Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five. Marines.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five. Marines.

Eric Waters and Andy O'Neal pulled up to the address their old squad member had texted them. It was in a nicer neighborhood than Eric thought Hanson could afford on a Detective's salary.

"This is it," Andy confirmed, looking up from his phone.

They got out of the sedan, Andy hauling himself into his wheelchair. They started up the driveway when Eric paused. "Isn't that Jaun's van?"

"Sure looks like it," Andy wheeled around the corner and called back, "yep, and the clowns left the ramp down."

"Guess we're getting the gang back together," Andy started back up the driveway, only to be greeted by the familiar face of Mike Hanson.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them, "it's good to see both of you."Follow current novels on novelb((in).(com)

"You too," Eric offered a one-armed hug while Andy settled for a handshake.

"So what's goin..." Eric trailed off. Standing next to the garage were Juan and Steve. Standing. On what looked to be their own legs.

Andy followed his gaze, his eyes widening.

"Juan?" Eric asked, moving forward to stand in front of his friends.

"Yeah, brother, it's me, and yeah, I got my legs back," Juan confirmed, reaching out to pull him into a hug.

Steve joined the hug, whispering in his ear, "I got my dick back too."

"Ahh, I don't wanna hear that," Eric pulled back automatically as Steve grinned.

Andy looked up at Juan and Steve. "How?" he demanded.

Eric shuffled back a step. Despite Steve bitching about his dick, Andy had it the worst. He might have had legs, but they didn't work, and he was the one with a colostomy bag.

"I'd like to introduce you to our new best friend," Steve joked before turning towards the house and shouting, "Bob, we got two more for ya!"

A tall, handsome man walked out of the house, casting a dirty look in Steve's direction. "If you could not shout at the top of your lungs, that would be great," he grumbled, "we're trying to keep this low key."

Bob smiled awkwardly down at Andy. "I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder for one hundred seconds, and you aren't going to hurt me for it, ok?"

Eric saw Mike wince.

"Let him do his thing," Steve urged, while Juan settled for nodding his encouragement.

"Alright," Andy said cautiously, "but you should know I don't swing that way."

Bob laid his hand on Andy's shoulder then closed his eyes.

"So," Eric said, looking at Juan. "This is new."

"Only had them back for about an hour, maybe a little less," Juan chuckled, "it already feels like that fucking chair was just a bad dream."

"Amen," Steve said fervently, "I'm so getting laid tonight."

The group turned as they heard a truck pull in the driveway behind Juan's van.

Eric shook his head as what looked like another male model climbed out of the driver's seat, another older man sliding out of the passengers. "Friend's of yours?" Eric asked.

"Not mine," Mike replied, "but to be fair, I just stumbled into this, and Bob said more people would be showing up."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the handsome man smiled, his perfect teeth flashing white, a contrast against his gloriously tanned Mediterranean complexion. "And who might you strapping young men be?"

"Detective Mike Hanson," Mike replied, extending a hand towards the younger man.

"A pleasure, Detective, assuming you aren't here on business, of course, I'm Jack, and this," he gestured to the older man next to him, "is my friend Raul."

"Judging from the unfortunate state those two have found themselves in, I'm supposing you're having Bob work his magic?" Jack asked.

"We are," Mike replied.

"Fantastic," Jack flashed his smile again, "I've seen him cure cancer, but this is the first time I'll have seen him regrow limbs, and it ought to ease Raul's mind."

Eric hadn't noticed, but Raul's right hand was badly deformed. He chastised himself for his lack of situational awareness, but there was a lot going on.

Andy gasped, and Bob stepped away. Andy looked down incredulously. "My legs," he muttered, "I can... I can feel them!" He stood up shakily, then crumpled forward with a groan, reaching down under his shirt and ripping his colostomy bag away.

Eric did his best to hide the grimace that came along with the smell generated by the spilled bag of waste.

"Oh, fuck, that feels weird," he grunted, resting his hands on his knees. A moment later, he straightened, carefully, as if expecting it to be painful.

He took a step forward, and then another. He turned, almost losing his balance before he pulled a very surprised-looking Bob into a hug.

"Seen Eddi tonight?" Bob asked tiredly.

"No," Theo shook his head, "I think they've hired a cook and some kitchen staff up at that tower of theirs; I haven't seen any of them for a couple of days."

"They finished their tower?" Bob tried to remember where Eddi had said they were building it.

"They did," Theo confirmed, "it's due East of Holmstead, sitting pretty as can be on a hill."

"Thanks," Bob sighed, "I'll try and track them down tomorrow morning."

"Probably a good idea," Theo called over his shoulder as he turned to leave, "you look worn out."

Bob slowly chewed his way through his meal. Talima had already cleaned up the kitchen by the time he'd gotten the Marines situated, and he hadn't wanted to cook.

'Trebor,' Bob mentally projected, 'can you remind me tomorrow that I need to figure out a path for the Marines if they're going to insist on using their rifles. Also, can you remind me to ask you if their rifles are even going to work?'

'Of course,' Trebor replied.

Bob finished his meal and picked up Monroe. He was going to sleep in his own bed tonight.

Bailli knocked on his door just before sunrise, with Huron in tow.

Normally, Bob would have been happy to see a friend. Huron didn't quite fall into that category, though.

"Morning," Bob gestured for them to come in as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes on his way to the kitchen.

He pulled out a bowl of fresh diced fish from the stasis box and sat it on the floor next to Monroe's water fountain. Seconds later, the feline of mass consumption darted into the room and attacked his breakfast.

"Yes," Bob mumbled as he summoned a glass and poured it full of ice-cold water, "clearly, I'm starving you."

He turned to his guests. "Bailli, Huron," he drained half the glass, "what can I do for you?"

"I've gotten everything I need to consecrate the site for the Temple and build the Gateway," Huron smiled warmly, "I thought you might like to observe."

Bob perked up a bit. It would be interesting to watch someone work that kind of ritual magic. "I figured you'd want to," Bailli added smugly.

"You're absolutely right," Bob admitted, finishing his glass and dismissing it. "I'll meet you there; I just have to dash through the shower."

Bailli opened a portal, and Huron stepped through. She followed him, waving to Bob.

"Alright," Bob looked down at Monroe, "I'll shower, you eat, then we'll go."

Monroe finished eating before Bob completed his morning ablutions, and he quickly went flew through a series of portals to get back to Glacier Valley.

As he flew down to where Bailli and Huron were standing, he caught sight of the Marines running along the edge of the glacier. He hadn't realized they'd brought fatigues, but he should have expected it. He knew he should probably ask about joining them. His hiking regiment had been curtailed as every hour was booked.

Shaking his head, he landed softly.

"Is this an acceptable location?" Huron asked, gesturing to the ground, "I expect the Temple will be two hundred feet by two hundred feet."

Bob looked around. It was a couple of hundred feet away from the Adventurers Guild, closer to the glacier.

"Sure," he agreed, "it won't interfere with the mana being pulled to the larger projects."

Huron nodded, then reached into his robes and pulled out what appeared to be a spool of golden wire.

He staked it down at what would become one of the corners and then carefully laid out the square shape of the proposed building. Bob watched with interest as the High Priest then laid out a seven-pointed sun.

"You may want to dismiss your mana sight if you're using it," Huron called out from the center of the sun.

Bob dropped the persistent effect he'd had up.

"The ritual needs to be conducted just as the first rays of dawn strike the circle," Huron shouted, gesturing towards the mountains to the east, where the sky was brightened by light shades of violet, pink, and orange as the sun worked to crest the summits.

Bob kept his eye on Huron, and seconds later, as the first rays of the sun reached out over the mountains, he felt an immense pressure settle over the area.

He couldn't hear what Huron was chanting, but he knew that this wasn't the sort of ritual magic he had used. He could feel an overwhelming presence blanketing the area. He couldn't describe the feeling; he didn't have the words. The best he could do was that it felt like the sun had also risen from where Huron stood.

The presence persisted for only a moment, and then it was gone. The bare ground Huron had marked out was now clear, replaced by a slab of white marble etched with gold.

Huron strode from the center of the slab, smiling broadly. "Never doubt that Vi'Radia lights your path," he proclaimed, "white marble is a rare gift and a sign that Vi'Radia finds your undertaking to be worthy."

"That was," Bob struggled for the words, "impressive, awe-inspiring maybe?"

"This was your first time seeing a God invoked?" Huron asked.

"I think so," Bob replied, "I've never experienced anything like that."

Huron clasped him on the shoulder happily, "Well, I'm pleased Vi'Radia could be your first."