VENDETTA
A Novel by
CONNIE SUTTLE
For Walter, Joe and Sarah S.
And for my sister Kathy, my niece Amber and for Mica, the best fans Ashe Evans could ever hope for. Thank you!
Vendetta, copyright © 2012 by Connie Suttle
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents portrayed within its digital 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.
Other books by Connie Suttle
(Blood Destiny Series)
Blood Wager
Blood Passage
Blood Sense
Blood Domination
Blood Royal
Blood Queen
Blood Rebellion
Blood War
Blood Redemption
Blood Reunion*
(Legend of the Ir'Indicti Series)
Bumble
Shadowed
Target
Vendetta
Destroyer*
(High Demon Series)
Demon Lost*
*Forthcoming
Chapter 1
"His father and Mr. Winkler won't allow it, that's why," Denise DeLuca dumped blueberry muffins out of a muffin pan with practiced deliberation. She was taking food to Adele, no matter what. Sali had an untouched can of soda sitting in front of him as he watched his mother work.
"But we need to do something for Ashe. Maybe a private service?" Marco, sitting opposite Sali at the kitchen island, suggested, his dark eyes searching his mother's face for an acceptable answer.
"Mr. Winkler said no, and the Grand Master is backing him up," Denise muttered, arranging muffins in a basket for Adele. Her mouth tugged into a frown as she worked, turning away from her oldest son's gaze and focusing on the task she'd set for herself.
"At least I don't have to go to work," Sali buried his head in his arms. He wanted to talk to Ashe so badly, and reminded himself (again) that Ashe was dead. Jackson Pruitt was dead. Several of Mr. Winkler's wolves had died, too, in Zeke Tanner's attempt at kidnapping many of Star Cove's teens. If Ashe hadn't done as he did, half the community might have died as well. Shirley Walker had suspended work for the Star Cove teens in the groves—the peach harvest was nearly over, anyway. She'd hired adults from Corpus Christi to finish it.
Jackson Pruitt's funeral had been held in the groves three days earlier. Marcie was heartbroken over her son's death and Jack's older brother Dustin blamed himself—he'd stayed in Dallas, working there with Winkler's Pack instead of staying in Star Cove. Now, Sali and Marco were asking about a funeral for Ashe, who'd burned himself and the enemy to save the Star Cove community. There wasn't even a thread of clothing or piece of Ashe's leather wallet left behind as a remembrance.
Dori, Wynn and Sali moved about numbly after the incident. Finally, they'd been allowed to remember. Ashe hadn't been an insignificant shapeshifter, capable of only turning into a tiny, bumblebee bat. He'd held amazing abilities. Now, all that was gone. Sali sighed and lifted his head to gaze at his brother.
"Salidar, tomorrow is your birthday," Denise DeLuca reminded him.
"Yeah. Happy birthday," Sali mumbled sarcastically.
"And Jonas, Nathan and your father are interviewing for the Principal's position next week. We have to hire quickly or we won't be ready for the school year to start."
"I don't want to go to school."
"It'll be hard, Sali, I know. Ashe was always there." Marco sighed and looked away, remembering a time when he'd felt lost after James' death. "Sali, we all leaned on Ashe. We didn't realize we were doing it, but we did." Marco turned back to Sali and lifted a muffin from the basket his mother prepared. He was staying at home for the present; Winkler had given him time off.
"It's too bad Dawn and Randy couldn't stay; it was easier to talk to Adele when they were with us," Denise fitted another muffin into the empty space left after Marco's theft.
"Randy always knows the right things to say," Marco agreed. "He's a good writer."
Dawn and Randy had remained in Star Cove for Jackson's funeral, then both had gone home afterward. The ruins of Winkler's beach house had been cleared away, too, and plans were made to rebuild quickly. Winkler was currently staying in Dallas; he, Trajan, Trace and the others had flown back shortly after the incident.
That's what they all called it—the incident. A page in their history that would never be recorded anywhere. Marcie and Jason had decided to buy Cordell Feed and Seed, so they could leave the bad memories of Star Cove behind. They'd already gone back to Oklahoma, staying in Clinton and driving to Cordell to run the store until the sale was finalized.
Denise had spent as much time with Marcie as she could, helping to pack things away and giving Jackson's belongings to charity. What Marcie could bear to part with, anyway. So far, nobody had touched Ashe's things. Aedan Evans wouldn't allow it.
"School is gonna suck," Sali said, running a finger through the ring of moisture his soda can left on the island.
"Been there," Marco sighed.
* * *
Winkler placed the paper copy of the email message inside a plastic sleeve. The fragile sheet was burned around the edges and threatened to crumble if handled directly. He'd read the message several time. Considered handing a copy to Aedan Evans several times. Something always held him back.
Anthony Hancock had discovered Ashe's dictionary in the rubble left from the beach house fire. Thick books were difficult to burn completely. The cover and edges of the heavy dictionary were singed but the inner pages remained intact, protecting the paper Ashe had slipped into the center of the book. Tony hadn't seen the message—he'd handed the dictionary to Winkler, suggesting that Ashe's parents might like to have it. Tony had then returned to England and was likely on another assignment already. Winkler snorted at the thought.
Winkler, handling Ashe's dictionary carefully sometime later, found the paper Ashe had slipped between its pages. He'd glimpsed the corner of it protruding from the blackened edges. Greetings, the email read. I am your grandfather. Ashe had never mentioned the contact to anyone. Winkler attempted to trace the email, but the trail had gone cold long ago. Nothing came of it, though he'd asked Matt Michaels for help. Now, Winkler waited for another sign. Had two or three of his best watching for it, in fact.
* * *
"We found nothing." Gavin Montegue placed a folder of information on Wlodek's antique desk. Wlodek, Head of the Vampire Council, sat in his richly decorated study; surrounded by books any collector would pay a fortune to procure and original artwork that would fetch millions. A large Monet hung on one wall, a David portrait of Napoleon on another, in addition to other items that would sell quickly should they ever be offered. Wlodek had no interest in letting any of his treasures go.
Wlodek was nearing three thousand years in age, but with jet-black hair and eyes to match, he still looked young. All vampires did. Anyone would have to come quite close to Wlodek in order to see the depth of knowledge and millennia of experience in his dark eyes. Wlodek never allowed anyone to get that close.
Gavin, one of three Council Assassins, had worked with two of Wlodek's twelve Enforcers, searching for Wildrif's trail. Without blinking, he presented the information he had to the Head of the Vampire Council. Gavin's quarry had managed to escape a maximum-securit
y prison in Colorado and then succeeded in eluding human authorities and vampire trackers. None knew exactly how that was accomplished. Wlodek still wanted Wildrif. Mostly he wanted Wildrif dead, but he had to find him first.
Wlodek's worries concerning the quarter-blood Dark Elemaiya was shared by the Vampire Council. They'd dealt with this threat before. The Dark Elemaiya, many of whom had been made vampire in the past, had almost taken down the U.S. government and many other world powers. Only Wlodek and a handful of talented and vigilant vampires, with help from Weldon Harper, the werewolf Grand Master and some of his best wolves, had managed to track and eliminate those Dark vampires who sought to rule the planet. A slight rift had occurred afterward—Weldon and Wlodek differed on how the Dark vampires had been destroyed. They'd called something of a truce, however, and agreed not to speak of it again.
"Unfortunately we do not have the resources to continue tracking him, but Matthew Michaels is also hunting this one since he escaped his government's imprisonment. Mr. Michaels has promised to keep me informed," Wlodek said. Wlodek seldom revealed any sort of emotion. Vampires had a habit of never showing anyone what they were thinking or how they felt. Vampires were immortals after all, and it never paid to make an enemy of any of them.
"I shall take up the hunt again, should you wish it," Gavin nodded respectfully to Wlodek, keeping his dark eyes pinned to the older vampire. They gave nothing away. Gavin, as the Council's elite Assassin, also was adept at keeping his emotions hidden.
"I will consider it if we learn anything new," Wlodek replied. "Meanwhile, I hear we have a rogue in Budapest. Charles has information for you. See him on your way out." Wlodek terminated the meeting.
"Of course, Honored One." Gavin turned and walked out quickly. It never paid to try the old one's patience.
* * *
"Mr. Winkler, I heard a rumor." Jason held his cell to an ear as he walked down a sidewalk in Cordell. Summers could be quite hot in western Oklahoma and Jason Landers kept to the shade as much as possible, walking under awnings of small businesses that lined the street.
"You think it's a reliable rumor?"
"I'd check it out, I think," Jason said. "I left Marcie at the store—she doesn't know anything about it. She's still pretty torn up."
"I understand. I just hope your rumor bears some fruit."
"Me too. I hate to let both of 'em go like that."
"Yeah. I'll check it out, Jason. You stay with Marcie."
"Sure, boss." Jason sighed, tapped end on his cell and kept walking.
* * *
"I hold hope that my Jewels still live," Friesianna snapped at Parlethis. Parlethis did nothing to conceal his desire to work closely with the Queen as assassin and Sentinel. He'd worked his way up through the ranks of soldiers and guards surrounding the Queen. After the attempt to take the half-child, however, none of the Jewel brothers or the fifteen others had returned to the Queen's camp.
"Their talismans have not returned to me as they would have, had my Jewels perished," Friesianna informed Parlethis haughtily. "Surely you would not settle for the position without the power talisman. Those alone will guarantee an extra four relocations. They remain with my Jewels, I tell you. I have them not."
Rabis stood nearby, his head bowed as if in thought. The Queen had not ventured to ask his opinion on the matter. The talismans might not return for another reason, but the Queen had ignored the Ekdi H'Morr all along, calling it a book of myth and lies. Rabis knew the Dark King's Destroyers hadn't returned, either, and their talismans had failed to come to Baltis. Rabis held back a sigh of impatience. Friesianna might learn someday, when it was far too late, just what the terms failure and comeuppance actually meant.
"Should you not have a special guard at your side to do your bidding until the Jewels return, then? Someone to keep our beautiful Queen safe?" Parlethis was very persuasive. When he wished to be.
"Perhaps," Friesianna pretended to think it over. "Yes. You may be correct. Perform well in your duties and when my Jewels return, we may consider a permanent promotion for you."
"That is all I ask, my lovely and talented Queen." Parlethis bowed low. Rabis wanted to gag. Steeling himself, he remained where he was.
* * *
Traci set the usual glass of ice water down in front of her customer, who seemed completely engrossed in the menu. "You don't have chicken and dumplings?" he asked, lowering the plastic-covered paper and lifting an eyebrow at the waitress.
"No, sir. Not today. I think we might have it tomorrow, though. The chicken-fried steak is good—it's the special for today."
"I'll have that, then." Weldon Harper handed the menu back to the waitress. Winkler said Betsy's was the best diner in Cordell. He was about to find out.
"What's the special?" Winkler slid into the booth on the opposite side.
"Chicken-fried steak," Traci said brightly. Two strangers, both handsome, had come in and sat at her table. She was hoping for a good tip and perhaps a little gossip—they didn't usually get two nice-looking strangers at once. The last time she'd gotten nonlocals, it had been a couple in their mid-fifties who were looking for the historical marker for Cloud Chief.
Traci and her fellow waitresses had snickered at the couple's questions—there wasn't anything left of Cloud Chief except the marker and a few crumbling buildings right off the road. The rest of the old ghost town was farmland. Of course, the boy from Philadelphia had been killed not far from there, but everyone knew that was a rogue grizzly bear or something. Nobody had found the creature yet, although there were always rumors of sightings. A bounty had been placed on the creature but so far, nobody had claimed it.
"We're just passing through," Winkler waved away Traci's questions. She'd asked if he and Weldon were from the area. He and the Grand Master were on a mission, following up on Jason's theory. They would learn soon enough if their hunch bore fruit. Weldon had flown commercial into Oklahoma City, while Winkler had driven up from Dallas. They'd agreed to meet at Betsy's Diner in Cordell for dinner before taking a short side trip.
* * *
"Ready?" Weldon asked after Winkler paid the check.
"Yeah. I'll drive." Winkler grabbed a toothpick on the way out of the small diner. Winkler had a more comfortable car than Weldon's rental—he'd driven his Mercedes. Trace and Trajan had been left in Dallas, although they complained about letting him go without any guards. Neither knew he was meeting the Grand Master.
"I prefer North Dakota to this heat," Weldon felt like taking his shirt off.
"You're just not used to it," Winkler grinned, turning the air conditioner up a notch. Winkler backed out of the parking space and drove away.
* * *
"I left the power on, just in case," Winkler shut the car door quietly after they parked beside the Evans home in Cloud Chief. "Water was on a well and septic," he added, fishing for a note in his pocket. There was no true front door to the house—the Evans family had always come and gone through the garage door. It was the vampire way of making sure a prospective break-in had as many solid walls placed between the outside and the residents inside as possible. Winkler punched in the code written on the note and watched the garage door rise. Another code let him in through the back door and into the kitchen, with Weldon following close behind.
* * *
"Adele, I don't know what to do," Aedan sighed. "We could move if you want."
"I have no idea what I want at this point." Adele didn't feel like doing anything. Depression had come to call, she supposed. Laundry and housework were things she forced herself to do. Had she considered taking college courses again? Ashe had urged her to do so. Now, information and enrollment forms were forgotten. Ashe's bedroom had been closed. Aedan refused to allow anyone inside.
"Winkler's insurance paid for Nathan's boat," Aedan said. "And the other boats, too. He must have some clout to get past the adjusters like that. I hear they'll start rebuilding the houses that burned down in a few days. Marcus says Winkler's contractor
will be down soon. I hear he has several work crews hired already, to put things together in a hurry."
"We're supposed to meet Marcie and Jason at the mortgage company in four weeks," Adele said. "To complete the sale of the store in Cordell."
"It's hard to let all of it go, isn't it?" Aedan put an arm around Adele.
"It's like letting go of Ashe, all over again," Adele wept.
* * *
The sign might not have been evident to anyone else, but Winkler saw it. Two summer tomatoes were sitting in the kitchen window behind the curtain. He tapped Weldon lightly on the shoulder and pointed. Weldon nodded slightly. Winkler turned to open the door that led downstairs and into the main portion of the house when the voice came, and then the body that went with the voice became solid. "I wondered if somebody would come," Ashe sighed.
Chapter 2
"Ashe, your parents are devastated. They think you're dead," Winkler pointed out carefully. After all, Ashe could get away from all of them and there was nothing they could do about it. Weldon sat quietly in the booth at Betsy's while Ashe ate stew and cornbread. He was quite hungry, as it turned out. He'd been afraid to use the debit card he had in his pocket and his cash had run out after the third day.
"I realize that," Ashe buttered half a piece of cornbread and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. "Isn't that the best thing? Who else will come looking for me? Who else is going to die, Winkler? If they think I'm dead, then everybody should be safe."
"You have no proof of that," Weldon said quietly. "We all live our lives on an edge of some sort. None of us have guarantees. Think about who you're talking to, Ashe. Winkler and I have seen plenty during our lifetimes. Dead wolves, vampires, shapeshifters, humans. The world isn't an easy place, son. All we can do is make it better if we can. You have a gift that could help. If I understand correctly, there are a lot of people who work for the British Embassy who owe you their lives. Same with Winkler, Trajan, your parents, most of those kids you pulled off that island—they'd probably be dead now, if you hadn't been there. Dominic Pruitt was determined to get his son and the others with him, to help Ezekiel Tanner with his sick scheme to haul drugs across the border. You saved them from a terrible fate."
Vendetta (Legend of the Ir'Indicti #4) Page 1
