Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

  "Then this will be fine, eh?"

  "As fine as we can get."

  "Come, then." He lifted the key card from my fingers and opened the door. "We will turn the air conditioner to very cold and snuggle together like Siberian hares."

  "Sounds awesome."

  "Good." He shut the door behind us and kissed me.

  Lissa

  At first, I didn't recall letting him in. And then I had to figure out which Winkler it was.

  The old Winkler.

  The one married to Kellee.

  Fuck.

  Well, we hadn't gone that far, thank goodness, but there he was, in wolf form, sleeping at the foot of my bed.

  "Honey, you really need to get up and go back to your room," I reached down to run my fingers through the fur on his head.

  "Grrrrrr."

  "Your clothes are there. Breakfast is downstairs. They won't let a wolf in, or a naked man."

  "Grrrrrr." He extended his growl while dropping off my bed and padding toward the door. I got to see his naked ass when he changed to unlock the door and let himself out. Yeah, I should have misted him to his room, but he didn't ask. Plus, I wasn't at my most coherent the morning after the day before, which was punctuated with at least three margaritas.

  Trajan, you'd better let him in, he's naked, I sent before turning over and pulling covers over my head. Even through the duvet, I heard Winkler's door slam down the hall.

  Zaria

  "Coffee?"

  There is nothing sexier to me than that word, whispered against my ear in the morning.

  "Hold on." I attempted to scoot off the bed, but Ilya's arms wrapped around me one last time for a hug and a kiss beneath an ear. Then he let me go.

  We dressed and brushed teeth in record time, before heading toward the street. We had to find another coffee shop—Deep Perkatory was still closed after it was fired on by duplicate werewolves. Thick sheets of plywood covered shattered windows, and yellow crime scene tape was stretched across the door.

  "There's a Starbucks two blocks down," I said. Ilya nodded, so we walked in that direction.

  "Bill, Tony," we joined those two at their table; they'd arrived for coffee before we did. Bill was reading messages on his phone before showing them to Tony.

  "The four we jailed yesterday were found dead in their cells early this morning," Bill grumped while Tony skimmed the texts.

  "I'm glad you questioned them beforehand, then," I said.

  "We didn't get a lot; there were holes in their memories."

  "I think they rushed them to get them out there to attack. They didn't waste a lot of time training them, so they honestly didn't have information to give you," I said, tearing off one end of my heated croissant and stuffing it in my mouth.

  "More duplicates?" Tony handed Bill's phone back and locked eyes with mine.

  "Um-hmmm," I mumbled while chewing.

  "Damn, this is frustrating," Bill grumped, lifting his cup and drinking. As usual, he'd asked for a flat white—a really big one. "It's like they're trying to wear us out, pulling us from one place to another, and attacking anybody we have ties to."

  "Are there still plans to fly to London?" Ilya asked.

  "There are; we'll accept Winkler's offer of a ride on his jet," Bill sighed. "I'm assuming we'll have quick transport back to the U.S. if it's needed."

  "You will," I told him. "Whatever is needed. Not only am I more worried than I was, I'm angrier than I was."

  "The Williams family will have guards watching their farm until the next full moon," Bill shook his head before drinking more coffee. "Thomas Williams says he'll be happy to provide assistance to us in the future, in exchange for our help in this."

  "Doesn't sound like a bad idea," I observed. "There are plenty of things he and his pack can do for you."

  "I think you're right."

  "I uh, had to tell POTUS that Lissa was here to help Bill, because she ah, wouldn't lift a finger to help me under the current circumstances, and that this is off the books for her," Tony told us. "POTUS was quite relieved to have her on the case, as you can imagine."

  "I've sent full reports for his eyes only," Bill added to Tony's admission. "He's given me point on this as a result."

  "Well done, you," I told Bill, giving him a smile.

  "Save that for when this is over," he said, although a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

  "I'd like breakfast somewhere," Ilya said after emptying his coffee cup.

  "There's a place not far away that's good, and the morning rush is just about over," Bill said. "Come on, follow me."

  Lissa, we're headed to The Breakfast Nook if you want something to eat, I sent.

  We'll be there shortly.

  Lissa

  "We're coming with you," Charles announced as he and Trajan exited their hotel rooms.

  "Up during the day, Charles? What have we come to?" I teased.

  "Nothing good after yesterday," he said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that they know now that they can crook their finger—by attacking anyone we know—and we'll come running to take care of it."

  I almost stumbled over my own feet when he put everything in such blunt perspective. "Do you want to talk while we walk, or mist to the restaurant and save it for a breakfast meeting?"

  "Mist first, then talk."

  "Right. On it." Thirty seconds later, we materialized in a shadowed corner near the restaurant and walked toward The Breakfast Nook's entrance. Zaria already had a table waiting that would hold all of us.

  "Ilya, can you get information from your friend on Baikov's family—we don't want to threaten his family in reality, but we can let him know that we know where they are." Tony pointed his fork in Ilya's direction.

  "Hmmph. I worry about this tactic."

  "So do I," Zaria voiced my own opinion on the matter.

  "Right now, it's what we have," Tony frowned. "Just a few photographs sent to the right place, and maybe he'll back off on these attacks."

  "Charles?" I turned toward him—he was eating what the others thought to be the obligatory vampire meal with others. They still thought Zaria was protecting him from sunlight, too.

  Frankly, he wouldn't have ordered such a large meal if he wouldn't enjoy any of it. Eggs and coffee would have done the trick, but he'd ordered eggs, sausage, toast and a small stack of pancakes. And he was eating all of it, too.

  The schmuck.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, he pointed a smile in my direction. "I think," he sipped coffee for a moment before continuing, "that whatever will come of this will come anyway, whether now or in the future."

  "Yes, but," Zaria pointed her fork at him.

  "But what?" He lowered his eyes and concentrated on his plate.

  "This may determine where the blame will fall," she said.

  "Bad with the good," Charles shrugged.

  She was her father's daughter—and her mothers'. His logic, tempered with empathy and understanding.

  Bree, I sent, I think I'm one of Zaria's mothers.

  You are. As am I. I figured this out.

  What about the uh, I began.

  That's a story for later. Don't worry, it's nothing bad, just—unusual.

  All right. How are you feeling about this?

  I just want to hug her.

  Yeah. Me, too.

  I guess that'll have to wait until we all have time to talk. Gotta go—things are getting a little heated around here.

  Heated?

  They've set half the city on fire, I think, hoping to burn out any remaining vampires.

  Fucking hell.

  You got that right. We're helping as much as we can; Dragon's hands are tied on the power thing because of the Ra'Ak's presence. One bad move and the entire planet will be toast. How are things on your end?

  Not nearly that bad, I don't think. Go back to what you were doing. Let us know if you need help.

  Will do. She cut off our conversation.


  "Will you contact your friend at Frederica's?" Tony asked Ilya.

  "Only if there is no other choice."

  "I think we're to that point, now," Tony said.

  "They live in a very fine manor home, built three centuries ago in Ostrova. Tales have grown through the years that the family was once poor until a lost relative appeared and lavished them with money and a new home. The family has been there ever since," Ilya explained later, after speaking with his friend over a secure line.

  "I'd bet most of what I have it was vampire Baikov," I snorted. "Who broke the vampire laws to do it. Then, no doubt, he fixed his many-times great-nephew up with the folks at the Kremlin, and the rest is history."

  "Vampire laws?" Ilya frowned deeply at me.

  "It's against the rules for any vampire to contact his former family. Not that I should be telling you that, but you'd probably figure it out for yourself."

  "What is the penalty for this?" he asked.

  "Well, that depends. Even if Wlodek decided that Baikov deserved to die for his infractions, he'd take a back seat to what Xenides is doing right now."

  "Xenides?"

  "A vampire worse than Baikov, if you can believe that."

  "I find it hard to believe, this is true."

  "Does General Baikov hold dual citizenship in the Czech Republic and Russia?" Zaria asked Ilya.

  "He does. I believe some manipulation of the records was done to achieve this. The government desires that you report a dual citizenship, of course, but as they manufactured Baikov's, I'm sure he isn't expected to do so."

  "What about you, Ilya?" Zaria asked quietly. "Ukraine doesn't recognize dual citizenship."

  "I know this." He looked away for a moment. "My family are citizens of Ukraine. I am officially a citizen of Russia, as they refused to allow me to leave them when Ukraine did."

  "In other words," I began.

  "In other words, Baikov threatened my life, and the lives of my family if I refused to continue my work for them. I kissed my wife and children good-bye. Three years later, before I could get back to her, my wife passed. I was forced to leave my children in the care of a family friend. Still, I manage to see them now and then; Andrei has moved away from Ukraine and now lives in another country."

  Ireland, Zaria sent to me. Dublin, actually.

  I don't blame him, I returned.

  "Are we still scheduled to fly to London tomorrow?" Trajan asked. He and Charles were still with us, while our meeting continued inside Bill's suite.

  "We are. Pack your things, Second of mine," Winkler ordered.

  "I need lunch," I said. "Who's buying and where?"

  Bill

  "I have to take a call," I said shortly after my cell phone rang. I walked into the bathroom and shut the door—the President was on the line.

  "We have a snag," he told me the moment I answered.

  "What's that?"

  "Someone at the FBI ran some images through the software, without authorization," he told me.

  "And?" I went cold—whatever he said next I wasn't going to like—I was sure of it.

  "You're aware of who the Blacksmith is, I assume?"

  "Yes, and he's helping us with this mess."

  "I understand that, and trust you not to spill any sensitive information to him. What concerns me is this—that information was passed to an outside, unknown party. Now, you probably know better than I do who that could be."

  "The Kremlin," I hissed. "No doubt in my mind."

  "I'll admit, that disguise is damn good—nobody would recognize him like that. Some of the mannerisms, however, are what helped nail him. You ought to tell him he's been compromised."

  "I'll let him know," I said. The President ended the call. I stood inside the brightly-lit hotel bathroom, holding the phone in nerveless fingers while I stared at my image in the mirror in alarm.

  Lissa

  "Winkler, have I ever told you that your software is too damn good, sometimes?" I glared at him. Ilya hadn't taken well to the news that he'd been identified, and that the information had probably been sold to the Kremlin.

  Baikov knew already where Ilya was, unless I missed my guess.

  "Outing allies wasn't in my realm of thinking when I built it," Winkler mumbled. "Catching criminals when they walked into banks was my top priority. You were the one who convinced me to sell it to the government."

  "I did, didn't I?"

  "It's worked out, for the most part. Until now."

  "The vamps still don't know, and they still don't need to know," I shook a finger at him.

  "What about Charles?"

  "He knows how to keep his mouth shut."

  "We have pictures taken by an agent in the Czech Republic," Tony said as he and Bill walked through the door. They'd left half an hour earlier to make a run to Bill's office.

  "And?"

  "No Baikov, but surveillance has been set up in strategic spots around the house. Ilya wasn't kidding—that house is a whopper," Bill said.

  "I'm telling you, vampire Baikov did that for them."

  "Are all vamps filthy rich?" Winkler asked.

  "Most of them," I shrugged. "I have all the holdings from my now-deceased sire, and they'll come to me once my ah, training period is over."

  "How much?"

  "Too much—most of it ill-gotten, I think."

  "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that story," Bill sighed. "Makes me wish for law-breaking vampire forebears."

  "You really don't need any," I patted his arm. "Honest."

  "You need to decide who else you want to look like," Zaria took Ilya's hand and led him toward the door.

  "Sean Connery?"

  "Do you have a Scottish accent?"

  "Of course."

  Later, when we met for dinner, Ilya resembled Sean Connery, although he couldn't be accused of copying the actor, and he didn't have the beard that the actor sometimes wore. His dark hair was liberally salted with strands of gray, but still I saw servers and customers staring now and then.

  I'd say Ilya wasn't displeased at all with Zaria's work.

  "A grilled cheese and tomato sandwich?" Zaria handed the menu back to our server. "With a side of asparagus, please."

  "If you'll get the pot roast, I'll get the chicken fry and we can split," Winkler nuzzled my ear.

  "Let's do it," I said firmly, folding my menu. Winkler would end up eating two-thirds of everything, but I wasn't very hungry anyway.

  The Kremlin

  Kornel Baikov

  "What do you mean, the images of that treasonous bastard disappeared?" Uncle Ivan demanded over the phone. "If someone erased them, show them what happens to those who make terrible mistakes."

  "They weren't erased—they disappeared while we were looking at them."

  "Our system was hacked?"

  "Our experts say no. Absolutely no evidence. Nothing else was disturbed."

  "Were copies made?"

  "Those have also gone blank."

  "How is that possible?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps it is this Zaria person—the one who placed a decapitated vampire into my bed. Nobody came or went from my bedroom that night. When I awoke, dead eyes were staring into mine and I was freezing from being next to—that."

  "Kornel, are you becoming squeamish now? I though I taught you better than that."

  "The only thing we can rely on is our memory, now—we know what he looks like," I pointed out.

  "What if he disguises himself again?"

  "We'll keep searching. We know Kuznetzov is somewhere near William Winkler—he has gone straight to our target—to protect him, no doubt."

  "We know how to stop that from happening, don't we?"

  "His daughter or his son?"

  "Let us target the son—we know where he is, do we not?"

  "We do."

  "Besides, we take one down, he will do whatever he can to protect the other, including turning himself in or handing us the target willingly."


  "As always, you are a master strategist, Uncle."

  "Yes. You should learn this from me, you know."

  "As you say, Uncle." I ended the call before he could aggrandize himself further.

  Zaria

  I'd asked to be alone for an hour. Ilya nodded and went to his room to pack for the trip.

  Then I began sifting through everything, including the Metal Library.

  Nothing.

  I found nothing that would be affected if Andrei Kuznetzov lived to a ripe old age—on Revalus in the future, alongside shapeshifters and Pod'l-morphs.

  If Andrei stayed here, he'd die by Baikov's command—it wouldn't matter which of them gave the order. Ilya would seek revenge for his son's death, like before, but now, even Katya's life was in danger. Before, it hadn't been and when she was grown, she'd take up her brother's cause—she and her husband.

  Not this time—they'd kill her, too.

  Andrei had been assassinated because of his struggle to keep Ukraine out of Russian control the first time around. This time, it would be because his father thought to help us. I hoped Ilya was done with his packing; we had a trip to Ireland scheduled in our very near future.

  And there were several things to do once we arrived.

  Ilya

  "How do you know about my son?" My voice was harsher than I intended, but Zaria frightened me by saying Andrei was in danger and we had to go to him.

  "Ilya, you can waste time by getting all huffy, or you can come with me to save his life. Decide now, okay?"

  I wanted to ask if she was sure. Andrei was well-hidden and moved often, to stay hidden. How could they find him so quickly?

  "Fine. We will not waste time. Take us there," I tossed out a hand in resignation. What followed may have been one of the most difficult things to witness I would ever recall, because Zaria landed us inside Andrei's small apartment, just in time to see him shot and watch him die.

  I had my pistol out to kill his attacker in less than a blink.

  Lissa

  "We'll be staying here, at a hotel near Wembley Stadium," Bill tapped the screen on his laptop, which displayed a map of London. "There are rooms for all of us, up to two weeks. I'm hoping we won't need that long, actually."