Civil Sons

by C. M. Cevis

  “Hang on, I didn’t know about the death,” Owen interjected.

  “It just happened last night, and I didn’t want to worry you about it with Roger finally coming back into town.” Owen grunted a response. He appreciated his father’s consideration, but part of him wished he’d simply told him.

  “Why don’t we simply go to the Org and ask them?” Roger asked. “I had to deal with them quite a bit in California, and I found them to be a lot more agreeable and forthcoming than most believe them to be.”

  “I agree with Roger. Generally speaking, the Org has been truthful with us.” Owen added.

  Owen’s father frowned, taking a few moments to think it over before nodding his agreement to the plan of action. He rooted around in the paperwork on his desk before handing Roger a picture of who Owen assumed was the murder victim. “The Org has been truthful when they need something from us, and I am afraid that their need was their reason. I hope that your visit over the death of one of our own with change my opinion.”

  “I’ll make the call so that we can get to the offices when we arrive,” Owen said, slipping his phone from his pocket.

  “Are you sure?” Roger asked. His tone implied his concern that he was taking Owen away from something important that night, but he wasn’t.

  “Half of the band has family stuff tonight, don’t worry. I’m not missing a rehearsal,” he said. Hitting the send button on the call to the Org.

  “Zoe, beautiful, can you do me a favor?”

  ~*~

  THE ORG WAS THE SAME as always. Roger was amused by the security features that the Baltimore office had in place, noting that the LA office didn’t even have half of them. He also pointed out that the LA office had been infiltrated and attacked more than once by more than one type of being.

  Zoe greeted both of them on arrival and left them to a conference room halfway down the hall to wait. This was one smaller than the room Owen had been left to wait in for Ms. Red the last time that he’d been there, but it was alright. He didn’t need space to ask a question.

  The man who entered the room was someone Owen had never seen before. His hair was tightly slicked back, his suit heavily pressed and tailored, and his frown stern behind his black square-framed glasses. He hadn’t even settled his ass in the chair across from them before he started asking why they were there, the what the hell clear in his tone.

  “I was told that you had a question for us.” Then he sat, his hands folded on the table in front of him as his gaze moved back and forth between Owen and Roger. Owen already didn’t like him.

  “We’re here about a vampire that was killed last night,” Roger stated. Glasses barely blinked.

  “And?”

  Roger and Owen shared a look before Owen continued the line of questioning. “And we’d like to know if it was one of the Org’s agents who killed the vampire.”

  “It’s possible. We kill lots of vampires.” Glasses snapped. Owen was going to snap his neck if he didn’t watch himself.

  “That’s wonderful. We only want to know about one. The one killed last night, here in Baltimore.” Roger said, giving Owen some time take a few deep breaths. Glasses looked like he was about to say something else that would make Owen want to end his life, but the door to the conference room opened, and a woman in jeans and a tank top walked in calmly.

  She was brown-skinned, the tone only marred by some scarring that the tank top revealed. The scars were varied in length and depth, but Owen knew enough to know that some of those scars weren’t caused by man-made weapons. Her hair cascaded around her face in small braids that curled into spirals and fell past her shoulders. She smelled like roses and faint blood, and she looked at glasses like he was the last person on earth that she wanted to have contact with.

  “Get out.” She inclined her head towards the door that she’d just come through, and though glasses seemed to hesitate for the purpose of trying to save face, he did as he was commanded and left the room. She gently closed the door behind him and settled herself in the chair that glasses had just vacated, locking her warm honey-shaded eyes on Owen and Roger.

  “Let’s start over, shall we? My name is Chloe, I’m an Org agent, and Paul is a bit of a prick,” she smirked. Owen sat back and folded his arms, still mad about the apparent Paul’s attitude. Roger could re-explain.

  “Sure. There was a vampire killed here in the city, last night. We came to see if the Org had something to do with it.” Roger leaned forward and pushed the picture across the table at Chloe. She leaned forward, pulling picture closer and giving it a good look.

  “Yeah, it was us. Specifically, it was me,” she responded in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

  “May we ask why?” Roger said.

  Chloe nodded. “Of course you can. Your vampire friend has been hunting in local bars, luring people into back alleys, killing them and sodomizing their remains.”

  That stopped Owen’s anger in its tracks. “How was this going on without us knowing?” he asked, inserting himself into the conversation.

  “I can’t answer that, as I’m not really sure. I can tell you that it’s been going on for about three months and that his body count had just hit the twenties. We couldn’t allow him to continue.”

  “You don’t seem at all disturbed by anything that you’ve just explained to us,” Roger said, causing Chloe’s focus to shift again.

  “I’m not. I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my time here. This was pretty normal for me.”

  Chloe's gaze shifted from Roger’s face to Owens. “Is your friend ever going to smile?”

  “Probably not,” Roger replied with a smirk, which just made Owen roll his eyes.

  “You guys shouldn't let the first agent meet with anyone. Ever.” Owen said, finally choosing to speak.

  “I completely agree. That's part of the reason I stepped in here. That, and I could hear you through the door talking about something that involved me.”

  “Is he always that much of a prick?” Roger asked with a grin, attempting to lighten the mood that Owen was attempting to drag down with his annoyance.

  “Three hundred and sixty-five days a year,” Chloe replied with a sigh. “Some days, I wish I could do the human race a favor and just get rid of him.”

  Owen chuckled, and Chloe smiled in response as she took the conversation in a completely different direction. “Is there something that we need to know?”

  Rogers' face didn't betrayal a thing, and Owen simply smiled. “What makes you think that?” Owen asked.

  “It's not every day that the son of the local Suzerain steps into the Org’s offices to ask if we killed a vampire last night. It's usually just assumed that we did the right thing,” she said, clearly watching both of them carefully. “Is there something going on that we need to know about?” Roger and Owen exchange to look, standing to leave at the same time.

  “Everything is fine. We just wanted to make sure.” Roger said.

  “It was wonderful to meet you, Miss Chloe.” Owen turned, and Roger followed him out before she could say anything else. Not that she tried. Instead, she followed them out into the hallway and watch them until they got on the elevator, her hip popped out to the side and her arms crossed. Neither one of them said anything until the elevator doors closed.

  “I didn't know the organization employed agents that pretty,” Roger said.

  “And the fact that she kills people for a living? Even better,” Owen laughed.

  6

  THE CLUB FOR THE NIGHT was one that was relatively new, but wildly popular. Owen wasn’t sure what the owner had done to garner that much interest in such a short amount of time, but he or she seemed like someone that he needed to get acquainted with. But on another night, he and Roger were there on a mission that night.

  The music was loud enough for the bass to bump through your chest like it was trying to replace your heartbeat. Then again, Owen’s heart didn’t beat unless he was paying attention and made it, so it wasn’t the same type
of sensation for him. The girls who walked the floor with drinks in hand to serve were absolutely stunning, though none of them seemed to be paying them any mind. None of them but one.

  She had long waves in her hair, and it fell so that the tips of the length stopped at the top of a wonderfully sculpted ass. She’d put said wonderful ass into a skirt that looked like it was molded to her body, and the same light tan shade of the legs that came from underneath it. The matching bustier was a nice touch in the flashing lights, almost making it look like she was naked if you weren’t paying too much attention. Every instinct that Owen had screamed that she was a witch, and a powerful one at that. She didn’t bat an eye or shy away from him or Roger as she approached, clearly making space specifically for them.

  “Evening, gentlemen,” she said with a smile, slipping between the two of them and quickly linking an arm in each of theirs. “If you would?” She began walking as if the two of them would simply follow. Owen followed out of curiosity, and while Roger looked confused, he came along as well. She led them off of the main dance floor, up some rear stairs, and to a second floor that seemed to be more private. Well hell, this was about to get interesting, wasn’t it?

  “Please don’t start a riot in my club, I haven’t been open long enough to justify the cost of the damage it may cause,” she said, turning to speak directly to Owen, who chuckled.

  “I didn’t show up with the intention of starting a riot, Miss…”

  “Willow. And I know you didn’t show up with that intention, but you know that once someone down there recognizes you, there will be one.”

  “Fair enough, I should have worn a disguise of some sort. I apologize.” Owen said genuinely. She was right, he would have created a problem, but not been there to clean it up.

  “I assume that you two are here to hunt, correct?” she said with a very matter-of-fact tone. Owen and Roger exchanged a glance but didn’t respond. “Do not kill anyone here, or I will make you regret it.” The friendly smile on her beautiful face did not match the force behind the words that she as speaking.

  “If you know what we are, then you know that you can’t make us anything,” Roger said with a chuckle that Owen didn’t share. Something about the look in her eyes made him believe her. They were hard eyes that said that wasn’t all hips, lips, and fingertips.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to make a vampire scream. I quite enjoyed it last time, so it wouldn’t be a total loss were you to ignore what I just said,” she shrugged.

  “If you know who he is, then you know—” Owen put up a hand, stopping Roger from continuing.

  “We won’t kill anyone, Miss Willow.” Roger shot him a look of surprise but didn’t say anything else.

  “Thank you, Owen. I would offer you something to eat, as the food is quite good, but you can’t eat it. The bartender on the bar in the corner is the best one, so go to her for your drinks,” Willow said with a wink before turning and swaying her hips as she walked back towards the staircase.

  “What the hell was that?” Roger hissed. “I know we aren’t going to massacre the whole place or something, but why did you let her talk to you like that.”

  Owen sighed, walking towards the balcony edge to look down at the dance floor. “She wasn’t being disrespectful, Rog. She was looking out for her business, and I can’t fault her for that.”

  Roger crossed his arms, almost pouting. “She should have been nicer about it. Who hustles someone out of public view as soon as they arrive?”

  “Someone who sees a rock star walk into their club,” Owen said with a smirk. “Come on, let’s get something to drink.”

  Owen and Roger actually had several drinks before they got on with hunting for the night. The VIP area that Willow led them to was very nice and comfortable, and the DJ’s choice in music made it enjoyable to sit there and shoot the shit.

  Once the drinking had gotten boring, they moved back to the edge of the balcony and began surveying the floor below for potential targets.

  “Gentlemen, if I may,” Willow said, slipping between the two of them again with a grin. “I may have a better solution for you tonight, though it won’t be free. It will mean that you won’t run the risk of someone figuring out what you did to them when they wake up with an odd hickey tomorrow.”

  “We’re listening,” Owen said with a smirk as he turned to face her.

  “This,” she motioned to a stunning red-head standing behind them, “is Isis.” She was all limbs and curve, pale perfect skin with a sprinkle of light freckles just across the bridge of her nose, and lips that were just thick enough to fit the rest of her pretty face. Her hair was a dark orangey-red and hung thick and bone straight past her hip.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you, Isis,” Owen said, turning on the charm. Isis didn’t bat an eye at his attempts to get her attention, though.

  “Isis, as I’m sure you can tell, is a shifter and likes a little pain with her pleasure. She wouldn’t mind being a snack for you two,” Willow said.

  “And in return?” Roger asked.

  “We don’t work for free, honey,” Isis replied with a grin. Well okay then, Owen thought to himself.

  “It would save us the trouble of having to find someone. And Miss Willow wouldn’t have to worry about us killing Isis since I get the feeling that doing so would be a bad idea,” Owen said, clearly to Roger.

  “Smart man,” Willow replied with a wink.

  “I am perfectly okay with this arrangement,” Roger said, his eyes already locked on Isis, who hadn’t made a move towards either of them. Shrewd businesswoman.

  “Alright,” Owen said, nodding his agreement.

  “Follow me, please. We don’t discuss money on the floor, it’s rude.” Willow turned away from them at the same time Isis did, and the two women linked arms, leading them off of the floor.

  “Do you think the two of them have something going on?” Roger asked, inclining his head towards them as they followed behind.

  “We can hear you, you know,” Willow said before Owen could come up with a good way to tell Roger to shut up. Roger swallowed nothing and cleared a bit of embarrassment from his throat. Owen simply shook his head, snickered and continued following the ladies.

  7

  OWEN SHIFTED IN THE BED, rolling to face the opposite way and opening his eyes just in time to see Mia staring at him.

  “Good evening,” she said, just a bit too perky for someone who had probably been up all day long.

  “Why are you so wide awake?”

  “It's been a few days since I donated to your cause. That always makes me a little bit peppier.”

  She was talking about Owen drinking from her. It wasn't something he did all the time, otherwise, she wouldn't be able to function properly. No one could function in a state of constant blood loss. Instead, he’d instituted a rule where he didn't drink from her more than once a week. She thought that was a little strict and insisted that she could take it more, but Owen wasn't willing to take that chance with someone's life. Anyone's life. He didn't kill for blood, that wasn't something that his line did.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “No, not really,” Owen said, stretching and feeling his back pop rather loudly. He chuckled to himself knowing that Mia was probably wincing against the sound. She couldn't stand it when anyone popped anything. “Roger and I went hunting the other night, I'm fine.”

  “I haven't really gotten to meet Roger, is he nice?” Mia asked if she settled into the curve of Owen’s shoulder. Owen sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She really wasn't that terrible of a girlfriend. Sometimes.

  “Of course he's nice, he's my best friend. Do I strike you as the kind of person that could deal with an asshole for twenty-something years?” Owen laughed, and Mia joined him.

  “I don't know, you're something of an asshole when you want to be too.”

  “Hey,” Owen said, feigning offense even though he wasn't even slightly offended.
Mia was telling the truth. “Nah, Roger’s not like that.”

  “So when do I get to meet him? Everyone seemed so excited about him coming into town, but it's been days and I haven't caught sight of him once.”

  “That's weird, he's staying in the extra bedroom and you usually go rooting through my shit whenever you're here,” Owen said, giving Mia a teasing look. That wasn't a lie either, she went rooting through his shit whenever she got the chance, and it drove him nuts because he’d never given her a reason to distrust him. Eventually, he’d just chalked it up to experiences in her past making her a bit distrusting.

  “I may go through your phone or something, but I don't go looking at all the rooms of your condo while you're out for the day,” Mia chuckled.

  “I'm actually shocked to hear that,” Owen laughed. “If you had, you would have come across him in the extra bedroom. Just another dead guy in my apartment.”

  “You have such a morbid sense of humor,” Mia chuckled. “Hey, did you send my song off to that producer you were talking about the other day?”

  Owen did his best not to tense up. She’d notice it and know that he was about to lie his ass off. “I did, babe. I haven’t heard back yet though. Sometimes it takes a while.”

  The reality of it all was that he hasn’t sent her song anywhere, though he’d made damn sure to get it out of his place. The last thing he needed was her finding it squirreled away during one of her snooping sessions. Unfortunately, regardless of what she thought about her singing skills, the reality of it all was that she couldn’t hold a tune if you gave her a metal bucket to carry it in. Part of him was aware that her initial interest in him had been because of his status in the industry, followed closely by the fact that he was a vampire and therefore dangerous. That happy little bit of knowledge made him feel a bit better for keeping her around. That and the accompanying able to suck a bowling ball through a straw perk.