Blood Recall

by Connie Suttle

  At least the news programs were all saying the President wasn't anywhere near the bomb when it went off, but they were already reporting that the Chief of Staff and his assistant were dead in the blast.

  Do you have that information? I sent to Zaria.

  Of course I do. Their mistake was in not obsessing them. They thought their compulsion would hold. You blew right past that, when you couldn't have before.

  Will you show Ilya what you saw in them?

  Yep. and Bill, too. I'll have images after we leave here today. The assistant was the one who saw the handlers—Gorham thought to keep his hands clean of that so he arranged to have snitchy-pants agent pass the file to the assistant, so the assistant couldn't say for certain that it actually came from Gorham. Gorham could subsequently look innocent while his assistant took the fall. Too bad that went sideways.

  The Joint Chiefs are in a snit, now, I reported. I overheard that conversation with the President. They want every staffer in this end of the building questioned about the bomb.

  Well, you can't really blame them. If they'd been in the bathroom with the treason brothers, they'd have been killed, too.

  Did you have something to do with it? That they wouldn't be killed?

  Maybe. I'll never tell.

  Oh, come on. You can tell me.

  Well, I figured the enemy had a final ace up his sleeve, and some way to off Gorham and company. This way, I have everything from him and his assistant while the enemy still thinks he's safe. I had to remove the ah, urge to pee from the Joint Chiefs—until this was over.

  Have you noticed we think alike, sometimes? I asked. I was figuring they had a way to come after them before all was said and done. I worried they'd kick down the door and come in with guns blazing.

  That was the backup option if the bomb failed, I think.

  I took care of that option, Charles' voice sounded in our heads. And I removed the compulsion laid on the Secret Service agents ordered to do it.

  Nice, I sent to him.

  Thanks. Zaria's sending didn't sound half as perky as mine did.

  Plus, Charles was supposed to be asleep in his hotel room, as he was an ordinary vampire—or so Bill thought. Instead, he was awake and taking his own measures to protect us.

  You really need to work this out with your daughter, Charles, I sent him a private message.

  I know. I'm working on it.

  Just tell her who her mother is and get it over with.

  Well, that's more complicated than it sounds, he admitted.

  Why's that? Is her mother some big, bad criminal or something?

  Uh, no. It's just that there's ah, more than one.

  More than one criminal?

  More than one mother.

  Fucking hell, Charles, what did you do, mix DNA?

  Sort of. I'll tell you about it later. I just can't right now, all right?

  And those two mothers don't know, do they? Am I right?

  No, they don't know, and it's more than two.

  Charles, if Zaria doesn't knee you in the ba-doobies over this, I will.

  I'll be sure to wear protective gear when I tell her, then.

  You do that—and you better hope it works if she's pissed.

  I figure she will be. Saying sorry over this won't go far, I don't think, because I care about her—and the others involved, too.

  Right. Start practicing your apologies now, and make sure they're damn good ones.

  "We're cleared to go for now," Bill arrived and interrupted the mindspeech with Charles.

  Zaria had her head turned away; she probably knew Charles and I'd been engaged in a private conversation.

  "What are the chances we can get real food?" Winkler rose from a chair and stretched.

  "I second that," Ilya spoke up.

  "I know a good steak place," Bill said. "Let's go."

  Chapter 8

  Lissa

  "It's tofu," Zaria explained as Ilya examined the salad she'd ordered. "It looks like chicken chunks, but it's not."

  "Are you sure you're getting enough protein?" he continued to frown at her food.

  "I am," she smiled at him. I think his heart melted, right then and there.

  "Do you think nighttime Baikov has arrived, yet?" Bill pointed his question at me.

  "Probably," I answered. "Although he may think his concerns are eliminated with Gorham's and his assistant's deaths."

  "They're in pieces at the morgue," Winkler said, cutting into his massive, rare-cooked T-bone. "I'd hope that would satisfy anybody, since he failed to kill them last night."

  "His would-be assassins are dead, too," Trajan pointed out. "What do we know about them?"

  "I'll be paying them a visit," Zaria said.

  "Why in heaven's name would you do that?" Winkler asked.

  "Zaria can see things others can't," I explained. "I'll go with you, if you want," I told her, leaning around Winkler to meet her gaze.

  "Sure. Maybe you can tell things from their scents."

  If Zaria said that, then I figured I would be able to tell something from their scents. I didn't speculate and I didn't ask—I was hungry and set about eating the prime rib on my plate. Worry can ruin any good dinner, and I wasn't going to let it interfere this time.

  "Bart Orford and Lester Briggs. Henchwolves," I closed my eyes and breathed a bitter sigh. Somebody had either cloned them or had used the Lyristolyi drug to recreate them. It was another blow against Winkler. Soon enough, I figured they'd contact him about joining their ranks, just to stop these attacks.

  Winkler knew Bart and Lester just as well as I did, and a growl sounded low in his throat as we examined the bullet-riddled bodies at the morgue.

  I'll have to take you back in time to sniff the vampire before I offed him, Zaria sent.

  You think I'll know him, too?

  It's possible.

  "They're fucking with us," I gave Bill a hard stare. "Big time."

  "Are you sure you don't want Tony brought into this?"

  "No," Zaria and I both snapped.

  "Tony needs to be where he is," I held up a hand. "I'll explain that better to you someday."

  Zaria and I excused ourselves to go to the ladies' room half an hour later. She bent time the moment we shut the door behind us.

  "They'll pass right by us here," Zaria said as we stood near the steps of Gorham's townhome. We were so heavily shielded nobody could see or hear us. Sure enough, two minutes later, Lester, Bart, and a vampire walked past us.

  I drew in a deep breath and felt like screaming. Before I could open my mouth, Zaria sent us back to the restroom at the restaurant, while I almost hyperventilated inside a stall.

  I should have known.

  I should have.

  The vampire? He had Saxom's stink all over him—and was one of his direct turns. Xenides had thrown in his lot with the Russians this time around, and events were slipping and sliding away from the norm at such momentum, I had no idea whether we could stop them.

  "I was afraid of that," Charles shook his head when I told him later. "All it would take is one or two short meetings between Ivan Baikov and Xenides, then havoc would arrive."

  "Then we need to track Baikov—if we can," I said. "Even Zaria can't find him, and that's a problem for everybody."

  "There's the blood supply," Charles suggested.

  "It could turn into another Fort Worth incident," I said.

  "That's probably what he's hoping for—to convince Winkler to come to him voluntarily."

  "I'm surprised Winkler hasn't heard from him already."

  "I was wondering about that myself, unless Baikov wants to up the ante."

  "In what way?"

  "Well, think about it. They have your blood, but likely a limited supply of the real thing. Evidence points to you being with Winkler, does it not?"

  "They'll try to blackmail both of us?"

  "I would, if I were them."

  "Fuck."

  "I figure they don't rea
lly have good intel on Zaria, or they might demand her, too."

  "Like they'd get that," I huffed. "If Zaria is threatened, look for the entire Larentii race to show up at once."

  "They don't know that."

  "Probably a good thing."

  "I agree."

  Zaria

  "What's wrong?" Ilya tipped my face up as I sat in the hotel lobby, thinking about everything that could go wrong with what had already gone wrong. Now, Ilya was asking what was wrong.

  "Too much," I said.

  "Tell me." He sat on the bench beside me while Bill and Winkler received messages at the front desk.

  "Honey, that's impossible. It falls into the I can't believe this realm, and you really would question my sanity."

  "Hmmph." He pulled my head onto his shoulder and kissed my forehead. "You should hear about some of the things I've seen," he murmured against my hair. "When I was younger, I'd have said the Klyki were an impossibility. I know better, now."

  "How much do you believe in aliens?"

  "It's possible, I suppose."

  "It's a fact," I sighed against his collar and closed my eyes. "They're helping the Baikovs—and the Xenides in the world."

  "Xenides?"

  "A vampire whose goal is to destroy the planet we're standing on. Saxom, Xenides' alien sire, commanded Xenides to do it, shortly before Saxom was killed."

  "This is revenge?"

  "Saxom's revenge. His vampire child has no way to refuse his sire's compulsion."

  "How can an alien be vampire?"

  "All vampires have alien blood, honey. The first ones here came from another world in the beginning."

  "You're frightening me."

  "Same goes for the werewolves. All alien when they first arrived. They have a purer bloodline than the vamps do."

  "Next, you'll tell me this is also true with the shapeshifters."

  "Yeah. That's true, too."

  "You are almost asleep. Shall I carry you to your room?"

  "I'll walk."

  "Come, then, they are going to the elevators now."

  Bill

  "They want you and Lissa?" I read Winkler's message a third time. It also clearly stated not to go to the police. Well, I wasn't really the police—not the normal definition of it, anyway.

  "It probably wasn't hard for them to figure out that she's handling some of this mess on my behalf," Winkler said. "What with the Austin Pack's disappearance, and the vampire getting killed in my house, although that was Zaria and not Lissa."

  "Then they have no idea Zaria exists," I blurted. I was concerned about Ilya knowing—but only for a moment. It didn't take a genius to realize he cared about her, and there was no way he'd sell her to the Kremlin. "You think they'll find out about her, too?" I added. "Surely not—unless she tells them herself," I attempted to quash my own fears.

  "Um, she may have already done that," Winkler confessed.

  "How?"

  "She ah, dropped a dead vampire, frozen in ice, on General Baikov's bed."

  "Get Lissa on the phone. I want to meet with her and Zaria. Bring Ilya, too, if he's willing to come."

  "If Zaria comes, he'll be here."

  "I get that idea, too."

  Lissa

  "This is vampire Baikov?" Bill asked as he replayed the recording of Baikov dancing with me at the Annual Meeting.

  "Yes."

  "Looks very much like the human General Baikov," Ilya watched the images intently.

  "I can recreate those images you have of him—if you're willing to think hard about them," Zaria offered.

  "I will be happy to oblige. He refuses to allow himself to be photographed, likely because of the software. He has no wish to become a target, when he very much deserves to be one. Too many innocent deaths lie in his wake. Journalists, political prisoners and many others—all dead, thanks to Baikov."

  Bill knows who Ilya is. Ilya knows that Bill knows, Zaria sent to me. I'm leaving the disguise in place, so vamp Baikov and company won't know who it is.

  Well, at least we won't have to hide his spyness from Bill, I replied. Besides, this association could work out for both of them in the future.

  It could. We'll see. Right now, it's expedient for them to work on the same side.

  "Zaria?" Bill turned to her expectantly.

  "I'll have it for you tomorrow. Ilya and I are both too exhausted to do this for you tonight."

  "Tomorrow, then. I'll run this through the software by that time," he held up the thumb drive.

  "Good enough," I said. "I'm tired, too. Bill, you ought to get some rest while you can."

  "Don't worry, this will take ten minutes, then I'm out for the night."

  The shield I have around the hotel will keep us safe through a nuclear holocaust, I told Zaria. Go to bed, I've got it this time.

  Thank you.

  "We found Ivan Baikov—entering the U.S. in Matamoros," Bill said at breakfast the following morning. "Since he was headed for the Dallas area, it makes sense to come across somewhere on the Texas border."

  "I'm sure compulsion played a part in that," I said, sipping coffee. "No swimming or climbing needed for that asshole. Was he disguised?"

  "Yes, and we've zoned in on his documents, which look just like the disguise. His mannerisms and the way he tilts his head while listening to someone helped us nail him."

  "Any hits after that?"

  "He likely dropped the disguise, so we're still working on that. We're focusing on the Dallas area mostly, and branching out to suburbs and smaller cities as we go."

  "Sneaky asshole," I sighed.

  "Most definitely. I've asked to have him tracked here in D.C., too. He's here, somewhere, I'd bet my life on it."

  "You're right," I agreed. "He's following Winkler, no doubt about that."

  "I'm going to get coffee," Zaria arrived at our hotel breakfast table.

  "They'll bring some to you," Bill pointed to an empty chair.

  "No—I think she wants a specialty coffee," I told Bill. "I'd like a caramel mocha, if you're going."

  "I'll get it. Will you order a cheese and tomato omelet for me?"

  "Sure will," I grinned at her. She was about to fold space to the nearest Starbucks and frankly, I hadn't had a caramel mocha in a while.

  "I'd like a flat white, if that's on the menu," Bill reached into his pocket for money.

  "Don't even worry about it," Zaria patted his shoulder. "Tell Winkler and Ilya that I'm bringing theirs, too."

  I watched her walk toward the restaurant entrance. Somewhere, probably a bathroom, she'd disappear and then reappear with a tray full of drinks.

  "I really like her," Bill said.

  "I do, too." I didn't admit that I was coming to feel more than like for her. Zaria and I could have been sisters; we often thought alike on so many things.

  "Trajan is guarding Charles' room," Winkler sat next to me at the table and lifted a menu.

  "Zaria is bringing something for you from Starbucks, so don't order coffee," I told him.

  "Is she bringing something for me?" Ilya's voice held a sliver of hope.

  "She said so," I told him. "Sit down. When you decide what you want, I need to order a tomato and cheese omelet for Zaria, too."

  "Traje says the Denver omelet is excellent," Winkler perused his menu. "I think I'll have that and a ham steak on the side."

  I figured Zaria had herself shielded from the restaurant staff as she blithely walked in carrying a cardboard tray loaded with drinks. "Here you go," she told Bill, setting his flat white in front of him.

  "Caramel mocha," she held out my cup. "Triple capp, no foam," she handed Ilya a large cup, "and a double shot hazelnut latte for you," she set a cup in front of Winkler.

  "What did you get?" I asked as she took the chair next to Ilya.

  "Vanilla latte. What else is there?" she grinned and lifted her cup to drink.

  "For anyone else, I would call that wimpy coffee," Ilya teased.

  "Honey, call it wh
atever you like. You're not the one drinking it."

  "We haven't ordered yet," Ilya told her. "You can order for yourself."

  "Well, all right, then," she said. Our server arrived in less than two minutes, she and the others ordered and we talked while they ate.

  "There they are," Zaria pointed at the large screen at one end of the meeting room. She'd given Bill information on where Gorham's assistant met with the spy. Thankfully, there was a security camera at a business across the street, which caught the meeting at the edge of a park. She and Ilya had already given a thumb drive containing images of General Baikov—Bill had those running through the software while we turned to other things.

  "Damn, that's grainy," Bill squinted to see better.

  "His name is hidden," Zaria frowned. "That means he's obsessed."

  "His name is Zukov," Ilya said. "Peter Zukov. His nose has rubbed many times against General Baikov's posterior."

  "Wait, who's that?" Winkler asked. A third party had joined the other two.

  "Kelvin—well Kevin Miller," I said. "I'd recognize that little fucker anywhere."

  "He's dead," Bill began. "In Kansas City."

  "They've reverse-engineered the drug for sure," Zaria hissed. "How the fuck? Never mind, I know how the fuck." She disappeared before any of us could stop her.

  Zaria

  Trajan thought Charles was sleeping. Inside my father's bubble of sound-dampening solitude, I'd interrupted his Zen thought period by screaming at him about Liron's alliance with Xenides, and the reverse-engineering of the Lyristolyi drug.

  "You know he's throwing these low-level threats at us to cause chaos, don't you?" Charles didn't turn a hair while I'd shouted about unholy alliances.

  "Well, it's working," I hissed.

  "He's got worse coming, daughter. Much worse."

  "That's just what I'm afraid of." He knew, just as I knew, that Baikov could reproduce Lissa with the blood he had. Just as he could reproduce anyone whose blood or DNA he could come up with. And he could cover them all with Sirenali bone dust, because he could reproduce those fuckers, too. If Xenides learned of it, he'd want a cloned Lissa for himself—if not more than one.