by Jon F. Merz
Of course, if anybody thought about messing around with me, I felt certain that notion would be a short-lived one. Given what must have been a look of fierce and grim determination on my face, danger would do well to avoid me tonight.
I rounded the corner by D’Angelo’s, crossed Brookline Avenue and ducked into the shadowy recesses of the building. A knot in my stomach tightened as the woozy deja vu swept over me, reminding me that I almost lost my life here a week ago.
Homecomings always thrilled me.
I had a friend once who insisted that everything in life was about a giant wheel. Stay around long enough and you’d see the same things come right back again. It made sense. Hell, even bell-bottom jeans had made an unfortunate attempt to reclaim their fifteen minutes of fame.
Maybe that’s why I chose this place for what I hoped would be our final battle. Tonight was about waging war on my terms, not Cosgrove’s. I had a grocery list of vendettas and plenty of karmic coupons.
I cut across part of the parking lot and made my way over to the side door. The lock was already broken and I crept inside within a minute. I sprinted to the stairs avoiding the sea of rats as much as I could. I’d remembered to tuck my pants into my boots so I didn’t have to relive the unique terror of having one of those furry bastards crawl up my leg.
At the top of the stairs, I paused, catching my breath. The door before me gave easily and I stepped onto the roof.
Howling winds whipped at my face, roared in my ears, and made goose bumps leap off my skin. I glanced around quickly.
Empty.
Relief, a temporary sensation lately, laid its hand across my shoulder. Part of me had expected Cosgrove to set up an ambush. Apparently he was going to play this one straight. Or at least as straight as was possible for someone like him.
I’d play it straight, too.
I’d do whatever it took to send that bastard straight to hell.
Wirek’s words came back to my mind. I was heartbroken about having to possibly kill Zero. Even trying to rationalize it as just his physical body wasn’t working too well. In all likelihood, Zero was already dead. Having the Sargoth take over your body presumably killed you. Zero’s soul had already departed for the other side.
I hoped to hell he’d be watching me, trying to help me sort this whole mess out.
I thought about Talya. I thought about last night, about how wonderful it felt to be in her arms, to feel the pulse of her body as we made love. It was a tragically long-overdue sensation.
I was willing to bet she was mighty pissed off right now.
I checked the black army watch strapped to my wrist and saw the two hands growing closer together.
Eleven o’clock.
One hour to go.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Where sixty minutes went in such a short time, I’ll never know. But despite there being nothing apparently different, as subtly as the wind drew another long cold breath across that rooftop, something changed.
Cosgrove.
I don’t which part of me sensed him first. And honestly, spending too much time trying to figure it out would have most likely meant my death.
Breezes tossed broken bottles, crushed bits of paper, and rusty nails around the roof making sounds difficult to pinpoint. I eased back toward one edge, keeping the bokken down against my leg, hopefully out of sight. I needed every advantage I could get.
In the blink of an eye, he was there. On the roof with me. More wind scared up the billowy length of his black overcoat, flapping it and spreading it like giant ironic wings behind his dark form. In the darkness, his smile flashed like a beacon of light.
"Lawson."
It was more of a hiss than a voice. Never had I felt such evil, even from him. It oozed from every pore, bled outward from his tainted aura, and contaminated everything around him. He was obviously enjoying the moment.
"You haven’t brought your lover tonight?"
"Better she be involved no longer," I said.
Cosgrove grunted. "I’ll hunt her down anyway. Just out of spite."
His callous regard for her angered me. I gripped the bokken a little more tightly, almost feeling the oiled wood conform to the shape of my hand. Something about it lent me strength, perhaps the aged wood itself had been imbued with some ancient Shinto spirit.
"I imagine she’ll be as easy to put down as she was before."
"She might surprise you, Cosgrove. She’s certainly surprised me."
He chuckled. "That doesn’t take much, Lawson."
I noticed the flesh colored bandage on his face, the vague nasal twang to his voice. "How’s your nose, Cosgrove? Still hurt?"
He grinned. "My nose, Lawson, has been redone so many times it no longer even feels like a part of my flesh. You caused me some pain, true, but once I’ve dealt with you and your lady, I’ll simply have it fixed again."
"How about I do it for you instead? My services are free."
He laughed. "A card to the end. I’ll treasure the memory of your humor long after you’re dead."
It had felt good to sling a barb or two across the roof at him. I did it more to work out the butterflies hopping around my intestines than anything else. But nothing lasts forever and I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. "Let’s do this, Cosgrove."
He smiled again. "Of course." He shrugged. "Although, I would have thought you’d be curious to know what I’ve done with your old friend?"
Zero. Damn. "Where is he?"
Cosgrove’s smile grew even larger. "Why, Lawson, he’s here of course."
He stepped away and behind him, Zero loomed.
But it wasn’t Zero any longer. His eyes stared at me across the expanse of the roof, empty and void. Where once his spirit had rested, now something else, the Sargoth, occupied it.
I’d mourn Zero’s loss later. I couldn’t afford to get emotional now. I needed to finish this.
"Naturally, Lawson, I’ll be only too glad to fight with you, provided you’re able to best the Sargoth, first."
There was no expression on Zero’s face as he moved across the roof slowly. Each step seemed to make my apprehension grow even more. I’d never relished the idea of fighting Zero when he was Zero. Now that he was the embodiment of the most evil specter in vampire mythology, I was even less thrilled about it. I wondered briefly how the Sargoth would find operating in someone else’s body.
But I’d learn soon enough.
Zero and I had never sparred before so I had no idea what to expect from him. But anyway, it really wasn’t Zero anymore. I felt certain the Sargoth had his own style of combat. One that would most likely be old and unforgiving.
When he launched the attack, it came so fast, I hardly had a chance to get out of the way. One second he was ambling over and the next he was rushing towards me with his hands outstretched, seeking my head, neck and who knew what else.
I jerked to the side, avoided his attack and brought the bokken up sharply against his rib cage. I heard a satisfying crack as several ribs shattered. I moved again and followed up by bringing the bokken down on his head – hard. Anther dull thwack told me I’d fractured his skull. He sank to the rooftop and slumped to one side.
I turned my attention to Cosgrove who strangely seemed totally unfazed by my countering of the Sargoth’s initial attack.
My mistake, letting my attention be diverted. I found out why a second later when the Sargoth attacked me from behind and knocked me flat. I lost hold of the bokken which went skittering across the roof toward one edge. Wind rushed out of my lungs as Zero’s body landed squarely on top of me.
I wriggled around, getting my back against the roof top and fought off the first of ten rapid-fire punches aimed at my head. Ground fighting was a bitch, but if you kept moving, you stood a better chance rather than just bunching up and hoping for the best. In my case, it’d mean death.
Two punches got through and bounced off my ears making them ring. I grabbed a handful of flesh around Zero’s rib
cage and twisted and yanked.
It should have produced some kind of effect.
It should have made the Sargoth leap a bit and allow me room to get out of the situation.
It should have.
It didn’t.
Cosgrove’s voice floated across the rooftop, laden with glee. "In case you haven’t already surmised, Lawson, when the Sargoth takes possession of a host body, it does not invade the host’s neurology. It therefore feels no pain. Your martial skills will unfortunately prove very ineffective against him."
Great.
I shifted again, trying to get my hips out from where he straddled me. I punched up and as he shifted to block it, I squiggled out a bit more.
That move cost me. Three punches crashed into my diaphragm. I sucked in liquid fire.
But I had managed to get some more room, so I did it again. It brought the same response, but I finally managed to get to my feet.
The Sargoth looked up, seemed vaguely amused and slowly got to his feet.
I put a front stomp kick into the side of his right knee, hoping to shatter the knee joint. If it couldn’t walk, I reasoned, it couldn’t get me.
Fat chance.
The kick was good, and I cracked the knee joint, but the Sargoth obviously paid no heed to it since he continued walking toward me.
"Structural damage does little as well," called Cosgrove. He was obviously enjoying his role as commentator.
I backed up, abruptly aware that I was getting far too close to the edge. The Sargoth loomed closer, spreading his arms as if to engulf me in them. I was sure it would mean a helluva lot of pain so I backed up even more until I could go no further without toppling headlong off the roof.
It sensed this. The Sargoth smiled.
And came closer.
My foot rolled off a rusted nail, almost causing me to stumble. I righted myself just as the Sargoth drew down the distance between us to almost nothing
-then
A single crack pierced the darkness, halting the Sargoth’s approach. The front of his shirt blossomed bright crimson and the Sargoth looked down, amazed-confused-stumbling-falling-
dead.
Who-?
A vortex of wind ripped the rooftop apart, sending papers, trash and everything else into the air. It hurt to see, but Zero’s body lifted off the roof ten feet, exploded into a bright rush of blue light and then vanished, leaving intense silence. It looked like something out of the Highlander movie I’d seen a few years back.
But I’d caught a glimpse of someone in the flash of light. A lone figure silhouetted against a nearby rooftop with a long sniper rifle.
Talya?
"Well, it looks as though I may have underestimated your ability to take care of the Sargoth," said Cosgrove as he calmly removed his cape. "No bother. I’ll simply invoke him again once I kill you. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find another host body." He looked up smiling. "My kudos to you on supplying your lover with the requisite wooden bullets needed to kill Zero’s body."
I was still breathing hard. "Wasn’t my doing."
"No?"
"No idea who that was."
Cosgrove smiled. "No matter. I’ll find out soon enough."
He moved then, rushing at me almost as fast as the Sargoth had. I tried sidestepping again, but my ribs ached badly and delayed my pivot just enough that Cosgrove caught me with a solid punch to my jaw.
Stars bounced around my skull. Damn, that hurt like hell.
He tried following up with a kick to my groin but I deflected it by bringing my knee up. I used the moment to head-butt him hard off the corner of his eyebrow. He grunted and fell back away, giving me a second.
If I’d been in better shape I could have launched an attack, but I needed the space to catch my breath. Still, the blow to his eye must have stung him badly since he seemed a bit dizzy.
I faked a jab to his head, which he went to block and then slammed a front kick to his left hip socket, knocking him back and down. I tried following up with another kick to his knee but Cosgrove scrambled away, tossing a cloud of dirt at my face.
I ducked, catching just a bit in my left eye. Grit made blinking a bitch. Tears rolled down my face as I tried to clear my vision.
He came at me again, launching a kick into my stomach that kicked me back across the roof, falling and tumbling like a soda can toward the edge.
I scrambled, flailed, dragging myself to a stop feeling bits of gravel bite into my palms.
He was on me then, kneeing, punching, grasping, spitting, trying his damnedest to wound me enough that he could then stake my heart with a sharpened piece of timber from the roof.
We rolled back toward the edge and then away from it. I grunted loud when we rolled over something long and thin. I realized it was the bokken that the Sargoth had knocked away from me earlier. It hurt like hell when I rolled over it with my spine.
Cosgrove kept us moving and now I tried to use one of my hands to find the bokken, to try to get it in between us so I could slam it into him.
No good, Cosgrove kept the momentum moving away from the bokken and his punches demanded my attention.
He spit in my face and nailed my left eye again. My vision blurred once more and I brought my knee into his groin hard, catching him full in the sack. He grunted, moaned and rolled off of me.
I wiped the sputum from my eye and went after him, catching him twice more with kicks to his thigh and midsection. He fell back to the roof top and rolled backwards into the shadows.
I turned slightly and was at last able to make out the outline of the bokken laying a short distance away.
If I could just get it-
The click made me stop.
"You’ve been practicing I see."
I turned around, edging myself just a little bit closer to the bokken. Cosgrove was holding a pistol very much like the one I carried. I felt for my holster and frowned. In the grappling, Cosgrove had fleeced the damned thing off of me. If I made it through this alive, I was really going to have to improve my weapon retention skills.
Now he was aiming my gun at me.
I sucked wind. "After all this, you’ll use that pussy gun on me, Cosgrove?"
He seemed to be breathing hard, too. "Why not? Dead is dead, Lawson. I must admit that I am getting very tired. Tired of your continued presence on this planet. Seems to me it’s about time for you to join your recently departed friends. Leave me to my destined greatness."
"You’ve never been a warrior, Cosgrove. You’ve never been one to appreciate the rules of the hunt, the traditions of our community. The only thing you’ve ever obsessed about is your own personal gain."
"If you think talking to me is going to save your life, Lawson, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I’m quite determined to pull this trigger and make all my Lawson problems go away forever." He smiled and I noticed his teeth were bloody. Good. That meant I’d hurt him. "Now stand still and let me make this nice and quick for you."
I shifted slightly. "Nice and quick? You’re getting merciful now, Cosgrove?"
"Not merciful, Lawson. Just tired of you."
"I’ll take that as a compliment." I moved a little further to the right.
"Take it as whatever you wish. Now stand still."
In the darkness, I heard the hammer being pulled back, could almost see his finger tightening on the trigger, his tendons flexing to take up the slack, almost feel the spring inside the gun tightening, then beginning to release-
I vaulted sideways just as the first of two shots rang out. I hit the rooftop hard, real hard, but rolled over my right shoulder and let my hands search the darkness for the bokken. I grasped it, continued rolling, aware that Cosgrove had his attention focused on the rooftop where the sniper bullet had originated from earlier.
With no time to waste, I came up, moving-breathing hard and fast, covering the space between Cosgrove and I, tearing it down to nothing just as he started to realize I was behind him and coming fast-
&n
bsp; he turned
I dropped
roared with every ounce of intention
straightened
and plunged the bokken deep into his chest beneath his xyphoid process, rammed it home-heard the cartilage crack-give-relinquish the bloated prize within his chest.
Cosgrove gagged violently, coughed and slumped backward, taking the bokken with him. It jutted obscenely out of his chest.
He looked down, amazed and then looked up, trying to bring my pistol up and shoot me again.
I dove toward him, rolled and came out of the roll with my foot slamming the pommel of the bokken into him even deeper, feeling his spine give as the wood went out through his back. Cosgrove fell back to the roof top and lay still.
I squatted on the roof breathing hard. Saliva flooded my mouth, dripped drooled out of me while my heart hammered in my chest. I felt nauseous. Hell, I wanted to vomit my soul.
The bulge in my cargo pocket was still there and I took out the tanto. It wasn’t even bent from the constant rolling. Damned if it wasn’t one of the finest pieces I’d ever owned.
I limped over to Cosgrove’s form. He was still breathing, but shallow. His pupils were dilating fully. He was close to death.
Even still, I took my pistol out of his hands and tucked it back into my shoulder holster. He tried to grin.
"Lawson."
I frowned. "You’re finished, Cosgrove."
He grunted and some red foam trickled out of his mouth. "You haven’t won, Lawson. This isn’t over."
"No?" I nodded towards the bokken still jutting out of his chest cavity. "You’re an optimistic soul, Cosgrove. I’d say you’re as good as dead."
"…I’ll be back."
I shook my head. "I don’t think so, Cosgrove. Not this time. Not ever again."
"I’ve made a deal with the devil, Lawson. You can’t kill me."
I lifted him up from the roof top and brought my face close to his, smelling his bloody breath. "Oh, yes, I can. For your crimes against the Council. For your crimes against the community. For your crimes against humanity. For everything you’ve done in the name of evil." My voice was a hiss now. My eyes felt hot. "But especially for what you did to Robin, for the pain you’ve caused this world, our people, for everything Cosgrove,…you are sentenced to death."