Raven, Red

by Connie Suttle

  Wise of the First to send those two, Claudio thought as they rose to greet him. The flight from Tulsa to Dallas wouldn't be a long one; he hoped to pull Insight from at least one of his guards on the way.

  Once Claudio was settled, Renault exchanged a glance with Alejandro. Which would be chosen to deliver insight first? The physical pain involved concerned neither. The picking through of old memories, however, was another story.

  "How old are you, Alejandro?" Claudio asked as the jet taxied along the runway.

  "Three centuries, Master Scholar," Alejandro replied.

  "And you, Renault?"

  "Nine centuries, Master Scholar."

  "This is a short flight," Claudio observed. "I will draw from Alejandro during that time, as he is the younger."

  "It will be so," Alejandro dipped his head to Claudio, before opening his shirt for Claudio's invasion.

  "I apologize for the discomfort—and the mental anguish," Claudio murmured as sharp claws formed on his right hand. Alejandro's body went rigid as Claudio's talons pierced his chest.

  The other Scholars had learned to separate themselves from the fear and turmoil of the times they investigated through insight. Claudio found himself struggling with many of Alejandro's memories as they walked across the tarmac to a waiting vehicle.

  Externally, Alejandro appeared fine. Claudio could only imagine what bringing these memories back and making them fresh again had done to his guard. A second apology could make them both appear weak, so he held it back.

  How did one deal with finding many times great-grandchildren among the ruins of the attack on Guernica?

  Alejandro had done just that, and he'd wept over their broken bodies. And, while he and Alejandro were connected, Claudio had felt those tears as if they were his own.

  Had the et Inpaenitens—the Unrepentant, gained new members during that volatile time—prior to and during the course of World War II? Had even more been added during wars and terroristic attacks since then?

  That had yet to be determined.

  How will they strike this time? Who will the targets be? Claudio couldn't venture a guess as yet. Soon enough, new demagogues would rise, victims would be chosen, and the cycle would begin again.

  Could the world, already in chaos and torment, defeat the rise of evil, or would its population accept and bow before it?

  Claudio had never been so terrified that it would come down to the latter.

  "Tai Chi?" Ari asked Nico after breakfast. "We haven't gotten any exercise lately."

  "I could go for that," Nico agreed. "I feel—restless, I guess. Unmoored."

  "There's the proper word—unmoored," Ari agreed. "Mac, you want to do Tai Chi?"

  "Watch," Mac said.

  "He could probably do snake creeps low pretty well," Nico observed.

  "Snake. Gets. Pecked," Mac grumped.

  "Can you show me? I've always wanted to learn," Janie said. "We can go to the backyard—past the pool and under the shade trees."

  "Dress in loose clothing," Ari said. "We'll meet in the backyard in fifteen."

  "What are they doing?" Lance frowned when he and Mona found Ari, Janie and Nico in the backyard, doing what looked to be a slow dance. The raven, perched on a bench, watched from a nearby gazebo.

  "Looks like Tai Chi," Mona said. "Wish I'd gotten here sooner, to watch from the beginning."

  "No, I meant, what are they doing out here in broad daylight, with no guards?" Lance turned toward Mona. Both wore sunglasses, which reflected the morning light bearing down on the Jordan Ranch.

  "We're here, now," Mona said. "Besides, they're in the shade."

  "And that makes it all better?"

  "I think it's calming. We could all use some calming, you know. Getting some sunlight isn't a bad idea, either."

  "I suspect they haven't seen the news, then."

  "Aunt Janie's never been a big TV fan."

  "That probably ought to change—at least until this is over."

  "How long will that take? Do you know?"

  "No idea."

  "You think they ought to hide in the basement for who knows how long, then?"

  "If it will save their lives. The truck with Ari's painting and supplies will arrive tonight. They can paint in the basement and ride this out."

  "Laronda says the family in Rockport had Spanish grandparents," Mona said. "Thank goodness the kids were visiting family in New Mexico, or it could have been a lot worse."

  "What's worse is willfully decapitating two dead officers and one dead detective to keep them from terrorizing the morgue."

  "If I get exposed to one of those things and it kills me, don't hesitated to do what needs to be done," Mona said. "I mean it."

  "Burn-ing works. Too," Mac turned his head to croak at them.

  "Maybe we need flamethrowers instead of guns?" Mona lifted an eyebrow at Lance.

  "Yes," Mac said before turning back to watch the Tai Chi lesson.

  "If I didn't already know she was a big cat, I'd suspect it after watching her do this," Mona followed Ari's movements as Nico and Janie worked to copy her.

  "Where can we get flamethrowers? That we won't have to explain to anybody?" Lance asked.

  "Let me talk to Laronda."

  "You best buds, now?"

  "Better buds, at least. Once she found out we're not as human as she originally thought, she's come around."

  "Reeves still has a stick up his ass."

  "I think Reeves was born with a stick up his ass."

  "Belwether says we have to work with them, so we're working with them," Lance grimaced. "I'm surprised they didn't force us to travel to Rockport with them."

  "Way out of our jurisdiction," Mona pointed out. "We'll get more information when they have it in hand."

  "Here's my question," Lance began. "Why go after others, if Nico and his parents were the real target? Killing others, either with the same name or with Spanish ancestry doesn't really make sense. Does it?"

  "They're not reporting any of that in the news," Mona sighed. "For now, it looks like random killings. What I really want to know is this—why was Blue Taco bombed, when everybody else is attacked by zombies? Forensics is still working on who could have made the bomb, you know. If they can pinpoint a source, I'll be interested to know whether he or she is a zombie, and or someone who died in the blast."

  "It's a cinch that nobody who got blown up in that restaurant will turn into a zombie," Lance appeared thoughtful. "You think that was by design?"

  "Who the hell knows at this point?" Mona shook her head. "Look, they're done." She indicated Ari and the others.

  "I need a towel—that was more exhausting than I thought it would be," Janie walked up the steps to join Lance and Mona on the deck.

  "Water and a towel," Ari said, as she and Nico followed Janie.

  "I have water and lemonade in the kitchen," Mary Kate called out the back door.

  "I hear the sound of heaven," Mona grinned before turning to follow the others into the house.

  Ari watched Nico, who drank lemonade and avoided eye contact with Lance. Mac also appeared to be watching the same two with interest. Finally, Lance rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and spoke.

  "There was another attack in Rockport last night," he said. Nico turned toward Lance, then, his face set as he listened carefully to the report.

  "You think some of the dead from those ships came ashore in Rockport," Nico said.

  "Did we tell him about those ships?" Lance turned his head toward Mona. "Did the FBI agents tell you about them?"

  "It doesn't matter how I know," Nico absently turned his glass of lemonade on the granite kitchen island. "If it hasn't made the news, yet, it will soon, I think."

  "We're trying to figure out a pattern in their attacks," Mona said. "The current theory is they're attacking people with family roots in Spain."

  "But there are a lot of those people in Texas, many by way of Mexico and other countries in South America, right?" Nico asked
. "Why choose one family in Rockport, when there could be dozens in the area?"

  "We've considered that," Lance acknowledged.

  "Agent Abrams and Agent Reeves are in Rockport now, aren't they?"

  "Yes, they are," Lance admitted.

  "They should practice caution. I think I'll get in the shower; thank you for the lemonade, Mary Kate. It was perfect."

  Ari watched Nico shuffle out of the kitchen, heading toward the hallway leading to his bedroom.

  "Your stuff from the gallery will be delivered late tonight," Mona said.

  "Thank you," Ari replied.

  "Ex-cuse me," Mac said and flapped out of the kitchen to follow Nico.

  "What just happened?" Lance asked, his gaze locked on Mac's avenue of exit from the kitchen.

  "I think Nico may be upset over all this," Ari said, rising from her seat. "Has there been any news on reclaiming his parents' bodies?"

  "They're still working on that," Mona said.

  "It may not have come as good news that his parents could have been randomly targeted," Janie sighed.

  Ari suspected that wasn't true, but she didn't stop to argue. Instead, she followed Nico and Mac, whose bedroom was along the same corridor as hers.

  "There's something else, too," Lance said.

  "What's that?" Janie sipped her lemonade.

  "The man in Austin died. So far, he hasn't come back as a zombie or anything else. They're hoping that whatever the zombie passed along took him down completely."

  "Maybe you ought to start doing an analysis of blood, then, to see which ones are affected and which ones die," Mary Kate suggested.

  "I think they may already be working on that," Mona hedged.

  "Good." Mary Kate turned out a bowl of rising yeast dough to knead, her hands tossing a light dusting of flour onto the dough and then pushing and folding the mass with a surety only years of practice could produce. "There has to be a reason—and a way—for these zombies to target the ones they're hunting, don't you think?"

  "We agree," Lance told her. "Look, we ought to get back—we have work to do. Thanks for the lemonade, Mary Kate."

  "Any time."

  Ari found Nico, head down and sitting on the side of his bed, the scallop shell in his hands. Turning it over and over without seeing it, he stared at the polished wood floor at his feet instead.

  "You've had more dreams, haven't you?" Ari sat next to him.

  "Yes," Mac croaked from Nico's headboard. "The best. Dream."

  "I don't want to be the best," Nico whispered. "I want my life back."

  "I know," Ari placed an arm around his shoulders. "You keep thinking they're still here, and you catch glimpses from the corner of your eye."

  "And then you have to remind yourself that they're gone."

  "Yeah."

  "We're not strong enough," Nico said. "Not yet. Maybe not ever, and the foes haven't really made themselves known, yet."

  Ari's brow wrinkled at Nico's statement, before her left palm, where the imprint of the shell lay, began to tingle.

  "Hold. It. Out," Mac commanded. Blinking, Ari held out her hand, only to find the shell imprint emitting light.

  "What the?" Her eyes widened in shock.

  "When you can blind somebody with the light from your hand, you'll be ready," Nico breathed. "Until then, we're not strong enough."

  "Find. Skaw-lerrs," Mac croaked. "Need them."

  "Yeah." Nico agreed.

  "Did he say scholars?"

  "Not the kind you're used to," Nico added.

  "What kind are they, then?"

  "Kind. Who. Drink. Blood."

  "We need vampires?" Ari squawked. "How do you even know about vampires?"

  "I know I'm protected here by werewolves—and one mountain lion," Nico sighed, sounding as if his patience was wearing thin. "We'll need vampires—and a bunch of other things unless a miracle happens."

  "Need. Nooz-pay-purrs," Mac said.

  "Of course you do," Ari's sarcasm was waking. "Why wouldn't a raven need newspapers?"

  "Master Scholar," Renault held a pint of blood in his hand. Claudio looked up from scanning the want ads in the Dallas newspaper.

  "Thank you, Renault." Claudio accepted the blood gratefully. "I've found two of our advertisements. I'm still searching for the third."

  "Alejandro made sure they were entered properly, and the amounts paid online," Renault assured Claudio while the scholar consumed the offered blood. "Are you sure this method will work?"

  "This is how he was found last time. Newspapers still exist. The only other way to make a connection is through the internet. Let us hope it does not come to that."

  "What if the third ad was omitted?" Renault was worried, although he kept his voice even.

  "The third one holds the last part of the number." Claudio handed the empty blood bag to Renault. "They need all three parts. How long are the ads set to run?"

  "For one week."

  "Good. Let's hope we find the third part and get a reply to our fishing expedition, then. It isn't often that one fishes for birds, is it?"

  "No, Master Scholar."

  "Call me Claudio. We're working together and may do so for a while. First names are preferred from now on."

  "Of course. If we find the raven, how long will it take to find the Custodian?"

  "That I cannot say. Pray that it will be soon, so that the protectors the Custodian chooses may come to full power before the et Inpaenitens turn against us."

  "For the survival of our race," Renault nodded.

  "For the survival of bloody everything," Claudio grumbled and went back to searching the newspaper.

  "They really packed this stuff up like they meant it." Ari found yet another screw in the wooden crate bearing her commissioned painting.

  A truck arrived at the ranch after midnight; several of Val's werewolves helped unload it. Everything was in the basement shelter in less than an hour, leaving Ari to uncrate everything.

  The crate she'd chosen to open now was the unfinished commission. She wanted it done as quickly as possible, because Nico's words had haunted her since he'd said them earlier in the day.

  She had no idea what kind of war Nico prepared for, but she'd eventually determined that's exactly what he meant.

  How did he know? Mac said dreams. Actually, he'd said the best ones dream. The best what?

  A few days earlier, she'd have thought her sense of reason had deserted her if she'd known about a talking raven and a war that nobody else knew about.

  She felt foolish enough asking Janie to buy an online subscription to the Dallas newspaper, just so Nico and Mac could read the personal ads.

  Nevertheless, Janie had charged the six-month subscription to her card and offered her laptop to Ari, with the understanding that neither she nor Nico would log into their email or social media accounts.

  Ari was too afraid to do either; Nico refused to even think about it. She had no idea what sort of ad they were looking for in the newspaper; she was too afraid to ask.

  Too afraid to know more than she already did.

  "What is. Wrong?"

  Mac had joined her, and she'd been too focused on her thoughts to hear or scent him. Realizing her cheeks were wet, she hastily wiped the moisture away before turning toward the raven, who perched on a tall crate near the stairs.

  "I don't really know." Lifting the electric drill, she studied the screw in the crate.

  "Life. Change in. Flash."

  "Then I've had too many flashes already," she set the drill bit over the screw and pulled the trigger. The screw came out with the screeching sound of metal grinding through stubborn wood.

  "Thank goodness that's the last one." Setting the drill and the screw on the box containing her brushes and paints, Ari pulled the top off the painting.

  "At least it wasn't damaged," she sighed as she looked it over. "Maybe I can finish it tomorrow, and hand it to Burke to send away."

  "Where this?" Mac flapped closer to take a
look.

  "Palo Duro Canyon. It's my favorite place to go on a full moon."

  "Moon no. Long-er hold. You. If you. Are. Strong e-nuff."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Eh," Mac made a gesture she could only assume was a raven shrug.

  "Right." Ari took a seat on the basement floor and began unloading the box of brushes, paints, gesso and medium. "Crap. They didn't load my paint platter. Probably thought it was trash, because I left it covered in paint. Damn. My father gave that to me."

  Ari found tears dripping down her cheeks again.

  "Doon't," Mac attempted to stop the tears.

  Ari sobbed once before leaping to her feet and running for the stairs.

  Chapter Six

  "I need to understand Ari's story—involving your family," Nico said as he and Mac arrived in the kitchen. It was quite early the following morning, and they found Janie there, having a cup of coffee by herself.

  "She. Won't tell. Us," Mac said.

  "It's funny that you're asking about that now," Janie said. "We had a bit of a run-in with our new neighbors right after sunset last night. They swear they mistook the heifer for a deer, but it was shot on our property, with other heifers nearby. They claim the animal was on their property—that they weren't trespassing or shooting across the fence. The Sheriff was called out; so far, he hasn't done anything other than tell the fool not to do it again. Pending investigation, he says," Janie hmmphed and sipped more coffee.

  "This neighbor—he's involved in Ari's problem?" Nico prompted.

  "He shot Ari's father on a full moon, when he shouldn't have been anywhere near here. He was told not to start hunting until the following night. He killed Ari's father, in mountain lion form, with a night scope and long-range rifle, from the property his son now owns next to ours. The worst part is human law can't hold him accountable, because his prey wasn't in human form. And he skinned and beheaded Ari's father and kept the trophies. I'm sure the head is still hanging on a wall, somewhere."