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

by JJ Zep

  “But so soon,” Cicero repeated.

  “Pointless wavering now, old boy, the games afoot, we move on the Ides.”

  “And where do we cut down the tyrant,” Cato asked.

  “On the floor of the senate,” Cassius said.

  “The senate!” Cato said. “Surely murder in the senate is sacrilege?”

  “Not murder, old man. More like a good leeching.”

  “Still, the senate…”

  “I think it’s symbolic,” Cicero said. “A tyrant sacrificed on the very foundation stones of the republic.”

  “Quite, quite, thank you Cicero.”

  “Have I missed anything?” a voiced boomed out, and I looked up to see General Bacchus approaching, his pale skin wobbling with every step. Unlike the rest of his companions he didn’t seem to be sweating at all.

  “Hot as Vulcan’s knob in here,” Bacchus complained.

  “Why not take the waters in the frigidarium,” Brutus suggested.

  “I won’t, if it’s all the same to you. Plays havoc with my gout. I thought I might take a cup of wine at the stall in the Atrium. Any other takers?”

  “I think I might join you, General,” I said. Bacchus was going to have to walk past several pools on his way to the Atrium and the opportunity was just too good to turn down.

  “Who are you again?” the general asked, looking at me suspiciously.

  “This is Marcus Negritis,” Brutus said. “Here to help us with the pleb problem. You met him yesterday.”

  “So, I did,” Bacchus said, still regarding me with a look of suspicion. “Well, come on then.”

  “Hadn’t we better conclude our business first?” Cicero asked.

  “Nonsense,” said Bacchus, “The day is yet a pup and besides, I find plotting on an empty stomach quite uncouth.”

  Bacchus had his back to the doorway, where Marcus Flaminicus now stepped into the room.

  “Well, well, well,” he said. “All the hens in one coop.”

  XXIV

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bacchus demanded, then seemed to recognize the man holding the sword. “Centurion Flaminicus? Is that you? Gods below man, you scared a league of years off my lifespan.”

  “Not Centurion Flaminicus general, Onslow Foster, soul chaser from Underworld Resorts. Come to take you back to Hades where you belong.”

  “Hades? Have you gone mad, man?” Bacchus said.

  “No need to put up a front with me, general. I think we understand each other full-well.”

  “This goes to far, “Cassius said. “I order you to stand down centurion. We are senators of Rome, not some Byzantium bandits to be threatened in this way.”

  “I know well who you are senators, and in short order I’ll get to know you even better. For now, though, I’m only interested in the general here. Whenever you’re ready, general.”

  “Not so fast, Foster,” I said. “You have no jurisdiction here. Bacchus belongs to Hades Correctional. If he’s going back to hell, it’ll be with me.”

  “And you are?”

  “Dexter Blackwell, err…Johnny Black, soul chaser from Hades Correctional.”

  “So you’re, Black,” Foster said. “Heard a lot of good things about your work in Chicago. Tough luck on this one though, finders keepers and all that.”

  “Negritis? You’re a party to this lunacy?” Brutus said.

  “Told you we shouldn’t have trusted him,” said Cassius.

  “I’m confused as to what exactly is going on here,” Cicero said. “The words you uttered? Johnny Black? The meaning escapes me.”

  “Nothing to bother yourself with, senator. We’ll soon be on our way and you can go back to plotting your murder. You’ll just have to do it without the generalissimo, here.”

  “My, my, quite a gathering we have here,” a female voice said, and Pandora Jain stepped into the sauna room. She’d dispensed with her Roman attire and now wore a tight-fitting leather outfit with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked sensational.

  “Now I must protest!” Cato said. “This goes too far, a woman in the baths. Go on, away with you. You have perfectly adequate facilities next door, you know.”

  “A thousands pardons, senators,” Pandora said. “I have no quarrel with you. I’ve merely come for the general.”

  “You know this woman, general?’ Brutus said.

  “Never set eyes on her in my life,” Bacchus stammered, “I’d have remembered.”

  “Whether he knows her or not is immaterial,” I said. “The general belongs to Hades Correctional. I have dibs.”

  “Finders keepers,“ Onslow said.

  “If I’ve got to go, I’d rather go with the girl,” General Bacchus said.

  “See,” Pandora said.

  “Pipe down the lot of you!” a familiar, high-pitched voice shouted. I’d wondered what had happened to Jitterbug. Now here he was approaching, a towel around his waist and a gold medallion on a thick chain around his neck. He looked like a diminutive, red-skinned sumo wrestler.

  “Dis and Jupiter,” Cicero said. “A centaur. This really has been a most extraordinary day.”

  “Jit?” Pandora said, “Jit, is that you?”

  “Yeah, its me you thieving sea snake. And I’m wise to your moves so you can drop the baby talk. Bank’s closed as they say in Chicago.”

  “This portents badly on our plans,” Cato said. “The gods appear to embroiled us in some comedic farce.”

  Jitterbug ignored him. “What we’ve got here,” he said, “is a standoff. Hades versus Underworld verses the bitch Pandora Jain. Unfortunately for you two, I’m holding the trump card.”

  “I don’t see any trump card,” Onslow said.

  “He’ll be here in a minute,” Jitterbug said.

  It fell strangely silent in the sauna, so quiet that I could hear the dripping of water and the occasional clatter of metal on stone.

  “So, this trump card…” Onslow started.

  “He’ll be here in a minute,” Jitterbug growled, then seemed to lose his patience. “Rats!” he said and stormed off. He stood in the doorway of the sauna, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Commie! Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m here, you insolent troll!” came the reply.

  “Well, what are you doing there? I thought I told you…no left, left, you’ll fall into the water you nincompoop, oh bother. Hang in there folks,” he said and dashed off.

  He returned leading Commodus by the arm. Commie had a sword in one hand and held the other in front of him, testing the space.

  “Right the game’s up, hand over the general,” Jitterbug demanded.

  “This is your trump card?” Onslow said. “A blind man with a sword.”

  “Silence fool!” Commodus commanded. “Or I’ll have you castrated and your fixings fed to the dogs!”

  “Who is this gentleman?” Cato asked.

  Commodus turned in the direction of his voice, his sword slicing dangerously through the air. “Who am I?” he said. “Is that what you’re asking, who am I? Cause I’ll tell you who I am, if that’s what you’re asking?”

  “Well, spit it out then man,” Cato said. “Who on earth are you?”

  “I am Marcus Aurelius Commodus Antoninus Augustus, Pacator Orbis and Dominus Noster. Is that clear enough to you, pleb?”

  “Well, I’ve never heard of you,” Cato said.

  “Never heard of me? Why you wretch! I’ll give you something to remember me by.” He swung his sword at Cato, missed and went clattering to the floor.

  “Right, that’s it. I’m off.” Cicero said. “I didn’t come here to be skewered.”

  “Can we count of your support tomorrow!” Brutus called after him.

  “I’ll be at my villa!” Cicero shouted back.

  Meanwhile Jitterbug and Onslow had gotten into a tug-a-war, with General Bacchus as the rope. Pandora got involved on Jitterbug’s side, wrapping her arms around his waist and helping him pull.

  “Let go
of me you wretched woman!” Jitterbug yelled, as he lost his grip on Bacchus and went crashing to the floor. He and Pandora got into a wrestling match there and Onslow seized his chance and made for the door with the general.

  “Not so fast, Onslow,” I said and tackled him.

  “Hands of Black, I saw him first.”

  “Maybe so, but I have dibs!”

  “Plot against your emperor, would you?” Commodus said. “By the gods I’ll have you ravaged by beasts in the arena you ill-formed, prolls!”

  Down at floor level, I had the advantage on Onslow, but he flipped me over and rolled on top of me. From my position now, I could see that Commodus was preaching to an empty gallery. The senators had fled the building. And the general was gone, too.

  XXV

  “Well, this is a fine mess!” Jitterbug said. “See what you’ve done? Why can’t you Underworld Soul Chasers just go after your own souls and leave ours alone?”

  “Come on, Pavarotti,” Onslow said. “Everyone knows a soul on the run is fair game.”

  “Pavarotti?” I said.

  “Oh yeah,” Onslow said. “Jitterbug didn’t tell you his surname was Pavarotti. Just one of his deep, dark secrets.”

  “Jitterbug Pavarotti,” I said, “that’s actually quite amusing.”

  “You think?” Jitterbug said, “Let’s see how amusing it is extracting my impish hoof from you ass.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Pandora said, sidling up the Jitterbug.

  “Back off bitch,” the imp said. “The last train to Skankville’s already left the station.”

  “Well, I guess, I’ll head off,” Onslow said. “No point sticking around. Tomorrow’s the Ides, and Caesar gets filleted in the senate after which all hell’s going to break loose. We’ll never find Bacchus in that mess, even if he is still around, which is doubtful. My boss is going to chew my ass over this, so I might as well face the music. It’s been swell fellers.”

  “I’ll be going too,” Pandora said. “I’ve got another gig around here with a runaway Etruscan chieftain. It’s been a pleasure meeting you Johnny Black. Perhaps we’ll meet again, someday. Jit…”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jitterbug said, “Don’t stay in touch.”

  After Pandora and Onslow had left we made our way through the Aventine towards the Navalis Gate. The plan was to get back to the Tiber, find the portal and head back to hell. It was pointless continuing our search for Bacchus. The Ides of March was just over twelve hours away and Bacchus could be literally anywhere. Outside of a miracle there was no way were ever going to find him.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Pandora?” I asked Jitterbug.

  “Don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

  “Because I could sense a lot of tension between the two of you back there.”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What, were you two an item? I find that hard to…”

  “An item? I’d rather couple with the ugliest she-troll in Tiberia. Actually, I have coupled with the ugliest she-troll in Tiberia, but you get my meaning.”

  “What did she do to you that was so terrible?” I asked. “What?”

  “You want to know.”

  “Yeah, I want to know.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, just for telling you.” Jitterbug fell silent, as though steeling himself for the terrible revelation to come.

  “What did she do that was so terrible?” I persisted.

  “She stole my bobbit!” Jitterbug wailed suddenly.

  “Your bobbit? What in hell’s name is a bobbit?”

  “It’s a hat,” Jitterbug said. We had now left the Aventine and were crossing open ground towards the Navalis Gate.

  “Greetings, fishmonger,” the sentry sniggered as we passed through. “Any revelations from the gods today?”

  “Yeah,” Jitterbug grumbled, “You’ll get the clap from a Carthaginian whore within the next week and your penis will rot off before years end.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said to Jitterbug after we’d passed through the gate. “You blew off the most beautiful woman in the known universes over a hat?”

  “Not just a hat,” Jitterbug said. “A bobbit.”

  “What’s so special about a bobbit that it would cause you to walk away from a woman like Pandora Jain?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Jitterbug said. “It’s an impish thing.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s a magic hat,” Jitterbug said.

  “Ah ha.”

  “Told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

  We’d now almost reached the river. To the right I could see the fishermen standing on the riverbank looking downstream. One of them spotted us and started walking quickly in our direction. I just hoped this wasn’t another one of the fishmonger god cult.

  “Fabius Negritis” the man said breathlessly, “If you’re here about the fish, I have bad news.”

  “The fish?”

  “The fish for Wednesday’s market. I’m afraid we won’t be able to supply you, our vessel has just been stolen.”

  “Stolen?”

  “Yes, you can just see her there, sailing off into the distance. Taken from under our noses by General Bacchus and some leather-clad goddess.”

  “That bobbit-stealing bitch!” Jitterbug said.

  XXVI

  “Shouldn’t we be getting after them?” I said.

  “We’d never catch them,” Jitterbug said. “Besides, I have another idea. We can head them off at the pass.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “No time now, we need to get back to hell.”

  “I’m not going,” Commodus said. He’d been remarkably quiet on the walk through the Aventine but now his jaw had a stubborn set to it, and I knew he was going to be trouble.

  “Now, Commie,” Jitterbug said, sounding amazingly conciliatory, “You know we can’t leave you here. We discussed this, you had a nice few days out in Rome and…”

  “A nice few days? You put me in a blind man. I may as well have been in Macedonia.”

  “Exactly!” Jitterbug said, “So what’s the point staying in Rome when you can’t even admire the sites?

  “But I’m a Roman, I should be among my own people. I have no friends in hell.”

  “You’ve got me,” Jitterbug said.

  “Really?” Commodus said. “You’ll be my friend?”

  “Of course,” Jitterbug said. “Buds?”

  “Buds,” Commodus agreed.

  “Right, we’ve got no time to lose,” Jitterbug said. “Let’s go and give Miss Pandora Jain the butt-kicking she deserves.”

  “Wait,” I said.” What about my host?”

  “Where we’re going,” Jitterbug said. “You won’t need a host.” He grabbed Commodus by the hand and pulled him into the Tiber. I dived after them and instantly felt myself drifting away from the body of Fabius Negritis. It had been an interesting couple of days. Not only had I got to meet some of the greatest Romans in history, but I’d been worshipped as a god, I’d become Rome’s champion gladiator, and I’d got to spend time with two very beautiful women, and even had them squabbling over me.

  Of course, I hadn’t been able to prevent Caesar’s murder, but that had never been my mission, and anyway, I couldn’t change the course of history anymore than I could restore myself to my former life.

  The highlight of my trip to Rome though, had been meeting Pandora Jain, and, despite what Jitterbug had said about her, I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  The water of the Tiber was silty, with a yellowish tinge that made visibility difficult. I could just about make out Jitterbug diving to the bottom with the bright spot of light that was Commodus, close beside him. I followed them into the portal, diving deep and then feeling that strange reversal where I was falling upwards.

  As I broke the surface of the pool I could hear Jitterbug yelling. “Gave me the slip,” he shouted. “That son of a Caesarian trollip gave me the sli
p!”

  XXVII

  “We’ll get him back,” Dope said. “Just calm down, Jitterbug.”

  “This is calm,” Jitterbug screeched. “You wait till I get my hands on that Roman ninny. I’ll pull out his nose hairs, I’ll use his ears as book-ends. I’ll eat his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

  “The important thing now is to get General Bacchus back,” Dope said, “Then we’ll worry about Commodus. You said Pandora has him, how did she do that exactly, the old maleficium mind trick?”

  “Of course, the old maleficium mind trick, that broad is nothing if not predictable.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What is the malficium mind trick?”

  “Just one of that witch’s favorite stratagems,” Jitterbug said. “She plants a thought in your mind, just a little seed, like for example, ‘I’d like to give my bobbit to Pandora Jain for her birthday’. All she needs is for you to vocalize that thought. The minute you say it out loud, pow, she has you.”

  “I remember now,” I said. “General Bacchus said, ‘If I have to go, I’d prefer to go with the girl’ or words to that effect.”

  “Exactly, the old malficium mind trick in action, a Pandora Jain special.”

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  “Now we head for customs,” Dope said. “Follow me.”

  Dope set off at his usual brisk pace, but even he had trouble keeping up with Jitterbug who dashed ahead, muttering under his breath. The passages as always were a complex and twisted labyrinth that seemed to be carved directly from the rock.

  I tried to keep pace with Dope while simultaneously cross-questioning him as to why exactly we were heading for customs. Up to that point, I’d had no idea there was even a customs department in hell.

  “Pandora’s a private contractor,” Dope explained, “an escapee from Purgatory by all accounts, which means she can’t use any of the portals. She’ll have to bring Bacchus in the traditional way - across the Styx.”

  “The Styx?” I said. Now I was even more confused.

  “Yes, the river that connects the living world to the underworld, don’t you remember? You must have crossed it to get here.”