The Invoker: A Lawson Vampire Novel 2 (The Lawson Vampire Series)

by Jon F. Merz

  The air around us filled with a delicate scent of wood smoke. I thought I smelled peat smoke. Wirek wandered over with his sleeping bag and sat down next to us.

  "Smells good," he said.

  Tiny smiled. "Some of the kindling are sticks of incense. Up here, fire is a spiritual activity. It’s our savior as much as a means to keep ourselves warm. We always light some incense to pay homage to the gods."

  A breeze blew over the hills behind us, rustling the tent flaps and making the flames twist and dance in the coming darkness. I leaned back into the hard ground, feeling my back and legs relax some. Above us, the first stars began to peek out of the sky.

  Tiny produced a pipe, packed it with a wad of tobacco and then took a long thin stick out of the fire and lit the bowl. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep, finally exhaling a long stream of white smoke into the air.

  "Ah, that’s good," he said. "Nothing like a smoke after a long day’s ride." He turned to Wirek and offered him the pipe. Wirek took a drag and then passed it to me. As much as I hate smoking, I figured it would be rude to reject the pipe. So I took a drag, but inhaled only so far before exhaling it again.

  I had to admit the taste of whatever Tiny stocked in the pipe tasted good. And the effects of the nicotine relaxed me even more.

  Tiny pointed to the sky. "Do you see that star, there?" He smiled. "When I was a child, my mother would tell me stories about a warrior god who would race across the sky at night chasing his enemies. But they always managed to stay just out of his reach. As hard as he would try to catch them, they would try just as hard to get away. They always succeeded. My mother told me that if the warrior managed to ever catch them, it would mean the end of chase…the end of the world."

  I followed his hand moving across the sky. "Look there, you see how much closer those stars are? The warrior god is finally catching up with his enemies."

  Wirek frowned. "So, what-the world is coming to an end?"

  Tiny looked out into the night. "It is probably just an old legend." He glanced over at the horses and then back at us. "Of course, it might not be after all. Maybe there is more to it than old legend. Maybe, we’ll find out someday, eh?"

  I nodded. "Maybe we will."

  Wirek cleared his throat. "What’s for dinner?"

  Tiny laughed. "Food! Yes, that’s what we need." He jumped to his feet. "Forgive me for getting so sentimental on you." He rummaged through his pack, producing several carefully wrapped packages.

  From one, he produced what looked like cured meat. He jammed some meat on to the end of three blunt sticks and then settled them over a forked twig above the fire.

  From another package he pulled out three small loaves of dark bread and placed these on the rocks closest to the flames. After five minutes, he proclaimed that dinner was served and handed us each a skewered meat stick and a loaf of bread.

  I bit into the meat, surprised at how tender and tasty it was. I could tell Wirek was equally impressed.

  "What is this?" he asked around a mouthful of meat.

  "Yak," said Tiny. He looked at me. "You like it?"

  "Never had it before," I said. "But it’s not bad."

  "The bread," said Tiny, "is an old family recipe. Secret ingredients and all. My mother taught me when she realized she’d never have a daughter. Try it."

  I did. As soon as I swallowed the flaky piece, I felt like an energy volt had hit me. I felt strangely rejuvenated.

  "That’s amazing," I said.

  Wirek had a funny look on his face. "Very tasty," he said.

  Tiny only smiled. "Ah, such secrets. You know, the world revolves on such things. It’s not money or love at all. It’s intrigue. Curiosity. Even suspicion. That paranoia, doubt…it’s what makes us quest on for the answers to our very souls."

  I chewed some more of the bread, feeling even better about the dinner and the trip in general. We would prevail when we got to Lo Monthang. We’d rescue Jack and get him home where he belonged.

  I glanced over at Wirek, but he’d almost fallen asleep by the looks of it. I chuckled. The trip must have been taking a lot out of him.

  "We’d better get him in the tent," I said to Tiny.

  With his help we managed to roll Wirek inside and into his sleeping bag. Soon enough, horrendous roars of snoring streamed from the tent. Usually, I need complete silence when I sleep. But I had a feeling Wirek’s hefty chainsawing wouldn’t affect me tonight.

  Tiny packed another pipe and nodded at me. "You get some sleep. I’ll take first watch."

  "Watch?"

  Tiny got a funny look on his face as he unsnapped his kukri. "Of course, this can be a dangerous part of the country. You always keep a watch at night. I’ll wake you at two."

  I crawled into the tent and got my sleeping bag rolled out next to Wirek. He was out completely. I tucked myself in and within seconds, my eyes felt glued shut.

  Sleep came soon after.

  *** *** ***

  I don’t know what actually penetrated my subconscious and prodded me awake a few hours later. Wirek’s snoring continued to fill the tent and probably much of the area outside.

  At first I thought it might be a small animal rummaging around outside the tent, but Wirek’s snoring would probably have kept anything smaller than a blue whale at bay.

  And then I realized the noise was coming from inside the tent. Something or someone was inside with Wirek and I. My mind raced. How had they gotten past Tiny? Maybe he was already dead.

  Maneuvering for a look would be a problem.

  I’d zipped my bag up pretty far, since I like to sleep like a mummy. I had my tanto inside the bag with me, but getting it unzipped and out would be difficult to do fast.

  I heard a zipper being pulled down behind me. I realized I’d have to do the move anyway.

  I took a long deep inhale -

  - and then jerked my entire body around, ripping my hands out with my tanto ready in what I hoped was a fairly fluid movement.

  In the darkness, I could just make it out.

  Tiny sat astride Wirek’s chest.

  The image didn’t make sense to me at first.

  But as the sleep faded from my eyes and I focused, I could see Tiny had been examining the base of Wirek’s neck. Now Tiny was peering at me with some sort of vaguely amused curiosity on his face.

  I realized I had the knife upside down.

  "So," he said. "I guess this explains it."

  I flipped the knife over and freed myself from the sleeping bag. "Explains what? What the hell are you doing to Wirek?"

  Tiny smiled and slid off of him. "Confirming what I suspected a few hours ago."

  Uh oh. "Yeah? What’s that?"

  Tiny prodded Wirek who grumbled and started to wake up. "That this guy – and you most likely – are vampires."

  I tried to laugh. "What? Don’t be ridiculous. Vampires don’t exist."

  "The hell," said Tiny. "Remember when I told you I’d be around the block quite a number of times? Well, Mr. Lawson, I’ve seen plenty of things that defy description and I’ve met plenty of strange people. And," he smiled. "I happen to know all about your birthmarks."

  "Anyone can have a birthmark."

  Wirek was awake by then. "What’s going on?"

  I nodded at Tiny. "Thinks we’re vampires."

  Wirek’s ample eyebrows jumped a bit. "Yeah?"

  "Yes. You have the mark."

  Wirek chuckled. "That old thing? Used to be a tattoo. That’s all."

  Tiny wasn’t buying our act. "Really. If that’s the case, then maybe Mr. Lawson there will lift up his shirt and show me he does not have the same mark."

  Unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen and Tiny knew it. The birthmark of the vampire race is like a stigmata for some and a badge of honor for others. Every one of us has it at the base of our neck near of clavicle on our upper chest. It can’t be erased. It can’t be covered.

  After another thirty seconds of silence, Tiny smiled. "So, you see, that a
nswers my question."

  I looked at Wirek who seemed upset. "Now what?"

  Tiny shrugged. "Now, I get some sleep while Mr. Lawson takes the next watch."

  "What about the whole vampire thing? You don’t seem fazed by it."

  Tiny shrugged. "Why should I be?"

  The looks on our faces must have amused him because he started chuckling. "You think I would stop guiding you simply because you’re vampires? Please, gentlemen, don’t mistake me for some sort of dreary racist. I have nothing against vampires."

  Wirek perked up. "No?"

  "Of course not," said Tiny unrolling his sleeping bag. He slid out

  of his jacket. "I’m what you might call a very tolerant guy."

  "That’s good to hear," said Wirek.

  But then Tiny unbuttoned his short and took that off as well. It was only then, when he turned to us that we understood. For there, emblazoned on his chest, in exactly the same position as our own marks, we saw his.

  Tiny was a vampire, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The rest of that night passed uneventfully.

  I didn’t get much more sleep. And I spent my time on guard duty thinking about Tiny. He sure was something of an oddity, especially considering the fact that he was a vampire.

  Maybe I should have guessed as much. Maybe Wirek should have guessed it, too. He looked a little ashamed the next morning when he emerged from the tent.

  We had another quick meal. Tiny brewed up some bitter tea and we had a bit more yak and bread. Again, another bit of energy seeped into my system and I felt a lot more awake.

  Tiny saddled up our mounts and we headed off down the trail just as the first rays of sun bled over the hills. Tiny took a hefty lead this time, I think because he wanted to give Wirek and I some time to talk.

  "Sorry," was what Wirek said first.

  "About what?"

  He pointed. "Him."

  "What-we should have known? C’mon, you know how tough that can be. We’ve had hundreds of years to practice our skills at blending into the local population. All Tiny’s done is prove how effective that camouflage can really be."

  "I guess," said Wirek. "But I still can’t help feeling like I should have caught it sooner than when you woke up and found him checking out my mark."

  "Be glad it was him and not one of Arvella’s henchmen. I’d have been hard-pressed to get my weapon out in time to save you."

  Wirek nodded. "We’ll deal with her soon enough."

  "Yeah. I’ve got some questions for our guide, though." I kicked my horse forward a length or two and caught up with Tiny.

  "Got a second?"

  He laughed. "Am I going somewhere?"

  "When did you make us?"

  He shrugged. "Not really until yesterday afternoon along the trail. Although your wooden sword there should have been something of a giveaway."

  "I might just have been one of those fanatical martial artists that comes over hoping to discover they’re the next reincarnated Tulku or something."

  "Yes, you could have been – and heaven knows I’ve seen plenty of those fools - but your bearing was different."

  "How so?"

  He shrugged. "Call it a soldier’s intuition. I had a feeling about you. Wirek was tougher to place. He’s not a warrior per se. But you," he looked at me. "We’re two of a kind, you and I."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yes. You’ve seen combat haven’t you?"

  What was the use? "Yeah. I have."

  "And you know the frailty of life. Most of our kind do not. I recognized it on your face. More than that, your spirit, your presence emanates it. You’ve seen some hard times and that," he pointed to the bokken, "has saved your life. Probably on more than one occasion."

  He was certainly right about that. "I have respect for this sword. It’s much more than just a piece of wood," I said.

  "More so that it could just as easily kill you as another of our kind." He leaned in close. "Who are you planning to kill with that?"

  "We’re not here to kill anyone if we can avoid it."

  "If you can avoid it. Hmph. More warrior-speak. I think you know you’ll have to use that again."

  "I’m hoping not to."

  "No? So why come here?"

  "To rescue a young boy."

  "One of our kind?"

  "Yes."

  "Rescue him from what?"

  "From a traitor."

  Tiny’s eyes narrowed. "Who has him?"

  "Her name is Arvella," Wirek said riding up to us. "Have you heard of her?"

  "No," said Tiny. "Should I have?"

  "Probably not. Probably better that you don’t know about her. Or what she can do."

  Tiny patted his kukri. "I have yet to meet anyone who cannot be felled with a few slashes from my trusty knife here."

  "What about vampires?" I asked. "Your kukri wouldn’t necessarily kill them, would it?"

  "I could take their heads off and then find a branch to stake them with," said Tiny. "I did it that way once before."

  "Here?"

  "Hong Kong," said Tiny. "I’d been with the Gurkha regiment less than a year and we had a leave in the colony. It was late one night and I ran into one of our kind out hunting. But he did not obey the laws of our society. He had killed a human. I saw the crime happen. And I took matters into my own hands. A quick slash with my knife, his head came off. A nearby piece of wood sufficed to stake his heart with."

  Tiny was old school. Decapitation wasn’t necessary to kill one of my kind, but some thought it was an extra guarantee. Stemmed back to some legends that warned us of evil vampires being able to regenerate themselves. I frowned. Maybe that was why I’d hacked off Cosgrove’s head back in Boston. I glanced back at Tiny. "What’d you do with the body?"

  "Weighted down and dumped in Kowloon Bay. There are many sharks that come in close to the ports at night to feed. I am sure they never tasted anything quite so interesting as what I fed them that moonless evening."

  Remarkable. Tiny had done the work of a Fixer and not even known it. "How’d you get involved with being a Gurkha. Not many of our kind work in the armies of humans."

  He shrugged. "We don’t usually have the same meetings with the Council that you all have in the civilized world. We’re left to our own devices for the most part. The communities of Tibet and Nepal are small. And since we enjoy some degree of respect from the monks in the mountains, we’re left alone by the Council for the most part. Every so often a magistrate or governor journeys up here to check on us, see how we’re doing, but that’s about it."

  "So you decided to join the Gurkhas?"

  He nodded. "Sure. Why not? Everyone else I knew was doing it. For me to not join up would have provoked more suspicion."

  "But what about the obvious question of food?"

  Tiny chuckled. "There are few places where blood is in greater abundance than on the battlefields of humans. I made sure to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments. I never had much of a problem. I also doubled my duties as a medic, so bloody bandages were easy enough to come by."

  "Speaking of which," said Wirek. "I haven’t seen you drink anything since we’ve been on the trail. How are you keeping your energy up? Where’s your stash?"

  "You had some of it last night," said Tiny. "Surely you noticed how good the bread made you feel?"

  The bread. I knew there was something about it. "You baked the blood into the bread?"

  He nodded. "Like I said, it’s an old family recipe. My mother taught me how to make it using the blood of humans. Virtually undetectable and somewhat more potent than drinking it straight down. The cooking process is slow and laborious but the end product is something spectacular. And it keeps for a long time so if you make a batch of the stuff, you’re in good shape for a year or so."

  "You’ll have to give me that recipe," said Wirek. "That was some fantastic food."

  "I’ll tell my mother," said Tiny. "She’ll be pleased to hear it." />
  "How old is your mother?"

  Tiny shrugged. "Let’s see, I’m 250. She must be about 475 by now." He sighed. "As time goes by I find I have a hard time remembering the dates and ages of my family."

  "How many of our kind live up here?"

  "We’re scattered," said Tiny. "Long ago they decided we’d be better off if we didn’t congregate as a community and instead spread ourselves out. This way we can keep an eye on things all over this region and let the others know. We have a fairly nice network set up so communication is not difficult."

  He smiled. "In fact, it was one of our kind who first passed word down of the trouble up north."

  "They live up there?"

  "No," said Tiny. "You remember the story of the trekker I told you about? He was one of us."

  "Incredible," said Wirek.

  "What it is," said Tiny, "is troubling. What exactly are we going to find up there? If you don’t mind me asking now that we are all on equal footing."

  "Have you heard of the Invokers?"

  Tiny frowned. "Only in the old legends. I thought they were just simple superstitions."

  "They exist," said Wirek. "And they used to have a school right here in Nepal."

  "A school? Here?" Tiny shook his head. "They did a good job keeping it a secret."

  "Considering what they teach there, it’s better off that they did," said Wirek. "Anyway, they haven’t used the school for years now. But recently someone reopened it."

  "This woman you call Arvella?"

  "Yes."

  Tiny looked at me. "Where does the boy fit in?"

  I sighed. "He’s got the power of Invocation. Arvella kidnapped him and is holding him hostage. Most likely she intends to use him in a special ceremony during the new millennium celebration in a few days."

  "How did you find this out?"

  "The boy’s father made me promise to protect him before he died."

  Tiny nodded. "How did the father die – this Arvella woman – did she kill him?"

  "No." I cleared my throat. "I did."

  Tiny eyebrows jumped as he almost jerked the reins back on his horse. "What on earth for?"