by C. M. Cevis
Civil Origin: Book Two
C.M. Cevis
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CIVIL SONS
First edition. June 11, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 C.M. Cevis.
Written by C.M. Cevis.
Cover by the ridiculously talented Fantasia Cover Designs.
1
OWEN SLIPPED THROUGH THE DOOR to his father’s office and did his best to close it without drawing too much attention. He’d known about the meeting earlier that day and that his father wanted him there, but band practice had run late, and the meeting had gotten started without him. His father glanced up as he made his way around the perimeter of the room, and Owen nodded his apology as he took a seat on the plush loveseat.
There were three other people on the room tonight. The first and most important was Owen’s father, Maxim. His father was Suzerain of the entire northeast of the US and was tasked without carrying out the will of the Directorate and keeping all the other little vampire boys and girls in line. He was also one of the most powerful vampires in the area, so people tended to listen to him simply because they didn’t want their asses handed to them.
Owen was almost his father’s doppelganger. They both had the same tall, powerful frame, the same ice blue eyes, and the same pale blond hair. Since both Owen and his father were wellborn vampires, they’d both stopped aging at around the same age, which meant that they could pass for brothers that were very close in age. The main differences that they had right now were that his father wore glasses that he didn’t need, and kept his hair short, while Owen’s hair was just past his shoulders in a rather shaggy rocker cut. Max had started with the unnecessary glasses when Owen had stopped aging, saying that it made it a bit more obvious that he was the older and more distinguished of the two. Owen thought it was silly but had chosen to leave it alone years ago.
Person number two was Janice, the only woman in the room. She could pass for a rather distinguished and model-like fifty-something. Owen wasn’t sure how old she actually was simply because she’d been around his entire life, but he remembered her having a thing for colonial clothing when he was a kid and that it had taken the others until he was in high school to talk her into dressing for the decade she was currently in. So, old. Her hair was a beautiful silver shade that was thick, bone straight, and long enough for her to sit on it when she didn’t have it pulled up. Her skin didn’t have even the slightest wrinkle, and she kept herself in exceptional shape, so the fact that she was clearly “older” didn’t stop younger men from hitting on her. She liked her blood fresh and young anyway, so it worked out for her in the end.
The third man in the room, Ernest, had the unfortunate luck to have been turned after he’d started balding instead of before. Due to that circumstance, he was stuck in a perpetual cycle of having hair on the sides and back, but never on the top. Owen had always thought that it fit him since he was also an exceptional businessman and the main numbers guy for the northeast. Something about looking like the turtle from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials seemed to fit the term “accountant”.
“I’ve heard several reports of others being approached, and encouraged to doubt both you and the Directorate,” Ernest was in the process of explaining.
“Some state that they’ve been given fliers inviting them to some sort of gathering with others of like mind,” Janice continued.
“I don’t understand where this uprising is coming from all of a sudden,” Max mumbled, clearly more to himself than to his two associates.
“I believe both Janice and I suggested that this issue be taken care of months ago when we first brought it to your attention,” Ernest said. Max glanced up with a look so severe that Owen found himself having to swallow a sudden snicker. If looks could kill.
“I believe Max thought that this wouldn’t be a real issue. To be fair, I didn’t either,” Janice said.
“I wasn’t aware that there were enough unhappy people here for this to actually grow into anything that I needed to care about,” Max said, his frown harsh on his face.
“Clearly, that is not the case.” Ernest almost snapped it, and Owen could almost see his father’s temper flare as a cold wash of power blew through the room.
“Owen. What would you do, were you in my place?” Max said, bringing everyone’s attention around to Owen just as he’d started wondering if he could grab a drink from the decanter a few feet away without causing a disturbance.
“Me?” he asked, taking his mind off the alcohol. “I’d do what you’ve always taught me to do when dealing with conflict, dad. I’d deal with it in the quickest and most efficient way possible.”
Max sighed softly and nodded his head. “You’re right, of course.” Max stood and walked around to the front of his desk, and Owen sat rock still, knowing what was coming. “It’s time that you take on more responsibility in our territory, Owen. You have my clearance to do whatever is needed to find out who is behind this and make an example of them.”
“Yes, father,” Owen said, bowing his head slightly.
Janice and Ernest exchanged a look that his father didn’t see and that Owen ignored. It was the look of “that spoiled little rich kid rock star can’t handle this.” Owen knew that was how they thought about him, as did Max, and neither of them liked it. That was why his father wanted him to take more of a lead in Directorate issues, which wasn’t something Owen was against.
Of course, the reality of it was that he was a spoiled little rich kid rock star. He was also a powerful, badass wellborn vampire, and it was time for him to act like it.
2
OWEN CAME ONLINE FOR THE night with his mind buzzing. He was going to have a busy night, and a tight schedule for just about everything so he didn’t have time to lay there and contemplate the meaning of life. Instead, he hopped up out of the bed and headed straight for the shower. The first stop for the night was a meeting with Profane Persuasion and their manager. They had a new album coming out in a few weeks, and they’d decided that this time, they wanted a release party.
While the four of them would party together, some of them were hesitant to party with others since not all of them were human. Owen and their bass player Jackson were both vampires, though Jackson was turned and not wellborn. Xavier, the guitarist, was a shifter of the leopard flavor, and Davis, the drummer, was human but didn’t mind being around for the other’s eccentricities. Oddly enough, it was normally Davis being protective of the others that kept them from partying with others, something that they appreciated.
“Late as hell, as usual,” Xavier said as Owen entered their manager’s rather large and mostly paid for by their blood, sweat and tears office.
“Sorry, I woke up late.” Owen tossed the guys an apologetic grin and settled into the only empty seat left. He really was trying to get better about being late to everything. All events didn’t require a dramatic entrance, as his father had explained.
“You woke up late? Or Mia distracted you from leaving on time?” Jackson said with a scandalous look that made Owen laugh in response.
“Dude, she wasn’t even there when I woke up this morning. This was one hundred percent my fault. Sorry guys.”
“What’s this? The great and mighty Owen is apologizing?” That was Kevin, their manager. And a bit of a prick on the regular. No one minded him being a prick when it was time to get the band what they needed. It was when he was a prick to them that there were issues.
“Yes, I apologized. Don’t push it,” Owen replied, cutting that conversation short before he could take it a bit too far.
Kevin held up his hands in surrender and sat back in his chair. “Alright, I won’t say anything else about it. While you were making yo
ur leisurely way over here for the meeting, your bandmates have requested that the album release be a gothic black-tie event.”
Owen gave Kev a look. “What in the world is gothic black tie?”
“Dressy, but ladies can still wear spikey heels and goth eyeliner, like,” Davis explained.
“Ah, I see.”
“For you, that would mean a suit, but maybe with a few of your stage wardrobe pieces thrown in. A hat, or maybe that big microphone pin your dad gave you,” Jackson said.
“Black tie with an edge,” Owen said. A nod of agreement went around the room. “I like it.”
“Good. So the idea here would be for there to be food, but not a full meal. Maybe heavier finger foods. There would be something for people to dance to when you all aren’t on stage, perhaps a DJ. And, at a predetermined point in the evening, you all would get up on stage and perform one of the new songs from the album.” Kevin said, looking down at notes that he apparently already had prepared.
“Why a new song?” Xavier asked.
“Honestly, for the media that’s there. We give the people who pay for the tickets and the media an exclusive, and we don’t have to do as much legwork on pushing the album. If the four of you get up there and knock them on their asses, they’ll push it up the charts themselves,” Kevin said with the same semi-evil grin he always had when his idea was brilliant.
“And you’ll take care of the food, right?” Owen asked Kevin, who laughed.
“Of course. The only food you get involved in is alcohol.”
“That’s about the only food I can get involved in unless you plan on freaking out the neighbors,” Owen responded.
“I’ve always wondered if you and Jackson don’t eat because you don’t want to, or because you can’t,” Davis said, taking the entire conversation off course for a second.
“We can eat, but we’ll regret it later,” Jackson said. He was right, the two of them would be fine for a few hours. But they’d be sick and in a lot of pain until the food was out of their system. Most vampires didn’t think food was worth the trouble after a few years and stopped eating altogether.
“Alcohol doesn’t seem to bother our sensitive vampire systems, for some reason. Not sure why,” Owen said, finishing the thought. Alcohol didn’t make vampires drunk like it did humans, though drinking the blood of someone who was plastered would. Owen liked certain drinks for the taste.
“I’ll start scouting out catering tomorrow,” Kevin said, bringing the conversation back around. He must have had plans that night.
“I think I know a good place to have it. I’ll check out the cost and everything,” Owen added.
“And the rest of us can decide what song is going to handle the marketing legwork for us, hm?” Xavier said.
“Sounds like it’s time for a studio run,” Jackson said.
“I wish I could guys, but I’ve got some Directorate stuff that I need to take care of for Dad. I’ll stop by once I’m done, in case you’re all there still.” Owen stood and grinned. He’d made sure that the band knew that he was taking on more responsibility in the region, so they wouldn’t be surprised when he had to skip a few things here and there. They were fine with it, and he trusted their judgment when it came to the party. He’d go along with what they decided.
Owen managed to make it two steps outside of Kevin’s office before Mia called. It was like she was watching him somehow. Lately, Mia had decided to become suddenly demanding, and it was putting a lot of stress on their relationship. Stress on Owen because he didn’t really have time for a demanding girlfriend, and stress on Mia because she got belligerent when she didn’t get what she wanted when she wanted it. Lately, she wasn’t getting it regularly.
“Good evening, love,” Owen said, deciding to start out with something nice. It was possible that she wasn’t calling about something annoying.
“You didn’t call me when you got in yesterday,” she said with an annoying little huff of air and blasted Owen in the ear through the phone.
“You are correct, I did not.” This was going to be annoying, Owen could just feel it. He started walking down the hallway and towards the elevators. Regardless of what Mia was trying to pull, he had somewhere to be.
“Why?” she snapped.
Owen stifled an annoyed sigh. “By the time I got home, I wasn’t interested in doing anything other than crashing.” Maybe she’d leave it alone.
“I could have crashed with you.” Nope. She wasn’t going to leave it alone.
“Mia, it’s not necessary for you to be around me all the time,” Owen said, pushing the button to call the elevator.
“You don’t want me around all the time?”
No. “Of course I do, but sometimes it’s just not possible.”
“So, you’ll come over now, right?” Where in the world had that leap of flawed logic come from?
“I can’t right now. I’ve got to take care of a few things, and I’m on a schedule.” Owen said, stepping onto the elevator and lamenting the fact that calls didn’t drop inside of it.
“Your schedule is more important than I am?”
Yep. “Mia, that’s not what I said. Everything isn’t about what’s more important. Sometimes, I’m just needed somewhere at a certain time. No amount of your begging is going to change that, no matter how important you are to me.” Owen was getting pretty good at shoveling bull shit at Mia.
She sighed loudly and obviously annoyed. “Afterwards?”
“If I can, either I’ll call you, or I’ll come past. I promise.” Owen could almost hear her get happy on the other end of the phone. If she didn’t have that great rack and a mouth that could suck a bowling ball through a straw, he’d probably have walked away a long time ago.
“Alright, see you later,” Mia almost purred it, and Owen smirked as walked out of the building and towards his car.
“Yeah, later.” He pushed the button on the keyless fob in his pocket, and the car in the back of the parking lot roared to life and turned on the headlights. The phone, now devoid of Mia, went back into his pocket.
Yeah, he was shallow, and occasionally he was an ass. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of it, it was simply that he didn’t care.
~*~
THE ORGANIZATION’S OFFICES WERE RIGHT downtown, in a tall, glass-fronted building that was sure to impress anyone who caught sight of it. Owen walked through the lobby, nodding a greeting to the night security guard on his way to the special elevator bay that allowed you access to the thirty-first floor. Owen’s father had drilled him on the steps to get up to the Org’s offices before agreeing to let him handle this as if he hadn’t watched his father do the little song and dance enough times to have it memorized.
Hold your finger on the call button for a few seconds to give the fingerprint scanner time to match you with your identity. Otherwise, the elevator wouldn’t show up anyway.
Once the elevator arrived, Owen leaned forward towards the panel and said the password that had been given to him. “Golden Child.” Someone obviously thought they were funny.
Originally, he’d wanted to use the retinal scanner, but sometimes it didn’t work properly on vampire's eyes. Something about them being dead, kind of. The password only worked when he was expected, but it didn’t change very often so that there was a smaller chance of him forgetting it. Or that was what his father told him.
The elevator began to traverse the length of the building at a speed just a touch father than was polite, and Owen straightened his clothes a bit just before the doors opened to reveal the Organization’s lobby area.
The large lobby area always seemed a bit too bright and white to Owen. It made the place feel cold and impersonal. Then again, maybe that’s what they were going for. The Org hadn’t really been known to anyone until a recently, and maybe the idea was that they didn’t really want you to stick around.
“Evening Owen,” the receptionist said as he approached. Her name was Zoe, and Owen had been hitting on her since the fi
rst night he’d seen her.
“Hello, beautiful. You’re looking wonderful this evening,” he said with a smirk and a wink. It wasn’t going to work on her, it never did. It had become a game to the two of them.
“I’m still not interested,” she replied, standing and motioning for him to follow her.
“You break my heart with your harsh words.”
Zoe snorted. “In there, Lothario,” she said, motioning towards a half-ajar meeting room door. “Ms. Red is finishing up with something, and she’ll be right in.”
“Thank you.” Owen resisted the urge to pick with Zoe a bit more while he waited and slipped into the room to wait like a good little vampire. As usual, it didn’t take long.
Ms. Red was one of two women who ran the Baltimore Org office. She was the one that Owen always found to be very calculating, careful and logical. She had the nerve for brutality when it was needed, and had no problem making the hard decisions. She’d have made an excellent vampire.
“Owen, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Ms. Red said as she entered the room and slipped into a chair opposite Owen. Tonight, she smelled like copper and fae. Interesting combination. Owen wondered which of the sparkly ones she’d made bleed on her, but it was probably rude to ask, so he didn’t.
“You as well, Ms. Red. How are things in the high and mighty Organization going?”
“That is actually part of why I asked you down to the office tonight.” Her tone changed to something serious and less cordial, which made Owen sit up and pay attention. He hadn’t been given a hint of why the meeting was called, but her tone said that it was something that he needed to give his attention to.
“Alright, what’s happening?”
“You are aware of this sort-of-war that seems to have been brewing between the races for a while now, yes?” she asked.
Owen nodded, it was something that he’d been made aware of. “Of course.”
