The Invocation

by Carl Alves

  “Get on the floor, maggot,” the white cop said. “Hands behind your head.”

  “Make me,” Cotter said.

  As the white cop approached him, Cotter spat in his face.

  The white cop snarled and gave him a sharp punch in the ribs. Cotter gasped for breath. Two more body punches from the cop made Cotter double over. The last one didn’t feel so good. Still, Cotter wasn’t about to stop. A little pain and suffering never hurt anyone.

  Cotter looked up. “Is that all you got? My grandma can punch harder than that.”

  That little jab didn’t go over well with the cop, who balled his fist and went to slug him in the jaw. Cotter grabbed the cop’s wrist just before impact.

  He transferred himself into the cop’s body instantaneously. The first couple of times that change in perspective was jarring, but now Cotter was capable of doing it without missing a beat. Instantly, Stewey slumped.

  The Hispanic cop narrowed his eyes and leaned in toward Stewey. “What the hell was that all about?”

  Now inside the white cop’s body, Cotter turned toward his partner. “You know something. I always wanted to kill a cop. Never did it because it was too risky. Not anymore.”

  The Hispanic cop turned toward him, his brow creased. “What the hell are you talking about, Rick.”

  “It’s like I said, killing a cop’s always been on my bucket list.” Cotter raised his gun and pointed it at his temporary partner.

  The Hispanic cop’s eyes grew wide. He looked at Cotter in horror. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Cotter smiled and pulled the trigger. A bullet shattered the man’s throat, blood and tissue bursting out. Blood splattered all over Cotter’s face and police uniform. As the Hispanic cop’s body hit the ground, Cotter felt a rush unlike anything he had ever experienced. Murdering a cop was all he thought it would be and more.

  Cotter broke away from his reverie. After all, the job wasn’t over yet. While all of this was going on, Stewey was lying on the floor with a dazed look. He bent over and touched Stewey’s shoulder, and transferred himself back, another trick Francisco had taught him in his preparation to return to the land of the living.

  Once in Stewey’s body, Cotter got up from the asphalt. He tilted his head and cracked his neck. Police Officer Rick stood there looking like an idiot with his gun in hand. The man’s eyes were wide and his face pale. He had a distant look in his face. That wouldn’t last long, so it was best to get on his way. Cotter smiled widely. Oh, was this going to be a big mess. A cop killing another cop. Meanwhile, the bodies of Lorenzo Ibarra and his girlfriend were nearby.

  Cotter walked away from the murder scene, once again belting out the chorus to “Singing in the Rain.”

  Chapter XXXIII

  Jake held up his hands, covered by mitts, as Kenna punched them. She always enjoyed watching Jake hit mitts with his trainer and had convinced Jake to get her a pair of her own mixed martial arts gloves.

  She had been hoping to accompany Jake for the weigh-in for his fight, but her mom did not let her go with him.

  Her brother was in the process of rehydrating after cutting weight to get ready for his fight tomorrow. He had downed two bottles of Gatorade and cleaned off two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, his first real meal in weeks.

  Jake yawned, pretending to be bored. “Is that all you got?”

  Kenna scowled and began to punch his mitts harder.

  “I hate to say this, but you punch like a girl.”

  Kenna scrunched her face and began to punch the mitts even faster with more intensity. “I don’t punch like a girl.”

  Jake smiled. “That’s more like it.”

  The butterflies in Kenna’s stomach were fluttering rapidly. She always got like this before her brother’s fights. She had scouted Jake’s opponent just like she had his other opponents. So far, she had watched five different matches involving Paulo Santos on DVDs and YouTube. Her heart nearly stopped when she watched in slow motion as Santos knocked out his last opponent cold with a spinning back kick.

  Kenna stopped punching. “You need to take the fight to the ground tomorrow night.”

  Jake raised his brows. “What, you don’t think I have good striking skills?”

  “No. It’s just…this guy’s really dangerous.”

  Jake removed his mitts. “Look, I know you’re worried, but Joe and I have put together a sound game plan. I’m ready for Paulo Santos and I’m going to beat him.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Jake shrugged. “I’m not going to lie to you. I might. It’s part of fighting. But you can rest assure that I’m going to do all that I can to win without taking much damage. I’m just glad you’re going to be there with me. It means a lot. You’re my inspiration.”

  Kenna’s heart began to swell. She had to turn away to prevent herself from crying. “I won’t miss any of your fights. Ever. That’s a promise.”

  Jake ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m gonna to hold you to that.”

  Jake’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket.

  “Who is it?” Kenna asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Jake clicked on his phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Mark.”

  Kenna’s eyes went wide. “Is that Mark Saleski?”

  Jake nodded.

  Kenna shook his arm. “Put it him on speaker. I need to hear about what’s going on.”

  Jake glanced at her. “Hold on, Mark. Kenna’s here. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  Kenna said, “Hi, Mr. Saleski. Did you call to wish Jake luck in his fight?”

  “Not exactly,” Mr. Saleski said. “I have some news to share.”

  “Go ahead,” Jake said.

  “I followed up on the license plate number you gave me. It belongs to Stewart Ruklick, a thirty-five-year-old financier from Exton. I’ve had my private investigator follow him over the past couple of days. He hasn’t been going to work, and yesterday he was in a shady neighborhood buying what the investigator believes were illegal weapons. He also visited an apartment in Germantown. I’m trying to tap into Stewart’s financial records, but that’s going to be tricky.”

  “Sounds like this guy might be Cotter,” Jake said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Mr. Saleski said.

  Kenna frowned. “So, if we know it’s Cotter, then what do we do about it?”

  Jake stared at her. “You’re not doing anything, Kenna. I’m not going to let you get in harm’s way. Understand?”

  Kenna folded her arms. “This is all happening because of me. If I can do something to help, then I’m going to.”

  “No, you’re not,” Jake said.

  “Guys, guys,” Mr. Saleski said. “I’m sure we can find a way Kenna can help us without exposing her to any unnecessary danger.”

  Jake’s face tightened. “We’ll see about that. I think the best thing to do is to contact Mia again, this time with you present. We’ll see what she has to say. If she doesn’t have any insight, then I’m going after the bastard. We have a score to settle, and he seems to hold a grudge against me. When I do go after Cotter, I don’t want the rest of you involved. I want to do this alone.”

  “No,” Kenna cried out.

  “Jake, this guy is a spirit who is capable of transferring from person to person if your theory is correct. Just because you’re a professional fighter, it doesn’t mean you can defeat him.”

  Jake grunted but didn’t say anything.

  Kenna stared at her brother’s intense gaze. “We shouldn’t do anything until Jake’s fight is over tomorrow night. He needs to stay focused.”

  “How about we reconvene on Sunday, if you guys aren’t doing anything? Until then, I’ll continue to have my private investigator follow Stewart, so we can be sure he really is Cotter.”

  “Okay,” Jake said. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Good luck tomorrow, Jake.”

  “Thanks.” Jake clicked off his cell phone and gave Kenna a ste
rn look. “You’re not going anywhere near Cotter. You hear me?”

  Kenna crossed her fingers behind her back. “I’m not planning on it. He’s scary.”

  Chapter XXXIV

  In his locker room, Jake paced like a caged animal. A half hour until his scheduled fight time, he was ready to go now.

  “Take a seat, Jake,”

  So focused, Jake wasn’t aware of who spoke to him. “Huh?”

  “Sit down,” Joe said. “Time to wrap your hands.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  A member of the New Jersey state Athletic Commission was present to witness this.

  As Joe applied the wrapping, he said, “Santos is going to come out swinging right away. You got to be alert from the jump. Don’t brawl with him. That’s his fight—not yours.”

  Jake nodded. He knew all these things. Joe was trying to drill it into his head, so he wouldn’t have to think about it when he got inside the cage.

  Joe stopped wrapping his hands for a moment to look Jake in the eyes. “Are you ready for this? I mean really ready?”

  Jake’s gaze didn’t waver. “I am. All the other things that have been going on, I’ve shut them out.”

  Joe nodded. “Good. You’re going to need intense focus tonight.”

  Neither one of them spoke for the next few minutes. The athletic commission representative stifled a yawn.

  One of Jake’s training partners opened the door to the locker room. “Hey, Jake, you got some company.”

  June and Kenna stepped inside of the locker room.

  “Everything decent over here?” June called out.

  “I’m good,” Jake said.

  Joe didn’t take his eyes off what he was doing. “Give me another minute. I’m almost done.”

  June and Kenna remained in the background as Joe finished wrapping. The athletic commission guy made a final inspection, gave his approval, and left the locker room.

  Jake gave Kenna a hug and June a kiss. “How did you guys get back here?”

  “We know people,” June said.

  Kenna rolled her eyes. “These security guards are a sucker for a pretty face. I would hate to see them deal with real trouble.”

  June smiled. “At least we were able to catch you before your match. How are you feeling?”

  Jake waved his hand. “I’m fine. I was a lot more nervous for my last fight. I’m ready to go.” Jake paused to glance at Renken, who had walked to the other side of the room. “With everything else I’ve had to worry about, I haven’t put much thought into the fact that this guy is going to try to take my head off.”

  “That’s the attitude,” Kenna said.

  “Just worry about your opponent,” June said.

  Jake nodded. “I’ll be all right.”

  June said, “We don’t want to stay long. We just wanted to see you real quick.”

  “Good luck,” Kenna said in a hopeful voice. “I’m going to be pulling for you real hard.”

  “I might be biased,” June said, “since you’re my trainer and all, but I can’t imagine anyone being able to defeat you. You’re an awesome fighter. You’re going to do great out there.”

  Jake smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the confidence.”

  They said their goodbyes and left.

  Jake’s training partner tapped his shoulder. “You ready?”

  They were going to go through final preparations, which included light sparring and grappling. It was more of a mental exercise than a physical one. Jake wanted to feel some contact before his fight and work up a good sweat.

  A few minutes into his preparations, Jake heard his ring tone coming from his carrying bag. He contemplated not answering his phone, but it might be something important. “Hold up.”

  Jake clumsily fumbled for his phone. “Hello?”

  “Jake, I’m glad I got you.” There was a sense of urgency in Mark Saleski’s voice.

  “Hey, Mark, what’s going on?”

  “I just got a call from the private investigator who’s following Cotter.” Mark sounded like he was out of breath.

  Jake gave him a moment. “Yeah?”

  “Unless he’s switched bodies, Cotter is in the building you’re fighting at.”

  Jake’s eyes went wide. “He’s here in Atlantic City? In Boardwalk Hall?”

  “Yes. The PI lost him in the crowd, so all I know is that he went inside. I don’t know where is right now.”

  Jake closed his eyes. “Oh, shit.”

  “I don’t know what Cotter’s planning, but you need to be careful. Did you fight yet?”

  “No, I’m going on in fifteen minutes.”

  “Maybe you should pull out of your bout.”

  Jake’s face tightened. “No way. It’s too late now. I’m just about ready to go out there.”

  “Then watch your back, Jake.”

  “I will. Look, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay. My PI is in the building. He’s trying to find Cotter, but I imagine it won’t be easy.”

  Jake disconnected the phone and took a deep breath. Like he didn’t have enough to worry about.

  ***

  Cotter worked his way through the crowd. After purchasing a ticket to the event, Cotter had been staking out the security guards, trying to find a certain type of guard, one who really didn’t give a shit about his job and was just collecting a paycheck. He found one such guard and managed to get a word with him.

  “Hey, buddy, I was wondering if you could help me out. I’m dying to meet Paulo Santos. I’m a big fan. You think maybe you could bring me backstage to meet him.”

  The guard looked half asleep. “Sorry. Fighters are off limits.”

  “I know you’re trying to do your job, but it would mean a lot to me.” Cotter took a roll of ten, one hundred dollar bills and handed it to the security guard.

  The guard’s attention suddenly perked up as he eyed the cash.

  “Look,” Cotter said, “I just want to say hi to him, shake his hand, then leave. What do you say?”

  The security guard’s eyes narrowed. “Follow me. You got two minutes with him, and you better not make any trouble.”

  Cotter had a big smile. “Thank you so much. I promise I won’t give you any trouble.”

  Cotter had to check himself to make sure he wasn’t being over the top. Trying to act like a fanboy, he didn’t want to be too overt. This guard was a greedy bastard, but he probably had limits.

  The security guard led him through the concourse to the level where the locker rooms were located. He waved and said hello to other workers while Cotter stayed close behind him. The guard used a key to open a double door, led him through a hallway, and knocked on a door.

  The door to the locker room opened. Cotter walked inside, trying not to appear too eager.

  The security guard said, “Mr. Santos, if you have a minute, I have someone who would like to say hi to you.”

  A very tanned young man turned around. The Brazilian spoke broken English that Cotter had a hard time understanding. “Oh, yeah. Sure, man. Not gonna be a problem.”

  “Paulo, it’s great to meet you. I’ve seen all of your fights out of Brazil, and I’m a big fan.” Cotter had never seen any of his fights, but knowing his ethnicity, he figured most of his fights probably had occurred in his home country.

  “Oh, thanks, man.”

  “Hey, good luck in your fight tonight,” Cotter said.

  “I train real hard. I put on show for the fan. I do good fight tonight.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.” Cotter extended his hand, and the Brazilian shook it. The moment they made contact, Cotter said the key words under his breath and transferred himself into Paulo Santos’ body.

  When Cotter broke contact with Stewey, the man wobbled and nearly fell to the ground.

  The security guard caught him before he hit the floor. “Hey, you all right?”

  Stewey’s eyes had a vacant look, and he could barely stand. The security guard was exerting himself ho
lding up Stewey. Cotter had to stop himself from laughing. At least the guard was earning the money Cotter had given him.

  After the guard led Stewey away, Cotter walked away when Santos’ trainer began speaking to him in Portuguese. This would be a tricky business. To alleviate the situation, Cotter found an iPod on a table, turned it on, and shut everybody else out. Tonight, he would be getting a little payback with good ole’ Jake.

  ***

  Jake stood at the entrance to the walkway going toward the cage. He had been loose earlier but was now beyond tense. Sweat dripped from his brow. Just before leaving the locker room, Jake had vomited. Renken had expressed his concern, but Jake told him he was fine, just some pre-fight jitters.

  Jake walked down the walkway on unsteady legs. Looking over his shoulder, he searched for Cotter in the audience. He was trying to spot the face of the man who had been driving the Corvette when Jake had last seen him, but it was pointless. With Cotter’s ability to possess different bodies, he could be anybody.

  The music reverberated in Jake’s head. Paranoia crept into him as fans leaned over the railing to high-five him. Usually he was fan-friendly, but not tonight.

  Perhaps it was just his overly active imagination, but the crowd seemed hostile, as if fueled by an insatiable blood lust. Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was driving himself crazy. He had to stay calm. Scanning the audience for Kenna and June, he found them along with a few students from his class. June was waving frantically at him, while Kenna seemed tense.

  Jake continued to make his way to the cage. The thunderous music overpowered most of the sound in the arena. His opponent was already inside the cage. Because Jake was the local favorite, he entered last.

  Jake took one last look at the audience. Wherever Cotter was, it no longer mattered. He was about to engage in hand to hand combat with a highly skilled fighter. If he was not focused, he would get his ass handed to him.

  Jake stepped inside the cage to the loud cheers from the crowd. The promoter of the event told him that he had built quite a following from his last fight. Jake had participated in an autograph signing session the previous day, which had drawn quite a few fans. Normally that type of fanfare would be enjoyable, but Cotter’s looming presence put a damper on it.