The Legacy: A Custodes Noctis Book Page 3

  Rob pulled the cotton aside and gave a low whistle. He pulled the small knife out of the box and smiled as he slid the blade out of the scabbard.

  “Brother to brother,” Galen said with a gentle smile. “Happy birthday. What?” Rob was grinning at him. His brother handed him a small package, carefully wrapped in the Sunday comics. “What’s this?” Galen asked.

  “I’ve been doing my homework,” Rob said, a little shyly. “Brother to brother,” he solemnly repeated the formal phrase.

  Galen smiled a little quizzically. He opened the package, a small silver-hilted knife rested on the bright paper. A Celtic knot wound its way down the hilt and scabbard. It was almost identical to the one he’d given Rob. He was silent for a moment as he held the gift. “You have done your homework, the traditional gift for when we start training together.”

  “Do you like it?” Rob asked quietly. Galen looked up, questioning eyes met his, unsure. “I saved up for a long time to get it.”

  “It’s perfect.” He smiled at Rob.

  “Oh, good,” Rob said with an exaggerated sigh.

  “We’re a good team already, Rob.”

  “Really?” Rob beamed at him. “And I’ve been reading the sagas. I know the ones about the First Emrys and the Legacy by heart now, Galen.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure I do! In modern English, Latin and Anglo-Saxon. I was planning to start on the Old Norse and Irish, but I didn’t have time. I didn’t know if I’d get quizzed by Dad and Uncle Bobby on that. The sagas pretty important to the family.”

  “More than just pretty important.”

  “Will they ask me about the Anglo-Saxon?” Rob said eagerly. “Will I get extra points?”

  “I’m not sure. They never asked me.”

  “Ah, shit.” Rob looked over at him with a quirked eyebrow.

  Galen laughed at that. “Ready to eat, Brat? And you might want to watch your language around Dad.” He tucked the two knives carefully into the glove box.

  “Yeah, right. How’s it look?” Rob held out his wrist, the cuff bracelet sparkled in the streetlight. He held it next to Galen’s arm, looking from his bracelet to his brother’s.

  “Looks good.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Rob pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt back down. The day had cooled as the sun set.

  They got out and went into the restaurant. It was bright and faux-fifties. Galen shook his head when Rob declared it “Kinda awesome.” They were seated at a booth in the back; a pretty, young waitress came over to take their orders. “What do you want Rob?”

  “Cheeseburger, and can I have a milkshake, Galen? It’d be a nice treat before my birthday,” Rob said with an innocent smile.

  Galen laughed. “Okay, I’ll have a burger and coffee.”

  “Wow, it’s going to be your birthday? We’ll get you that milkshake for free,” the waitress, her name tag said Ashley, said. “How old will you be?”

  “Thirteen, day after tomorrow.”

  “Really? That’s interesting. There’s a full moon that night, too.” The waitress smiled at Rob and Galen felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  “Rob,” Galen said with a frown.

  “Yeah?” Rob pulled his eyes from the waitress, he had been staring at her. He caught Galen’s look and just smiled at Ashley-the-waitress until she left.

  “What is it?” Galen said softly. “What did you see?”

  Rob frowned as he thought about it. Galen watched him. “She had black spots.”

  “What kind? Like illness? Like your grandmother?”

  “No, not like that, like, I don’t know. It felt wrong,” Rob said, carefully choosing his words.

  “You can tell me more, Rob,” Galen chided gently.

  “I’m not sure what it is. She looks wrong somehow.”

  “Okay. I trust you. We should eat up and go on to the next town tonight, Rob. We’ll be that much closer to home, you know?” Galen saw the waitress head into the kitchen. She reappeared with the pot of coffee and Rob’s milkshake a few minutes later.

  All through their meal the sense of something wrong kept growing. Galen could feel his back muscles tensing in response. He watched Rob looking at the waitress, the frown of concentration on his face. Galen wished his brother could tell him more of what he saw, but Rob was still learning to use his Gift. The ability to “see” things as they were, evil, illness, good, health, was the younger brother’s Gift. It was difficult to learn, to use and control, at least according to their uncle.

  Galen watched Ashley go back and forth between the tables. Another waitress, older—maybe in her early thirties—had come on shift as well. She, too, was watching Ashley, and when Ashley was busy with three men sitting at a table at the far end of the restaurant, she headed over with a pot of coffee.

  She bent over towards Galen as she filled his cup. “Get your brother and get out of here. He’s in danger.”

  “What do you mean?” he said quietly.

  “Kids his age disappear around here. Two months ago my…my…” She stopped and looked at him. He could see a tear run down her face. “My daughter—it was her thirteenth birthday and she disappeared. They found her, four days later.”

  “I’m sorry,” Galen knew from the way she said it that her daughter was dead. “Do you know what happened?” he said as softly as possible, smiling at her like he was thanking her for the coffee.

  “She was cut up, mutilated, there were marks drawn on her, symbols of some kind. The police…” She stopped when she saw Ashley heading back across the diner. “Just go.”

  “Thank you.” He looked over at Rob. His brother heard what she said and stopped eating. “Did she have black spots?”

  “No,” his brother said quickly. “Galen?”

  “Time to go.” He stood up and casually tossed a twenty down on the table. They walked slowly out of the restaurant. The parking lot where he had left the car was dark. Galen had purposefully parked under one of the large lights. The jeep was new, a present from his father and uncle, and he had no intention of letting it get stolen on its first road trip.

  “Rob?” he said, keeping his voice nearly soundless. His brother closed the gap between them. “When we get to the car, get in and lock your door. Okay? No matter what happens.”

  “What?” Rob sounded a little scared.

  “Just do as I say, it will be okay, trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you, Galen. Duh.”

  Galen fished in his pocket and pulled out the keys. He used his body to hide the action as he handed the keys to Rob. “Start the car for me.”

  “Galen?” Rob said, fear beginning to color his voice.

  “It’s just a precaution, Rob. Be prepared, right? But you need to get into the car, make sure your door’s locked and get it started, no matter what.” He repeated it emphatically, hoping the training they had would be enough to help his brother through whatever was about to happen.

  “Yeah, sure,” Rob said, moving to Galen’s side.

  As they approached the car, the three guys Ashley-the-waitress had been serving stepped into their path, trying to block their way to the car. Galen shoved Rob behind him, towards the car. “Rob! You know what to do!”

  One of them made a lunge for Rob and Galen dove towards him. He grabbed the guy, hit him hard and felt the guy’s nose squish. “One down!” Galen said, letting Rob know he was okay. He heard the car door slam closed, a second later the engine roared to life. The two remaining men were trying to get to the vehicle, to get to Rob, but Galen had no intention of letting that happen. Galen moved towards the door. One of the men blocked his way, a knife in his hand. The other came up on Galen’s left side. Galen saw something flash and felt the blade plunge into his chest. He was slammed against the side of the car.

  He heard a sound—the car window rolling down. “Galen, move!” He slid towards the back of the car to avoid a blow and the jeep’s door exploded outwards, propelled by a thrust from his brother’s legs. Gal
en dove into the driver’s seat, threw the car into gear and floored it.

  “Rob, sit down,” he said to his brother who was leaning over the backseat. Rob slid back down into his seat with a towel in his hands. He folded it carefully and handed it to Galen. “Thanks,” Galen said, pressing the towel to his side. He could feel the warm flow of blood across his stomach, already soaking the top of his jeans.

  “Galen?” Rob was looking at him, his eyes wide, frightened.

  “I’m okay, Rob. Good thinking with the door. You did good.” He smiled over at Rob. “Real good.”

  “Thanks, Galen. Are you hurt bad?” He sounded panicked.

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’s a lot of blood, Galen. The towel's already soaked.”

  “It’ll be okay, Rob. We just need to get out of here first.” He tried to focus on driving. He was getting a little light-headed and starting to get cold, starting to go into shock. Rob must have realized something of the same thing. He reached over and turned on the car heater. Galen looked over at Rob. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Galen!” he yelled, looking out the window.

  Galen turned and saw the truck blocking the road. Slamming on the brakes, he put the car in reverse and turned around. Another truck, without lights, had come up behind them. Another car and another. They were trapped.

  “Shit!” Galen looked over at his brother. “Rob, listen to me. As soon as you get a chance, you run. Find a phone and call Dad and Uncle Bobby. I need you to do as I say,” he said as calmly as possible.

  “Galen?” Rob was scared, Galen could hear it in his voice. “You’re coming too, aren’t you?”

  “I am, but I need to know you’re going to try and get away, too. We’re a team, but I need you to try and run. I’ll be right behind you, okay? But you keep running, no matter what.”

  “What do you mean?” Rob said, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Just get yourself safe.” Galen said, watching a group approach the car. He leaned over and grabbed his nine millimeter handgun out of the glove box. “Rob?” He looked over at his brother.

  “Yeah, but Galen…”

  “Rob, you heard the waitress. They’re after someone your age. That’s why you need to run.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t worry, just run, no matter what you hear, no matter what.”

  “Galen.” The tears were running down his brother’s face.

  “Rob, gods damn it, just do what I say!” He saw hurt flare in his brother’s eyes. “Sorry, Rob. I’m sorry.” He gave his brother’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Trust me?” Galen asked. Rob nodded. “Ready? Now, run!” Galen threw the door open and swung the gun up, firing off three rounds in rapid succession.

  He sensed, rather than saw, his brother’s flight. A dark shape moved to block Rob’s dash, Galen turned. “Rob, down!” He knew Rob would react to that command without thinking, they had been working on that one since he was five. Galen fired at the dark shape. He saw one go down, then another, and then the hammer came down on an empty chamber. One of the men in front of Galen jumped towards him and drove a fist into his side, the pain exploded and dark spots danced before his eyes. Galen collapsed to his knees.

  He heard Rob’s terrified shout, “No! Galen!” and heard Rob screaming at the edge of his awareness. “No!” And his brother’s voice was cut off.

  Galen tried to struggle to his feet. Another punch to his side, he didn’t even see it coming. It put him down. He thought he felt someone kicking him. His whole focus, what was left of it at least, was on his brother. Galen reached out with what was left of his strength, trying to reach Rob, but his sense of his brother was completely gone. He needed to know what was happening. His last vision before blacking out was Rob, limp, unconscious, tossed into the back of one of the waiting cars, then the darkness rose up and claimed him. “No, Rob, no.”

  * * * * *

  “No, Rob, no.” Galen heard his voice, heavy with grief, suddenly loud in the quiet room. He opened his eyes, Rhiannon was looking at him, tears on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Galen,” she said softly, laying a hand over his.

  “Usually I wait until you leave to work myself into this state,” he said, the laugh still bitter. His head was resting on the back of the couch as he looked at her. “Sorry.” He reached for the bottle again.

  “I think you’ve had enough, honey,” Rhiannon said, pushing herself up off the couch. “It’s almost five and I have to work part of the day.”

  “Yeah.” Galen tried standing up, only to drop back onto the couch again. Rhiannon laughed gently and pulled him up, letting him lean on her. He realized she had maneuvered him into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. As he dropped down onto the mattress, she pulled the blankets over him. He remembered mumbling something about putting a note in the door of the shop before he was asleep.

  He was running. They were chasing him. Terror was pounding through his veins like blood in rhythm with his heartbeat. He had mistakenly run into a small alley, it cost him. As he came out from behind a large dumpster, they cut him off. Hands grabbed him and tried to pull him away, fists connecting with him, a voice calling out to leave him alive. Then, suddenly, sirens, feet running and someone asking if he was okay, he couldn’t answer, pain and blood prevented the words from forming.

  Galen shot upright in bed, his heart pounding from the nightmare. His hands were shaking with fear as the room came slowly into focus. “Oh, not good,” he groaned. Galen grabbed his head and stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom. Once there, he rummaged through his medicine cabinet for the homeopathic remedy for a hangover, Nux Vomica. He pulled the small tube out and dumped several pellets under his tongue. After splashing cold water on his face, he walked back into the bedroom and shoved the curtains all the way closed. It was gray outside, the light still too bright. How much did I drink? I don’t even remember. Galen sank back into the bed with a sigh. That nightmare, it felt a little like…No.

  Pulling the pillow over his head, he went back to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  The phone was jangling from the living room. It stopped, but not before it had wormed its way through the pillow and straight into Galen’s brain. He pushed the pillow aside and peered blearily at the clock, it was just before noon. He was sure he’d told Rhiannon he’d open the shop at noon. Groaning, he stumbled into the bathroom, dosed himself with the Nux Vomica again and climbed in the shower, letting the hot water ease his pounding headache. “Never again,” he said to his reflection in the mirror, then laughed, knowing he said it every year. The water had started to cool when he finally got out.

  The store was quiet as he walked through, he unlocked the door and headed straight for the espresso stand. “Hey, Becci,” he said quietly.

  “Galen!” She bounced over to the window, red bra and panties bright against her light skin. “You’re late today!”

  “Yeah, sorry, late night. Anyone been by the shop?”

  “Someone came by about seven, looked in the windows and left. And Flash came by about half an hour ago, he read your sign, though, and said he’d be back,” she said, handing him a coffee. “I put in an extra shot or two, you look like you could use it. Don’t tell the boss,” she said with a wink.

  “Thanks,” Galen said, sipping the coffee. “Not too hot.”

  “Figured you needed to drink it fast,” she said, leaning over the sill.

  “Good guess.” He smiled at her and walked back to the shop. He turned the open sign on as he walked in and settled behind the counter, resting his head in one hand, holding the coffee in another. I should just close the store on these days. I’m in no shape to work, really, and with the scar acting up like it is…I’ll close early tonight. He took another sip of the coffee. His head was still aching. Something in the pain made him stop for a minute. It felt familiar.

  “You alive?” Flash said, walking into the store and carefully closing the door, keeping one hand over the bells so they w
ere muted.

  “Mostly.” Galen smiled as his friend put another large coffee in front of him. “Thanks.”

  “Thought you might need it, all things considered.” Flash dragged a stool over behind the counter, sat down and peered at him. “Man, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks for the coffee.” Galen glanced at him with a grateful look. He’d met Alvin “Flash” Lynch auditioning for a band. Neither had liked that group and had decided to leave and form their own. With the addition of keyboards and a drummer, The Urban Werewolves had been born. Galen and Flash had formed a fast friendship over the last four years.

  “I started a little earlier than usual last night,” Galen said with a grimace.

  “I figured as much when the store was locked up this morning.”

  “I meant to be down sooner.” Galen shrugged. “Didn’t make it.”

  “How are you holding up?” Flash looked at him closely. “I know the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death hit me really hard for some reason.”

  “No worse than usual.”

  “You’re lying to me, Galen.”

  “Probably. I’m not sure.”

  “You coming to practice later? We do have that gig at Rat’s on Friday. He said that we’d get half the take.”

  “If the money actually materializes it’ll be some kind of epic miracle.” Galen snorted. They had played Rat’s Nest three times, always promised cash, but always something came up, the bar tab, breakage—something—and Rat never got around to paying. “His nickname’s a little too appropriate.”

  “I don’t know,” Flash said, grinning. “Seems kind of mean to the rats out there.”

  Galen laughed with him. “Yeah. I’m not sure if I’m up to practice, Flash. I can’t seem to shake this headache.”

  “You need more coffee.” Flash got up off the stool.

  “I haven’t even finished my second.”

  “Uh…”

  “Did Sara just get to work?” Galen said, grinning at the blush that suffused his friend’s face.