by Jon F. Merz
I checked my watch. Two minutes had already elapsed.
I typed in "addresses."
The computer beeped and asked me for a login code/
Crap.
I wished like hell I could have called Benny the Phreak. After all, the guy could crack anything in five minutes flat. Probably faster. And since I’d already burned enough cash using his services this week so far, I figured another couple grand wouldn’t hurt.
Unfortunately, Benny would have been able to see the files I was looking at. Then he might start asking some questions. Questions he shouldn’t be asking.
Benny was trustworthy. To a point. Beyond that, human curiosity might dictate my killing him. And since I thought he was more useful alive than dead, he’d have to stay out of this caper.
Four minutes gone.
I typed in "guest."
The computer buzzed and told me it was an incorrect login. The cursor reappeared asking again.
This time I typed in "user."
Buzz.
Another wrong guess.
Five minutes gone and I sat there muttering obscenities. Did Arthur know the password? It had to be simple. Too many passwords tended to confuse people. It had to be something they could recall easily.
I suddenly had a flash. Since this was supposed to be a secure installation, maybe they weren’t too anal about codes being left out in the open.
I turned over the keyboard.
And saw a piece of paper taped to the underside. I sighed and typed in "varot," which I thought meant "truth" in the old language. Whatever it meant, it was obviously the right code judging by the series of beeps that erupted from the terminal. Instantly the screen filled with names and numbers.
A quick glance at my watch told me I had three minutes to pore through this junk and find what I needed. I tried sorting the material using the Council as a keyword but got junk. There were only six members of the Council. The computer had given me a list of two hundred. Unless they were grouped together with the local governments around the world. I typed in "council-Boston" and hit enter.
Six names and addresses popped onto the screen.
I hit the print command key and heard a printer pop to life across the room. Two minutes left.
I logged off of the terminal and dashed to the other side of the room. The printer was blinking but nothing was coming out. A yellow light on the side blinked, laughing at me.
It needed paper.
I ran around the room looking for a box of paper but couldn’t find any. Finally, I saw a closet and yanked it open, jerked a ream out of an open box and ran back to the printer.
The tray bounced once as I ripped it out and stuffed a few sheets into it before ramming it home. Instantly the printer began whirring and printing out the list.
One minute.
The sheet emerged from the spool in slow motion, slowly bleeding into the receptacle.
Thirty seconds.
I ripped the paper out of the printer, ran over to the light switch, shut it off and tripped out of the room with ten seconds to spare.
Across the hall, Arthur leaned against the wall.
"Find what ya needed then?"
I exhaled in a rush. "Whoever said technology would make life easier didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about."
Arthur smiled. "I’ve often thought the very same thing."
*** *** ***
Six names and addresses.
Not bad duty trying to sift through them. But the fact that at least one of them was in all likelihood a traitor made the task hard.
Seated inside my Volvo, I scanned the list and found only one that came close to being in Newton. A woman named Arvella. She lived at an address that bordered Newton and Chestnut Hill. A ritzy part of town where the houses were few and far between and neighbors didn’t ask very many questions.
I drove back to Wirek’s place and parked the Volvo around on Charles Street, amazed I found a metered space. Parking down here was always a bitch.
Wirek and Jack were seated on his couch when I opened the door. Jack’s eyes were closed. Wirek spoke to him in quiet tones. In the old language.
I’m not much of a history buff. Never have been. I know the barest of facts about my people, but that’s never been a problem in my line of work. My job doesn’t demand a lot of book knowledge.
But lately I’d found myself becoming. Probably because of my old friend Zero. He’d introduced me to some interesting things during our years together.
It was Zero who suggested I study the old language. I knew a few rudimentary phrases, but nothing I could converse with. It occurred to me how strange it was that I spoke over a dozen human languages but I’d neglected my own.
Wirek looked up as I came in, motioning me to sit down in the easy chair. I did so, watching Jack all the while. Wirek continued speaking to him.
The temperature in the room grew warm. It felt like a spring breeze at first, but then the intensity of it increased. I felt a line of perspiration break out along my forehead.
Wirek kept talking.
Jack sat still, although his brow was creased – furrowed in deep concentration.
I shifted, trying to get some air under my shirt. It got hotter.
And then, with a simple rush of energy, we were no longer alone in the room. I turned as it rushed past me and then hovered in front of Jack. A bulbous globule of energy. Maybe a spirit.
Jack opened his eyes. Wirek kept speaking in hushed tones. Jack nodded and then closed his eyes again. I thought I saw a brief flutter of an eyelid and then the globe zipped across the room, hovering near the kitchen Another flutter and it came right back.
This went on for several minutes. Jack seemed to be controlling the energy/spirit thing with his mind, using techniques that Wirek was teaching him.
The energy ball transfixed me. It swirled, transformed, and intermingled all within the space of the sphere. It was like looking into a cloudy crystal ball and seeing anything your imagination wanted to see. At times, I thought I saw a face, other times it was a swirl of clouds. It sparked and crackled from time to time, usually when Jack gave it a command that sent it spinning off to other parts of the apartment..
After ten minutes of sitting in the stifling heat, there was another rush and the energy vanished. Instantly, a coolness filled the room, relieving the oppressive heat.
I leaned back in chair, exhaling in a rush. "That was damned impressive."
Jack started and opened his eyes. "Oh…hi Lawson."
"Sorry slick, didn’t mean to scare you."
Wirek beamed like a proud parent. "He’s come so far in such a short period of time."
Jack looked at him. "With your help."
"Maybe," said Wirek. "Unfortunately, I’m am about out of useful ideas. I have only a little information about the training of Invokers. You need proper schooling, my boy. Only then will you be able to adequately control the spirit energies. Only then will you fully realize your true birthright."
I pulled out the sheet of paper from my back pocket. "Got the information I needed."
Wirek nodded. He looked at Jack. "Go wash your hands with cold water now, like I told you about."
Jack left the room and Wirek moved over closer to me. "He’s doing amazingly well. I’m surprised frankly."
"Why so?"
Wirek shrugged. "He’s young. He’s lost his father in the last few days. He’s unschooled. Those three factors should be inhibiting his ability to control the energy. But it’s almost as if it’s enhanced it instead."
"That a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Good. Definitely good. It means he has the discipline of mind to block out the unnecessary emotional flux that could act against him. The most important attribute of an Invoker is the steadfastness of mind and spirit. They must fuse as one and be almost inviolate. Only when that occurs can the Invoker truly control the spirits."
"So, I guess now would probably not be the best time to talk to him about
his father, huh?"
Wirek snapped around. "Don’t even consider it just yet. If he’s not ready for it, it could backlash on him." He pointed at the paper. "What’d you find out?"
"Only one lives near Newton. A woman named Arvella."
Wirek sucked in a breath and then exhaled it in a stream. "Shit."
"Well, that answers my next question. You know her, apparently."
"I wish I didn’t."
"Want to explain that to me? I couldn’t get the dossier in time. I can use all the information I can get about her."
Wirek got up and walked to the window, peering out of the worn yellow curtains. "Arvella is one of the oldest Council members. She’s always had a fascination for the old ways. Needless to say, she’s one of the few who does."
I knew what he meant. Despite the Council’s obvious public stance on preserving the old ways, most of the members favored a push into the future and considered the ancient traditions something more for formality than actual usage.
"What’s her background?"
Wirek let the curtain fall back into place. "She is also…an Invoker."
"Oh crap. You mean she can do what Jack was doing here?"
"And more," said Wirek. "She is one of the best, too, from what I hear." He sighed. "This is bad, Lawson. This is very bad."
"Want to elaborate on that whole ‘bad’ thing for me? You seem to forget I’m just a dumb Fixer."
"I’m not forgetting." Wirek slumped into the couch. "If Arvella is involved in this it must mean she needs the boy for something special. Before I thought someone might have desired to have the boy summon the spirits for other reasons."
"And now?"
"If Arvella is involved, it can only be something much more sinister. An Invoker of her skill would have little need of the boy’s powers. After all, she can invoke with far greater skill than he."
"So, what’s she want with him then?"
Wirek shook his head. "I don’t know." He frowned. "I feel like I’m missing something. Could be all that damned tequila messing with my head."
"How long has Arvella been on the Council?"
"Could be almost fifteen years now." Wirek scratched his crotch. "Before that she was the headmistress of the school for Invokers."
"This is getting better by the minute."
"And her family line goes back, way back. I don’t have to tell you how much that means."
"Usually means the family has an even greater chance of being dirty."
"Sounds like we’ve had similar experiences."
"More than I care to recount right now."
Wirek nodded and then his head snapped up. "Wait a minute, what’s today’s date?"
"The eighteenth of February-"
"No, no, no. What’s today’s date in the old calendar?"
"Hell, if I know. I only go by the same one humans do. I thought we all did. It tends to keep things simpler."
"Sure it does. But it also keeps us from remembering the important days in our own tradition. And that may be just what Arvella wants." He went to his desk and flipped open a worn leather book. After a few minutes he whistled.
"What?"
"The new year."
"What about it? It happened a month or so back."
Wirek shook his head. "I’m not talking about the human new year. I’m talking about ours. The new year in our tradition occurs next week."
"So. Big deal."
"Lawson, it’s not just a new year. It’s the start of the new millennium."
"Oh. Okay. Well, what’s so special about that?"
"It is the one day when the spirit energies converge at one point in the space/time continuum. An Invoker with great enough ability would have the power to bring all that energy on to this plane."
"Space-time-Wirek, what the hell are you talking about? You’re starting to sound like some bad sci-fi novel."
"Oh, Lawson, stop being naive! You know as well as I do the energies exist. Spirits don’t die when they pass, they simply move on to another state of being. You’ve seen what Jack can do. You’ve run into the Sargoth before. You know what can happen." He nodded his head. "It makes perfect sense."
"I’m glad it does to you. I’m still lost."
"Don’t you see? Arvella obviously knows about the millennium coming. She knows about Jack. She’s trying to bridge the spirit world, bring it here. If she’s successful, she can wreak untold havoc. Conceivably, she could take over the world using the spirits."
"Where does Jack fit into the picture?"
"We already discussed the fact that he has an incredible degree of natural talent. He’s blessed with a raw power. Sure, it’s unmolded, undisciplined. But that may be just what Arvella needs. if she can use Jack to help her bring the spirits into alignment, under her control…"
"Bad, huh?"
Wirek nodded. "Real bad."
"And you said this millennium is happening…when?"
"Next week."
"So they’ll be pulling out all stops to try to get Jack before then, huh?"
"Count on it." Wirek came back to the couch and sat down. "We’ll have to be very careful."
"Maybe we should move Jack. Get him some place safer."
"We oughta be safe here," said Wirek. "After all, no one knows about this place except-"
But he never finished his sentence.
Because at that moment, the front door of his apartment imploded, showering the room with splinters, dust, and
-gas
and even as I fell from the sofa, trying to claw my way to where I knew Jack was
I was already losing…
…consciousness.
Chapter Eighteen
The two times I’ve had the distinct displeasure of being caught in explosions hasn’t changed my opinion about the experience much: loosely speaking, it sucks.
Vampires can withstand a lot of damage.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t feel pain.
So, while the only real danger would have been wooden splinters fragmenting into my body, there was still one helluva concussion wave that knocked me senseless.
Consciousness came flooding back into my skull twenty minutes after the door blew apart. It felt more like my head was being used to batter down a castle wall.
Groggy.
Aching.
"Wake up, Lawson."
I opened my eyes. Wirek knelt over me with a wet navy blue face cloth and slapped it on my forehead. The damp coolness felt good.
I looked up at him. "What the hell happened?" Fuzzy memories of men dressed in black with gas masks wafted back into my mind.
"They got Jack." Wirek handed me a small glass of juice. "That’s what happened."
"-how?" I drank the juice, feeling a lot better, but only physically.
"Because I’m a damned fool." He sighed. "I should have thought of it. He must have transmitted when I had him practicing his powers."
I sat up and leaned against the wall. "What the hell does that mean?"
"When you develop certain powers – humans call it psychic abilities – they often act as kind of a beacon. Your presence becomes known to others who have similar abilities."
"You mean she tracked him the way we’d trace a phone call?"
"That’s a simplified way of putting it, but yes."
"Shit." I got to my feet, feeling pretty woozy. I didn’t want to puke. Puking blood leaves the kind of bad taste you simply do not want to have lingering in your mouth. "How come they didn’t waste us?"
"I don’t know."
That didn’t make sense to me. If I’d been in their position, I would have killed anybody I perceived as a threat. Being left alive,
while a good thing, also bothered me a great deal.
"That doesn’t make sense," I said.
Wirek shrugged. "What the hell, Lawson. I don’t know why didn’t kill us. Maybe they had orders not to. Maybe they want us to come find him."
"A challenge? Is that Arvella’s style?"
"Dunno. Is it Petrov’s?"
"Could be. I doubt it though. I think he’d opt for the easy route if there was one."
"We can ask them, I suppose."
I nodded. "We’ve got to get him back."
Wirek frowned. "We don’t know where they are, Lawson."
"We’ve got Arvella’s address. That’s as good a place to start as any."
"They’ll expect us to do that."
"Might be why they left us alive."
"I’m not really keen on walking into ambushes."
I grinned. "Good. Neither am I. Let’s get going."
"We’re really gonna do this?"
"Sure, haven’t you ever done anything like this before?"
Wirek frowned. "Lawson, I was an elder. Violence and I have never gotten along all that well. I’m into books, booze, and broads, not guns, gore, and gambling with my life."
"Well, there’s no time like the present to start acquiring a taste for it." I started for the door. Wirek followed slowly behind me.
"Just the two of us, huh? Against all of them."
"We need to make a few stops first."
"Fine," said Wirek. "The more stops we make, the better I’ll feel."
*** *** ***
I would have liked to have Arthur along on this jaunt, but if he suddenly disappeared from his job at the Council, Arvella and company would have had advanced warning. And the best way to attack is always when it’s a surprise.
Or possibly a surprise.
I wasn’t kidding myself. There was a damned good chance we’d walk right into a bushwhack. But Lady Luck hadn’t changed the deck lately and the only choice she’d dealt me was the one I’d have to go with.
I risked stopping off at my house.
I didn’t think Petrov would bother with anyone there since they had Jack now. And I needed to feed my cats.
Wirek whistled when we drove up. "Nice pad."
"Family house," I said. "My ancestors built this when we came over from Germany."
"The molding, woodwork…real craftsmen, huh?"
I nodded. "Built a bunch just like it all over the city."
