Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

  Ilya

  "Your bags and belongings are in your bedroom," Lissa led me to a door on the third floor. "Your bedroom will be shielded while you sleep, so don't worry about that for now."

  "I'll be able to get out?"

  "Of course. Nobody will be able to get in if they mean you harm, that's all. Come nightfall, Winkler will be over here, asking questions. You can help answer them. Get some rest if you can."

  After closing the door behind me, I found my bags on the bed and my cache of weapons atop a wide dresser nearby. If I needed more, perhaps my new contacts could get them for me.

  I considered a crossbow wouldn't be a bad idea—if it were loaded with wooden darts to stop a vampire.

  Bullets would do for werewolves; I'd learned how effective they were the night before.

  My bedroom had an en-suite bath, so I dragged my shirt off and headed in that direction. A hot shower sounded good before my attempt to fall asleep.

  Lissa

  "I had to be creative," I said as werewolves picked through a pile of sweat pants and T-shirts. They were human-looking now, and ready to put on clothing after visiting the showers in the available bathrooms throughout the house.

  Debra, the lone female, wore something I'd swiped from Zaria's closet—she was taller than I and was the closest fit to our lady guest.

  "I can't thank you enough," Debra sighed over an empty breakfast plate. Zaria had cooked enough for an army, and sent half of it to my house with power to feed the Austin Pack.

  "I'm glad I got there when I did," I told her. "I don't know who you lost, but I'm sorry I didn't get there for them, too."

  "Hmmph. Mick didn't need to be in charge anyway," she said, turning her head to gaze out the kitchen window. "Dawn is coming soon," she remarked.

  "I know," I said. "I'll have to go to bed. If you need anything and Winkler hasn't sent somebody over after breakfast, then contact Zaria at Winkler's house. She'll do what she can."

  "You're the one who saved us," a young werewolf walked in, combing fingers through drying hair.

  "This is Gabe," Debra introduced him. "He got hit last night, but your friend Zaria saved him."

  "Thank goodness," I reached out to take his offered hand. "I was worried about all of you."

  "You the one belonging to the Sacramento Pack?"

  "Yeah. That's me. I'm here undercover, so don't let that out, okay?"

  "Secret's safe with us," Debra said. "And it will always be safe with us."

  My cell phone rang, then, curtailing further conversation. It was Winkler. "You have ten minutes before I have to go to bed," I told him.

  "Be there in one," he replied before cutting off the contact.

  "Winkler is on the way," I told Gabe and Debra. "Tell him what you know of the attack. We'll find these bastards if it's the last thing I do."

  Winkler arrived in less than a minute; he'd ran the whole way, looked like. "You look tired," he announced first thing.

  "We've had a busy night," I frowned at him.

  "I get that. Debra, Gabe, how are you?" He turned to my guests.

  "I'll let you talk—I need a shower before getting in bed." I patted Winkler's back before heading toward the stairs and my second-floor bedroom.

  Winkler

  "We were about to run down two deer," Gabe explained. "They ran into a wooded area, and that's when the bullets started flying. Mick went down immediately; as did a couple of others. Some of us were hit, too, but still trying to run out of that trap. That's when Lissa came and lifted us away. I can't recall too much after that—Zaria says they almost got me in the heart with one of the bullets. The others lodged in my shoulder and hip."

  "How many did you lose?" I asked.

  "Seven," Debra answered. "Without Lissa's help, it would have been a lot worse. We had shooters on three sides in those woods, if I heard correctly. We can go back—we'll have to, anyway, to recover bodies."

  "If they left them there," I huffed.

  "You think they'd take them?" Gabe sounded confused.

  "Anything's possible, kid," I said. "Word is we're dealing with Russian vamps and weres, so we have no idea what they might be up to."

  "You're kidding?" Debra sounded shocked.

  "Not kidding. Have that information on good authority," I said. "I figure we'll get confirmation on it later. I'm warning you all now; if you go back to Austin, keep your wits about you."

  "I think I'll go to my brother's right after the funeral," Debra sighed. "This—I didn't sign up for any of this."

  "I know," I reached over and patted her hand. "You deserve better than this, and I mean that. If you want, I can arrange for somebody to drive you and your things to Abilene."

  "I think I'd like that," she admitted. "I just hate leaving the younger ones here to fend for themselves."

  "Deb, we'll be okay," Gabe attempted to reassure her. "Besides, Mr. Winkler, here, may need our help tracking those bastards. Had to be vamps or humans, don't you think? Wolves would be running into the pack and taking us on that way. These were shooting at us and hitting us, too. Sounded like AK-47s to me."

  "The choice of werewolf assassins everywhere," I growled. "We'll go looking at the site after Lissa wakes tonight," I said. "Why don't all of you get comfortable and rest through the day? We'll get you wherever you want to go tonight."

  "I like that idea," Debra agreed.

  "I'll have food sent over for lunch and dinner," I said. "Call if you need anything else."

  "Thank you, Mr. Winkler," Gabe said.

  "You're more than welcome, kid."

  Zaria

  "How the hell did you get Kellee to sit there and be polite?" Trajan whispered after Kellee left the table and wandered toward her bedroom to sleep.

  "I look like everybody's grandmother," I said. "You don't disobey Grandma, or you don't get any treats."

  "Well, hell, I'd have dressed up like a grandma if it would have that effect," he drawled.

  "Come on, now. She can smell testosterone from a quarter-mile away. Besides, aren't there stories about wolves dressing up like grandmothers?"

  "Those are fairy tales. Wolves almost never dress up like grandmothers to lure in little girls."

  "Of course not." My fists were firmly planted on my hips as I pretended to glare at Trajan. He laughed.

  Winkler's boots scuffed across the kitchen tile as he walked in. "Austin Pack lost seven last night. Mick was one of them," he said, sliding onto a barstool next to Trajan. "Any bacon left?"

  "Yeah. I saved some for you," I turned to grab the leftover bacon from the warming oven. "Want anything else?"

  "Nah. I just need something to chew on while I consider what to say to Weldon when I call."

  "He won't be happy," Trajan sighed. "Damn, I'm tired."

  "He won't be happy? I'm not happy," Winkler tapped his chest. "I don't think anybody involved in that mess is happy, either. Mick would be pissed, except he's dead."

  "Look, if you two are gonna trade complaints, I'm gonna fix your house and then go grab some sleep," I said. "You ought to consider the same."

  "Will we be safe?" Winkler demanded.

  "I have a shield around both houses. You're good for now."

  "I think I'd like to hear how you do that, but it can wait," Trajan yawned wide enough to crack his jaw.

  "Awesome. You know where to find me and all that shit," I said, stalking toward the destroyed portion of the house.

  Lissa

  "My love?"

  "Huh?" I had to swim through several layers of deep sleep to reach the surface, believing through half of it or more that Reemagar's voice was only a dream.

  "I bent time. You've slept for eleven hours. Time to wake, my love, and face the night in Dallas."

  "Oh, great," I slapped a hand over my face. "You could have saved that for later—after three cups of coffee, maybe."

  "I believe Zaria said something similar to Valegar, when he woke her to cook lunch," Reemagar kissed my forehead. I still hadn
't opened my eyes, but it was him—I could smell the sunlight on his skin. "Wake now, you are needed."

  "Larentii, stating the obvious since time began," I mumbled.

  "We are quite handy in that way," he agreed, a smile in his voice.

  "Stop grinning," I cracked an eye open to check.

  "My Lissa, always unwilling to wake."

  "Not unwilling—unless it's somebody else waking me. I do fine on my own, you know."

  "Of course you do."

  "Okay, now you're just patronizing me."

  "We excel in it."

  "Right. How is she—Zaria?"

  "Valegar bent time for twelve hours with her. She was rested, albeit somewhat grumpy when she was wakened."

  "I can't blame her a bit. Not after the night we had."

  "I understand."

  "See previous, patronizing comment."

  "Come now, your wolf is pacing, waiting for sundown in Dallas. I must get you back."

  "Where am I?" I came fully awake, then, to find myself in Reemagar's arms on the Larentii homeworld, while he stood naked in sunlight, soaking it up like a sponge. Since I was naked, too, I considered having words with this particular Larentii mate.

  "That will have to wait, my love. We go back now."

  I felt like a ruffled hen when I dropped onto the floor in my suite, while Reemagar disappeared before I could thank him or hurl insults. Frankly, the jury was still out on which one of those wanted to come out of my mouth first.

  Hastily gathering clothes from the closet, I got dressed as the sun slipped below the horizon, and I misted downstairs the moment I heard Winkler shout my name.

  Chapter 4

  Ilya

  Zaria had come back to Lissa's house to cook for the Austin Pack, so I volunteered to help. I love to cook, and four hands are better than two when you cook for twenty or more.

  "I can't believe you put this together so fast," the young werewolf complimented us as we placed rare steaks on plates and set them out for waiting guests.

  "It took a fast trip to the grocery store," Zaria shrugged and pulled another sizzling steak off the grill. Huge bowls of salad lined one side of kitchen counters, along with baked potatoes and asparagus. Surprisingly, the werewolves were eating all of it—with much butter and sour cream on the potatoes.

  William Winkler walked into the kitchen with Lissa beside him. I was grateful—he'd been shouting her name only minutes before.

  "Want one?" I asked the Dallas Packmaster, offering a steak fresh from the grill.

  "You need to ask?" He took the plate and helped himself to a potato and salad. "Sit down when you're done and we'll talk." He pulled a barstool toward the breakfast bar.

  "I think we're done, now," Zaria turned off the grill, allowing the vent to continue pulling hot air away from the kitchen.

  "Good. Pull up a chair and talk to me."

  Lissa had already found an empty barstool; I found two more so Zaria and I could sit. Zaria was having a potato, salad and asparagus, while I had the last steak cooked.

  "This is really good," Winkler stuffed steak into his mouth.

  "It's the marinade," I shrugged. "I learned how to make it from the chef at Frederica's in New York."

  "You're kidding." Winkler stopped chewing for a moment.

  "No. I enjoy cooking. It makes me happy."

  "Hell, even I have to grease palms to get into Frederica's," Winkler grumbled.

  "You don't speak the chef's native language. I do," I grinned. I figured it was difficult enough to one-up the Dallas Packmaster.

  "Well, that explains it," Lissa grinned at Winkler. "Honey, you just need to speak Czech, that's all."

  "I'll get on that immediately," Winkler grinned back at her.

  I knew it then; he was in love with this vampire. She loved him, too, but there was some sort of barrier between them. I imagined it had to do with Winkler's pregnant wife. I knew little of werewolf politics, and perhaps this wasn't the best time to ask impertinent questions.

  "Do we have plans to go to Austin?" Zaria asked.

  "We do. I'm sending Debra to her brother's after the funeral, so she'll be out of danger, I hope. The others want to help us investigate. We'll see how that goes," Winkler shook his head. "We'll be picking up bodies, too, if they left them behind."

  "You worry that they didn't?" I asked.

  "I worry about a lot of things."

  "Yes. I can see that you do."

  "Tell me about the Russian vampire."

  "Baikov is the one I'm familiar with. I don't know names of others, although there are many, if my sources are correct."

  "That's the one you met?" Winkler turned to Lissa.

  "Ivan Baikov, yes," Lissa nodded.

  "Ah. A first name. I didn't know that, only the last," I confessed. "His human descendant, the General, is called Kornel by his friends—or those he identifies as friends."

  "That's a Czech name, isn't it?" Zaria asked.

  "I'm surprised you know that, but it is. Now you know where I get some of my information—the chef at Frederica's hears from his family, and they hear about Baikov's family. Good to know the right people, eh?"

  "I'd say so," Lissa breathed.

  "He is dirty, that one. I don't know which Baikov I'd rather face in a fight—because both are bad as they come, I believe."

  "Tell me about the wolves and vamps working for the Kremlin," Winkler changed the subject.

  "Ah. They are known in the secret circle as Klyki—fangs," I explained. "Hardly anyone outside the Kremlin knows of their existence, as you can imagine. They are sent on special assignments, when a normal person would have difficulty in persuading, capturing or killing a target. You, they wish to persuade," I told Winkler. "Otherwise, they'd have attacked your pack last night. They're showing you what can happen, without getting too close to your heart, you understand."

  "So they want something."

  "Yes. Something you have, or perhaps your cooperation. We should find out soon enough."

  "Hmmph," Zaria sniffed.

  "You know what it is?" I turned to her.

  "I know what it is."

  "I suspect the same, more than likely," I told her.

  "What do they want?" Winkler frowned at both of us.

  "They want your recognition software," I said. "Yes, we have known for more than a year where it came from. Do not ask how we came by the information—I do not know, and that knowledge puts many at risk on both sides. Just know that they now want it, and they want you to show them how to use it, so they can change and improve. Do not take this as an insult," I held up a hand to quell Winkler's protest.

  "And their attack against the Austin Pack means they also know what you are," Lissa tapped Winkler's arm to pull his attention and his snarl away from me.

  "Yes. They have learned this, or their werewolves have informed them. You are not unknown to them, yes?"

  "Fuck." Winkler pushed his chair back, the legs scraping the tiled floor with an irritating rasp.

  "Have you talked to Weldon, yet?" Lissa caught Winkler's arm as he stepped away from us.

  "I did, but I'll have to call him back."

  "Who is Weldon?" I turned to Zaria.

  "Grand Master of all werewolves," Zaria said softly. "He'll have to be informed that there are Russian werewolves working against other werewolves."

  "Ah."

  "For now, we have no names to give him, so he can investigate and level charges," Winkler pulled his chair back and sat again.

  "Perhaps this is why I haven't heard names, either," I said. "Those must be kept quite secret for this reason."

  "Wlodek would send Enforcers, if he knew what Baikov was up to. Probably a good thing he doesn't know," Lissa said.

  "Wlodek?"

  "Head of the Vampire Council," Zaria said.

  I turned and leveled a curious gaze at her. "Until now, I'd say a witch with your talents was an impossibility."

  "You haven't seen anything, yet," Lissa sniff
ed.

  "Come on, let's see if everybody's done eating," Winkler rose again. "We need to get on the road. Plane's fixed, but I can't carry that many. We'll have to convoy."

  Lissa

  Zaria, still looking like a grandmother in her sixties, with light-brown-going-gray hair and a decent figure, climbed into the back seat of Winkler's lead SUV. She moved to take the middle seat while I scooted in beside her and shut the door. Ilya took the window seat on Zaria's other side; he was in his late fifties at least, but I didn't doubt for a moment he could hold his own in a fight.

  As long as the fight was with another human.

  How are you holding up? I sent to Zaria while looking out the window. Trajan drove; I watched the walls around Winkler's house recede behind us as we drove down a side street that would eventually take us to I-35.

  He won't meet the other me in this lifetime—I'm the only survivor of that dead timeline, she returned. This isn't going to be easy.

  I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off Winkler, I confessed. He's the same—and not the same.

  I feel that way, too. Feeling familiar, and having to take steps back from behaving that way.

  Does your Ilya know you're here now?

  I didn't talk to him about it, but there's always the possibility that new memories will come unexpectedly.

  I hope it doesn't change anything.

  That makes two of us. By the way, we're being followed, she said. Dalroy and Rhett are three cars behind our last vehicle. Two more vampires—unfriendly ones—are behind them.

  Fuck.

  "Mr. Winkler," Zaria said aloud.

  "Zaria?" Winkler turned in his seat to see what she wanted.

  "We are being followed. We can allow them to keep following, or I can lay an illusion, making them think that other vehicles are yours while we become invisible—for fifteen minutes. They'll lose us and then wonder how it happened."

  "Do it." Winkler's eyes turned silver in the light of a passing car's headlights—it was too soon after a full moon and the wolf was more present than usual.

  "We are now invisible to all," Zaria announced after glowing for a moment. "Tell the others to follow your lead; I'll make sure a path opens for all of us."