I managed to lease it temporarily. Don't want to upset things at home," I said.

  "Probably a good idea," Trajan hefted the last tub on the belt and waited for the cashier to ring it up. "Kellee isn't pleasant at the best of times."

  "I get that." I put a divider on the belt and started unloading my cart.

  "Add this to my ticket," Winkler pointed at the groceries accumulating on the conveyor.

  "Of course, Mr. Winkler."

  "Ooh, you have fans everywhere," I wiggled my fingers at Winkler.

  "How did you get away from—you know?" he asked, flashing a grin.

  "They think I'm somewhere else, and I prefer to let them keep thinking that. You have to make sure that nobody says anything while I'm here, or I'll have to leave."

  "You mean you escaped?"

  "In a manner of speaking."

  "Damn. Wish you could do that more often," Winkler hauled out his wallet to pay for everything.

  "You and me both."

  Dublin, Ireland

  Ilya Kuznetsov

  "Papa, you know what that program will do if they get their hands on it. Word is they've already sent out several to close in on their target. It'll be subtle at first, like always, and then they'll keep closing the noose until they get whatever they want."

  My son was worried, as he should be. He and others like him struggled secretly to keep Ukraine out of Russian hands, although that was becoming harder and harder, as time went on.

  Here and there across the globe, people were turning against their own governments after finding themselves compromised by Russian intelligence, or in debt to Russian banks or other concerns. I knew the network was falling into place, as did Andrei.

  I walked a narrow line between my work as a spy for Russia, and as a preserver for Ukraine, my homeland. My son and I lived dangerously as a result, and neither could afford to be caught.

  We'd die if we were.

  "How is Katya?" I asked.

  "She's fine," Andrei waved a hand. "She wants to be involved in this, too, but she's too young."

  "And it's too dangerous right now."

  "Yes. We know about the Klyki, while she thinks they're a fairy tale."

  "I curse the day their division was created. I would like nothing more than to watch them die. They kill too much and too easily—and more of the innocent die at their hands than the guilty."

  "I agree. Where will you go from here, Papa?"

  "I think I will follow those who've been sent after the target. I have some time—perhaps I might interfere?"

  "I wish you luck and a safe return."

  Dallas

  Lissa

  "They took two million in cash, some jewelry and a ring that belonged to your father?" I studied Winkler's old photographs of the contents of the safe deposit box.

  "While a pile of unmarked cash was nearby, just asking to be stolen," Winkler said around a mouthful of rocky road.

  "You think they were targeting you, don't you?"

  "I do." He scraped up the last of his tub of ice cream and stuffed it in his mouth.

  "So do I. This makes no sense, otherwise."

  "Will you get me into that vault after hours tomorrow night? To sniff around?"

  "Why don't you let me go in alone—I can sniff while not materializing."

  "What if it's somebody
I recognize, but you don't?"

  "There's that, I suppose. All right—I'll take us in, but if anything looks off, we get out fast."

  "Agreed."

  "Have you told Weldon about this?"

  "Not yet. That call is next on my list."

  "Good. He needs to be aware."

  "Should I tell Tony Hancock?" I froze for several seconds at Winkler's words. "Look, I know he did everything wrong," Winkler held up a hand. "I don't have to bring him into this."

  "Good, because I don't want him anywhere near it. Or me."

  "He fucked up big time," Winkler stared at his empty ice cream tub mournfully.

  "Oh, it's bigger than that," I sighed. I didn't add that Tony would gallivant all over England looking for me, or that he'd end up in Paris, just in time for Xenides to nearly kill him. Or that René would find him dying in a pile of rubble and make him vampire afterward.

  Nope, didn't need to interfere with any of that.

  Winkler didn't leave until almost dawn, so I ended up cooking a chicken fried steak for him. By the time he finally went home, I was so hungry I was ready to gnaw off a table leg.

  I helped myself to the leftover steak and mashed potatoes and gravy before hauling my ass to the bed. I considered folding to the bank in question, but decided it could wait for when I woke, probably sometime in the afternoon.

  If there was anything to find, I'd do reconnaissance before hauling Winkler in. Since I didn't know what we were dealing with, yet, it never hurt to be too cautious.

  Especially if somebody were gunning for Winkler to begin with.

  I was forced to wait for sundown and Winkler anyway; a wolf in the Austin Pack was murdered while I slept, and he was a business associate of Winkler's.

  "He's been like this all day," Trajan whispered while Winkler stalked around my kitchen island and growled. "Elliott was a good friend, and an early investor in Winkler's security business."