I turned. Across the street. Cosgrove. He
laughed so softly no one else heard him. No one but me. He smiled
and waved me on.
Then he ran.
I chased him down the rain-slicked darkened streets.
We ran past the office supply store. Past one side of Fenway Park where
the Red Sox played baseball, sometimes badly. Our feet made no noise as
we skirted broken beer bottles, used condoms, and an odd syringe. Cosgrove
seemed to skip away from me with ease but he always stayed just close enough to
tease me. I hated him all the more for that. After all, he'd just fed and
the vital energy coursing through his system made him stronger than me at the
time.
But he'd killed a friend of mine and I was hoping my wrath
would sustain me even when the last drop of Simbik's vitality was burned in the
furnace of Cosgrove's dementia.
We spilled onto Brookline Avenue down near the old Sears
building that had been renovated years back and turned into a big retail
shopping center with a cinema and more.
Cosgrove turned and smiled at me through the darkness, then
he streaked towards the building, leapt and crashed through a window two stories
up.
I didn't follow.
One of Cosgrove's specialties was ambushes. He was a
downright sneaky bastard and before I'd known any better, I had had the
pleasure of first-hand experience. I didn't like repeating mistakes so I
made my entrance on the ground level near an emergency exit.
It was dark outside.
Inside the building, it was an absolute abyss. A dank
black hole void of light and, thanks to Cosgrove, it was absolutely awash in unspeakable
evil.
And sound.
Primarily high-pitched squeaks.
I've never liked rats. And at that moment, I was in
the giant Port Authority of rat-dom.
They squealed and squeaked as I waded through their numbers.
Sweat ran down every inch of my body as they searched for exposed bits of skin
to nibble. Their coarse skin brushed against me as they swirled in
undulating waves of mammalian pestilence against my jeans. One of them
got caught in the cuff of my jeans and tried to run up my leg but failed and
tumbled back out into his brethren.
It was all I could do not to retch and pass out.
I finally made it up the stairs to the first level, shaking
and kicking off the last of my furry passengers. It took me a minute of solid
heaving to catch my breath. Finally, I started climbing the steps again.
Slowly.
A voice dripped down from high above.
"If memory serves me correctly, Lawson, you hate rats.
You must be in agony right now."
The bastard wasn't far off the mark, but I shoved on.
I was determined to finish that business there, that night. If not to
spare any more innocent lives, then only to avenge Simbik. He may not
have ever realized what I was, or maybe he did, but he was a friend all the same.
Now he was dead. Murdered at the hands of a man I should have killed a
long time ago. If I hadn't failed back then, Simbik would still be alive.
I stopped on the fifth floor. The stairs went no
higher. In the darkness my vision let me see as clearly as a cat, but
nothing stirred amid the old pipes and exposed girders.
No Cosgrove.
I scoured the entire floor and only on my second go-around
did I notice the door that read "roof." Without hesitating, I
opened it and went up.
At the top, an open door creaked as the night breezes caused
it to sway back and forth. I timed my arrival to when the door was at its
greatest aperture and stepped on to the roof.
Boston's skyline sparkled all around me and the neon Citgo
sign in Kenmore Square burned like a sun in the darkness casting shadows even in
the blackness of night.
Cosgrove was there.
And he chose not to hide.
"Age is slowing you down, Lawson."
He stood at the edge of the roof, draped in expensive black
silks that rippled like muscles in the breezes swirling around us. I felt
like a peasant in my jeans and turtleneck compared to the luxury of the finery
Cosgrove bathed his body in.
He turned, facing the city. "Time was you would
have followed me through that second floor window without a moment's
hesitation. Now, you amble up steps like a man with no more spirit."
"Time was I believed in the Tooth Fairy and Santa
Claus, too. Look where those got me." I looked around.
"Last time I followed you head-on, I almost lost my life."
He laughed. "You speak like a human, always have.
You're a vampire. Seems to me you've always had a problem accepting that. You
even have human friends."
"'Had' might be a better word for it, thanks to
you."
He turned then, and it seemed as though he was somewhat
surprised by that last remark. Then it dawned on him. "My, my
he was your friend? How utterly delicious! You must be awfully sore with
me right now,eh?"
"Actually, I'm just here because I enjoy the profound
pleasure of your company."
He let that pass and smiled, teeth gleaming in the night
air. "Admit it, Lawson, you want to kill me so badly every ounce of your
being is obsessed by it."
"You're just another job, Cosgrove."
"Rubbish! I've never been just a job to you. You
might be able to carry that cavalier attitude off with some of your other
sanctions. But this is me." He smiled again. "And we do
go so far back. Our delicious history still inspires me to this
day."
"You're wrong. You're just another termination
handed down by the Council."
"To hell with the Council! Nothing but a pathetic
group of weaklings. They've kept our people hidden like rats, always in the
shadows, feeding off the scraps of this world. We are a noble race.
We're entitled to more. If they were strong we would rule this world on
our terms instead of merely existing in the background! We would own the planet!"
"And there'd be no Balance and chaos would erupt."
I sighed. "We'd be destroyed."
"Not if it were handled properly. By the right
man."
"And, of course, that'd be you, right?"
He nodded casting his arms out as if he's about to hug the
world. "Yes. I am the chosen one. It's true. I know
exactly what to do." He cocked his head to one side. "Do you
know what it's like to be born a messiah but have no way of realizing your
potential? It's like you can see everything that needs to be done, but
these silly laws - these pathetic anachronisms - keep you from accomplishing
anything. And your dreams, your hopes for the people you've been chosen to
lead, they shrivel up and crumple like so much dust in the wind."
"Sounds tragic."
"It's gut-wrenching. Believe me. I know."
He shook his head. "And you know what the worst part is?"
"I'm sure you'll tell me."
"The worst part is knowing that you're right. That
your cause is like a holy crusade to right the wrongs, to reverse the
injustices wrought by so much arrogance. And yet, everywhere you turn,
you're accused of being insane, off your rocker, a nut job. You're
persecuted for your ambition." He looked at me. "Even
hunted."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Meet Lawson, a cynical, wise-cracking vampire charged with
protecting the Balance - the secret existence of a race of LIVING vampires that
have evolved alongside humanity for thousands of years. He's a Fixer: part-spy,
and part-commando -- Jason Bourne with fangs. Lawson mixes shrewd cunning with
unmatched lethality to get his job done. There's just one problem - his
oldest enemy Cosgrove is back. The last time they tangled, Cosgrove butchered
ten people.
Now he's back in Boston and the Council wants him dead. But
Cosgrove has other plans, including killing one of Lawson's friends. Then
there's Talya, an ex-KGB assassin with secrets of her own and the skills to
match Lawson, who wants revenge on Cosgrove even as the psychopath continues killing
and threatens to unleash an ancient unholy evil upon the entire city. Can
Lawson stop Cosgrove and still adhere to the very laws he protects by not
falling in love with a beautiful human assassin?
AUTHOR BIO:
Jon F. Merz is the author of over 40 novels (including the
bestselling Lawson Vampire supernatural espionage series) ranging from urban
fantasy to espionage and sword & sorcery fantasy.
Prior to becoming a full-time writer Jon served in the
United States Air Force, protected a variety of Fortune 500 executives, and taught
defensive tactics to government agencies like the State Department, Bureau of
Prisons, and others. He is an active CrossFitter, a 5th degree black belt in
Togakure-ryu Ninjutsu, enjoys doing GORUCK challenges.
In 2014 started modeling and acting, most recently starring
as Alfred P. Sloan in THE CARS THAT MADE AMERICA on the History Channel. He
lives each and every day by the motto, "Who Dares Lives."
Twitter: @jonfmerz
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