Johnny Black, Soul Chaser: The Complete Series (Johnny Black, Soul Chaser Series)

by JJ Zep

  “Flaminicus?” Jitterbug said. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Because that’s who I was supposed to be,” I said. “Except you decided to make me a fishmonger.”

  “But then why is Flaminicus still alive?” Jitterbug said. “If he was going to be your host he’d have to be dead wouldn’t he? These things get awfully complicated sometimes. If only you humans could be more like imps. Now an imp…”

  “No time for that now,” I said. “Find Flaminicus, tell him I have information about the plot against Caesar. Tell him he needs to get me out of here.”

  “I don’t like his tone,” Commodus said.

  “Me neither, Commie,” Jitterbug said. “One successful case and he talks like he’s Abaddon’s kindred spirit.”

  “Just find him,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go Com.”

  “One other thing,” I said. “Do you know a soul chaser named Pandora?”

  “Do I ever,” Jitterbug said. “That is one hotsy-totsy dame. If they were ever to hold a Miss Universes pageant, I mean the real thing, not the dog and pony show you have on earth, I’d put my money on Pandora Jain to win every time. Problem is, she’s also a duplicitous, conniving bitch, and a thief to boot. Why do you ask?”

  “Because she’s here.”

  “What, here in Rome?” Jitterbug said. He looked quickly left and right. “You’ve seen her?

  “She was in my room.”

  Jitterbug let out a whistle. “Stay away from that broad, Dexter. She’s poison.”

  XX

  By the time Flaminicus showed up I was back in my cell. The guard opened the door and led me to a courtyard where the centurion was engaged in a fierce argument with Scarus.

  “How am I supposed to train your man to fight, if Mark Antony has him in and out of here like one of his trollips?” Scarus shouted.

  “I’ll ask you to mind you tongue when talking of the tribune.”

  “A fig for Antony. I fart in his proximity!”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him that!”

  “Tell it to the gods for all I care,” Scarus said. “Ah, here’s your charge now. Greetings fishmonger, it appears his honor Mark Antony requires you to wipe his ass!”

  “I won’t warn you again,” Flaminicus said.

  “Pah!” Scarus said. “I was winning duels in the arena when you were still swinging in your daddy’s scrotum!” He stormed off.

  Flaminicus led me through the gates and into an alley, where Jitterbug and Commodus were waiting. “Your friends tell me you have information regarding the plot against Caesar,” Flaminicus said.

  “I do,” I said, “You’re to do all in your power to keep Caesar away from the senate on the Ides of March. But it is equally important that I find General Bacchus. Where is he being held?”

  “Not held any longer,” Flaminicus said, “Escaped.”

  “What?”

  “Flown the coop. Guards bribed, him absconded. Gone.”

  “Any idea where we might look for him?”

  “Antony believes he might head for his farm in Ancona and has sent men there to look for him, but I know Bacchus. He’s more likely to be found in the taverns and brothels of the Aventine.”

  “Right,” Jitterbug said. “Why don’t you two go down and look in Ancona. Commie and I will search the brothels and taverns.”

  “What!” Commodus said, “ I am Imperator, Pacator Orbis and Dominus Noster. I do not traipse through plebian brothels after mutinous generals. Send for the Praetorian guard.”

  “Who is this fool?” Flaminicus said.

  “Paranoid schizophrenic with megalomaniac tendencies,” I said.

  “Sounds like a loony,” Flaminicus said.

  “I am not a loony! I’ll have you stripped of your rank and crucified you impudent carcass!”

  Somewhere in the midst of Commodus’ rant Flaminicus slipped off, but not before making me promise that I’d let him know the minute I found Bacchus. Commodus continued to rant and rave all the way to the Aventine until I threatened to drop him in a sewer and scoop him up an SPAA Apprehension jar.

  By the time we were an hour into our search I realized that it wasn’t going to work. There seemed to be at least one tavern or brothel for every citizen of Rome. And our search was made more difficult by Commodus’ ranting which got us thrown out of half the establishments, and by Jitterbug’s insistence on sampling the local wares at every taverna we visited – ‘taking in the local color’ as he called it.

  Before long he was he was high as a kite and he and Commodus had begun squabbling.

  “I’ll have you know,” Jitterbug slurred, “That my great uncle, Eldred the Fortuitous, was king of all of Ipsofacto and also captured the Elfish kingdom of Etcetera.”

  “Nonsense, such places only exist in your inebriated impish brain. I, Marcus Aurelius Commodus Antoninus Augustus was imperator of the greatest empire on earth.”

  “That’s a lot of names,” Jitterbug said. “Do you have to write them on the back of your hand to remember?”

  “Impudent imp! I ought to…”

  “Ought to what, Ray Charles…”

  “Husband?” a voice said, “Husband it is you! Oh, praise be to Juno. I thought I’d lost you forever.” Olivia rushed over and embraced me, almost knocking me off my feet.

  “Oh, I’m so happy I found you,” she blabbered,” I heard about your magnificent victory in the arena. I’ve commissioned some wonderful statuettes. I though if you could mark them with your name they could sell for at least, oh, ten denari a piece. We’ll need to move quickly though, a gladiator’s career is a short one. You could be dead tomorrow for all we know. Now, I was thinking…”

  Next to me the feud between Jitterbug and Commodus continued unabated. “And another thing Commie, you won’t be emperor for another two hundred years. In this version of Rome you’re just a blind beggar, and a fool to boot.”

  “Oh, a fool am I? Well at least I’m not a three foot, red faced goblin with the hindquarters of a donkey.”

  “Why you…” Jitterbug started to say and then moved aside to make way for a litter being carried by six bearers.

  “Fabius Negritis? Is that you?” a voice said from the litter. The drapes were drawn aside and I saw Drusilla reclining on a bed with copious cushions.

  “Husband? Who is this trollip, and how does she know your name?”

  “Trollip! How dare you? I’m the wife of Tribune Antony, I’ll have you know.”

  “Antony? That whoremonger? Pimping you on that Aventine now is he?”

  “Negritis, who is this slut?”

  “His wife if you must know, harlot!”

  “His wife is it! Well, I’ll have you know your husband was in my bed last evening.”

  “Fabius, is this true?” Olivia said.

  “Well, technically,” I said, “it was she that was in my bed.”

  “Why you home-breaking harpy!” Olivia flew into the litter where she and Drusilla got into a wrestling and name-calling match, while the litter bearers struggled to keep the thing upright.

  “Slut!”

  “Whore!”

  “Tramp!”

  “Scarlet woman!”

  “Move aside for the entourage of his honor, Marcus Junius Brutus,” a voice boomed out. “Move now you plebs, and get this litter out of the way!”

  I stood close to the wall as the litter was carried off with Olivia and Drusilla still scratching and spitting like a couple of she-cats inside. A group of toga clad men now approached, with bodyguards to the front and back. At the center I recognized Brutus, wearing the same sour expression I’d seen on his face yesterday. That changed when he spotted me.

  “You’re Fabius Negritis,” he said. “Antony’s man.”

  “I am.”

  “Well what are you doing here on the Aventine? Surely you should be at the Ludis?”

  “A leave of absence,” I said. “To visit my wife.”

  “Ah,” Brutus said.
“Most unorthodox, but then again, that’s Antony, ever the renegade. Walk with me a while. I wanted to congratulate you on your victory yesterday.”

  “Much as I’d like to, I am expected.”

  “Still,” Brutus said and one of his bodyguards nudged me in the back just to make the point that it wasn’t a request. I fell in with Brutus’ column and we continued down the road.

  As we walked I could hear Jitterbug and Commodus, still at it.

  “And another thing,” said Commodus. “What kind of a fool imp conjures a blind man as a guide?”

  “Ah, bite me,” Jitterbug said.

  XXI

  By the time we reached Brutus’ luxurious villa it was early evening. “Will you take dinner with us?” Brutus said. “You must be hungry.”

  Actually, I was starving. “I won’t thank you,” I said. “A stomach complaint.”

  “Ah yes, the mortal wound I’ve heard so much about. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” I said. I lifted my tunic and he crouched down to inspect the injury.

  “Ouch! Nasty!” Brutus said, “Does it hurt?”

  “Not in the least,” I said.

  “Most remarkable. Cato, Cicero, come and have a look at this.” Two of Brutus’ companions came over and examined the wound with him, punctuating their inspection with words like remarkable, extraordinary and miraculous. When they had satisfied themselves as to the seriousness of my injury, Brutus asked me to sit and introduced me to the other man in their party, a dark haired man by the name of Cassius, who seemed to wear a permanent smirk on his face.

  “I’ll speak plainly, citizen Negritis,” Brutus said, “because I know you’re not an educated man. But first, I need to know if we can trust you. Can we trust you, citizen?”

  “You can trust me.”

  “Think on that oath, citizen,” Cassius said. “And don’t take it lightly. Cross us and your immortality will be put to the test.”

  “Cassius, please. We’re all friends here. Negritis says we can trust him, so we’ll take him at his word. Where is the general by the way?”

  “Sleeping off his latest assignation with his namesake,” Cicero said.

  “Fetch him will you,” Brutus said. “He needs to hear this.”

  Cassius left the room to fetch the general. “Now where was I,” Brutus said. “Ah, yes. I was saying, citizen, that change is afoot in Rome, imminently. Change for good, for the future of the republic. But the benefits of change are sometimes not immediately clear to the plebians. Pardon my bluntness citizen, but plebs tend to seek an immediate dividend.”

  “Can’t say as I disagree with you citizen, but I don’t see how this concerns me.”

  “We need you to win the plebs over to our side,” Cato said.

  “How would I do that exactly?”

  “Don’t be modest man, everyone knows that you’re regarded as some kind of fishmonger god on the Aventine.”

  “I’m afraid my popularity was short-lived.”

  “Even so, you’re the champion gladiator of Rome. If Spartacus could rally the plebs to his cause, why not you?”

  “Quite,” Cicero said.

  They had me in a position that I couldn’t easily wiggle out of. The best I could do was to play along and see how things panned out.

  “What would I be required to do?” I asked.

  “We simply need you to be ready to move when we say so. I hear you’re quite the orator. That speech you gave on the Aventine last evening caused somewhat of a stir. When we call on you, you’ll be required to address your people, convince them as to the righteousness of our cause.”

  “I can do that,” I said.

  “Good man. We meet again tomorrow at noon, at the Baths of Agrippa. Can you be there?”

  “I can.”

  “Excellent, excellent,” Brutus said.

  Cassius entered the room through a side door bringing with him a portly, disheveled man who looked like he’d just been roused from his sleep.

  “Ah, here’s the general now,” said Brutus. “General Bacchus, I’d like you to meet Fabius Negritis.”

  XXII

  I left Brutus’ house walking on air. Not only had I tracked down General Bacchus, but I was having him delivered to the Roman baths at noon tomorrow. Roman baths with pools and fountains and saunas. You will recall that souls become liquid in water and emit a light that somewhat resembles a firefly. All I had to do was to push Bacchus into one of the pools, scoop him up in my SPAA Apprehension jar, and hightail it back to hell.

  “Evening citizen, pleasant night for a walk.”

  “Tribune Antony,” I said. “I was just coming to see you.”

  “Oh, you were, were you? Interesting that you should approach my house by such a circuitous route, a route that, by all accounts, takes in the villa of Brutus of the Junii.”

  “Exactly why I wanted to see you. There’s something afoot, a plot against Caesar.”

  “Really? Most interesting, but I needed to speak to you on an entirely different matter.”

  “What matter would that be?”

  “My wife.”

  “Look Antony…”

  “Tribune Antony, to you pleb.”

  “Tribune Antony,” I said. “I would never…”

  “Don’t try denying it, Drusilla has already confessed everything.”

  “But, but…” I stalled, searching desperately for a way out of this predicament. “She forced herself on me,” I blurted.

  “I thought she might.” Antony said. “When it comes to willful woman, my wife is right up there with Helen of Troy.”

  “You don’t mind?” I said.

  “Mind? My dear boy, why do you think we offered you hospitality in the first place? We’re not in the habit of opening our house to plebians you know. Simply wouldn’t do. What would the neighbors say?”

  “But why?”

  “Did Drusilla not explain that to you? The immortal son, the child you will seed in my wife’s womb. I will succeed Caesar as emperor, my son with succeed me, and reign in perpetuity.”

  “You’ll succeed Caesar sooner than you think if you don’t do something about Brutus.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Antony said. “So keep all this Ides of March stuff under you’re toga, hey. There’s a good lad.”

  “I thought Caesar was your friend.”

  “He is that. But ambition should be made of sterner stuff than mere friendship, don’t you think.”

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “I’m flattered that you think so. Come now, enough chatter, Drusilla awaits.”

  “Drusilla?”

  “Yes of course, on the off chance that you missed the mark last evening, I thought you might have another crack at the old girl.”

  XXIII

  My second evening with Drusilla was somewhat less pleasurable than the first. Call me a prude but there’s something less than appealing about making love to a woman, even a beautiful one, under instruction from her husband. Nonetheless, I did my duty for Rome and Hades and whoever else I was indebted to.

  Over breakfast the next day, Antony briefed me on the layout of the Baths of Agrippa, where Brutus was likely to hold his meeting, and what was expected of me.

  “Now,” he said. “I’ll need to know everything they discuss, everything mind, even the most trivial of details may be important. In particular, I need to know the time of their intended attack, so that I may be well away from the senate. I’ll rally the thirteenth and meet those fiends in the forum as they leave the senate house. A swift and bloody retribution will follow, which will win the plebs over to my side. They love all that righteous indignation stuff.”

  “Isn’t he a marvel, Negritis?” Drusilla said.

  “A marvel,” I agreed.

  “Right, you must away, citizen,” Antony said. “Steel yourself with the knowledge that you are a doing the work of the gods. Oh, one other thing, I’ll be sending Flaminicus with you, incognito, of course. A bit of extra insu
rance, so to speak.”

  I left Antony’s villa with Flaminicus as my escort. The centurion wore a simple toga, and seemed uncomfortable out of uniform.

  “So which side do you come down on, in this whole mess?” I asked.

  “I am merely a soldier of Rome, doing my duty,” Flaminicis said.

  “Still, you must have an opinion as to…”

  “I am merely a soldier of Rome, doing my duty.”

  I gave up soon after that. Flaminicus was clearly not in the mood for small talk. We reached the Baths of Agrippa and entered the building through an Atrium, descended three steps and entered a kind of courtyard where several people were milling around and a group of youths were going through an exercise routine. Flaminicus passed a few coins to a man sitting in a booth.

  “I’ll leave you here,” he said, “and follow at a discreet distance.”

  I walked through a narrow passage and found myself in a large chamber, dark except for the light from one small window. Here, a slave asked me to remove my clothing, and handed me a towel to wear around my waist. The next chamber was as cold as the ninth circle of hell and I hurried through into the next, which was the exact opposite, with a steaming pool at its center. Brutus was standing by the pool and motioned for me to follow him.

  The final compartment was some sort of huge sauna with terraced stone benches set against one of the walls. Here I saw the men I’d met yesterday sweating it out, Cato and Cicero and Cassius, but no General Bacchus.

  “He’s gone to relieve himself again,” Brutus said, when I asked. “The man has the continence of an infant. Nonetheless, we’re well met. Let us cleave to the matter at hand.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Bacchus,” Cato said.

  “Bacchus knows his part. He’s to keep the army at bay. Simple really, even for him.”

  “Quite.”

  “Now we have broad support, including Tillius, Casca, Petronius, Lucius Aquila and others. The Ides of March is a good day, I’m thinking.”

  “So soon,” Cicero said.

  “Why wait?” Cassius said. “A wolf has hold of our republic by the throat. It’s time to untether the hounds I say.”