Prologue
Tim Brewster sat in a shiny, silver BMW on a side runway at Austin's Bergstrom International Airport. He looked up in the rearview and took a moment to study the girl passed out in the backseat. She was a trashy blonde (Tim was pretty sure it was a dye job) in a leather mini and an all-too-revealing halter. He knew what he wanted to do to her, but he was also aware that she was for the client. Mr. Stevens was due to be arriving soon.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than a Lear Jet came in for landing on the runway in front of him. He watched the Lear taxi over to the hangar he was parked next to before he opened the door and stepped out of the Beamer.
Tim saw that the sun had just settled below the horizon as he stood up. A wicked wind whipped down the runway as the stairs came down from the side of the Lear and a dark figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
Jason Stevens was of average height and medium build. His hair was dark-blond and his eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a black turtleneck. His hands were large and his shoulders were broad. He was handsome in a vague, northern Italian way. He stretched his arms out wide and yawned before jogging down the stairs.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs and pinned Tim with a stare as he pulled the sunglasses off. "You're Tim?"
Brewster was suddenly nervous at the icy-blue glare that Mr. Stevens gave him. "Yes, sir."
Stevens maintained the blank glare for a moment before letting that icy glare melt into a smile. "Then lead the way."
Brewster waved his arm at the car before opening a back door. Stevens slid in fluidly. Brewster's next thought was interrupted by the clearing of a throat from behind him. The stewardess was a tall, leggy blonde (no dye job for her I bet, he thought) and she was followed by one of the guys from the ground crew. He carried several bags and Brewster opened the trunk so the bags could be loaded.
Within a few moments, Brewster was back behind the wheel.
The blonde girl was awake, her eyes red-rimmed. Her voice when she talked to Mr. Stevens was deeply marked by a Texas twang. "Sir," started Brewster nervously, "the Prince has a rather strict policy against …"
Brewster's words were arrested by the glare from Mr. Stephens. There was a hard chuckle underlying his tone when he replied. "Don't worry, Tim. I never lose control."
Brewster swallowed hard at the gleam in those ice-blue eyes. He nodded and started the car to pull away.
The car left Interstate 35 in Pflugerville. Brewster had a hard time not watching the show in the back seat. He had caught that the girl called herself Talia. The rest of the trip had passed in tense, charged silence except for a few muffled moans and grunts. Now the girl was passed out in the back seat and Mr. Stevens gazed out of the window at the passing lights and cars.
The house they stopped in front of was a spacious one with two stories and a three-car garage facing the street. Brewster hopped out of the car and opened Mr. Stevens' door. As the passenger stretched to his full, five-feet-eleven-inch height, the front door opened and the master of the house stepped out.
Lee Torrence was the picture of ruddy good health, his face colored by rosacea. He had twinkling blue eyes and a barrel-chest. His smile was broad and showed even white teeth. Behind him was a younger man, tall and toned in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. Lee came forward and embraced Mr. Stevens in a bear hug.
"Maximus," he whispered into the taller man's ear.
Mr. Stevens' grin was as wide as Lee's when they parted. "Iliatos," he said louder.
Lee laughed loudly before nodding. "Jason."
"Lee."
Lee guided Jason Stevens over to the younger man behind him. The younger man's mouth contorted into a snarl for just a moment, the typical reaction. "Jason Stevens," began Lee, "this is Dr. Eric Draiman, my childe."
He turned his attention to the younger man. "Eric, this is Jason Stevens. He's almost as old as I am."
Eric Draiman, Jason did not know what kind of doctor he was, spoke in a tone of deference to the older Kindred. "I am honored, Master Stevens." He bowed.
"It is a pleasure, Eric." He nodded back respectfully. Eric noted the slight British lilt in the voice and identified it as a Midlands accent.
Lee looked away, distracted. "Ah, Tim."
Brewster, who had been zoning out beside the BMW, snapped his attention to the elder. "Yes, Master Torrence?"
"How is your other charge?" His eyes indicated the girl in the backseat.
"Merely sleeping, sir."
Eric's attention went there as well. "Sire?" he asked.
Lee looked skeptical. "Eric, she's already been fed from tonight. It's dangerous to feed from her."
Jason had read the look on the fledgling's face better than his sire. "I don't believe feeding is what the lad has in mind." Eric's cheeks colored furiously.
Lee chuckled deeply. "He is young and continues to enjoy the pleasures of sex. I have yet to tell him that this desire may never cease."
He turned his attention back to his childe as Jason chuckled a response. "Eric, she is yours. But only if she is amenable."
A new light of excitement shone in Eric's eyes. "Yes, sire."
Lee turned and escorted Jason into the house. He led his old friend through his home and into the study at the back of the house.
Lee went to a sideboard and pulled out two glasses. He poured a couple of fingers of Laphroaig into one glass before turning to his guest. "Do you still partake?"
Jason nodded. "Of course, old friend, as usual."
Lee nodded. "Gin, then?"
That got a nod and a pair of fingers of South went into a glass. He passed the New Zealand made gin to Jason, who took a small sip and savored the flavor of the strong liquor in his mouth, his eyes closed in a look of concentrated pleasure.
Lee allowed him a moment's silent appreciation of the gin. He knew that their taste buds were far more refined than a human's and that it was the rare member of their race that could enjoy the flavor of alcohol. He knew from his own experience that the taste was far more complex. South was the only brand Jason drank, had been for several years and he had sent Tim all the way to Oklahoma to get it. Tim had brought back several cases of it, far more than Jason could drink in a trip. Luckily, Eric had tried it and liked it as much as anything else. Lee figure all he had to do was wean Eric from his favorite Bushmills Irish whiskey and get him onto South permanently.
"So," Jason's voice broke into Lee's thoughts. "Tell me the situation in Austin."
"Ah," replied Lee. He motioned Jason to a comfortable chair before settling into a desk chair of his own. He then took a moment to stuff and light a pipe while he gathered his thoughts.
"You wish to know the state of the Kindred in Austin, Texas?"
Jason nodded, eagerness dawning on his face. "Yes."
Lee took a long pull on the pipe. "Why?"
The eagerness dimmed and Jason leaned back in the chair. "I have my reasons."
Lee nodded sagely. "Business or pleasure?"
"Business."
Lee sighed. "I have enjoyed my peaceful existence here, old friend."
Jason's lip twitched upward, an almost-smile. "Gods allow, you will be able to enjoy it a while longer, Iliatos."
The old Celtic war chief sighed again, the doubt plain on his face. "The Gods? Humph. You sound like those foolish Acolytes, worshipping in their various cults."
Jason drained the rest of the gin from his glass. "You know I would never give in to the Crone."
An eyebrow lifted. "The Circle in Austin worships Zeus. They are an odd collection, led by a Greek."
Jason laughed drolly. "Zeus? I still make my sacrifices to the Emperor Augustus and Jupiter."
Lee's smile was strained. "I have become more conservative in my old age. I find myself comforted by the words of the Lancea Sanctum. Maybe I hope for a reunion with my blessed creator when this," his hand waved about, encompassing the contents of the room, "is gone."
Jason was a little disappointed but hid it well. "So, what is the situation in Austin?"
Lee sighed one more time and blinked a couple of times, continuing to sip at the scotch in his hand. "For you?"
Jason set his glass down. He shook his head slowly and tilted his hand so that the light glinted off the ring on his right hand, a ring which featured a crest or an organization that had not existed in any size since Rome dominated humanity. "For us."
Lee's visage turned downright grumpy. He thought about his relationship with Jason, a relationship that stretched back nearly two thousand years. He did not like the thought of what "us" meant. But Jason had saved his life more times than Lee could count. He sighed and began.
"In 1839, Mirabeau B. Lamar, who was at the time President of Texas, nominated the village of Waterloo as the capital of the Republic. He also suggested that the city be renamed in honor of Stephen F. Austin, one of the great impresarios that had settled Texas prior to its revolutionary separation from Mexico in 1836. When the city was renamed Austin, it became a place of immediate interest to the Prince of San Antonio, who was a powerful Daeva in the Lancea Sanctum. That Prince named a Regent, his own childe, Rodrigo de Toledo.
"Seventeen years later, in 1846, he declared himself independent of his Prince, more, a Prince in his own right. This was an amicable split between the two Sanctified Kindred. Rodrigo would rule the city securely, through Civil War and Reconstruction, until the year 1897.
"I arrived in the city in 1878, in time to start seeing the rule of the Lancea Sanctum begin to unravel under the rising Carthian Movement and the growth of the Circle of the Crone. Prince Rodrigo appealed to his former benefactor, only to be answered with the silence of his sire, due to his assassination. Rodrigo next made an appeal to the Invictus. Their decision was too late, however, for, as the Inner Circle was approving an intervention, Rodrigo was taken by the Circle and executed, diablerized by the Hierophant.
"The intervention, however, was already approved. It was placed on a back burner while the Acolytes fought the Sanctified and the Carthians. The Invictus waited decades while the three wasted themselves on each other. It was only in the late 1930's that they decided to take action. They named William Markos, a powerful Ventrue warrior, as Duke of Austin, responsible for the capture of the city.
"And they gave him help. A Daeva named Sabrina O'Shaughnessy, a Mekhet named Federico Sangiovanni, and two other Ventrue named Calvin Boyd and Anna von Braun. Those five tore apart every alliance the Kindred of Austin and the surrounding areas had put together. They formed their own alliance with the Ordo Dracul, who had stayed out of the politics of the city to that point, and a lesser one with the remainder of the Lancea Sanctum who had been driven from San Antonio by the revolution in that city. In the end, William brought them all to the negotiating table and settled a peace built on his absolute control. He has been acknowledged Prince since 1940."
Jason considered this in silence for several moments. "So, he maintains a strong rule?"
"The strongest. There are five great Kindred centers in Texas. Dallas and Fort Worth are ruled by the Invictus. The Carthians hold sway in Houston. The Circle holds an uneasy control over San Antonio while the Lancea is strongly in control of El Paso. None of the others enjoy the absolute rule that William has.
"And his companions?"
Lee smiled gently. "They maintain a relationship and power within the hierarchy of the city. Sabrina is William's lover as well as the Priscus of the Daeva. Federico, Fredo to nearly everyone, is the Herald of the City and Master of Elysium. Calvin is the Regent over Williamson County, north of the city, while Guillem is the Regent over Hays County, south of the city. The former is headquartered in Georgetown, the latter in San Marcos, both smaller cities in the area. The Seneschal is of the Ordo Dracul, a Mekhet named Edward Patton."
Lee leaned forward. "Now, the important question is, what else do you need from me?"
Jason grinned broadly. "Just a bit more help."