Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (19 page)

I lifted my head and surveyed the room.

It was a pretty nice sized apartment with a number of connecting bedrooms from which the rest of my team now emerged, taking notice of our return, but I ignored them and focused on Wang.  “How’s it look?”

He replied by squeezing
my thigh again, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would, but then he tugged slightly on the arrow, and that one hurt.

“Ouch,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Hold still,” Wang ordered as he removed what looked like a cigar cutter from his bag, a device that would slice the arrowhead from the shaft so that it could be pulled clean through.

With a quick cut, Wang severed the arrowhead and set the cutter
down.

He looked at Helena.  “H
old him still.”

She complied
silently, and moved to wrap her arms around me.

Wang then turned his attention to me.  “Bite something, Jacob.
”

I looked around but
had to settle with shoving my shirt in my mouth.

“Ready?”  He
asked.

I tried to nod but before I could complete the gesture, Wang pulled the arrow through my leg in one quick movement.  It came out pai
nfully and colored in red, but little blood came from the wound itself as Wang went to work cleaning and dressing it.

“So did you catch him?”  Archer asked
from his doorway.

I turned to glare at him, the throbbing pain in my leg fueling my ange
r, but when I opened my mouth to speak Wang answered for me, his eyes still on his work.

“Obviously not
,” Wang said.  “He had a few chaps with him who were ready for us.”

“We have to move fast now
,” I finally said.  “It’s only a matter of time before Agrippina learns where we’re going, but we need to get there first.  How are we provisioned, Brewster?”

The petite woman stood there unmoving for a moment
as she stared at me, but then snapped out of her daze and ducked back into her room.  When she returned, she held a notebook in her hand, already leafing through it, but she didn’t look happy.

“
We don’t have nearly enough supplies to reach Britain,” she said as she ran a finger across a page.  “There was very little to purchase in Caesarea thanks to the siege, and I was told Alexandria would have ample food to purchase.  I mean, we
could
leave tomorrow, but we’d be lacking certain… necessities.”

“Like what?”  I asked
, jerking my leg as Wang did something to it that hurt.

“Wheat and salt,”
she answered immediately.

“Are
you telling me,” Stryker asked, leaning in his doorframe, “that there is absolutely no wheat or salt in this entire city for us to buy?  How’s that possible?”

“Of course not,” Brewster snapped
at him, clearly annoyed by such a question, “but shopping in the quantities we need on such short notice is not easy.  I haven’t even been able to contact local dealers yet, and most of what the city already has is owned by people who aren’t in the market to resell it in bulk.  We’ll need to wait at least five days for new shipments to arrive that I can buy.  Or so I was told.  That was well within our original timeframe.”

“We can
’t sail to Britain without ingredients needed to make
bread
,” Helena advised wisely, knowing a legionnaire’s basic campaign diet was sustained mostly on just that.

“
Goddamn it,” I mumbled, but I couldn’t disagree. “Just see what you can do, Georgia.  If you need to pay double to speed up the process, do it.”

“But…”

“Just do it!  We’re not running a business here.”

Sh
e looked solemn for just a moment before closing her notebook.

She nodded. 
“Got it.”

“Everybody else should get some rest,
” Vincent chimed in from his own doorway, “but try to keep yourselves active.  We’re going to have a long trip ahead of us.”

“You heard the man,” Archer said with his arms crossed.
“It’s 2100 hours.  Everyone should be up and ready for a morning workout by 0600.”

“That’s not how we operate, Archer,” Helena said.  “Peop
le keep their own schedules here when they’re not on duty.”

“Not under my watch, they don’t.”

“You’re not even wearing a watch,” Santino accused.

As he spoke,
Artie poked her head out from his bedroom to place a hand on his forearm.  He jumped at the touch, but got the message and didn’t press the point, but I wasn’t so easily calmed.  Santino was driving me nuts with his incessant time spent with Artie, and I hadn’t even known she’d been in there until just now.

“Hunter’s out of commission,” Archer
countered, gesturing in my direction.  “Until he can operate at one hundred percent, he shouldn’t be the one giving the orders.”

“You’re right,” Vince
nt said, stepping up behind him, “but as fortune would have it, I am already second in command.”

Archer glanced down at his amputated arm.

“You?  But you…”

“I what?”  Vincent asked
with steel in his voice, drilling his eyes into Archer’s and making damn sure that he knew who was in charge.

Archer stared back at him,
and to his credit, didn’t immediately back down, but he was no match for Vincent.  He held the older man’s eye for a few more seconds before finally turning away and stalking into one of the corner bedrooms without another word or glance back.

“He’s going to be trouble,” Helena whispered in my ear.

I nodded as Vincent lived up to his command position.

“What are you all staring at?”  He asked
the gathered group.  “Get back to work!”

E
veryone jumped and drifted off at the same time to settle into chairs or couches scattered throughout the room, or to retreat back to their rooms, as Santino and Artie did, although they left the door open, much to my relief.  I also noticed Bordeaux help his wife toward a small couch that sat directly in front of a fire we had going.  He glanced at me briefly, but made no other gesture.

I was about to
discuss the scene Archer had created when Wang suddenly smacked me on the thigh, just above the bandaged wound, which hurt a lot.

“
And Bob’s your uncle,” he said.  “Just try to let this one heal before you go and get yourself another.”

I
groaned, my leg feeling like it was on fire.  “You
really
need to work on your bedside manner.”

The small medic
grinned and moved off to chat with Bordeaux and Madrina, leaving me alone with Helena.

“So should we just kill h
im now and get it over with?”  Helena asked.

“W
ho, Wang?  Totally.”

“
No Archer,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Who else?”

“
Well, you could have meant Santino as well.  I could kill Santino right about now too…”

“
Stop it,” Helena scolded.  “They kept the door open the entire time.”

“
Yeah, like that’s any consolation.”

“Jacob, grow up.  They’re both adults and are clearly interested…”

“
Not
discussing it!”  I said rudely.  “It’s not that important anyway…”

Helena sighe
d.  “I’m not sure it isn’t so unimportant, Jacob…”

I ignored her.  “What about Rumella?”

“We left him.”

“But the librarian
who saw us…”

“What
were we supposed to do?  Take the body to the authorities?  You do remember there is a price on all of our heads, right?”

“I know, I know
.” I sighed, but refused to let Rumella’s passing hurt me. “So what do you think?  Do we head to Britain?  Follow Rumella’s lead on the Druids?”

“I think it’s the only choice
we have.”

“Yeah…
but Druids?”

“Jacob,” she said, her tone suggesting she was preparing to lecture a small child.  “If you would have told me five years ago that time travel existed, I would have thought you were insane.  But now?  Now, I’ll believe anything until its proven impossible.
”

“Yeah…” I said.  “I guess
you’re right.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

I didn’t answer right away, trying to decide if I should come clean about my visions.  I reached out to massage my bare leg just above my wound, but Helena noticed and reached out to stop the motion.

“Jacob, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “I just got a bad feeling about all this.”

“What kind of feeling?” 

Concern was obvious in her voice.

“I
just told you.  A bad one.  It doesn’t feel right.  Something feels… wrong.”

“
Something always feels wrong,” she reminded me.  “Since the moment we got here.”

“I know that, Helena, but this time he’s here with us.”  I
said, placing my hand on Helena’s stomach.  “Or her.  I couldn’t live with myself if I let anything happen to either of you.”

Helena placed her hand
over my own and smiled at me.

It
was so sincere and beautiful that I almost forgot everything that was happening.

Almost.

“You won’t, Jacob.  I know you won’t.  And…” she paused, “…well, if it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll do what I can to stay out of harm’s way.  But only directly!”  She clarified.  “I’m still going with you and I’m still taking my sniper rifles with me.  Both of them!”

I grinned and hugged her tight, giving her soft neck a gentle kiss.

“Thank you, Helena.  That means a lot, and I know what that means to you too.”

“It isn’t easy for me, if that’s what you mean,” she said, squeezing my hand.  “Five years ago I would have had no problem staying right here, but I can’t do that now.  You mean too much to me. 
Everybody does, but I understand your concern.  I have more than myself to think about now, so I’ll be careful.”

“I know
you will, Helena.  Thank you.”

She smiled and reached up to brush hair from my forehead.  “See how nice it is to talk sometimes?  I could get used to this.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, although my heart wasn’t in the response.  I was still keeping things from her, dark things, but I knew I was doing her a favor.  I wasn’t doing it for me this time, but for her.  Her life was stressful enough, and I didn’t need to make it worse, especially not when I had someone else I could turn to.  Someone who’d been through a lot in his own life, and could see right through me as easily as Helena, but was for more understanding…

***

“Mind if I bother you, sir?”

Vincent
looked up from the bed he sat on and turned to face the doorway where I was standing.  When I’d come in, he had been tending to the cast around Titus’ leg.  The young man would be out of it for at least a few more weeks, but Wang was certain he’d eventually make a full recovery, and Vincent was taking care of him in the meantime, as any good stepfather would.

“Of cou
rse, Jacob.  We were just preparing for us to part ways.”

I shifted my look to Titus.  “You’re leaving
us?”

“Only in the sense that I will be remaining here, Jacob Hunter,”
Titus answered.  “It will be months before my leg is fully healed, and I do not wish to slow you in your journey.”

I sighed deeply at the announcement.  “Well, we’ll miss you, Titus, but it’s good that you know your limitations.”

“I do,” Titus said, “but at least I won’t be alone.  Madrina will remain as well.  She has no wish to see combat again.  Once I have healed, we will travel back to Judea and find my family, and then to Gaul.  It’s her home, and close to Britain, where we will await your return.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” 
I nodded and turned back to Vincent.  “You’re all right with this?”

“I am,” he replied.  “We put too much faith in them both before, but now that Archer and his reinforcements have arrived, I would rather not put either them at risk anymore.
  Neither would Jeanne.  And it would be good for Brian Wilson and my wife to see Titus again.”

I smiled, remembering how Vincent had named his son after his favorite member of The Beach boys, and
turned back to Titus.  “Consider yourself lucky.  You’ve got a good dad there.”

“He has done fairly well,” Titus agreed with a smirk, and Vincent reached out to clip the young man on the
chin with a light punch.

I smiled at the
scene, but moved to clear the doorway.  “Shall we?”

Vincent nodded and stood up.  He made a quick stop to grab his pistol, and moved to join me.

“Where to?”  He asked.

I pointed upward.  “Let’s get some air.”

Our building was equipped with a tall tower, perfect for our LP/OP, and when Vincent and I climbed the stairs to the roof, we found Brewster and Stryker diligently manning their post, the perfect pairing since they’d never grow distracted by talking to each other.  They were comically standing back to back, looking out in opposite directions.

“Take a break
,” I said to them both.  “Give us fifteen minutes.”

“Take thirty,” Stryker answered.

Brewster said nothing, and neither said a word to one another as they moved to the steps, but when both of them tried to descend at the same time, a small shoving match broke out until Brewster squeezed through first.  Stryker growled at her small victory but followed.

When they were out of earshot, Vincent whispered, “I wonder what their history is.”

“Beats me,” I replied.  “I’m sure it’s stupid.”

Vincent
moved to the low wall and stood beside it, pulling out his binoculars as he did.  He brought them to his eyes and slowly scanned the horizon.  “Rather jaded of you, no?”

I sighed
and plopped Penelope’s bipod on the low wall and sighted through her night vision scope.  I glassed the city to delay immediately responding.

“I guess
,” I answered.  “I just don’t care, is all.”

“Neither do I,” Vincent admitted, “but that doesn’t explain the attitude.  What’s wrong?”

I was happy he hadn’t asked, “What’s wrong
this
time?”  That was generally the tact Santino took, and even Helena at times.  It was the one thing I could always rely on Vincent for.  He never judged me for the decisions I made or the way in which I dealt with the repercussions of those choices afterwards.  He was simply there when I needed him to be, and he knew that when I needed to talk, it wasn’t for some trivial thing. He was always ready to support, always there to listen, and never pushed his own thoughts and feelings on the conversation.

I continued
my scan of the city, checking for anomalies, almost hoping to find something out there to distract us, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“I’ve been having these
… visions,” I said carefully.  “They started after Archer, Artie, and the rest showed up.”

Vincent peeked at me behind his binoculars.  “What kind of visions.”

I closed my eyes as I remembered.  “I guess they’re more like hallucinations really.  Gruesome ones.  Extremely visceral, graphic, and all too real.”

“What triggers them?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. The two times it happened, my visions were a reflection of reality, just skewed for the worse.”

“Explain.”

“The first vision was in Damascus.  I saw… I saw all of us cut to shreds by arrow fire.  I saw people die horrible deaths.  But then it was all gone.  Replaced by what really happened.”

“I see,” Vincent remarked quietly.

“The other time was just a few hours ago when I was shot.  Instead of the minor wound I actually have, I thought my femoral was cut.  There was a lot of blood and a lot of pain.  A lot.  But when Wang found me, the vision completely melted away.”

“Hmm,” Vincent muttered.  “And you say these visions seem real?  Like déjà vu or a dream?

“Not even close.  They are so much more that than.  They
are
reality.  I shouldn’t even be calling them visions.  I could feel the warmth of the blood on my hands, smell it in my nose, and see it spurt from my leg.  It was real.”

Vincent was silent.  I tore my eye away from my scope to see him holding his binoculars against his chest, looking down at his knees.

“You all right, Vincent?”  I asked.

“I’m fine, Jacob, but I won’t mince words with you.  I am worried that the orb may be affecting you.  Remember our theories about its brain degenerative properties?  What it may have done to Caligula and Claudius?”

“Of course I remember,” I said, but without any scorn.  He was just trying to make a point.

“Well, you’ve interacted with it more than anyone
,” he indicated.  “Three times I believe.  And unlike the Caesars, you have actually been able to operate it.  Perhaps that’s three times too many, and… and it’s beginning to affect you.”

“
I’ve thought of that too,” I admitted.

“It’ll be okay, Jacob,” Vincent assured.  “Just keep it away from you.  Maybe… just maybe
, the Druids we’re looking for can help.”

I chuckled.  “Hell, any
thing is possible at this point, but…
Druids
??”

“I agree,” Vincent s
aid, but he didn’t seem amused, “but believe me when I say that you should not so immediately dismiss a Druidic presence that could help us.  But I at least think it helps that you are aware of your ill effects.  That simple awareness may allow you to overcome its long term negative effects.  Just try to stay calm, and come to me whenever you see any more of these visions.  I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Thanks, Vi
ncent.  I really didn’t want to upset Helena with this, especially not now.”

Vincent smiled
and reached out to grip my shoulder with his hand.  “We’ve journeyed a long road together, Jacob, and while you’ve sought my counsel before, never forget that you always have a friend in me.  One who will always be there for you, ready to listen.”

I returned the smile.  “I know. 
It means a lot.  Now let’s go un-relieve Romeo and Juliet down there and get some sleep.”

Part Two

V

Mediterra
nean

Western Mediterranean Sea

November, 42 A.D.

“Man your battle stations!”  I shouted from the helm, steadying myself with the railing as the rough waters nearly threw me to the deck. “Prepare for immediate boarding!”

“Argh, captain!”   Santino replied,
nearly falling to the deck himself as he followed.  “A blimey pickle you’ve blundered us into this time.  Argh, argh, argh…”

I didn’t even bother sparing a glance at him.  A runner was just returning from below deck with Penelope and my go-bag filled with spare magazines.  As soon as I caught his attention, he tossed me the
rifle, then the bag.  I waved in thanks as he returned to the main deck, and I slapped a fresh magazine into place and pulled back the cocking lever.  I raised the rifle to my shoulder and peered through the scope, scanning the darkness with the optic’s night vision activated.  I glanced up at the sky briefly, noticing the thick clouds rolling by at a quick clip, and I feared our first storm of the expedition would soon join the fun.

Santino was right
.  This certainly was a blimey pickle.

T
he voyage had started so well, too. 

Brewster had worked her magic, otherwise known as my money, and procured everything we’d needed within four days
, although she’d practically bankrupted me doing it, which was fine.  We’d loaded down the ships, secured our cargo, and waved goodbye to Alexandria, Titus, and Madrina three days later.  It had been a hard goodbye for Vincent, and an even harder one for Bordeaux, but both knew it was for the best.  Neither Titus nor Madrina really belonged in the field, and neither Vincent nor Bordeaux wanted to put them at further risk and had accepted their choices.