Civil Sons

by C. M. Cevis

  Owen was also vaguely aware that someone had been drinking him. He wasn’t sure how long they thought that was going to last if they didn’t feed him something, but they didn’t seem to care. They’d cut his arms and fed at the wounds like parasites, and because his blood was starting to get low, the wounds weren’t healing quite as quickly as they normally would. He was starting to heal slowly, like a human. Ick.

  He’d gathered enough about what was going on to know that he was being held by shifters, but his instincts weren’t online enough for him to be able to tell what flavor. It was clear that most, if not all of them were vamp blood addicted, and he assumed that was why they’d taken him. Though, realistically, any old vampire would do, so part of him was aware that there had to be more to it than simply that.

  What he didn’t understand was what he remembered about being taken. He’d been with Roger, and while Roger wasn’t as strong as he was, he was plenty strong in his own right. Roger should have been able to take care of a few shifters without a problem so why hadn’t he? Why had Owen been taken?

  Owen had finally come to the conclusion that one of two things had happened to Roger: One, he’d been taken as well and was in another room tied to another bed somewhere, or two, he’d allowed it. Option two wasn’t an option. Roger was his oldest and most trusted friend, and there was no way that he’d have allowed this to happen. So Roger was there somewhere, which meant that one of them needed to get free and help the other.

  Owen hoped Roger was doing better than he was. He had so much silplacid marching its way through his system that even if they’d let him loose, he wasn’t certain he could stand without losing his balance and falling over.

  The door at his feet creaked open loudly, and Owen winced against the sound and the light that poured in from the hallway outside. The silhouette of a man stopped in the doorway as Owen squinted at him. A sigh echoed around him.

  “Justin! The fanger is awake. I thought you said that shit was going to keep him out!” a man’s voice yelled to someone Owen couldn’t see.

  “I’m a little late on the dosage, my bad. I had to stop and take a piss on my way,” another man’s voice said, steadily coming closer as he spoke.

  “Well hurry the fuck up and knock him out. It’s feeding time,” voice #1 said as he pulled what looked to be a rather large silver knife from somewhere. Evil laughter bounced around Owen and he let his head fall back as the second voice came into the room. The needle in his arm stung, but not as badly as the silplacid did as it was injected into his system. Owen cried out despite his resolve not to, and darkness blessedly crept into his vision, shutting him down as he passed out, and returned to a sweet blanket of nothingness.

  ~*~

  ROGER WAS SITTING IN MAX’S office and had been for at least an hour. He’d found out about Max working with the Organization and had tried to get to him before the meeting. He’d wanted to tag along and see what agent was going to be placed on this particular assignment, but he was pretty sure that Max had gone straight there after the press conference and he’d missed his chance.

  He wondered if Max trusted Samson to the point of allowing him to have say in the agent chosen. If so, that was probably going to be a bad deal for Roger. It was clear that Max’s new guard didn’t particularly care for him, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d intentionally stayed away from him since he seemed like the type to see right through him and that was the last thing that he needed at this point in the game.

  What he needed was to speak with Max alone, without Samson there to listen. That way he could offer his two cents and mold the situation to fit with his plans.

  “Roger, I didn’t know you were here,” Max said as he entered his office, Samson close behind. Damn it.

  “I wanted to speak with you after the press conference this morning, make sure that you were okay,” Roger said, standing and smiling. Max returned the gin, but Samson simply closed the door to the office and stared at Roger almost as if he didn’t exist.

  “Could we maybe speak alone?” Roger said. Max’s walk across the office faltered, and he gave Roger a confused look.

  “Anything that you need to say to me can be said in front of Samson, just like it was in front of Bannon,” Max replied. Damn, he hadn’t ever asked for Bannon to leave the room when they spoke, because he trusted Bannon. Asking for privacy had been a mistake.

  “Sorry,” Roger said with a purposely nervous laugh. “I guess I was just used to Bannon since he was here for so long. I don’t really know anything about Samson.” He hoped that would work as an excuse.

  “What did you need, Roger.” Max clearly had a plan in place for the night, and while he didn’t seem annoyed with Roger, he was urging him to get on with whatever he had to say.

  “I was just wondering how the meeting went with the Org, whether they decided to put an agent on this situation. I just want to help find Owen.”

  “The Org is sending their agent to the concert tonight, where I will meet and test him or her. Once I’ve made a decision, you are free to help the agent in their investigation should they choose to allow you along for the ride. However, know that because this is an Organization agent, I can’t tell them that they have to allow you along. It’s completely up to them or the Org.” Well, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  “How about if I come to the concert tonight and handle testing the agent? You won’t have to worry about it,” Roger said. He was grasping at straws here, but the last thing he wanted was for things to get out of hand with this investigation.

  “I’ve already stated that I will handle it.” That was Max’s annoyed tone, which meant that Roger was pushing too much.

  “Please let me know if there is anything else I can do,” Roger said, standing to leave the office. Asking for anything else would get him pushed even farther away, and that wasn’t going to help matters.

  “Of course,” Max said with a slight grin as he sat down behind his desk and began working on something.

  Roger glanced up at Samson on his way out, expecting the large man to flip him off or… something. Instead, what he got was complete indifference. It was clear that Samson didn’t care for him in the slightest, but he apparently wasn’t even worth a glance on his way out.

  “Samson, can I get your opinion on something?” Max called out as if he hadn’t even noticed that Roger wasn’t fully gone yet.

  “Sure,” Samson said, moving towards the desk as Roger slipped out of the door completely unnoticed.

  ~*~

  SAMSON ROUNDED THE DESK AS the door the office closed softly on the other side of the room. He looked down at what Max was working on only to notice that wasn’t anything that needed his assistance. He looked to Max, confused.

  “You really don’t like Roger, do you?” Max asked, amusement in his voice all of a sudden. Samson sighed and crossed his arms.

  “No, I really don’t. And I’m positive that the feeling is mutual at this point.”

  “Why don’t you like him?” Max asked, sitting back. That was a fair question, one that Samson had already tried to think his way through several times.

  “I can’t give you an exact reason, Max. I just know that I don’t trust him at all. There something very sneaky and shifty about him and knowing that he was there when Owen was taken just makes this whole thing more suspect to me.”

  “So your dislike of Roger is solely based on a hunch?” Max asked.

  “I don’t have hunches, I have instincts,” Samson replied, which made Max chuckle.

  “Would it make you feel more comfortable with Roger if you were given the freedom needed to investigate him yourself?” Samson eyed Max carefully, not sure how to answer without seeming some flavor of disloyal.

  “Pardon?”

  “I talked to Dracon about what you did before you arrived here to guard me. He wouldn’t tell me everything, he stated specifically that he couldn’t, but he told me enough. You are quite good at what you do, even if I don’t know exactly w
hat that is. If allowing you the freedom to investigate Roger makes you feel more comfortable with him, that’s great. And if your investigation turns up evidence that I was wrong, then I have a score to settle once my son is found. Either way, this is not a terrible idea.”

  “I will not leave you unprotected,” Samson said. He meant it. The more that he learned about Max, the more that he genuinely liked him. He’d never forgive himself if something were to happen to Max when he was away.

  “I’m staying here for the rest of the night, doing work that I have been putting off for weeks. I’m safe as long as I am here, and I will let you know before I leave so that you can return. Fair enough?” he asked.

  Samson nodded. “If you are willing to allow it then, yes I would like to investigate Roger.”

  “He shouldn’t be more than a few miles away. At his fastest, you are faster, I’d bet. You should be able to catch up with him if you go now.”

  Samson smiled and turned towards the door. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Don’t mention it. But if you find out something that I need to know—”

  “I will call you immediately,” Samson said, just before he stepped through the door and into the hallway. He locked the door quickly behind him and took off like a shot into the night.

  23

  NOAH STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of the room where Owen was restrained. His chest was moving up and down as if he was breathing, something that Noah always found fascinating about wellborns. They breathed when they weren’t thinking about it, even though it wasn’t necessary that they do so. Weird.

  Either way, the fact that he was breathing meant that Justin and Leo hadn’t somehow killed him. Judging by the way Owen was starting to look, they were starving him. While Owen wouldn’t die, he would run dry and that wouldn’t do anything but piss everyone off because they couldn’t get their fix anymore. He needed to be fed.

  “What the hell are you doing up here? I thought you were too good to drink the fanger’s blood.” Leo said, strolling up behind Noah with a smug look on his face.

  “Justin told me to watch him, Leo. The two of you really ought to be in sync if you’re going to be in charge.” That was going to piss him off.

  “Where did Justin go?” Leo asked, ignoring Noah’s dig at him.

  Noah shrugged. “No idea. He told me to stand here, and I’m standing here.”

  Leo sucked his teeth in annoyance, which Noah ignored because it wasn’t his job to keep tables on Leo’s friend, and went back to watching Owen breathe unnecessarily.

  “Where the hell are you, J? Why’d you leave the kid here? What’s he going to do if this vampire wakes up?” Leo said from behind him on what Noah assumed was a phone called. It was a legitimate question. Noah could probably give Owen a run for his money, but he wasn’t sure that run wouldn’t destroy the entire building, if not everyone in it.

  Owen was looking gaunt, his cheeks a bit sunken in and his skin grayer than it had been when he’d arrive. He was pale, but this was different. His hair was stringy against his forehead where he’d begin sweating, and Noah wondered if that was a side effect of the silplacid. Or maybe a side effect of too much silplacid. Owen’s fangs had begun to extend farther than normal, and that meant that he was starting to go into starvation mode. Noah had seen a starved vampire before, and that was when they most resembled the vampires in the old horror movies from before his time, except without the movie makeup. Hungry vampires were desperate and not in their right minds. There was nothing good about this situation.

  “Justin is on his way back. When he gets here, you can go back downstairs and be all goodie two shoes by yourself.” Leo said, ending a call that Noah had barely been aware that he was on.

  “Are you going to feed him?” Noah asked, ignoring what Leo had just told him.

  “Feed him? No, why would we do that? He’s a vampire, he’s already dead, remember? He doesn’t need to eat.”

  Noah wanted to smack him. Trying to appeal to his better nature wasn’t going to work since Leo had no better nature. He was all asshole prick, all the time. “He needs blood if you want to keep him alive for your purposes. You know as well as I do that he can’t produce his own blood. What are you going to do when he’s so dry that there’s nothing left for you to suck from the wounds on his arms, hm?”

  “I don’t think I like your tone,” Leo snapped.

  “Alright think about this: you got everyone involved in this by promising them fresh vamp blood, right? What are you going to do when there are ten angry shifters in withdrawal looking for your ass because their well ran dry? You can’t fight them all off.”

  “You can,” Leo said. Flattering.

  “I’m not fighting for you, Leo. I’ll let them tear your ass apart for being stupid. If what you’re banking on is someone who clearly doesn’t like you just as much as you don’t like them taking a few hits for you, you’re in trouble. And you can’t fight for shit. I suggest you make sure that your cash cow doesn’t run dry, which means that you need to feed him.”

  Noah was amused with how little he cared about kissing Leo’s ass lately. Who cared if he was in charge of the pack right now? Noah wasn’t even sure how that had happened. And Leo wasn’t stupid enough to challenge Noah to anything other than a verbal spar.

  “I don’t have to listen to you.” Leo spat at Noah. Noah sighed and began massaging his temples.

  “This is unnecessarily cruel, Leo. He was taken as a bargaining chip, what does letting him run dry do? Do you really think there won’t be any retaliation if we return him as close to actually dead as he can get?”

  “Fuck off, little bitch baby Noah. I don’t need you telling me what to do with my prisoner.”

  Noah threw up his hands and started walking towards the stairs.

  “Fine. You watch him until your friend gets back. I’m done.”

  ~*~

  OWEN STAYED AS STILL AS possible as he listened to the two shifters in his doorway arguing. One seemed to be trying to convince the other that Owen needed to eat, which was a very true statement. Even if he was to get free right now he could do some damage, but he’d be a bit woozy, and probably exert every ounce of energy that he had getting out of there in his current state.

  Was there actually someone there who wasn’t trying to drink every drop of blood that he had? The other one had called him Noah. He’d have to remember that name. If he got free, maybe he wouldn’t kill Noah. He’d hurt him, but he wouldn’t kill him. Maybe.

  24

  ROGER HAD GONE THROUGH THE trouble to make special arrangements to meet with Remi, face to face. She’d said that it was very important and that it wasn’t a good idea to talk about it over the phone. That had been something that he’d agreed with since he wasn’t really sure how much power Samson had with the Directorate, nor was he sure if they’d do something like tapping a phone. Remi was simply following the rules that he’d set down: Calls were fine as long as you could use the code words, but if it was something that would be lost in translation, they could meet face to face.

  Roger had left a full hour early with the intention of making anyone who happened to be following him think that he was just wandering around aimlessly. Once he was pretty sure that he’d shaken whatever tail that he might have had, he headed towards his actual destination.

  The place was a small bar clear on the other side of the city. One that he knew that no one that would recognize him frequented, and one that had small private rooms for the right price. He’d rented one of the rooms for his meeting with Remi that night.

  She had arrived before him, which he found odd considering that he was actually on time instead of fashionably late. Whatever, that meant less time out in the open with someone that he didn’t want to be spotted with while his plans were in full swing like they were now. He made his way through the bar, into the back, and into the room that he’d rented, closing the door behind him before slipping into the seat across from Remi, who already seemed to be halfway through
a beer.

  “Good to see you,” he said with a grin that Remi returned, though there seemed to be a touch of nerves at the edge of her smile. He hoped that she wasn’t getting cold feet or something. She was replicable, though doing so would be a pain in the ass right then.

  “You too. I hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting here, Seth said that you were pretty sure that you’re being followed.”

  “I am pretty sure, but I took precautions, so we should be okay.”

  “Okay,” Remi said softly, her eyes traveling down to the table in front of her. Roger gave it a few moments, but Remi didn’t seem to be getting ready to say anything, and it was making him antsy.

  “So you said that you wanted to meet face to face?” he said, trying to move things along.

  Remi nodded. “I wanted to talk to you… about leaving.” Roger blinked at the woman across from him.

  “Pardon?” he asked. How in the world could she even think about leaving after what he’d done for her, all the time he’d put into getting her ready for this plan? All the time that he’d spent making sure that she trusted him and that he could trust her. He’d wanted her to be with him when he moved up in the ranks because she was so good at convincing people of things. Everyone always believed the slight girl with the dark hair and the cute voice.

  “I don’t want to do this anymore, Roger. It’s getting to be more than I signed up for.”

  “It won’t be like this forever, Remi, but you know that the plan takes a bit of work for it to function. Once we get it going we—”

  Remi shook her head. “I used to believe you when you said things like that. When you told us that nothing bad would happen, that you had everything under control… I don’t anymore, Roger. It’s not fair to you or Seth to have me dragging you down.”