Natural Consequences by Elliott Kay

of the newcomer’s retainers, but the leader interrupted with a casual gesture of his hand.
    “There’s no need for that,” he said. “Unferth and Bjorn are honored warriors. The least I can do for them is forego the lofty titles.”
    Bjorn snorted. “Yours is less pretentious than most. The whole practice is ridiculous. Claim a city, claim a title based on nothing but a whim. We met the Marquess of San Francisco an hour ago. I hear Hawaii has a shogun, for fuck’s sake.”
    Wentworth tilted his head in deference to Bjorn’s disdain. “The pace of the modern world encourages a bit of creative license, but I do prefer humbler titles.”
    “Nothing like our host’s,” grunted Bjorn.
    “Yes, well. Let’s not bring that up in his presence, shall we?”
    “He has a millennium on us as well, Wentworth,” frowned Unferth. “No one has dared challenge him since before Bjorn and I last saw the sun. We didn’t survive this long by being stupid. It’s just too bad that this mess didn’t turn up on your side of the continent instead of hers .”
    “Let’s hope it’s still her side,” put in Bjorn. “If not, we may have to leave this coast for saner territory.”
    Unferth nodded. “As I say. You may be young as lords go, Wentworth, but at least you aren’t raving mad.”
    Wentworth’s clipped smile twitched a bit as if to convey his thanks. “I’m sure we’ll be able to resolve this mess with your help. I will try to mitigate our host’s… eccentricities.” He spotted a servant at the top of a broad, open staircase nearby. “Is he ready for us?”
    The servant nodded. “Lords and ladies, honored guests, your attention, please.” He spoke loudly enough to break into every conversation within earshot, but with a tone that dripped with respect and subordination. “Gaius Cornelius Vaspasianus, sole Consul of the Republic of Los Angeles awaits his most honored guests to take counsel with him in his audience chamber. He bids you attend at your convenience.”
    Unferth and Bjorn shared a glance and a roll of their eyes, but only Wentworth saw it. Even they did not want to directly insult their host. Cornelius was mad, but powerful in a great many ways.
    Arriving in the audience chamber, the guests found faux-Imperial Roman décor and the usual assortment of vampires wearing outfits that spanned centuries of fashion. At the center of the room on a large oaken throne sat Cornelius himself in a red toga and laurel crown. Never a noble or even a leader in life, Cornelius ruled now through awe of his age. It was hard to find so old a vampire anywhere in North America. Few wanted to test his prowess.
    Only one vampire kept him from claiming the whole of the West as his own… and milno one knew if she still walked.
    “Unferth! Bjorn! So good to see you,” Cornelius smiled. He rose and crossed the room to clap them both on the shoulders. They felt the great strength of his hands—surely the only reason he made such a gesture—and nodded politely, but did not return his smile. “I witnessed your victory from the balcony. The outcome was never in doubt.”
    “We thank you for putting us in the same room as the Spaniards,” said Bjorn. “Finally.”
    Unferth wanted to cuff his brother for daring to hide a veiled complaint in his words of gratitude, but he decided not to bring attention to it. “This night has been a long time coming for us, Lord Cornelius,” he nodded.
    “Yes,” Cornelius smiled, “I know it has. I am glad your dispute is put to rest. Far graver concerns await our attention. I’m afraid I must ask you to repay my favor more or less immediately.”
    “You have a lead?” asked Unferth.
    “I do,” nodded Cornelius. He stepped back from them and looked briefly to Wentworth. “Lord Mayor, if I may?”
    Wentworth bowed. “You are the host, after all, sir. And the one responsible for locating this vital information.”
    “Thank you. My lords and ladies,” Cornelius said, holding his arms