The Fixer: A Lawson Vampire Novel 1 (The Lawson Vampire Series)

by Jon F. Merz

  It was dark outside.

  Inside the building, it was an absolute abyss. A dank black hole void of light and, thanks to Cosgrove, it was absolutely awash in unspeakable evil.

  And sound.

  Primarily high-pitched squeaks.

  I’ve never liked rats. And at that moment, I was in the giant Port Authority of rat-dom.

  They squealed and squeaked as I waded through their numbers. Sweat ran down every inch of my body as they searched for exposed bits of skin to nibble. Their coarse skin brushed against me as they swirled in undulating waves of mammalian pestilence against my jeans. One of them got caught in the cuff of my jeans and tried to run up my leg but failed and tumbled back out into his brethren.

  It was all I could do not to retch and pass out.

  I finally made it to the stairs, shaking and kicking off the last of my furry passengers. It took me a minute of solid heaving to catch my breath. Finally, I climbed the steps. Slowly.

  A voice dripped down from high above.

  "If memory serves me correctly, Lawson, you hate rats. You must be in agony right now."

  The bastard wasn’t far off the mark, but I shoved on. I was determined to finish that business there, that night. If not to spare any more innocent lives, then only to avenge Simbik. He may not have ever realized what I was, or maybe he did, but he was a friend all the same. Now he was dead. Murdered at the hands of a man I should have killed a long time ago. If I hadn’t failed back then, Simbik would still be alive.

  I stopped on the fifth floor. The stairs went no higher. In the darkness my vision let me see as clearly as a cat, but nothing stirred amid the old pipes and exposed girders. Paper littered the ground covering mounds of dead roaches. A stale pile of human excrement still tickled the air, testimony to the vagabonds that used this building.

  But no Cosgrove.

  I scoured the entire floor and only on my second go-around did I notice the door that read "roof." Without hesitating, I opened it and went up.

  At the top, an open door creaked as the night breezes caused it to sway back and forth. I timed my arrival to when the door was at its greatest aperture and stepped on to the roof.

  Boston’s skyline sparkled all around me and the neon Citgo sign in Kenmore Square burned like a sun in the darkness casting shadows even in the blackness of night.

  Cosgrove was there.

  And he chose not to hide.

  "Age is slowing you down, Lawson."

  He stood at the edge of the roof, draped in expensive black silks that rippled like muscles in the breezes swirling around us. I felt like a peasant in my jeans and turtleneck compared to the luxury of the finery Cosgrove bathed his body in.

  He turned, facing the city. "Time was you would have followed me through that second floor window without a moment’s hesitation. Now, you amble up steps like a man with no more spirit."

  "Time was I believed in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus, too. Look where those got me." I looked around. "Last time I followed you head-on, I almost lost my life."

  He laughed. "You speak like a human, always have. You’re a vampire. Seems to me you’ve always had a problem accepting that. You even have human friends."

  "‘Had’ might be a better word for it, thanks to you."

  He turned then, and it seemed as though he was somewhat surprised by that last remark. Then it dawned on him. "My, my he was your friend? How utterly delicious! You must be awfully sore with me right now, eh?"

  "Actually, I’m just here because I enjoy the profound pleasure of your company."

  He let that pass and smiled, teeth gleaming in the night air. "Admit it, Lawson, you want to kill me so badly every ounce of your being is obsessed by it."

  "You’re just another job, Cosgrove."

  "Rubbish! I’ve never been just a job to you. You might be able to carry that cavalier attitude off with some of your other sanctions. But this is me." He smiled again. "And we do go so far back. Our delicious history still inspires me to this day."

  "You’re wrong. You’re just another termination handed down by the Council."

  "To hell with the Council! Nothing but a pathetic group of weaklings. They’ve kept our people hidden like rats, always in the shadows, feeding off the scraps of this world. We are a noble race. We’re entitled to more. If they were strong we would rule this world on our terms instead of merely existing in the background! We would own the planet!"

  "And there’d be no Balance and chaos would erupt." I sighed. "We’d be destroyed."

  "Not if it were handled properly. By the right man."

  "And, of course, that’d be you, right?"

  He nodded casting his arms out as if he’s about to hug the world. "Yes. I am the chosen one. It’s true. I know exactly what to do." He cocked his head to one side. "Do you know what it’s like to be born a messiah but have no way of realizing your potential? It’s like you can see everything that needs to be done, but these silly laws – these pathetic anachronisms – keep you from accomplishing anything. And your dreams, your hopes for the people you’ve been chosen to lead, they shrivel up and crumple like so much dust in the wind."

  "Sounds tragic."

  "It’s gut-wrenching. Believe me. I know." He shook his head. "And you know what the worst part is?"

  "I’m sure you’ll tell me."

  "The worst part is knowing that you’re right. That your cause is like a holy crusade to right the wrongs, to reverse the injustices wrought by so much arrogance. And yet, everywhere you turn, you’re accused of being insane, off your rocker, a nut job. You’re persecuted for your ambition." He looked at me. "Even hunted."

  "You’re right." It was time to end this.

  "Of course I am. You know, Lawson, I could use a man like you in my organization. Old times aside, seriously. You’re strong. Hardened. A pretty decent fighter. Not as good as me of course, but decent all the same. You’d be a big help. What do you say? Join the cause. Help me lead our people into the light. Take them to their rightful rule."

  "Never been a real big fan of Meglomania Incorporated, Cosgrove."

  He frowned. "Such a bloody snob, you are. Do you remember how you and the rest of those sorry sods at school used to tease me, Lawson? Do you remember those days? Did it feel good to feel so powerful?"

  "We were just kids, Cosgrove. Besides, you eventually got your revenge."

  "And so sweet it was." He smiled. "Sure you won’t join me?"

  I reached behind my right hip. "I’ve already got a job."

  Simbik must have been good stock because his life force gave Cosgrove some amazing energy. He moved so fast even I didn’t see it.

  But I felt it.

  Especially when he landed on me from above, driving his feet down into my stomach as he crashed down. My wind rushed out of me, knocking me senseless.

  Cosgrove rolled off and laughed. "Now, what is this little toy

  you were going to use on me?"

  I reached behind but it was gone. He’d fleeced my weapon off me and now he was standing two meters away fiddling with it.

  "A gun is it? An ordinary gun?" He shook his head and he reminded me of one of my old grammar school teachers. "Really Lawson, as if this trifling piece of human machinery could dispatch me."

  "It’s been modified." I looked around searching the roof for cover but there was little except for some old pipes, lumber, and a mass of old newspapers.

  "Really? How so?" He turned the gun over in his hands until it pointed at me. "Explain it to me."

  "The rounds are different." If I could get him to examine the magazine, it might just buy me enough time.

  Cosgrove was enjoying himself. He thumbed the hammer back on the gun. "And what makes this ammunition so special?"

  I tried to stand but he merely kicked me in the solar plexus knocking me across the roof, like I’d been some pesky mosquito. I crashed into a pile of damp newspapers and splintering lumber and lay there trying hard to catch my wind. I gasped and retched.
r />   "What kind of loads does it take?" He said again.

  I grimaced, feeling some measure of control come back over my breathing. "The bullet tips aren’t metal. They’re wooden."

  "Ah, the twenty-first century adaptation on the old stake through the heart bit." He fondled the gun some more. "So this is the infamous Fixer gun I’ve always heard about. Interesting. Does it usually just take one bullet?"

  "Depends on the individual."

  He sighted down the barrel and I knew he had the damned thing locked onto my heart. "And just how many shots do you think it would take to kill you right now?"

  "Way I’m feeling? You could probably do the job with a damned toothpick."

  Cosgrove laughed and lowered the gun. "Ah, Lawson, you always were a card. You haven’t fed in a while have you?"

  "Nope."

  Cosgrove straightened and tilted his head back licking his lips, tasting the night air as if it were some sweet nectar of the Gods. "He was delicious you know. Your friend I mean. Absolutely exquisite. Did you know he must have had some Carpathian in his blood?"

  "Turkish. He was Turkish."

  Cosgrove nodded. "Close enough." He leaned closer, drawing down the distance between us so subtly I could barely even sense it. His voice became a mere whisper, or was he inside my head?

  "Would you like a taste?"

  "What?"

  He pierced his forefinger. Crimson flowed from it, beading first on the pad then dribbling down the length of his finger. "Taste him, taste your friend. It’s customary, of course, your last meal and all."

  Watching the blood made my mouth drown in saliva. I was starving for it. My energy was shot. Cosgrove knew this. Enjoyed this.

  And slowly, I reached for his hand.

  He held it aloft, watching and allowing the precious blood to pool before gravity began to exert itself on the first drop.

  And in that instant, I lashed out with a kick to his other hand, sending the pistol clattering off the edge of the roof. I followed by tackling Cosgrove and kneeing him sharply in the groin. We might have been vampires, but we weren’t undead. We still felt pain. And Cosgrove grunted audibly as I slammed my knee into him a second and third time.

  But he recovered fast and was on his feet even as I mounted another attack. He sidestepped my punch and used my momentum to send me hurtling against the rooftop again. I crashed and came to a stop. Totally spent.

  Cosgrove licked his finger. "You ungrateful bastard. I would have let you die honorably."

  "Get it over with Cosgrove. I’m not in the mood for your damned orations."

  "Death is such an easy release, Lawson. Trust me, I’ve sent enough people there. It’s quick. Too quick. And far too painless for the likes of you." He shook his head. "But now…now I think I’ll leave you alive a little while more. I imagine it will annoy you to no end to have me hunting in your neighborhood."

  "You annoy me just being alive."

  "I’m sure." Cosgrove smiled. "Tell me, are you a sporting soul?"

  My wind was coming back. "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Well, let’s make it interesting, shall we? Let’s see how good a Fixer you truly are. Let’s see if you can catch me. And, dare I say it, kill me?"

  Laughing, he stood over me and looked down at his finger. "So nice," he murmured as he squeezed his finger, causing the blood to pool once again.

  I watched him turn his finger slowly and in the darkness I saw a single drop of blood fall, cross the infinity of night, then hit my lips like salvation from a god. My tongue shot out instinctively, licking the globule off my lips. Even as the first coppery taste crossed my tongue, my whole body trembled with desire. Saliva flooded my mouth. I needed more. So much more.

  "I’ll enjoy this immensely, Lawson. Good night."

  Then he was gone.

  The challenge had been issued. The gauntlet dropped.

  And, even as I lay starving,

  famished,

  ravenous,

  I knew I had no choice but to accept.

  Chapter Four

  McKinley’s mood was as low as the limbo pole at a midget fiesta. "What do you mean, you missed?"

  I cradled the telephone with my shoulder while I took another sip of juice from my private reserve. Well, I preferred to call it juice. You can call it blood if you’re that kind of sick bastard who likes to imagine how wonderful it is to find nourishment in the life force of human beings. Me, it was difficult enough just keeping it down. After close to a hundred and thirty-five years, I was still wrestling with this whole thing.

  My energy was waxing again, which was good. Damned good in fact. God knows I was a spent unit on that roof. I took another sip and cleared my throat. "Just what I said." I took a long drag. "I almost died up there you know."

  There was a pause and I knew McKinley would be doing his usual rip-a-tuft-of-hair-out-of-his-head-whenever-the-news-was-bad routine. I gave him the moment.

  "Did he say anything?"

  That brought me up short. So much for my Control being concerned about my health. "Yeah, we talked about the price of pork belly futures. What the hell do you mean did he say anything?"

  "It’s just that with Cosgrove, you know it’s always something. He’s always on the soapbox."

  "Soapbox? When’d you get to be such an expert on his behavioral patterns?"

  "I’ve been listening to you for the past six years, haven’t I?"

  "I been bitching that much?"

  "Like a sorority house on a communal rag."

  I sighed. "The only thing I got out of him was that he was going to enjoy pissing me off to no end while he leaves a trail of shriveled bodies around town. That and his usual ‘take-over-the-world’ routine. Same old Cosgrove. Same old psychopathic bastard." I put the bottle down. "Dammit, McKinley, I warned the Council this would happen."

  "Yeah, you did. But you also missed when they gave you the okay to hit him."

  "Sue me. It won’t happen again."

  McKinley sighed. "I assume you’ll be hunting him full time?"

  Jesus Christ. "Of course I am. What do you think I’m gonna kick back and forget I nearly died on some shitty rooftop?" I sighed. "I won’t miss again."

  "Good, keep me informed."

  The phone went dead before I could throw another witty insult down the line. That was fine with me. I needed some sleep.

  I recorked the wine bottle. Just looking at it, you’d never guess the contents. If anyone asked, I told them I preferred my red wine chilled. I slid it back into my fridge and washed the glass so it wouldn’t dry with the stains in it. You never knew when company might come over. Besides, dried blood stains on glassware is a bitch to get clean. And paper cups are out. Bloody cups draw all sorts of four-legged nocturnal scavengers. If my trash gets strewn across the street courtesy of a ravenous raccoon family, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do to the neighbors.

  Bedtime.

  Now I should explain that as far as being what I am, I am required to get an inordinate amount of sleep. You can, however, forget that sunlight stuff. It just isn’t so. Might have been once, I never checked. But you show me one species that absolutely has to remain hidden from the sun, and I’ll show you that same species extinct within two generations. Unless they happen to live five miles under the ocean.

  Personally, I work better at night.

  Luckily for me, so did Cosgrove.

  Christ, if he was a nine-to-fiver, I sure as hell wouldn’t be getting to him today.

  I crawled into bed and clucked twice for my cats. Like attracts like. Both of my girls were hunters. Pure and true. I got them at the local shelter since I could never bring myself to pay for a pet when there were lots of great animals out there that needed a home before they got euthanized.

  Mimi arrived first. She looked like Chewbacca on a bad hair day, and I was sure she had some Coon Cat a short way back up the family line. She was big, but she carried it well. And best of all, she was silent.

  Pho
ebe came second, announcing herself with her characteristic chirp. A silver tabby with two pounds of extra weight swaying beneath her every time she walked, she was smaller than Mimi, but a helluva lot noisier. It was like no one had ever taught her how to land quietly. Listening to Phoebe jump down from something was like listening to a bag of bricks fall off a building.

  Mimi tried in vain to claim my pillow, gave up after five minutes of using her head to ram into my skull, and settled down by my feet whereupon she engaged in aerobic-style self-cleansing. Phoebe, the tunnel rat, immediately dove under the covers where she would remain for most of the day until I woke up.

  One hundred and thirty-five years isn’t old for a vampire. Compared to some of the others in Boston, I was just getting my feet under me. To me, it felt like I was approaching middle age. You think you’ve got it tough when you start noticing those good looks you had in college deserting you like rats on the Titanic? Try being a vampire sometime. It sucks.

  Simply put, we’ve always been around. Like I said earlier about the whole shark thing: just because you can’t see ‘em doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Same thing goes for us.

  Oh sure, there were the luminaries. We had that Vlad the Impaler guy. Man, what a freak. I mean, I needed juice to survive on, but let’s do it in moderation shall we? Old Vlad there was reminiscent of a Roman orgy the way he drank it down. You know the way some of you look at obese people and shake your heads? That’s the way I looked at folks like Vlad.

  So we’ve always been a part of your society inasmuch as we’re here. But we’re separate from you. You could liken it to Orthodox Jews. Together but separate.

  It’s a homogenous society. It has to be. Our survival depends absolutely upon it. No interbreeding with humans. Too many things go awry and you get weird offspring that usually have to be exterminated. Besides, for the most part vampire semen and mortal female eggs don’t get along and vice versa.

  Sex is okay, just not impregnation. Sex is allowed because it helps us secure sustenance.