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

by Jon F. Merz

  For her alone, I was determined to see that he paid the ultimate price. Everything was extra. But it was a big extra.

  There would be no quarter given tonight.

  By the time we finished, one of us would be dead.

  Death isn’t something you can prepare for as much as people like to think they can. You can do all the fighting and mental conditioning you think you can, but it still won’t ready you for the first time you see someone dead at your own hands. When they slide from your grasp, their lifeless body slipping to the ground, the last vestiges of life force spilling out of them as fast as their blood.

  Sure, you get over it, but the images stay with you forever.

  And when you think about it later, your own mortality comes crashing back at you like some steroid driven linebacker on the football field and knocks the hell out of your pleasant little picture of supposed reality.

  It hurts.

  It jars you awake.

  Makes you think.

  But even then, even when you know you can die as easily as anyone else, whether you’re a vampire or not, even then there are times when you can’t avoid the possibility.

  I’d faced death many times before.

  And you know what? It never got any easier.

  Maybe you can convince yourself dying gloriously is a great way to go out. It’s a different matter when all of sudden you look down and see a mortal wound, and you know, you know in that split second that you’re a goner.

  Glorious, my ass.

  In my business, there’s only one kind of death and that’s downright fucking scary.

  But scary doesn’t mean you can avoid it.

  Sometimes you just had to run head first into it and hope to hell you came through it all right.

  Life’s a bitch, ain’t she?

  I set out a couple of cans of cat food for Mimi and Phoebe and then mailed a letter to one of my neighbors. It was a worst case scenario type thing that she’d receive in two days. I enclosed a key with it so she could get into the house. She’d expressed affection for my cats and I couldn’t think of anyone else better suited to care for them if I was no longer around.

  Mimi sensed it first; she was always more in tune with my mood. She ignored the food and brushed up against my leg, chirping for a hug. I stooped down and picked her up, bringing her close to my face. She butted her head against my face and began purring. I hugged her close and then did the same to Phoebe. I loved them dearly, for years they’d been my only companions.

  Downstairs in the basement, I opened the heavy wooden trunk one of my ancestors had brought over from Germany when the family had first come over to the United States. It was hand-made and had always been used to house personal effects and special items. Archaic symbols were etched in the wood, inlaid with black mahogany and rosewood. It was a beautiful piece, filled with the sweat and tears of excellent craftsmanship. I’d never been able to match the woodworking talent my ancestors had, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

  I removed the long coarse cloth from inside the trunk and slowly slid it off the curved length of wood it covered. Even in the darkness I could see the gleaming luster of the oiled lignum vitae, the hardest wood known to man.

  It was a bokken. A wooden sword handmade by one of the most well-known weapons smiths in Japan. Exquisitely carved, masterfully balanced and perfectly honed, it was as dangerous a killing weapon as if it had been hand forged out of folded, layered steel.

  And to Cosgrove, it would be even deadlier.

  The tip could easily stab through flesh. I looked forward to piercing his heart with it.

  Next to the bokken, I removed a smaller package. This one contained a hand-forged tanto blade over ten inches in length. The tanto was another gift from the weapons smith. He’d crafted them for me in exchange for helping him with some unresolved monetary issues concerning the local Yakuza gang. Normally, getting involved with the Japanese Mafia isn’t a favorite past time of mine and I certainly hadn’t meant to intercede, but sometimes, destiny has a way of injecting you into the flow of life for some reason. And so I’d intervened and saved his life. While he acknowledged his giri, or obligation, to me would never be repaid, he hoped these two gifts would at least help me in my work.

  I don’t know, perhaps he sensed something about me. Regardless, I’d never had cause to use them before, but I was damned glad I had them now.

  I’d bring the gun of course, and plenty of ammunition. But this fight was going to get dirty. Cosgrove was nothing if not dirty. Anyone who killed unarmed children wasn’t going to abide by any rules or battlefield honor. And for that, I wanted something special. The bokken and the tanto would help me equalize the playing field.

  Upstairs, the phone rang.

  Something told me it was probably Talya searching all over town for me. And while I’d never given her my phone number, I knew she could get it if she needed to.

  She’d be pissed and I couldn’t blame her. But this was something else entirely. As a mortal, she didn’t belong in this game. This was my responsibility alone. The stakes were simply too high.

  Especially since I loved her.

  My watch beeped and I checked the time. It was going on four o’clock. In a little over eight hours, the battle would be joined.

  Hopefully in nine hours, I’d still be alive.

  ***

  I needed information.

  Like I said before, ancient history wasn’t my gig in school so anything not directly related to my own here and now I generally ignored. Having to face and possible battle the preeminent face of evil in vampire tradition changed matters.

  If I was going to win-hell, if I was going to survive, I needed information.

  I found Zero’s Chevy Tahoe back over in the parking garage by Manray. Sliding underneath the truck, I found the alarm wire and cut it before using a slim Jim to open the door.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, I felt weird. I inhaled and caught a whiff of Zero’s deodorant and suddenly if almost felt like he was still there.

  But he wasn’t.

  On the passenger side I found a zipped small duffel bag. Inside, I found a lot of racing papers, testifying to Zero’s love for the ponies, but no books about dealing with the Sargoth.

  I sat still in the driver’s seat trying to drum up anything that could help me. That’s when I noticed the tape sitting in the dashboard player.

  It was a homemade tape that Zero had labeled "Country Hits." I smiled and pushed it into the player. Zero hated Country music.

  I waited for the first minute of twangy guitar playing to ride out and was rewarded when Zero’s voice came over the speakers.

  "If you’re listening to this, odds aren’t good that I survived. Hopefully, you were able to get into my truck without setting off the alarm.

  "You’ll have to take Cosgrove out yourself, Lawson. Don’t go to the Council. At a time like this, they’d be more likely to try to negotiate rather than fight back. And we both know all too well that negotiation with Cosgrove or anyone like him, will never work.

  "We’ve spent the last week or so trying to figure out exactly how Cosgrove hopes to ally himself with the humans. That and his damned quest to resurrect the Sargoth. If he succeeds at that, the game may well be over not only for our society as we know it, but also for the humans.

  "There aren’t many like us, Lawson. I think you know that by now. Fixers by and large care only about the vampires, but we know it goes beyond that sometimes. Our protection, our devotion to the balance impacts the humans as well. And they fall, whether anyone else has the guts to admit it or not, under our protection.

  "I’m betting that if indeed Cosgrove is crazy enough to try to invoke the Sargoth, he’ll need a host body. The Sargoth can’t exist on this plane without a material body. It can be human or vampire, but if it’s human, once the Sargoth takes possession, the body becomes vampire and can never be returned to human.

  "He’d prefer a vampire host, though. The Sargoth i
s much more powerful residing in a vampire body. That said, I am at a loss as to how you would go about destroying him. It may not even be possible, considering the awesome power inherent within the Sargoth.

  "You’ll have to find a way, Lawson. There must be one. The universe wouldn’t allow the creation of such a power without a means to also destroy it.

  "I told you I knew of another elder here in the Boston area. I wasn’t lying, but he’s not what I’d call an active elder per se. He has a bit of a checkered past.

  "You must find the elder known as Wirek. He lives on Beacon Hill close to the Council chambers, above the store on the corner. He is perhaps the only trustworthy soul you can turn to now. Although he is a bit eccentric. And a drunk. But he is still the only person who has studied the ancient texts. Only he will know how to deal with the Sargoth.

  "Whatever the outcome of your meeting with Wirek, take care when you go after Cosgrove. Do whatever you must do and never hesitate. There’ll be time for sentiment later. Just get the job done.

  "It’s been a real honor working with you all these years. Now do me one last favor and finish what we started."

  The tape clicked off, leaving me alone in the darkened interior. I removed the tape and sat there alone.

  Barely breathing.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Getting information from a drunken elder didn’t buoy my spirits any, but beggars can’t be choosers and right now, I was looking like a Skid Row veteran.

  I found the building easily enough. Just like Zero said, it sat above a small convenience store. I bought a few supplies before finding the small doorway around the corner. The name below the doorbell read Wirek. Evidently, he wasn’t shy. Taking a quick breath, I pressed the buzzer.

  It took him ten seconds to reply. "Yeah?"

  "My name’s Lawson. Zero sent me."

  "Who the hell is Zero?"

  Great. Amnesia, too. I didn’t have time to debate this. "Open the door and let me come up."

  "No way. You might be one of those crazy teenagers down the block trying to get my social security check."

  "I’m not here to rob you. I need your help." I paused. "I’ve got a gift for you."

  "Yeah? What kind of gift?"

  "A bottle of tequila."

  There was a pause. "One worm or two?"

  "Dos gusanos, amigo."

  Another pause, and then, the door latch clicked open. I stepped inside, breathing in the heavy, musty air. Rickety wooden steps lead up, winding as they went. I caught a whiff of dank urine, old mothballs, and a faint scent of alcohol. Wirek lived in a real palace.

  A door opened somewhere above me. "You there?"

  "Yeah, just dodging some trash down here."

  "Hurry up with that tequila, dammit."

  Wirek, when I finally crested the stairs, looked old. Check that, the guy looked ancient. Skin hung from his face like heavy drapes in a funeral parlor. His forehead was freckled and what little hair he had left poked out of his scalp at strange angles. He wore a gray stained pockmarked sweatshirt emblazoned with the words "runs with scissors" written across the chest. He stretched out a bony hand and I went to shake it.

  He frowned. "Gimme the damned bottle."

  "Nice to meet you, too." I handed him the tequila.

  Wirek cradled it like he’d just spent twenty-four hours in labor delivering the silly thing. After a moment he looked at me. "You said Zero sent you?"

  "Apparently only as a last resort."

  He chuckled. "Sonny, if you come to me, it is a last resort. Come inside."

  He turned and wandered back into the apartment, already unscrewing the cap on the tequila.

  I ducked inside the doorway and shuddered. Clutter filled every inch of space. Papers littered the floor and huge shelves of books lined the walls. A chandelier with burned out bulbs hung over what must have once been a dining room table but had long since become something of a desk. Over in the corner sat a orange plaid recliner with the foot rest up and a remote control on the arm rest. I noticed a porn tape nearby. An overwhelming stench of bad booze hung in the air. Glancing about the room, I could see the empty glass bottle remains of a recent drinking binge.

  Wirek freed the tequila and took a long drag. He belched once and looked at me. "Want some?"

  "No." I pointed at the porno. "Not interrupting something am I?"

  He chuckled. "Nah, I finished a few minutes ago." He leaned closer. "Ain’t ya glad I didn’t shake your hand now?" He took another sip.

  "Thrilled. I need some information."

  He sighed and wandered back to his chair, easing himself down bone by bone. "You young ones, always in a rush these days. No time for socializing." He took another swig and looked me over. "Fixer, huh?"

  "How’d you know?"

  He frowned again. "You know how old I am? Eight hundred years old. You know how much I’ve seen in my lifetime? Enough for fifty lifetimes. You know how many Fixers I’ve seen? Too many. I know a Fixer when I see one." He shrugged. "Besides, you’ve got the look."

  "What look?"

  "Oh, that ‘impending doom and disaster’ look so common to anyone in the profession." He grinned. "Seen it a million times."

  "Well, I’ve got good cause to look this way."

  He laughed again. "If only you knew how many times I’ve heard that."

  I sighed. "Look, Wirek, I don’t mean to be rude-"

  "Too late."

  "-but there’s some serious shit going on and I need your help. Obviously, if I could handle this on my own, I wouldn’t be bothering you."

  "But you can’t. Yeah, yeah, I know." He helped himself to another swig and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So, what is it this time?"

  "A conspiracy."

  Wirek frowned. "You don’t need me to help with a conspiracy. If you’re worth your salt you oughta be able to handle a measly conspiracy."

  "If it was just that, you’re right, I could. But it’s not. It’s what the conspiracy hopes to accomplish."

  Wirek looked up. "So what is it?"

  "The resurrection of the Sargoth."

  Wirek stopped smiling. "What did you just say?"

  "You heard me."

  "The Sargoth?"

  "That’s what I said."

  Wirek put the tequila down. "We don’t have much time."

  "I was saying."

  He leaped out of the armchair and strode over to one of the bookcases. "Tell me what’s going on."

  "Someone is trying to invoke him. Bring him onto this plane."

  "Has he already done so?"

  I nodded. "I’m pretty sure he has."

  Wirek hauled a huge book off of the shelf and slapped it down on the table. Dust flew from the leather-encased tome. I saw lettering that resembled the symbols I’d seen on Cosgrove altar.

  "That’s Taluk, right?"

  "I don’t give out gold stars, kid." But he nodded anyway. "This is the tome of the ancients. There are very few copies left. I translated this version myself some time ago." He flipped open the pages and began rifling through them.

  "Who is the host?"

  I shrugged. "I don’t know."

  "Human or vampire?"

  I heard Zero’s voice again in my mind. Saw him disappearing after Cosgrove at the plant, and felt a pain in my chest. "At this point, most likely vampire."

  "Damn." Wirek kept turning pages and then abruptly stopped. "Here." He paused for a minute reading the ancient scribble and finally looked up. "You can’t kill the Sargoth."

  "But Zero said-"

  "He couldn’t have known. Once the Sargoth is invoked and resides in a vampire host body, it cannot be killed. If it was in a human body, possibly it could. But not a vampire."

  I leaned back into the wall. "Then it’s over."

  Wirek shook hid head. "Hang on, don’t give up so easily." He frowned. "You this easily thwarted when you’re out Fixing?"

  "It’s been a long fucking week."

  "Hmph. Youth. No stayi
ng power." He pointed into the book. "See this?"

  "I can’t read Taluk."

  Wirek frowned. "Of course you can’t. Someday you should learn. This is the history of your people, you know." He leaned back into the book. "According to this, the Sargoth can be banished from this plane. You can send him back where he came from."

  "Yeah? How so?"

  Wirek chewed his lip. "You won’t like it. I’ve known you for all of five minutes and I already know you won’t like it."

  "I don’t have to like it. I just have to do it."

  "Yeah." Wirek’s teeth found small piece of skin and tore it off his lip. Blood oozed out of the cut. "You’ll have to destroy the host body."

  My heart pounded. Zero. Wirek nodded.

  "I take it you know the host?"

  "I think it’s Zero."

  Wirek sighed. "No one said the job would be easy all those years ago, did they, Sonny?"

  "No."

  He put a hand on my shoulder. "You’ll have to do it, you know? If the Sargoth is unleashed, there’s no telling what kind of damage it would do to the society."

  "It would be the end of our society. The man summoning him is bent on destroying the Council and assuming leadership himself."

  "Figures." Wirek found the tequila bottle again and had himself another drag. "Power mongers always want more than they can handle. Bastards."

  "There’s no other way, is there?"

  Wirek shook his head. "I wish there was. But there isn’t."

  ***

  By the time I got down to the Fenway and parked the Jetta, it was already creeping toward ten o’clock. I wanted to be in position first and be able to dominate the scene as opposed to walk into an unknown variable. In Cosgrove’s case, unknown variable meant one of his specialty ambushes. Not the best way to start things off.

  The November winds blasted through the thick black cotton fatigues I wore over my lug soled boots. I’d washed the fatigues enough so the cotton was now soft and made no noise when I brushed against it. I’d strapped the pistol under my armpit in a shoulder holster while I carried the tanto in one of my pockets and kept the bokken close to my side. No one seemed to notice another guy dressed in black walking the streets by abandoned office buildings. And the police only cruised the residential areas, so they wouldn’t bother me.