The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book Read online

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  “Go!” Bobby shouted, Parry complied, not even waiting for Bobby to get his door closed before flooring the gas pedal and racing up the road.

  * * *

  Rob's head was spinning through a hundred Sagas as his father finished speaking. “The Hunt? Are you sure, Uncle Bobby?” Rob said, looking at his uncle's softly shimmering form swirling with the colors of concern.

  “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused. “And the thing that hunts with them.”

  “The each uisge?” Rob asked.

  “Yes,” Bobby said quietly, his eyes haunted.

  “The Hunt,” Rob said again, rolling the word on his tongue. “They haven't been seen in more than a century, and the last time was in Europe, assuming the reports from a few frantic Victorians are correct.” He got up and paced across the store, turning the information over in his mind.

  “What do you know about the Hunt?” Parry asked.

  “Me? You mean other than the stories elder Keepers use to scare younger ones into sticking to their studies?” Rob stopped his pacing to smile at them.

  “Yeah,” Bobby said sheepishly.

  “I know the Sagas. Supposedly the Hunt was founded by Keepers, but something changed and instead of being an honor to serve with them it became a punishment. Custodes Noctis that denied their destiny were condemned to lose themselves and ride in the Between World with the Hunt. The Saga of the Winter King states that a Keeper was chosen as King of the Hunt, losing all sense of who he was and taking on the part of the king, becoming a member of the Hunt, serving for a set time before another comes to claim his place—well not exactly. The king is the same. In the Saga, they quote part of the ritual and the new and old king refer to each other as 'my brother, myself'. Scholars believe that the life experiences of each new king are somehow integrated, even as the self of the person is lost.”

  Rob paused and ran a hand through his hair. “The reason for founding the Hunt is lost, as is the ritual that created it. There's an obscure passage in the writings of Petronius the Alchemist, that makes mention of the Hunt and the creatures it was intended to pursue. It's only three lines, it's almost as if he was taunting the reader. He implies he knows more about it all, implies, in fact, that there is 'lost knowledge' having to do with the Hunt.”

  “Oh?” Parry said, the colors around him altering to reflect curiosity.

  “It's one of those things that scholars do, you know, hint they know more. I don't know if it's true. A modern historian has written a biography of Petronius—and also one of the Keepers Sagas. I was thinking of contacting him about a phrase in one of the Founding Sagas I'm using in my dissertation I looked up his contact info, he's actually local. I'll call in the morning when...” He broke off when a surge of emotion from his sleeping brother hit him. “Galen?”

  “What is it, Rob?” Bobby asked, moving towards him.

  Rob didn't register the word. “Galen?” he called again, reaching through their bond.

  “Help...” Galen replied, the words loud in Rob's mind.

  “What?” Rob was ran for the stairs.

  “Hurry.” Galen's voice was panicked.

  Rob burst through the door into Galen's room, there was something else there. A dark shadow-shape was standing beside Galen, a hand reaching out for the still form in the bed. Rob launched himself at the thing without thinking. The darkness shifted to face him, growling low in its throat.

  “Rob! You take care of Galen!” Parry called, suddenly beside him, a ghostly blade shimmering in his hand. “Bobby!”

  “Here,” his uncle called from behind the shadow.

  Rob ducked under the blow the thing aimed at him and dove towards the bed. He grabbed Galen and rolled them both off and onto the floor. “Galen?” he said, shaking his brother. Galen groaned. “Galen!” Rob shook him harder. Galen's eyes were moving behind his eyelids.

  “Get out!” Parry shouted.

  “Right.” Rob dragged Galen to his feet and raced towards the door. He ran into the living room and dropped Galen on the couch before heading back to the bedroom to help his father and uncle. Before he reached the door there was a growl of pain and a triumphant shout from Bobby. Rob stopped and breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, Parry and Bobby came out of the room.

  “It's gone,” Parry said.

  “Dad?” Rob moved towards his father, there was a slash on Parry's body, oozing a sparkling red.

  “I'm okay, it caught me with its claw.”

  “Is that what you were hunting tonight?” Bobby asked, frowning at Rob.

  “Yes, I think it was.”

  “It must have tracked the two of you back here.” Parry's voice was thoughtful.

  “Rob?” Galen called softly.

  Rob looked over at his brother, Galen was still out. “Galen?”

  “Get me out of here.”

  Rob reached out through the bond, hearing the call of the Hunt. The ringing of bells sounded as a cold mist filled his mind. He knelt down beside the couch and put his hand on Galen's head. “Wake up,” he said both out loud and through the bond.

  “Help me.”

  It was the same desperate tone as before, Rob realized with a shock that Galen had been unaware of the shadow that had tried to attack him. “Galen!”

  “Rob?”

  “Who else?” he said, shaking Galen.

  “They want me to stay.”

  “Tough shit,” Rob snapped. He shook Galen harder, then raised his hand. “Don't make me smack you.”

  “Rob? What's going on?”

  “The Hunt, it's calling Galen,” Bobby said at the same instant.

  “Too bad,” Rob said simply. “Galen, you just get your ass out of there.” He caught the edges of longing from Galen, the need to join with the riders. “Gods damn it, Galen, I'm losing my temper!” Rob shouted, unaware he'd spoken out loud until he saw his father's reaction.

  “Can't have that,” Galen muttered several long seconds later.

  “You awake?” Rob sighed in relief.

  “No,” he opened his eyes and looked at Rob. “Am I in the living room?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Galen asked, sitting up. “Dad? Uncle Bobby?”

  “Galen,” Parry said quietly.

  Rob watched his brother as Galen looked around the room, his eyes distant, focused on something else. “Thanks, Rob,” he said absently. “Uh...”

  “Yeah, we need to talk,” Rob said quietly. “In the morning though Galen, you still need to heal.”

  Galen sighed. “I can't drop into healing sleep. Once I get to the point of dreaming...” He trailed off.

  “You need to sleep.” Rob frowned. “Hang on.” He got up and walked into his room, grabbing the bottle of pills he'd gotten from Mike Silva. He'd called the doctor a couple of weeks before, knowing that eventually he'd need more than a couple of hours of sleep a night, and he doubted anything else would help. He carried the bottle back into the living room. “It's not as good as healing sleep, but Mike said it would let, uh, you sleep without dreams.”

  “Rob?” Galen was looking at him, daring him to lie.

  “Yeah, fine, we'll talk about that too, in the morning.” He shook one of the pills into his hand and held it out to Galen.

  “Thanks.” Galen took it and looked at it suspiciously, shrugged and swallowed it.

  “You should lie down,” Rob said, standing. “Mike said it would work fast.”

  “Okay.” Galen stood and walked back to his bedroom. “Wake me in time to open the shop.”

  Rob dropped onto the couch. “I'll head back down in a sec,” he said to his father. He leaned his head on the couch, aware that the drug was already affecting Galen. The soft whisper of the bond altered, dropping to a gentle hum. “I'll just...” He closed his eyes, promising himself he'd get up and get back to the shop in just a minute.

  Chapter Four

  Galen

  The alarm clicked and classical music started playing. Galen hazily identified it as Mozart b
efore reaching for the clock and hitting the snooze button with a groan. Seven minutes later the alarm came on again, this time the DJ talking about the weather with more cheer than the gray day deserved. He listened to the news and the allegro of the next work before realizing that the scent of coffee that usually woke him was absent. Galen rolled over and blinked at the ceiling, the remains of the sleeping pill Rob had given him slowly dissipating, leaving a small headache, but nothing more.

  The nightmare he'd had trickled in. He remembered calling out for Rob during the dream, and Rob had answered, pulling him away from call of the Hunt. There was more, his father and uncle had been there and he'd come out of the dream in the living room. He focused, trying to remember what happened, but couldn't get past his dream. And now his brother knew. He suspected Rob thought it was time to talk, and it was.

  With a sigh, he got out of bed and headed out into the living room. Rob was stretched out on the couch, snoring softly. He paused, worry flitting into his awareness until he caught the soft hum of dreamless sleep from his brother. Galen silently reversed his steps, grabbed his clothes and stepped into the bathroom being careful not to wake Rob. It was the first time that Rob had been asleep when Galen woke for months, and he had no intention of waking him. He slipped out of the apartment and down to the shop—heading directly to Becci's.

  “Morning, Galen,” she said, sliding the window open with a smile. “Where's Rob?”

  “Still asleep.”

  “Rob's still asleep?” Becci said, widening her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  “I hope not,” Galen said with a smile to take the sting out of the words. “When he gets up, don't let him order an eight-shot coffee, or something, okay? Let's limit him.”

  “I'll try, you know how he can be.” She handed him a cup.

  Galen took a sip. “Thanks, Becci, perfect as always.” He turned back to the shop, at the edge of his vision he thought he caught movement, but when he looked at it directly, the sidewalk was empty. With a shrug he headed inside, flipping on the sign and opening the curtains. It felt a little odd, he hadn't actually opened for months. He set his coffee on the counter and straightened the shelves, noting he needed to order more mullein and hops, then set about putting out the rest of the order they'd received the day before.

  Once he was finished, he sat down on one of the stools behind the counter, absently reaching for the jewelry polishing cloth he kept by the cash register. Without thinking about it, he started polishing his bracelet. The copper, bronze and silver cuff was a mark of his rank as Custodes Noctis. All Keepers wore a similar bracelet, each design was unique to a given family line. At one time, the vassal families of the Keepers wore bracelets as well, smaller, but with the same design, showing their loyalty to the Custodes Noctis in general as well as the particular family they served. The tradition of the vassal families had mostly died out, and while the Keepers still wore their bracelets, most people had no idea what they symbolized. Galen sighed.

  “Hey,” Flash said, walking into the shop with three cups in his hands. Galen glanced at the clock, it was nearly eleven. “Brought coffee, your wimp special and real coffee for me and Rob. Where is he?”

  “Asleep.” Galen took the cup Flash handed him.

  “Asleep? Probably up all night measuring and alphabetizing or something,” Flash chuckled, then perched on one of the stools. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How's the arm?”

  “It wasn't a bad cut,” Galen said, looking down at the wound the creature had given him. He could sense a wisp of darkness pulsing in the wound, thrumming in time with the spot the Old One had left in his chest.

  “It bled like a mother.” Flash frowned at him.

  “What?” Galen snapped in reaction to the appraising look his friend was giving him.

  “What happened last night?”

  “Last night?”

  “You stood up after healing Greg, and something happened. Rob freaked.” Flash took a sip of his coffee.

  “Rob freaked?”

  “Completely freaked. Never seen him like that, not even last year after that ritual thingie.”

  “What do you mean?” Galen asked, trying to remember what had happened. All he could call to mind was standing—and then the mists moving around him, the call of the Hunt ringing in his ears.

  “He freaked,” Flash repeated, shaking his head. “And I don't think it was about the blood everywhere.”

  “Rob doesn't freak.”

  “He did.”

  “You must have misunderstood.”

  “Galen, trust me.” Flash sighed. “What were those things, anyway? All I saw was this weird shadow.”

  “I don't know. That's all I saw too. I know Rob saw more, maybe that's why he freaked.”

  “They were dead before that happened,” Flashed huffed. “It was something else.”

  “I doubt it, Flash. You know how...” A loud crash sounded from upstairs. “Be right back.” Galen took the stairs two at a time. His brother wasn't clumsy, and the crash raised a dire sense of foreboding for some reason. He strode into the apartment, Rob was sprawled on the floor on top of the remains of the coffee table. “Rob!”

  “I'm okay.”

  “You sure?” Galen walked over and stopped beside him.

  “Dead from embarrassment, but no harm done,” Rob said, rolling over and looking up at him.

  “What happened?”

  “Got up before my brain was awake, forgot I was in the living room, the rest is history.”

  “Good job.” Galen offered Rob his hand and hauled him to his feet. He reached out with his Gift to make sure his brother wasn't lying.

  “Need coffee,” Rob grumbled, giving him an intense look.

  “You are a little low on the espresso level in your blood, you usually have five or six shots by now.”

  “I know, I could die if I'm not careful.” Rob chuckled. “I'm going to take a shower, I'll be down in a few, make sure there's coffee.”

  “Flash already has a cup down there for you.”

  “Good.” Rob turned to go.

  “Rob,” Galen began, then stopped.

  “Yeah, I know, we need to talk. Let me wash the fuzz out of my brain first.”

  There was a customer in the shop when Galen got back downstairs. Flash was enthusiastically helping her, showing her pretty much everything in the store. Galen grinned, Flash loved “playing shopkeeper” nearly as mush as he enjoyed music, and when he and Rob were away, Galen knew the Apothecary was in good hands, as long as he didn't mind a few broken items—and to be fair, Flash always offered to pay for any breakage. He sat down behind the counter and watched Flash gather up items for the woman.

  “I'll get that statue ordered for you today,” Flash said, smiling at her. “It should be in next week.” He rang up the items and put them in a bag for her. “The band is playing at Hell's Half Acre on the thirteenth of next month.”

  “Hell's Half Acre? That's a pretty big place,” she said, handing him her credit card.