Delia ruffled her gelding’s black wiry mane. The horse twitched its ears in response. “What I want to know is who put her up to this? Do you think she knew what the armband was? What it could do?”
“No, I don’t.” Jake rubbed his chin and muttered, “My instincts tell me Kapaneus was behind this.”
“He’s the one with the red aura. And my intuition is screaming that he’s a Centaurian.”
“So the real question is can he read minds? Does he know what this bracelet is? Is he aware that Tullia’s dead? If he put her up to it, that means he’ll likely try something else to get an armband away from one of us.”
“Well,” Delia said, swinging her horse under the archway of Servilia’s home, “that isn’t going to happen. We know enough to watch him.” She gave Jake a pointed look. “And you can bet he’s going after you again.”
Smarting, Jake dismounted and gave his horse to the waiting slave. When Delia joined him, they walked toward the house. “You think he’ll send another woman to drug me?”
“Kapaneus is clever,” she answered. “He’ll think of some way to get to you, not to me.”
“Why do you say that?” Jake halted at the entrance to the house, not wanting their conversation to be overheard.
Delia laughed. “Centaurian men see women as weaklings. Kapaneus envisions you as the leader. He’s wrong, but that’s how it is.”
“Makes sense,” Jake admitted. Looking around, he saw a number of slaves hurrying about, arms filled with laundry. “Tonight,” he whispered, “we go to the temple, take the fragment and then get the hell out of here.”
“Right. We have to make sure Kapaneus isn’t around, or that he doesn’t suspect what we’re going to do.” Delia wasn’t sure the alien wouldn’t guess their next strategy.
Feeling the skin on the back of her neck crawl, she rubbed it. That was a bad sign.
Chapter 17
T orbar was furious that Marcus Brutus had delayed him. The general had demanded that a clay tablet be written and then sent by messenger to Servilia, his mother. Impatient and angry over the disruption to his plan, Torbar had practically run back to the place where Tullia had been struck and killed.
Halting, he stood across the street from the bakery. Mentally scanning the inhabitants of the shop as the delicious smell of baking bread wafted toward him, Torbar managed a hit. The owner had witnessed the accident, and the scene replayed for him. Distracted by a cry of a woman across the way, Tullia had stepped out in front of the chariots, much to her misfortune.
Torbar held the energetic link with the baker. He saw through the man’s memory that a gang of children had sprung on her corpse moments after she was struck. The young ruffians reminded him of flies descending upon a carcass. The leader was a yellow-haired youth who was pathetically thin, his face set in a perpetual sneer. Torbar saw him rummage quickly, like the good thief he was, through Tullia’s bloodied clothing. And when he pulled the silver armband out of her pouch, Torbar cursed again. They ran off into a nearby alley, vanishing as promptly as they’d appeared.
Standing with his back against the wall of the butcher’s shop, Torbar closed his eyes. Ruthlessly, he sent out a huge mental scan about a thousand feet in radius around him. He was hunting for the yellow-haired thief who had the bracelet. Find the boy and he’d find the armband.
Nothing. Torbar opened his eyes and scowled. That pack of feral children lived on whatever they could scrounge in order to stay alive. Feeling disgusted, he was glad Centaurian society no longer had such problems. Thousands of years earlier, any beggar or thief who used to live in his star system was captured and put to death. Now the society hummed along like it should. There was no poverty, no starvation. Everyone was well fed, told what career path they could follow if they were males. Females with prime DNA remained as broodmares to perpetuate Navigator genes, so their race would continue to prosper.
A Navigator could scan and blast anything with his mental powers. Well, just about anything. The problem here on Earth was that humanoid females could be immune to his powerful mental capabilities if their own genes were strong and dominant. If they weren’t, the recessive Navigator gene in a woman might give her a strong intuition, perhaps one metaphysical skill, but little else. Torbar had been assigned to many off-world missions, but Earth posed new and unusual challenges for him. However, since the males on Earth did not possess the gene, it should be easy to locate this sniveling yellow-haired thief.
Sending out a larger telepathic scan of the populace, this time two thousand feet in radius, Torbar still did not receive a hit. Not yet…. Again, he enlarged his mental net.
A hit! Instantly, Torbar dug into the thief’s mind. The boy was standing near another bakery, waiting to steal a loaf of bread from an old woman who was hobbling toward the door with the help of a cane.
Running down the street, Torbar maintained an energy hook in the thief’s mind, so he could track him without a problem. Dodging pedestrians, he ran effortlessly into an alley. All Centaurians were in peak physical condition, and no matter what body they inhabited while on assignment, they could infuse that physical shell with the power of their race—which was consummate.
The wind tore through his hair as he ran with long, even strides for several blocks. Finally, Torbar slowed. He rounded a corner onto a very busy, wide street. Ahead, he could see the colorful red-and-gray-brick wall that surrounded the city of Rome. There was a large wooden gate in the barrier where at least ten Roman soldiers, clad in scarlet tunics and leather armor, stood on duty—Portal Lavernalis, a mental scan told Torbar. A small bakery shop sat nearby.
He didn’t want to snare the attention of the soldiers, whose duty it was to check the identification of everyone entering Rome. The last thing he needed was to have those guards interested in what he was doing.
Maintaining his link to the yellow-haired thief, Torbar spotted the boy standing just outside the open door of the bakery. He saw the old woman, her hair gray and frizzled. Her spine bent with age, she hobbled unsteadily away from the shop with a loaf of fresh warm bread tucked beneath her arm.
Switching to another scan, a telepathic one, he dug deeply into the thief’s memory. Startled, Torbar grunted. He saw the Greek mercenary capture the ruffian and repossess the armband!
Snorting violently, Torbar waited on the street. Releasing his energy tentacles from the thief’s mind, he watched the boy push the old woman down and grab the loaf of bread. The crone fell with a shriek, drawing the attention of the soldiers at the gate.
The thief was fast; Torbar would give him that. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the nearest alley, running as fast as he could.
Ignoring the old female Earthling, Torbar turned and walked rapidly back toward General Brutus’s domus. The armband was again with its owner. Repeatedly clenching his fists, Torbar tasted rage over the turn of events. He intuitively knew the armband was important. As he strode through the streets, the wind biting and tugging at his cloak, Torbar strategized.
Back in the house, he locked the door to Kapaneus’s office. Sitting down in a carved black ebony chair that had been brought from Egypt, he calmed himself. Why not make things easy? He’d been stupid to think it would be simple to finesse the armband from the male Earthling. Why not find out more about it by simply razing the man’s mind?
Laughing at himself and his idiocy, which wasn’t like him, Torbar gathered the necessary energy. Centaurians’ mind beams had their limits, depending upon the genetic capability they were born with. He could usually send his telepathic energy about a mile, and Servilia’s home was closer than that. He would try it. If it didn’t work, he would have to visit Servilia and find those two Greeks.
Even Centaurians had problems with their telepathic energy beams at times. Torbar had been using his continuously, so his own battery had been depleted. It took one turn of the planet he was from, twenty-eight hours, to recharge the energy in his aura to full power once more. While he couldn’t send his telepat
hic energy into someone else’s mind at a distance, he could if he was in close proximity. Knowing that, Torbar wasn’t too hopeful his scan would work. But if it did, it meant he could remain unrecognized. The Earthling would have no clue as to what was happening except for an excruciating headache after Torbar got done rummaging around in his mind.
Sending out his mental hook, Torbar could feel how tenuous the thread of energy had become. Grimacing, he searched, but couldn’t find Philip even though he had visualized him. Nothing. Well, he knew the Greek wasn’t dead, so it meant going to him and then pummeling his mind at close range to find out about the armband.
Opening his eyes, Torbar grinned. At least Tullia had given Philip that medication that would knock out a horse. The Greek’s mind would be easy to access, given that he was still recovering from the powerful drug.
Rubbing his hands together, Torbar realized it was near sunset. He would drop by and see Servilia. First, he would find out if the general had any other message for his mother. Perhaps another clay tablet that he could personally deliver to her? Torbar was sure Brutus probably did; the mother and son were close. And that would provide Torbar the perfect reason to visit. Once there, he’d be close enough to access Philip of Greece once and for all.
“What I’d give for a mocha latte triple shot,” Jake groused to Delia. They sat at the table in her apartment, eating a dinner of olives, cheese and freshly baked ham.
Delia, who sat across from him, gave him a smile. “Sorry, no Starbucks in ancient Rome, Tyler. Serves you right for taking that wine that Tullia or Kapaneus had spiked with something.”
Rubbing his brow, Jake growled unhappily, “I’ve still got a headache. Whenever I’d get one before, I’d just down a triple-shot latte and it would go away.”
Delia’s curly hair framed her smooth, glowing face. Drowning in the warmth of her gold-brown eyes, he sensed she really did feel sorry for him.
Jake popped a tasty olive into his mouth, studying her as he did so.
“Why are you giving me that funny look?” she demanded, cutting a piece of the ham with her knife.
“You aren’t still angry about Tullia are you?”
She snorted and gave him a narrowed look. “What she did to you?” Laughing heartily, Delia said, “That’s rich, Tyler! Men are so predictable! You see a pretty face, swaying hips and nice breasts and you’re lost.”
“Come on, Delia….”
“Stop giving me that ‘poor me’ look. You’re an adult. You made choices. And you decided to take that woman to bed, pure and simple.”
Shrugging, Jake muttered, “I swear I did not. I did not go to bed with Tullia. Or any other woman.” He gave her a flat stare. “I only have eyes for you.”
Her heart galloped momentarily. The olive she was about to eat halted midway to her mouth. There was brutal honesty in Jake’s eyes. Putting the olive down on the wooden plate, she said, “Okay, if that’s true, how do you explain why you were so helplessly drawn to Tullia?”
Shaking his head, Jake said, “I really don’t know. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I felt pushed toward her, Del. Obsessed. What I felt was…well, pure lust. And now that I think about it, it seemed like an outside force was pushing me.” He paused and looked at her. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
Delia snapped her fingers. “Wait! Adonia told me that a Centaurian could make a person do something they didn’t want to. She called it a ‘mind blast.’” Looking at Jake, her jealousy receded. “That scribe was with Tullia. He could have blasted you and made you want her even if you didn’t. And then, she drugged your wine.”
Nostrils flaring, Jake stared at her. “That makes sense, Del. I never felt that way about Tullia when I met her the first or second time. I remember this light exploding in my head. I went from not wanting Tullia to desiring her.”
Nodding, Delia said in a thoughtful tone, “That scribe made you want her with the intent of getting Tullia close enough to drug you and steal your ESC armband. Damn, he is dangerous.”
“I think you’re right,” he muttered, taking a piece of bread and wiping up the ham drippings on his plate. Chewing stoically, he eyed Delia. “Centaurians can manipulate our thoughts and emotions.”
“We came close to having someone press that crystal and show up back at the Flagstaff lab. Can you imagine the chaos that would cause? Not to mention General Ashton and the professor skinning us alive once we got back. If we got back at all.” Delia’s brows fell. “Strategically, our flank was wide open to the aliens. Our only protection is that band.” She pointed at his arm. “We got lucky.”
Grousing under his breath, Jake said, “Yes, we did.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Frowning, she glanced over at Jake. “You expecting anyone?”
“It’s your apartment. Who are you expecting?”
“Yeah, right. I saw a good-looking stud of a Roman soldier, so I asked him to drop by and visit me after his watch was over.”
Grinning sourly, Jake knew Delia had never been the type of woman to bed hop. She was a committed person. He turned toward the door to see who was knocking as Delia called out, “Come in.”
Jake saw Kapaneus step through the opening. The scribe carried a scroll in his hand. This was the man with the red aura.
Sensing his powerful vibrations, Jake quickly shielded himself.
“Kapaneus?” Delia said, her voice wary. “What do you want?”
Torbar saw the instant distrust on the Greeks’ faces. He made an effort to be obsequious, and held up the scroll. “Greetings. I am looking for the lady Servilia. I have a message from her son, the great general, Marcus Brutus. Do you know where she might be?” As he spoke he sent a huge mind blast at them both.
On the way over he’d decided to just knock them out and steal both their armbands. The mind blast was the most powerful of all the skills a Navigator had at his disposal. It was akin to an explosion that would render the recipients unconscious without laying a hand on them.
Torbar saw the energy leap from his mind. And he saw it sail straight and true toward the Greeks. In the next second, he saw a huge flash of red light erupting.
It was the last thing he remembered.
Chapter 18
“W hat the hell just happened?” Jake demanded. He stood in shock as something invisible seemed to strike the scribe. The man collapsed in the doorway, unconscious.
“He attacked us,” Delia said, leaping forward. “And it backfired on him because our walls were up and deflected it—right back to him.” She dragged the scribe inside the apartment and shut the door so no prying eyes could discover what had just happened. “I saw him send a red ball of energy toward us.”
“We deflected it with our auras?” Jake asked, leaning over and rolling the scribe onto his back. Putting his fingers to the man’s scrawny neck, he felt a slow, strong pulse.
Delia removed the headband the scribe always wore, and studied it. “That’s right. He wanted to knock us out, Jake. I don’t know why. That’s your department.” She glanced over at him.
Jake stood scowling down at the scribe. “I can’t read the mind of someone who is unconscious,” he reminded her. “What’s that?”
“This thing he’s wearing sure looks like Professor Carswell’s headband, don’t you think? It’s a lot thinner, but there are two oval crystals on each side, just like the one she has.”
Delia handed it to him to inspect.
“You’re right,” Jake muttered, closely examining the object. The circlet was made of a fine, thin silver metal and was designed so that the crystals would lie flat against the wearer’s skull. The device Professor Carswell wore was much larger and thicker, and yet just as lightweight. “We know that headband she has came from the UFO crash at Roswell.” He handed it back to Delia. “This man has to be an alien. The headband is too similar to ours not to come to that logical conclusion.”
“No disagreement,” Delia muttered. She tucked the headband into
the soft leather pouch she wore on her belt. “He’s not getting it back. I intend to take this to the lab and let the professor examine it.” Glancing around, Delia added, “Jake, we need to get out of here. Kapaneus may have buddies. If he is alien, we’ll never be able to pick his friends out of the crowd unless I constantly maintain surveillance for red auras.”
“I know you can’t be ‘on’ all the time,” Jake said. Delia had only so much energy for use of her psychic skills. As with his, there were limits. “Plus, we have to be quiet and centered in order to see such things, and right now, that isn’t happening.”
Delia grabbed her cloak and swung it over her shoulders. “The scribe will wake up sooner or later.” She grinned briefly. “Serves him right. He got a dose of his own medicine. Sometimes revenge is sweet.”
Jake nodded and put on his own cloak. “I wonder if he has any powers without that headband in place?”
Delia patted the pouch where she’d placed the device. “I know one thing for sure—he’s going to have one hell of a headache when he regains consciousness.”
Jake dragged the scribe across the room and laid him on the couch. After covering him with a blanket, he turned to Delia. “Anyone who comes in will think he’s asleep and leave him alone. That will buy us time to get to the temple and find the fragment.”
“Good plan,” she agreed. Touching the hilt of her sword, which hung in its scabbard at her right side, she met Jake’s narrowed blue eyes. He was efficient and in soldiering mode. “I don’t like having to get that relic in broad daylight. I wish we could wait until dark.”
“We don’t have a choice,” he said. “We know this alien is on to us. Considering his headband looks so similar to the professor’s he may be alerted to what we’re doing here.”
Giving Kapaneus an angry look, Delia said, “We don’t have time to sit here and wait until he wakes up. Besides, if he knows who we are, he’s going to spread the alarm. As a scribe to the general, he’ll send Roman soldiers after us as soon as he wakes up.” Rubbing her brow, she growled, “No, we have to get out of here now.”
Time Raiders: The Seeker Page 18