The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book (6 page)

“What?” Galen was shocked. “Rob, how could you? The bond…”

“Broke,” he finished flatly.

“It what?”

“Broke. You healed Greg, stood up, and you were gone. Just like that. I thought you’d died and forgotten to fall.”

“Rob, are you sure?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the Hunt?” Rob countered.

“The Hunt?” Galen repeated.

“Yeah, the Hunt. Dad told me what happened seven years ago.”

“They’re just nightmares.”

“Just nightmares? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Rob said, his voice quiet, but it felt like a shout.

“I thought they were!”

“You know better, Galen.”

“I know. I thought when you came back—after the Ritual of Swords—it would be okay,” Galen said, the anger draining out of him. “I thought when the dreams started—I don’t know what I thought, Rob.”

“You could have told me.”

“You could have told me,” Galen said with sudden certainty. “You’ve known.”

“I knew you were having nightmares, I wasn’t sure of the content until last night when Dad told me what happened.” Rob smiled sheepishly. “I did try to find out. I’ve seen something around you, mostly shifting mists, and sometimes I’ve been sure I’ve heard bells, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“But you suspected?”

“That you were dreaming of the Hunt? Not exactly.”

“Rob?” Galen growled.

“It would’ve been nice to know,” Rob said, looking towards the edge of the garden. “I have.”

“You have what?” Galen paused. “Dreamed of the Hunt?”

“Yeah, I told you the reason I went to Billy was my Sight was out of control? One of the things I saw, well, it must have been the Hunt. It started about seven years ago, I almost mentioned it when I called Uncle Bobby once or twice, but I still thought it was all just legend, you know? I should’ve known better.”

“I’m sorry,” Galen said, the weight of the years they were apart pressing on him. “Gods, Rob, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rob looked up at him. “Not your fault, Galen.”

“But it is, I stayed dead.”

“You had a reason.” Rob smiled. “It wasn’t the right reason, but you thought you were doing right. I should have realized years ago that you were alive, that you were blocking me. Ten years, Galen and I never came up here? And five after Dad and Bobby died and it never occurred to me to come? I should have known you were behind it.”

“See? My fault.”

“No fault and no sorrys. It’s actually one of the reasons I started learning the Sagas in earnest, you know. I’d always loved them, loved when we were working on them together, but after I went back to my family when I was thirteen, they didn’t encourage it anymore. They thought it was for the best. I went along with it for awhile, I…” A fleeting look of grief crossed Rob’s face.

“When I was fifteen,” Rob continued, “I found this book in this store and I used to spend a lot of time there. It was a cool store and she had the most amazing history, literature and paranormal section, crazy rare books, ones that only exist in one or two volumes. She gave me a job, I would catalog the stuff she got in and she paid me in books. I still talk to her, it’s where I got that copy of Culpepper for you last year. Anyway, I was sorting through a box she’d picked up at an estate sale and there was a copy of the
Saga of the Winter King
. When I started reading it, I had no idea it was a Keepers’ tale, it was just this cool book. When I finished it, I started reading everything I could get my hands on, every saga, song and poem, a lot of them I remembered from training with you, Dad and Bobby; others were more obscure. I think it was because we were apart that I dove into the Sagas like that. It was a way to keep my identity, to be close to what I was supposed to have been.”

“What you were supposed have been.” Galen stopped. “Rob, I’m sorr…”

“I told you, I’ve told you a thousand times, it’s okay and it needed to happen.” Rob frowned. “When I started dreaming about the Hunt, I recognized it from the Sagas. For awhile I thought I might be destined to ride with them.”

“Because of me. I denied you the life you should have had. Your place as
Custodes Noctis
.”

“Galen,” Rob said, standing and putting his hands Galen’s shoulders, “there is no blame here.”

“But…”

“I realized that they wouldn’t take me, because I hadn’t actively denied my place.”

“I did.”

“Yes, and that’s why you should’ve told me.” Worry and concern shivered through their connection, amplified by the physical contact.

“I thought they were just nightmares,” Galen said.

“No, you didn’t. You knew they were calling you, it’s been getting stronger for the last couple of months.”

“No,” Galen lied.

“Yes, it has, Galen, I know. I sensed the edge of your dreams, and the mists around you have been getting clearer.”

“Are my nightmares why you aren’t sleeping?”

“Yes and no.”

“Rob?”

“You honestly don’t know?” Rob asked, searching his eyes. “No, you don’t do you, is the call that strong already?” he said more to himself than Galen.

“What are you talking about?” When his brother didn’t answer immediately, Galen reached out through their connection, trying to figure out what the mixed emotions flowing off Rob meant. As he did so, he realized that there was something muting what he was sensing from his brother, after a moment of searching himself he realized what it was.

“It’s you,” Rob said, finishing his thought. “Since the dreams started, Galen, you’ve slowly been sliding away. The bond isn’t gone, but it’s like I am sensing it through a screen or something. And it’s been getting worse, much worse. I didn’t realize that’s what it was until this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, when you took the sleeping pill, it closed off the part of you that hears the Hunt. The bond was back full force. It’s why I slept.”

“And why you killed the coffee table this morning?” Galen asked.

“Yeah, I woke up and you were there, but it was muted again. I got this flash of what that could mean—what was happening—I was a little overexcited and jumped up.” Rob chuckled. “It hated me anyway.”

“The table?”

“Yeah.”

“Flash said it hated him, too.”

“It hated everyone, Galen, and it was ugly. I think its drawn everyone’s blood but yours.”

“That’s because I liked it.” Galen grinned, then sobered. “Is that why you have those pills?”

“The coffee table? No, the table didn’t prevent me sleeping.”

“Rob.”

“I knew I’d have to sleep eventually. I’ve been through every meditation technique I know. I’ve tried everything, even that sleep blend you make—which tastes like rotting food, by the way.”

“That’s the valerian,” Galen said absently. “How long?”

“With no sleep at all? Not all that long, but I’ve only managed a couple of hours for the last couple of months. So, I asked Mike for something. He was very happy to write the prescription, something about ‘people asking for help when they need it’ and a little grumbling under his breath.”

“He’s still mad about last year, when you wouldn’t let him take me in.”

“Probably,” Rob sighed. “I was planning on taking them, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I’ll take one tonight, too, you need your sleep, Brat.” Galen cuffed his brother on the arm.

“Yeah.”

“We need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Now that I know it’s the Hunt,” Rob paused to frown at him, “I have an idea of where to start.”

“You do?”

“The
Saga of the Winter King,
in fact. There’s a scholar who’s hinted he knows more about the Hunt.”

“That’s a scholars MO, Rob, I remember when I was working on my Ph.D., there was this ‘specialist’ in Anglo-Norman medicine who claimed…”

“Yeah, but you know that feeling you get from a work sometimes? That there
is
more than the writer’s saying? That they know more?”

“Yes.”

“This is like that, and he’s local. I was planning on calling him today.”

“And he is?”

“Father Stephen Blake, he’s at the Abby outside of town.”

“Galen! Need help in here!” Flash shouted out the door.

“Coming!” Galen called.

“You go help,” Rob said with a smile.

“Rob?”

“I’ll call Father Blake and see if we can set up an appointment for tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Galen!” Flash shouted again.

“Go,” Rob said, laughing.

“I hope he hasn’t destroyed the store.” Galen chuckled as he ran towards the door, glad they’d finally had a chance to talk about what was going on. He still didn’t know what it meant, but it was a start.

It started raining, the soft drizzle soaking into his hair. Unlike a lot of people, Rob liked the rain, there was something about it that was comforting—maybe it was because with the Sight he saw it differently, the drops more like shining snowflakes than simple droplets of water. He would have to go in and call Father Blake in a moment, but he stayed in the garden, enjoying the quiet. The curtain of protection between the garden and everything else was calming, the muted colors relaxing as long as he didn’t look towards the vortex of magic Galen had created on the north side of the garden.

A movement to his left made him look across towards the parking area in back of the store. Something was there, a shadow-shape slipped along the building, pausing at the door into the shop. Rob moved to the very edge of the garden without stepping out, knowing the magic there would keep the thing from seeing him. The problem was it also worked against him, he could see outside the boundaries, but not clearly. From what he could tell, it looked like one of the things they’d been hunting the night before. He could just make out the face, the gaping maw, pulling light into itself.

he called.

Rob said.

 

Rob shifted, moving along the edge of the garden to the swirling mass of magic on the other side. He stepped through the curtain of protection for a moment and the thing saw him. It turned and raced towards him as he dove into the vortex, the power surrounding him like a warm, buzzing liquid. The shadow slammed into the boundary and blasted apart, the dark bits of it spreading over the bubble of colors surrounding Rob before fizzling out of existence.

He picked himself up and walked back to the store, stopping to look at the place where the thing had been waiting. There was a shadow there, a reflection of the thing, of its darkness. Almost without thinking, Rob reached out to the middle of the spot, where the darkness still lingered, and put his hand against the wall, focusing on it. It was hard to see something through a reflection, but he’d learned a few tricks over the years. At first there was nothing but a pulsing, dirty black, then it shifted. He could make out a plain, covered with grass, and dark things moving there, racing through the
 
landscape, black shadows in the night.

He took a breath, forcing the Sight along, unconsciously reaching out through the bond to draw on his brother’s power. The vision deepened, the landscape immense in front of him. In the distance he could see the ghostly shape of stones, and he could smell something, the scent heavy on the air. Dizziness washed over him, but he waited a moment longer, hoping to see more—and just at the very edge of his sight, like something moving at the far reaches of the horizon, he thought he glimpsed a horse and rider. He stumbled forward as the vision faded.

“Rob?” Galen said, his hand on Rob’s back. Warmth and light moved out from the touch, burning away the darkness of the vision.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Felt the tug.” Galen shrugged. “I thought I should come out and make sure you could get out of whatever you were doing. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just trying to figure out what those things are.”

“Those things?” Galen asked as they walked into the shop.

“Whatever they were in the park—what was here last night.”

“What was here last night?” Flash asked. He had a dazed look on his face and Rob could see a tinge of darkness, like a bruise, around him.

“What happened?”

“His customer knocked him over in its hurry to leave the store,” Galen said.

“And it did that?”

“Did what?” Flash asked, looking from Galen to Rob.

“Yeah,” Galen answered.

“Did what? What did he do?” Flash sounded frantic.

“You have a bruise,” Rob said simply.

“I do?” Flash looked over his shoulder, craning his neck to see his back. “Where?”

“Not the kind you can see,” Galen said with a grin.

“Is it bad? Can you fix it?”

“It’s fading fast, Flash,” Rob said.

“Okay, if it’s not gone in an hour, I expect you to zap me,” Flash said, looking at Galen.

“I will.” Galen said.

“What was in the shop, Galen?” Rob asked impatiently.

“It looked human, whatever it was, but I brushed against it while it was looking through the amulets.”

“The amulets again?” Rob asked.

“Yeah.”

“Again? Uh, guys? What was here last night?” Flash said, scowling.

“One of the creatures from the park. I’m going to make that call, and look something up, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Sure, Brat, we have it covered.” Galen shot him a look of concern.

“I’m fine.” Rob smiled and headed upstairs. When he got into the apartment, he started a pot of coffee then pulled out the number he’d found for the priest. The Abby was just south of town, the priests and brothers supported by a small, exclusive private school.

“St. Dunstan’s School,” a male voice answered on the third ring.

“I’d like to speak to Father Stephen Blake,” Rob said.

“I’ll transfer you, one moment, please.”

“Thanks.” He walked to the bookshelf and pulled several volumes down, then got himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table, flipping through a book while he waited.

“Yes?” a deep baritone answered several minutes of classical music later.

“Father Blake?”

“Yes?”

“My name is…”

“Thomas!” the man man shouted, the voice slightly muffled as if he’d put his hand over the mouthpiece. “How many times have I told you not to creep around like that! Either come in or get out, stop that! Sorry about that, he knows I don’t like all the creeping around.”

“Um, that’s okay,” Rob said, a little taken aback.

“What can I do for you?” There was an undercurrent of wry amusement in the deep voice.

“I’m working on my dissertation, and I read
Mercury of the Philosopher
and had a few questions.”

“My god, you read it? The whole thing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are ambitious, aren’t you?” the priest said with a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve read it all at once since I wrote the thing, I thought the only one who had was my editor.”

“I had a few questions about Petronius?”

“Ah yes, the alchemist who called himself after Nero’s arbiter of taste and elegance. Bloodthirsty bastard.”

“Petronius?”

“Nero.”

“Oh.” Rob sighed, this was proving to be harder than he thought it would be, so he decided to try something else. “Could I make an appointment to talk with you about Petronius? I also read your treatise on the lost Sagas of…”

“Good god! Do you sleep?”

“Not lately,” Rob said wryly. “Father Blake, would it be possible to…”

“Where are you?”

“Tacoma, I could be at the Abby this evening.”

“No, no, I have an errand in town tonight, perhaps we could meet someplace there? You could buy me dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rob blinked. “There’s an Indian place on Sixth Avenue.”

“Sixth Avenue? That’s perfect, I’ll meet you there at six.”

“Thank you,” Rob said, breaking the connection with a shake of his head. He’d never had a chance to tell the priest his name, he called right back, but the operator said Blake was in class and unavailable. Rob tucked his cell phone back in his pocket, then turned to the books in front of him.

Sometimes he wished he could approach research the way his brother did. Galen had a contented calm when he was working, the sense of joy he got from the books and research flowing around him in bright colors. Galen was also, in some ways, a more efficient researcher. He didn’t get caught up in what he was doing, he rarely lost himself—well, that wasn’t quite true. Galen often lost himself in his books, he just didn’t have that frantic sense of purpose that characterized Rob’s research, or that obsession to remember ever tiny piece of what he’d read.

It was the years apart that caused it, Rob wasn’t quite sure how to explain it to his brother. There were two parts to it for him. The first was simple, it sounded pathetic when he thought about it, but it was true nonetheless. Somewhere along the way he’d become convinced of the idea that if he had just known the Sagas better he would have spotted the mistranslation and would have been able to prevent Galen’s death and the long years apart. If he had just known more, they could have served as Keepers together, waiting for the Old One to rise, so they could fulfill the Legacy. The rational part of him knew that wasn’t true, knew that things had to unfold the way they had, but irrational part didn’t always agree.

The other reason was simple as well.
Custodes Noctis
valued learning, and at one time had been among the few educated people in Europe. Knowledge was power and Keepers wielded a great deal of power. Rob had known with Galen gone he wouldn’t be able to serve as a full Keeper, but he hoped he could become a vassal. The word had come to mean slave, but when the
Custodes Noctis
had been formed it was the designation given to all those pledged to serve the Keepers. Rob had planned to step into the role of Vassal Scholar—an adviser to the
Custodes Noctis,
the person they turned to when they needed answers. It had been centuries since anyone had served in that role, but it was part of the Tradition and Rob clung to those Traditions as he grew older. All of them, from scholarship and physical training, to the tattoo on his left arm. At one time, the design was something that set the
Custodes Noctis
apart from the rest of the population. Tradition dictated the the design was started on their thirteenth birthday, then added to as a Keeper met each step along the path of his life.

He sighed, his need to know hadn’t changed since coming home. In fact, if anything, it was getting worse, trying to stay one step ahead of whatever was coming at them. It was bridging on obsession—his brother had pointed that out more than once, but Rob tended to approach everything that way, research, sword practice, even organizing the store. He was comfortable enough with himself to know that was just a part of who he was.