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

by Jon F. Merz

  She turned to one side of the platform and grinned. "I thought you said they’d never make it passed your sentries, Alexander."

  I could just see him standing there. Arms folded. Leather jacket on. A thin tight smile creasing his sallow face.

  Petrov.

  He didn’t look too pleased to see us. He cleared his throat. "Clearly, I overestimated the skill of your followers, Arvella."

  Arvella smiled. Her thick black tresses flowed down behind her back interspersed with veins of pure white. Even from this distance I could tell her eyebrows were painted on. Thick lashes made her look like some televangelist’s wife.

  At first I couldn’t believe I hadn’t met her before. But then I figured my mind – god bless it – had mercifully purged itself of the horrifying memories of her face.

  "Are you sure you overestimated my people, Alexander? Perhaps you simply underestimated your opponents."

  He shrugged. He didn’t seem to care much. "Maybe."

  She turned back to look at us while her cronies edged a bit closer en masse. "No matter. They’re here now and that’s what counts."

  I gripped the bokken a little tighter, eyeing the crowd closest to me. My positioning was bad. I spoke up, not taking my eyes off the crowd. "We’re just here for the boy. Give him to us and we’ll leave."

  I could feel Wirek’s eyes on me. He must have been saying ‘what the hell’ to himself, but it didn’t matter. I was just hoping to buy us some time. If we could keep Arvella amused enough, Wirek might be able to get close to Jack.

  At least that was the plan.

  Arvella just laughed. "As if I would actually permit you to take him back." She squinted. "You are the one they call Lawson, aren’t you?"

  "I am."

  She smiled again. "Alexander here tells me you caused him quite a lot of trouble back in Boston. And all for the sake of this boy. Why would you do such a thing?"

  "I don’t imagine honoring the word you make to a dying man is something you could ever understand," I said.

  I could see Jack’s eyes glistening. He looked close to tears.

  Arvella pursed her lips. "Ah, yes, I’d almost forgotten about dear Henry Watterson. He was rather an unwitting obstacle in this whole dreary affair." Her eyes twinkled. "Too bad you killed him, Lawson."

  Jack’s eyes almost rolled white.

  So much for my plan to tell the kid when the time was right. I felt a wave of heat knock me back a step and then saw Arvella’s hand go to Jack’s shoulder.

  "Not yet, dear. Give him a few more minutes of life."

  I took a breath. Breathing became more difficult. I forced myself to look up. "The order to kill Jack’s father came from you, Arvella. You lied about his crimes. He was an innocent man only trying to protect his son. You had him killed to get at Jack."

  "I don’t give orders to kill innocent men, Lawson." She snickered. "You’re lying to try to save your own skin."

  "If I was lying, why would I have flown halfway across the world to save his son? Why would I care about some kid? I’d be back in Boston relaxing."

  She waved me off. "I wouldn’t presume to fathom your reasoning. You are, after all, merely a Fixer."

  "Of course you wouldn’t," I said. "Because you know it’s the truth. Henry Watterson knew he’d been set up by someone on the Council, someone who wanted to possess his son. He made me promise to protect Jack because he knew only a Fixer would stand a chance against you, Arvella." I brought the bokken up slightly, keeping one of the goons who’d inched closer, at bay. "That’s why I’m here. To honor the promise I made."

  "Yes, I was told you valued honor above everything else." Arvella sighed. "Very well, if that is your intention, I can see our continued talking is pointless." She nodded to Petrov. "Kill them all and then let us finish what we have started here."

  I missed the signal from Petrov.

  But instantly the crowd surged toward us.

  I heard the telltale clang of Tiny’s kukri blade biting into necks from across the room. Wirek stepped forward with his staff held at an odd position – it reminded me vaguely of an obscure fighting system I’d heard of once of.

  Five goons closed in on me from odd angles.

  I stepped back and raised the bokken so it jutted out about midway up my body.

  And then it was on.

  I faked a stab at the closest goon’s heart – he and the goons closest to him on my right ducked back. I pivoted – sank on my knees and drove the point of the bokken into the sternum of a goon on my left.

  He sagged on buckling knees as a shower of blood vomited from his chest. I yanked the wooden sword out – immediately pivoting right, sidestepping the attack of another goon who’d lunged with a wooden stake. I knocked his arm down with the back edge of the bokken, bringing his body forward, then drove the bokken into his neck under his voice box.

  He went down even quicker.

  I kept moving, trying to maintain the distance between my attackers and myself, always keeping the bokken in between us.

  I feinted again.

  And brought the bokken down low against the knee of a third goon. A sharp crack sounded over the din of battle. I jerked the bokken back up stabbing into his stomach.

  I wheeled – barely missing a flying tackle that would have brought me to the ground. He flew past me, trying to recover his momentum.

  Too late. I reversed the bokken and plunged it behind me, through the back of the fourth goon. He screamed as the hard wood broke through spinal cord and ribs, penetrating his heart.

  Again, I withdrew the bokken.

  Another goon held back some.

  In his hands he held a staff similar to the one Wirek was using. He’d adopted a stance with the staff held horizontally in front of him. I noticed both ends were sharpened. One poke from either side and I was a goner.

  I backpedaled – drew the bokken up into the middle position again. The goon kept his distance, aware of what I could do with the wooden sword. I needed to goad him into attacking me. Already I could feel the heat increasing.

  I stepped back and brought the sword down by my rear leg, leaning in exposing my left shoulder. If I positioned myself properly, he’d jump at the exposed side of my body.

  At least that was the plan. The move was a classical Japanese kenjutsu sword technique I practiced back in Boston. Now I wished I’d practiced them more.

  The goon’s eyes lit up.

  He stepped in going for a straight thrust to the left side of my chest.

  I sidestepped -

  - swung the blade up almost windmilling it down onto the staff. The jarring effect knocked him forward. I snapped the bokken back up into his throat.

  He sagged, coughing blood and slumped to the floor.

  We’d have to decapitate the bastards later. Right now, time was wasting. I could see Wirek and Tiny moving through the throngs with ease.

  Wirek surprised me. According to him he hadn’t had much experience with close combat. But from the way he handled that staff, I’d never have known. He emanated confidence and control, quickly dispatching another two of Arvella’s supporters as I watched him.

  Tiny’s kukri sang like a metal harp as he hacked his way through two more goons. But there was little time to count how many we’d brought down.

  More remained between us and the stage.

  And they were really pissed.

  I glanced at Wirek. "Get Jack." I jumped in front of him and took out another goon who had rushed headlong onto the tip of the bokken.

  Tiny closed his distance between the left side and the stage, prompting Petrov to direct more goons to take him on. I kept Wirek behind me as long as possible until we suddenly saw an opening. He rushed ahead while I tackled another goon in front of me.

  The ground underneath us grew slick with blood.

  The smell of copper hung heavy in the hot air.

  My own breath seemed cool by comparison and beads of sweat cascaded down my body causing the clothes Siben
had graciously provided us to stick like tape to my body.

  I hacked another goon across the chest, pivoted and then drove the point home again and again as another two fell.

  I could hear Tiny shouting what sounded like Nepali curses as he ground his way through more of Arvella’s followers. His kukri clanged once more.

  And then silence.

  We stood before the podium, surrounded by the bodies of two dozen goons, the floor thick with coagulating blood.

  Wirek jumped up the stairs on the right side of the stage.

  He eased closer to Jack.

  Arvella glanced around but seemed unfazed by her impending doom. That concerned me. It always seemed like the bad guys I encountered never sensed when things were going south for them. Either that or they had another deck of cards up their sleeves.

  I hoped Arvella didn’t know how to deal.

  "You’re as good as the reputation that precedes you, Lawson," she said directing her attention to me. "Alexander indeed has underestimated your skill and perseverance." She nodded toward Tiny. "And the skill of your comrades as well. I must say I am duly impressed."

  "Save the flattery, Arvella. It’s over."

  "Is it?" She smiled. "You might think so, but I assure you it is not." She gestured to the bodies of her followers. "You think they matter one bit to me? They were never all that important. I don’t need them to do unleash my plan." She shifted. "You’ve no doubt noticed the temperature in here. Rather stifling isn’t it?"

  "You could do with an air conditioner, yeah."

  "Humor, too. Quite a specimen, Lawson." She spread her arms and began chanting in Taluk. Instantly the pink swirls I’d seen earlier materialized again and began swirling around her. Her voice grew somber. "Now you will feel the true power of those born with the power to Invoke."

  Her arms gestured once and streams of spirit energy shot at me like cannon blasts. I toppled back over as they slammed into me. The bokken clattered away, but I wasn’t concerned about losing it. I didn’t know how to stab a dead vampire spirit anyway.

  I tried to get to my feet.

  Another volley of spirit energy slammed me again and again, tossing me back through puddles of grime and blood.

  Across the room, I heard Tiny screaming and clutching at his eyes.

  We had to do something.

  Arvella’s voice rose above the screeching of the spirits as they zoomed around the room. "Join me, son of Watterson! Join me as the rightful heir to the Invocation sect. Join me and kill the men before you. Take your place as a true Invoker of the new millennium."

  Another wave of energy burst into the room, slamming us over again and again. I felt like a dust bunny, coated and basted in the copper blood of my enemies. The energy sent me sprawling all over the room.

  I tried to clear my eyes.

  Where was Wirek?

  Another blast threw me across the room. I heard a sharp crunch in my side – felt a wave of intense pain double me over – at least one of my ribs was fractured.

  It hurt like hell to take a breath.

  And still the spirits kept coming. I felt certain they must have been toying with us, awaiting Arvella’s final command to kill us once and for all. We’d made a pain of ourselves and she seemed determined to punish us before finally releasing us into blessed, merciful death.

  Tiny howled somewhere to my right now, I’d been tossed around so much I had no idea where in the room I was. Another crack in my side made me retch and cough up some blood.

  And another wave of pink energy washed over us-

  - then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

  And I heard a small voice say quietly…

  "No."

  The temperature dropped a few degrees.

  I lay on my side, gasping for breath. Tiny’s screams waned to moans. I tried to get to my feet, but the pain was intense. I could barely make out Jack standing on the stage.

  And the look of disbelief on Arvella’s face.

  "What do you mean, ‘no?’ He killed your father! You must kill him!"

  "I won’t," said Jack. "You tricked him. He didn’t mean to do it"

  Arvella’s eyes blazed with a white hot fury.

  Her voice drew down to a harsh whisper. But I think each of us heard it somehow.

  "You are not the only one, boy. There are others like you. Others with the same gift as you. I am offering you a chance to have power beyond your wildest dreams. You would be the most powerful vampire in the world. Think of it!"

  Jack shook his head slowly. "I just want to go home."

  Arvella sighed. "Then…you leave me no choice."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I tried to shout – "No!"

  But the sudden roars that filled the room drowned it out. My ears almost popped – I clamped my hands over them squinting at the scene unfolding on the stage.

  Wirek.

  He’d edged up onto the stage. He held his staff low and was just a few feet from Arvella.

  If he could just get close enough -

  Arvella turned -

  - and flicked her wrist. A stream of spirit energy shot into his chest, knocking him back. He sprawled across the stage, his staff clattering off into the shadows.

  Arvella turned her attention back to Jack who stood there as if frozen to the floor.

  I wanted to shout at him to save himself – to run for it – to get out of that place. Be anywhere but there at that moment. But he’d never hear my words over the roars filling the room.

  All around us, the air came alive with the dead souls of vampires long since deceased. They shrieked and howled, their pain echoing off the walls of the chamber. It felt like an audio orgy of terror. All I wanted to do was curl up in a fetal position and wish the whole damned mess away.

  But I couldn’t.

  Not with Jack still in danger.

  I started crawling through the puddles of blood toward the stage. Toward Arvella. Slowly, inch by inch I extended my hands toward the steps, trying to draw down the distance between Jack and myself.

  I had to reach him.

  Had to protect him.

  Had to.

  But Arvella noticed me.

  In the next instant I was being hurled back where I’d come from. She wanted no one interfering when she set her sights on Jack.

  Which is exactly what she did.

  Her mouth began moving again, chanting the strange sound of Taluk. Calling forth the spirits to help her wrest power and wield it as she saw fit. And right now she wanted the spirits to destroy the young boy standing before her.

  The young boy who’d had the courage to stand up to her.

  Suddenly the spirits that had been zooming around the room seemed to collect up near the ceiling in one amorphous blob. They hovered there, swirling, transmutating – flowing into one another.

  Then they shot down – straight down – into Arvella’s open mouth.

  For a second, everything was quiet again.

  Arvella shook violently.

  An aura of frothy pink energy engulfed her entire body. Her eyes turned almost the same color. I might have guessed she’d been possessed, if I knew better. But Arvella would never allow something to control her body.

  Instead, she’d chosen to have the spirits enter her – lend their energy to hers – thus making her more powerful.

  I saw in that instant how truly demented she was. How far she was willing to go to gain the power she so desperately craved.

  She had to die.

  But how?

  None of us could get close to the stage.

  None of us could reach Jack.

  He continued to stand his ground despite the look of abject terror in his eyes. His legs wouldn’t move even though every fiber in the little guy’s body must have been screaming at him to run with all his might to the nearest exit.

  The kid was amazing.

  And then something happened.

  Jack’s eyes closed. A wave of invisible confidence washed
over him. Suddenly, he didn’t seem very afraid.

  Then his mouth began moving.

  And he started chanting as well.

  His body took on a different glow. A bluish tinge seemed to radiate from his body, expanding slowly outward.

  Arvella’s eyes widened.

  She shot a bolt of pink energy at him.

  Jack didn’t move.

  The energy bolt slammed into the blue aura surrounding Jack and bounced off, dissipating into the air around him.

  Arvella tried again.

  I could tell by the glowing red color of the bolt that she’d increased the voltage.

  And again, it simply bounced off Jack.

  His eyes were locked shut in concentration, his mouth still mumbling the ancient Taluk that brought him his own spirits.

  Arvella rushed him from across the stage and they clashed, bright explosions of spirit energy crackling like live wires as they made contact. Jack’s eyes stayed closed the entire time, but each time Arvella tried to strike him, his hands and feet simply blocked all of her strikes.

  Finally, she retreated.

  I sat there gasping for breath – the room felt like it would explode in flames from the overpowering heat.

  Arvella seemed to draw down into herself. She inhaled deeply, and at once a huge column of red flame shot out of her and engulfed Jack.

  The flames licked all around his body.

  But he never wavered. And still the aura of blue spirit energy surrounding him continued to protect him.

  Arvella screamed with fury. Her attacks were completely ineffective. Jack was immune to the energy she sought to destroy him with.

  That was when he opened his eyes.

  And spoke.

  But the voice did not belong to Jack. The rough deep velvet tones belonged to someone older than him. It seemed vaguely familiar to me as I listened.

  "Your quest is over, Arvella. What you seek remains forever out of your reach. You are defeated."

  No!" She shrieked, drawing herself up to full height. Her hair flashed out at odd angles. "I will never surrender. I deserve the power. It is mine alone to control. Give me what I seek!"

  Again then voice coming from Jack spoke again. "Very well. You will have what you seek."

  Arvella almost smiled.