Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

  "Of course."

  Lissa

  I had no idea Winkler sent werewolves to guard my house, but there they were, patrolling the perimeter as I misted past them shortly after noon the following day.

  It wasn't a bad idea—I figured he worried just as much about Kellee finding out I was there as anybody else who meant me harm. I was waiting for the screech to come if she did discover I was there.

  She didn't care two cents about Winkler, but she'd pitch a fit if there was any other woman within reach. I had no intention of making any move in his direction, other than the few mistakes I'd made by touching him briefly.

  In the future he'd be all mine, and I hadn't forgotten that for a minute. For now, though, I was starving, and Mexican food sounded like a great idea. Dallas has a lot of good restaurants, so I was headed for the nearest one as quickly as I could get there.

  Materializing behind a nearby business where there were no cameras or observers, I straightened my shirt and jacket before heading for the front entrance and some chicken tamales.

  "Just one, today?" The smiling young man pulled a menu from a stack beside him and led me to a small table designed for two.

  I was just about to open my mouth and confirm his headcount when I was tapped on the shoulder. Something squelched the scream I almost released as I turned like a puffed-out cat to confront the one who'd touched me.

  I deflated quickly; Zaria had come.

  Chapter 3

  North of the Border Mexican Restaurant y Taqueria, Dallas

  Lissa

  "I'll have the cheese taco and cheese enchilada, please," Zaria handed her menu back to our server. I'd already ordered, asking for three chicken tamales.

  I knew better than to ask how she'd found me, but she saw it in me anyway. "Bree knows—in fact, she suggested I come since, well, he's involved in this, too, and he shouldn't be."

  "Who?"

  "Ilya." She lowered her voice, knowing I'd still hear her.

  "He's not involved with that idiot Baikov, is he?" I blurted.

  "No. He's working against him, thinking he's indestructible in the face of a vampire," Zaria shook her head. "You and I both know you don't take a gun to a vampire fight."

  "Why is he working against him—Baikov, I mean?"

  "You don't know about the Klyki. He does."

  "Fangs?" I blinked at the Russian word.

  "The U.S. has vamps and wolves in special divisions; so do the Russians. Except that they have a bit of a twist to theirs. It involves the Lyristolyi drug."

  "Fuck." I wanted to slap my forehead, but held back in case someone else was watching. I had a shield up; Zaria had a shield up. I doubted anybody would be able to read our lips past Zaria's shield—unless they were very powerful indeed.

  "Where is Ilya now?" I asked.

  "He rented a condo not far from here—he's gathering intelligence on Winkler, because he estimates that Winkler is Baikov's target—both the vamp Baikov and the human General version."

  "For?"

  "That infernal software, what else?"

  "How did they find out he was successful?"

  "The Kremlin has eyes and ears everywhere. The question is moot. What you have to concentrate on is protecting your wolf—and his Second and anyone else in his pack that's important to the future."

  "And Ilya, too, I suppose?"

  "Yes. If you want, I can help with all that. We just need to come up with a suitable cover for me—temporary, of course."

  "Winkler needs a cook."

  "I can cook," she agreed. "How do I get into the house?"

  "You're a witch, the last I checked," I shrugged. "And you're good with people. Kellee won't pitch a fit around you—I think you can take care of that shit real fast."

  "Ah, the pregnant bitch," Zaria leaned back in her chair. Our food was set in front of us moments later, iced tea glasses were refilled and we began eating while our server walked away.

  "Kellee could become a target—if they want Winkler's cooperation instead of him dead," Zaria pointed out while cutting another portion of cheese enchilada to eat. "And I'm pretty sure they want his cooperation—at least until they get a handle on building and improving the software."

  "Damn, this is complicated," I grimaced. "Do you know how many they've sent? I scented three at the Austin Packmaster's murder scene—two werewolves and Baikov."

  "Only Baikov traveled here—the others are embedded and could come from anywhere," Zaria said. "Both vampires and werewolves."

  "Does Wlodek suspect? That you know of?"

  "He doesn't know about this. He's focused on Xenides, and that is enough to keep anyone distracted."

  "So we have to destroy the Russian Klyki—well enough that they won't be able to regroup and cause more trouble, is that it?"

  "For now. This entire situation is delicate in the extreme, and too many things could go wrong."

  "I hear that," I agreed, discovering I was on my last tamale. They were really good, too. "We just have to find a way to work you into a job at Winkler's and between the two of us, maybe we can handle this without too much fallout."

  "Keep an eye out for Ilya," she warned. "He may decide to attempt to warn Winkler, so it's up to you to get him and his wolves to stand down. He doesn't need to be torn to pieces while trying to help."

  "That gives me an idea," I said while allowing a smile to curve my lips. "A really good idea."

  "She's what?" Winkler growled.

  "A witch. She works as a trouble shooter now and then. And she can cook," I waved that temptation in front of Winkler.

  "Why are you suggesting this?" He was still grumpy in the extreme.

  "Because I can't help your ass during the day, or didn't you remember that?" I demanded. "She can, and she'll cook for you and your bunch until this is over."

  "You know something, don't you?" His eyes narrowed as he studied me.

  "I heard from her, actually, and this is something off the books for her—she thinks it's important—enough to get involved with no pay, unless you decide her services are worth something to you."

  "Hmmph," Winkler expressed his skepticism.

  "She knows things ahead of time, and has no trouble reading intent from the bad guys—it makes her valuable," I shrugged. "She told me that there's a vamp Baikov and a human Baikov, who's high in the Russian military. Those two are connected and working for the Kremlin."

  "Fuck," Winkler combed fingers through his hair in frustration.

  "You wanted to know whether Wlodek and the Council were aware of this?" I pointed a finger at him. "Zaria says they don't know—that they're focused on Xenides, for obvious reasons."

  "She knows all that? This I have to see," Winkler still sounded skeptical.

  "Let me call her. We can meet her elsewhere, if you want, and you can decide. I trust her with my life, Winkler, and you should, too."

  "Make the call. I'll run back to the house and get Trajan."

  "You do that."

  The twenty-four-hour restaurant wasn't crowded—it was nearly ten when we walked in and the familiar scents of coffee, pancakes and syrup greeted my nose.

  Zaria was already there, with a booth large enough to hold all of us. I sat beside Winkler; Trajan scooted in beside Zaria.

  "I didn't expect you to look, well, this young," Winkler snorted.

  "Hmmph. Want me to change my appearance? I can, you know."

  "Then do it," Winkler shrugged.

  Zaria's face and body changed quickly. I knew, whether Winkler did or not, that Zaria now resembled her original self before she received the drug the first time—this was the author Harriett Majors, who was in her early fifties at the time. Yes, she and my mother had the same first name, originally. Go figure.

  "Damn, boss," Trajan drew in a breath. Winkler didn't say anything; he just stared at the transformation in surprise.

  "Can you uh, look that way while you're in the house?" Winkler finally found his voice.

  "I can."
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  "Good. This way, you look like somebody's grandmother. Kellee won't have a fit about that—especially if you really can cook."

  "I really can cook," she affirmed.

  "You're sure?" Winkler turned toward me.

  "As sure as I'm sitting here."

  "All right—when can you start?" he turned back to Zaria.

  "Tomorrow morning? I think I'd like to bunk at Lissa's place at night, though. All you have to do is call if you need me—and I don't already know that you need me."

  "Sounds good to me," I said.

  "Fine," Winkler agreed. "I'm not sure I have an open bed in the house anyway."

  "Good enough. I'll be there at five tomorrow morning to cook breakfast. Do you have enough supplies, or should I get some?"

  "Get enough to feed twenty-five—in three shifts," Trajan nodded.

  "I'll help her," I offered. "I can get us to the store and back, so you won't have to worry about it. Now, go off to do your full moon thing. I know you're getting itchy."

  "Come on, Traje," Winkler rose and stalked toward the door, leaving me and Zaria alone.

  "That was easy," Zaria smiled. "Want pancakes?"

  "I thought you'd never ask," I said.

  "You think we got enough?" I stared at the mountain of food piled on my kitchen island. "These are werewolves we're talking about." We'd even restocked the wine and beer fridge, and then put even more beer in the fridge in the garage.

  "We can get more if we need it," Zaria said. "I'm about to send it over to Winkler's and put it into its proper place," she added. "With power, of course."

  "Sounds good."

  Zaria lifted her arms and closed her eyes while everything on the island disappeared. "There, all done," she smiled at me. "Show me my bedroom," she said, while a large, packed bag appeared on the tiled floor beside her.

  "This way," I said, lifting her and her bag into my mist and hauling her to the second floor.

  Ilya

  I watched as lights went out in the next-door kitchen, and only a second later, lights blinked on in two bedrooms upstairs.

  Must be on a timer, I thought, turning back to the Winkler mansion. It was the full moon, and the werewolves were all gone for their monthly run. It was the perfect time for Baikov to move in and do some sort of evil.

  Speak of the devil, whispered through my mind as a dark van pulled up and parked a block away. I moved farther into the shadow of the high wall surrounding the Winkler estate, waiting for someone to exit the vehicle.

  The door opened, but I saw nobody leave. The door shut again, leaving a driver and one other in the van.

  Vampires—all of them, I suspected. The wolves working for the Kremlin would be forced to make the turn tonight, just as the Dallas Pack did.

  Hair stood up on my arm as a cold breeze passed.

  A mister, the same voice entered my mind.

  What? Why did I reply to my own imagination?

  A vampire who can turn to mist—quite dangerous. Come. We will deal with this.

  We?

  Come.

  Whether I wanted it or not, I was pulled into invisibility so fast I had no time to blink.

  Lissa

  I'd left Zaria to guard Winkler's house while I folded space to the Austin Pack. If anything went down, especially Gabe Billings, I needed to be there to help him get back up.

  Surprisingly enough, the entire Austin Pack was tracking two deer when I arrived and misted overhead. No hint of a challenge, and so far, they were following Mick's lead on the hunt.

  They looked to be closing in on the racing deer in a wooded area, when shots rang out. Bloody, fucking hell.

  Zaria

  You see? I sent to Ilya, as he was gathered inside my invisibility. I'd borrowed the idea from Lissa, actually, and duplicated it so that I'd see another mister, just as she would.

  The mist we followed was a malevolent violet, as he floated through Winkler's mansion, looking for a likely place to materialize. Security cameras were everywhere, so he'd have to search for a hidden spot to rematerialize.

  I had no doubts he intended to plant cameras or bugs of his own, to gauge Winkler's response to—damn.

  They're shooting at the Austin Pack, Lissa's mindspeech reached me. I'm gathering as many as I can, but some of them are already dead. Others are wounded. I really need your help.

  Bring them to your yard; Ilya and I will be there shortly.

  Ilya? Never mind, I see you're busy. See you in a few.

  What is happening? Ilya demanded. I'd hear his thoughts, no matter when or where.

  Stay calm; we'll have to force the situation, here, I replied. Extending power, I forced the vampire to rematerialize—much against his wishes, as it turned out. His fangs were out and he was slashing everything within reach with long claws as he blew through Winkler's home like a vampiric tornado.

  I released his particles while he screamed, and all of it was recorded for the Dallas Pack to see later.

  Ilya

  "She's a witch." The red-haired woman informed me as I watched the sixty-ish woman who'd carried me with her tend to wounded werewolves. Those who weren't wounded—all from the Austin Pack, I learned—stood back while the witch worked on the others.

  I blinked when bullets lifted from pierced bodies and slapped into glowing, waiting hands. "She heals, too," the red-haired woman said.

  "So I see." My words were dry as hot, desert sand. "Who did the shooting?" I had an idea, but waited to see if she knew as well.

  "We think it's vampire Baikov," she shrugged as we continued to watch werewolves being healed. "I've sniffed his evil before, you know. I'm Lissa," she turned and offered me a hand. "A vampire, in case you haven't guessed, and I'm also a certified member of the Sacramento Pack."

  I blinked as I took her hand. I may have cursed softly in Russian under my breath. "I think something similar all the time," she said to my untranslated holy shit. "The van got away," she added, although I'd already guessed it.

  "You may as well stay here with us—if they find out you're tailing them, you'll need more than a cache of guns to deal with the blowback," Lissa went on, as if she were discussing the weather. "Besides, I believe Winkler would like to hear all this directly from someone who actually knows who they are."

  "I will have to stay out of sight—I cannot be compromised," I replied.

  "I think we can handle that. Zaria can make you look any way you want, to stay under their radar."

  "Is that her name? Zaria?"

  "For now," Lissa shrugged. "She's undercover, just as I am."

  "Strange." I shook my head. Before tonight, I never dreamed I'd be traveling inside a witch's invisibility, or see someone kill a vampire so easily.

  I'd never known that vampires could become mist, either. "Can all vampires turn to mist?" I asked.

  "No. Only a handful can, and they're so special, they're usually kept under wraps and hidden except in special circumstances. There will be an attempt at retaliation for this one's death; you can count on it."

  "Did you know this one?"

  "No. Zaria sent images and his scent before doing away with him; I had no idea he existed before tonight."

  "She sent you his scent?"

  "You watched her separate particles, and you're asking about that?"

  "I see your point," I admitted. "If General Baikov learns his weapon has been neutralized, he will certainly retaliate."

  "So you know the human version, huh?" she asked.

  "Oh, yes. We have a mutual loathing for one another. He wants Ukraine back, for numerous reasons. I dislike his possessiveness toward my people."

  "I understand completely," she agreed. "Look, I think Zaria's done."

  She was; the last werewolf patient rose and limped toward the others, disappearing among their numbers.

  "You can sleep out here if you want," Zaria indicated the huge yard surrounding the house, "Or you can sleep inside where it's warmer and there's plenty of food and water. You're
not in danger, here—not tonight. We'll see that you get home tomorrow if that's your choice. For now, consider yourselves guests of the Dallas Packmaster. Good choice," Zaria's voice held approval as the lead werewolf headed for the open front door.

  "I'll go grab blankets and water bowls," Lissa said. "Want to help?"

  "Of course," I tossed out a hand in a helpless gesture. "Why would I not want to feed werewolves on such a night?" I didn't keep my native accent from escaping, either—these two women already knew who and what I was.

  Winkler

  "What the fuck happened here?" I demanded as Trajan and I walked into the lower level of the house at five that morning. Yes, we were naked and covered in deer blood, but we usually came home that way.

  Half the lower level looked as if a hurricane had blasted through, leaving broken lamps, crushed furniture and shredded drapes in its wake.

  "A misting vampire happened," Zaria didn't even bother noticing our nudity. She held a spatula in one hand while the other was covered by an oven mitt. "Don't worry, I got rid of him. I just haven't had time to clean up the mess he left behind. I'll handle that after breakfast."

  "Where's Lissa?" I demanded.

  "Well, probably seeing to the Austin Pack over at her house," Zaria replied with a nod. "A few got killed before she could mist them away from the shooters."

  "Shooters?"

  "Somebody attacked the Austin Pack last night, probably to show you what you're dealing with," Zaria shrugged. "Look, if you want pancakes and every kind of breakfast meat you can imagine, then get yourselves and the rest of your pack cleaned up and presentable to eat. Then you can pass out while I remove the debris."

  "It's okay to bring Kellee in," Trajan yelled over his shoulder.

  Members of my pack filed in, with Kellee at the center, protected by a tight knot of trusted werewolves. "Is there food?" Kellee whined.

  "Fuck," I growled. "Feed her first," I said. "The rest of us will be right back."

  "Who are you?" I heard Kellee demand of Zaria.

  "I am Zaria," I heard the reply. "Sit down, shut up and eat while I find you something to wear."