Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

"Texas," Zaria sighed.

  "Texas?" Winkler's frown was deep.

  "The waiter asked you where you were from. When your duplicate father walked in and sat down with Liron and company, he was recognized and told by the waiter that he'd met another man from Texas across the bar. The rest is history."

  "Fuck me," Winkler mumbled and shook his head. "Fuck me royal."

  "What do we do now?" Bill asked.

  "Lissa and I are going to replace Ilya's cousins in a Russian prison—in three days," Zaria replied. "I'm hoping we'll be taken to the facility where Baikov's experiments are done afterward, so we can destroy the entire thing. If Liron shows up, because he's behind all this, you know, then I hope we have what it takes to get rid of him, too."

  "That's roughly the time when your original self will return from being off-planet," Charles pointed out quietly.

  "I know," I sighed. "It worries me, too, that these things are coming together like that, as if we're being funneled into a specific container, for a specific purpose."

  "I'll have to go back to Wlodek by then—you know why," Charles said.

  "Yes, I know why." Not only had the original me returned from Refizan, but there was Wlodek to deal with, Jovana to deal with, and a shitload of Xenides' vampires to deal with, too. Xenides has sent an army to attack Wlodek's mansion, in an attempt to destroy the Council and take over the entirety of Earth's vampire population.

  With my help in the past, they'd failed in their mission. Had I not been there, Griffin wouldn't have come to help and neither would Dragon. Everything hinged on my being there.

  Everything.

  "It just keeps getting more complicated," Zaria said.

  "You got that right," I told her. "I really need that drink I didn't get earlier."

  "Macallan is cheaper in Scotland," Zaria lifted her glass to me. We'd gone to Edinburgh to get our drink, after everybody else agreed that a drink sounded good. We got pub grub to go with it; Zaria ordered the broccoli-stilton soup with fresh bread while Winkler and the rest of us had fish and chips.

  "To the best booze, and cheaper, too," I held up my wineglass to clink with hers. She and I needed to make our plans for replacing Ilya's cousins, but that would have to wait until we were sober enough to do it.

  Bill ordered two bottles of wine for the table, and he and I were making our way through the Riesling and a pinot noir, while the others had mixed drinks or straight Scotch.

  "Should we go back to London?" Bill asked, pouring another glass of wine for himself.

  "I vote we stay here," Winkler said. He'd had four drinks and he didn't even slur his words. He didn't want to run into another version of his father, either, and I fully understood that.

  It would be like meeting an evil version of my mother, which would scar my soul. Winkler had enough scars; I knew that much, and he didn't deserve more.

  "Can we accomplish everything from here?" Bill asked the obvious question.

  "As long as Zaria and Lissa are here," Ilya pointed out. "Without them, the rest of us are tied to mundane travel."

  "I'll go back to Wlodek," Charles said. "That will put me closer to London, and better able to get in touch with the rest of you if needed. Zaria, I'd still like to speak with you privately, sometime soon."

  "Sure." Zaria emptied her glass of Scotch. I knew, as did Charles, that she wasn't looking forward to having a private conversation with him, no matter when it was.

  Chapter 15

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Ilya

  He'd asked us to call him Tamp, and led us through most of the massive palace. Many of Randl's associates lived there, and there was a hum of power about all of it, but nothing I could identify.

  "Papa, I would be a fool to refuse this," Andrei told me after two others had sat down to eat with us. One called himself Vik, the other, a dwarf, was named David. David told us that he was originally from Australia, and through Zaria's good graces, had been given a new life and citizenship on a planet solely inhabited by others like him.

  "I can verify that," Vik, who was nearly seven feet tall, told us. He and David both spoke English to us, and it made Andrei feel comfortable as we shared a meal of finely-cooked fish and vegetables.

  "We can train you on weapons and any fighting disciplines you don't already have," David told us. "And, if you want, Travis and his brother will teach you to fight with blades."

  "For when a pistol or rifle just won't do," Vik grinned.

  "Of course. Why wouldn't that be so?" I said, only half sarcastically.

  "You'd be surprised," Tamp said. He wasn't eating, although he was having a drink while the rest of us ate. "If you're Falchani-trained, almost anyone will welcome you into their employ."

  "It takes discipline to master the art of the blade," Vik said. "If you're not interested, there are other things to specialize in."

  Following the meal, Vik and David walked with us, and helped Tamp tell us about the people who lived at the palace, and what they did in their normal duties aboard a BlackWing Pirate ship.

  "What about health care and such?" Andrei asked.

  "Well, we have healers on call; if Zaria can't help, then Quin or someone else will help out if needed."

  "Healers? But what if surgery is required?" Andrei asked.

  I hadn't told him how Zaria had healed werewolves of bullet wounds, or reminded him that she'd brought him back from the dead.

  That realization reached him almost as quickly as it did me.

  "Never mind, I think I understand," Andrei sighed.

  "I thought that might be the case," David chuckled.

  Once our tour was over, Zaria came to find me. I almost didn't want to leave, but I had Katya to think about.

  Therefore, I was now standing at a window in a hotel in Edinburgh, while the sun rose for the day. I hope you will be safe and happy, Andrei, I thought, and wished I had Zaria's talent to speak mind-to-mind.

  Lissa

  "I can scent the kinship, so they can't hide them from us once we're there," I said. "They may be covered in Sirenali bone dust, and I'll still sniff them out."

  Zaria and I were having a meeting without our human or werewolf counterparts over breakfast and coffee in Del City, Oklahoma—in the past. Charles had gone back to Wlodek's the night before, or he may have wanted to be in this meeting with us.

  "On the off-chance that they've managed to cover their scents and we can't find them, we pull back and regroup," Zaria said.

  "My hope is that they're keeping them together, to make it easier to move them."

  "That's my hope, too, but we can't count on it."

  Zaria was wary of our plan. I was worried, too, but felt that ultimately, if Liron and I squared off against each other, he'd lose. My biggest concern was that the Earth would lose, too. Wielding so much power anywhere near a solar system would tear it apart, and Zaria surely wasn't prepared to hold the entire thing together while Liron and I fought.

  "I hoped I'd find you here," Bree sat beside me in our booth. "You're thinking about taking Liron on, aren't you?" Her brows drew together and she frowned at me.

  "Well, what else should I do? He needs to be taken down."

  "It's not so easy to kill a god, remember?"

  "But," I held up a hand.

  "Only a few are actually strong enough to destroy a god."

  I went still. Only a few.

  As in Three.

  "Not even three," Zaria shook her head. "One. Or two."

  "Huh?"

  "The best you can hope for is to banish him where the others from the God Wars are," Bree pointed out. "After you overpower him. Then, you have to make a connection to the closed universe where the others are imprisoned, and while holding that connection open, pray that nobody trapped there finds out and uses that conduit to escape."

  "You mean open a door and toss him in before anybody else can get out?"

  "That's pretty much it."

  "Would you like to order?" Our waitress arrived to
see if Bree wanted breakfast.

  "I'll take scrambled eggs, toast and coffee, please."

  "I'll have your coffee right out." I watched as she walked away, her footsteps making the familiar squeak of soft-soled shoes on tiled flooring, while Bree's words slowly sunk into my brain.

  Not so easy to kill a god. Only one or two could do it.

  I wasn't one of those two.

  Yeah, it pissed me off more than a little.

  Zaria sat on the other side of our booth, picking at her biscuit and strawberry jam while Bree and I talked. "Are you saying we shouldn't go to Vladimirsky Central?" I asked Bree.

  "No, I think it's the best way to get where you need to go to destroy Liron's Sirenali and find the source of the bone dust. Without those things, he'll be forced to rethink his plans, especially after we deal with the mess he's making on Refizan."

  "How is that going?" Zaria asked.

  "We're worried they'll throw everything they have at us during the temple battle, and everything they have could turn out to be a lot. Even Ashe has offered to come if we need help."

  My head jerked up when she said that—if Strength, also known as the Mighty Hand, offered to get involved in a battle, then he thought it was truly serious.

  Was he one of the two who could kill a god? It would make sense that Strength would be one of those.

  Breanne—she hadn't actually killed one, had she? If so, it was only their physical body. Their eternal spirit was—damn.

  Eternal.

  Just as I'd be an eternal spirit if my corporeal body died. I could take another body, but it wouldn't be the one I was born with—it would be someone else's.

  "I got rid of a lot of rogue gods by taking them into the past, long before they actually existed. Once they passed that point, they winked out of being, because they hadn't been," Bree shrugged. She was reading my thoughts and had gotten ahead of me on some of them.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked her.

  "I hope I'm able to get to you when the time comes, so I can build the conduit between this universe and the one where the other rogues are trapped. You can toss Liron through; I'll shut down the conduit immediately after, so nobody can escape."

  "That makes it sound too easy," I said.

  "I'd like easy, to be honest. This mess with Refizan, and what you're dealing with here, has been anything but."

  Vladimirsky Central, Vladimir, Russia

  Charles

  I'd sent the original me back to Wlodek, with selected topics to add to the official record. Wlodek only needed to know the bare bones of things, and Lissa, Zaria and a few others were conveniently left out.

  He'd believe that Dalroy and Rhett were guarding the original Winkler and his wife in Port Aransas, Texas, while we dealt with the events concerning Xenides and his unholy alliance with the Baikovs.

  I'd been sending regular reports, letting him know that Ivan Baikov had gone rogue and had allied with our enemies; Ivan was now on the list to be hunted and destroyed. My last report was to be directly to Wlodek when he awoke for the evening, and he'd learn that Ivan had been seen in London.

  With Xenides and Rahim Alif.

  Heavily shielded, I walked along the narrow catwalk on the third floor of the prison, the empty, central space above the first floor beyond the railing I walked beside.

  A prisoner transport had arrived moments earlier, and word from the prison lieutenant was to check the two men in and take them to the third floor, where an empty cell awaited.

  There were no other empty cells at Vladimirsky; it was filled to capacity and beyond, with four to six to a single cell. Tuberculosis was a spreading concern in any Russian prison, and its proliferation had gone unchecked, due to lack of proper medical care, shortages of food for the prisoners and the availability of illegal drugs and such, all combined with the lack of light and proper ventilation.

  This one, like the others, was heavily shuttered. Built in 1783, the building was old and little had been done to keep it in good repair. A prisoner's comfort was of no concern, after all, and humane treatment was certainly considered a comfort.

  A door clanged shut below; the men were on their way. Invisible to the guards and prisoners, I waited outside the open cell door for the new arrivals.

  Heads down, lips tightly pressed together, the men shuffled up the steps to the third level, prodded by two guards armed with rifles.

  Hands and feet were chained, preventing them from walking fast or far. This was the fate of those who thought to argue with or oppose the Kremlin's policies.

  They imagined they'd die an early death at a prison camp in Siberia. Instead, they were brought here, on their way to an even worse death.

  Except Zaria and Lissa were going to intervene.

  I wanted to see both men first, to ensure they were worthy of such a benevolent rescue. It wasn't hard for most to pity these—or any other prisoners held within these centuries-old walls, but I was Wisdom, and understood when I should allow my heart to be involved.

  The chains were removed while I watched, and then the cell door was closed and locked. The guards walked away.

  I folded inside the cell to watch and listen.

  "We are dead," Leonid Kuznetsov told his brother, Maxim.

  "I know. Is it too much to hope it will be easy?"

  "Probably."

  "What do you think Ilya has done to displease them?"

  "Would it matter?"

  "Not anymore."

  "At least it's warmer here. If we're lucky, we'll die in our sleep tonight."

  They're in cell three-twenty-one, I sent to Zaria. On the third level of Vladimirsky Central.

  Thank you.

  Taking one last look at the prisoners, I folded away.

  Zaria

  "I had a breakfast meeting with Lissa. The food didn't settle well," I told Ilya as we sat in a nearby restaurant, so he could have breakfast in Edinburgh. "I'll just have tea, this time."

  "Something worries you?" His mouth drew into a straight line after he spoke.

  "Lots of things worry me. I know where your cousins are—or at least where they were as of early this morning."

  "Where?" He was suddenly searching my face for clues.

  "They arrived at Vladimirsky Central, and are in a cell on the third level."

  "Warmer there than where they were before, at least. That prison camp in Siberia is generally for those who will die in prison."

  "Not known for leniency, eh?"

  "That word has been stricken from all records. Where will you send them—Leo and Max?" he asked. "Can they go to Sirena, too?"

  "I'll have to ask Randl. If not there, somewhere else will be found. They have a say in this, too, you know."

  "Ah. You may end up having to send them to Ukraine, then. That's where they were going when they were arrested."

  "Want to tell me about that?"

  "I thought to retire. That decision was changed for me. I speak and read too many languages, all fluently, and can fit in anywhere. Baikov didn't want his source of information to go home to family."

  "You must be sick to death of all this," I sighed.

  "And I am. I went to work every day because Andrei and Katya would become targets to ensure my cooperation. They're not above using any source of leverage they can find to get what they want."

  "Except you're off the reservation right now. They tried to kill you and Andrei over it."

  "I know. I will be sent to prison for a short while after I report in, but then they'll send me out again; they always do. You've seen that running is foolish; they have eyes everywhere."

  "Sometimes our lives get fucked up, and we're left wondering about the final turns we made to bring us to that point," I said.

  "I have gone over that road many times," Ilya confessed as his food was placed in front of him.

  "I'll take more tea," I nodded to our server's question. She went to fetch it.

  "I suppose if there were an afterlife," Ilya cut int
o his eggs, "I would ask whomever was there waiting, why it is that people get knocked around so much during their mortal existence."

  "Some people say it's to see what you're made of," I offered. "But even steel and concrete get battered after a while. Concrete will go back to dust, while an object made of steel will often be so damaged you can't tell what it was in the beginning. I think what is left, that we have to hold together, is our will—and our love. Those two things can go through the roughest beatings imaginable, and still remain intact."

  "Yes. It is my love for my children that keeps me going, when I would have stopped long ago, no matter the consequences, had it just been me."

  "And that is what makes you worthy," I told him.

  "Worthy for what?"

  "Someday, you'll know."

  "Will you tell me what that is? Someday? You, yourself?"

  "I'll be sure to do that."

  "Good." He gathered eggs and a bite of ham onto his fork and ate while nodding.

  "What are you planning to do when Lissa and I leave to replace your cousins?" I asked him after a while.

  "Make my way back to Moscow, what else? I'll check in before entering the country, so there will be someone waiting to escort me off the plane. Then the questioning and the time spent in a cell come after that."

  I wanted to take that from him—make sure he didn't suffer more than he had already, but I couldn't—not if I wanted the timeline to remain intact. I breathed a sigh into my fresh cup of tea and drank.

  Muscovy Research Facility

  Kornel Baikov

  I glared at the piles of bones waiting to be ground up and then turned my gaze upon the supervisor. "These should have been processed already," I hissed at him. He cowered, which was my aim.

  "Three of the prisoners we had working the machines are dying of tuberculosis and cannot move from their beds," he quavered. "I have requested more, but they are slow in coming."

  "Tell them to send healthy prisoners," I snapped at him. "You should have had sense enough to do that to begin with."

  "I cannot control what gets sent, even if I do make the requests," he whined.

  "You say those three are sick in their beds?"