The Summoning (Custodes Noctis) (2 page)

Galen followed his brother out into the warm evening. Since the accident, healing caused a odd and uncomfortable ache in the scar the Old One of the Legacy had left when it had ripped itself out of his chest. He wasn’t sure why, there was really no relation to the two, but it was there, throbbing along his sternum. After several deep breaths he felt a little better and by the time they walked into the restaurant he was feeling almost normal.

The hostess recognized them and waved them towards their usual table towards the back of the room. Galen preferred it because, unless it was crowded, they were far enough away from the other diners so that he didn’t get a wash of their emotions while he tried to relax and eat. When he was tired it was harder to block that part of the Gift, while still keeping the remnants of the bond as open as possible.

“No fucking way. It’s creepy knowing the damn birds
can
talk to me at all. It still traumatizes me on a daily basis. I’m not starting the damn conversation. Hey, are you okay?” Flash’s tone changed as he glanced over at Galen.

“Yeah, I just had three clients today,” Galen assured him.

“Three clients is stupid. You know that, ever since…” Flash trailed off. He’d been riding with Rob and Becci the night of the accident.

“One was an emergency.”

“I don’t care, and as Chief Vassal Guy, I get to say.” Flash had followed them into battle with the Hunt, and as a reward for his “bravery and loyal service in battle” as the Sagas said, Galen and Rob had named him Chief Vassal, a title not bestowed on anyone by a member of the
Custodes Noctis
for centuries. Flash proudly wore his vassal’s bracelet, similar to the bracelets Galen and Rob wore, indicating his fealty to their line.

“Why is the
interesting
my car?”

“Probably because you play their game.”

“I so do not,” Flash grumbled. “Okay, maybe a little, but the windshield wiper is the last straw! They took it apart, I have to get a whole new piece.”

“We’ll pay for it,” Rob offered.

Galen listened to the interplay, he wasn’t sure when he realized it, but something was off in his brother. There was a gray tinge to his skin that was worrying, and the dark circles he’d noticed earlier in the day were more prominent. He tried to force the bond open further, hoping he could get a glimmer of what was happening. As he reached out he encountered a wall, as solid as stone, and for one blinding instant he was sure the wall actually shoved back.

Galen was saved from answering when the waitress brought the food. Rob and Flash started up their argument about the ravens again, and Galen tried to get a handle on what he’d caught in that brief contact through the bond. Whatever it was, it had been completely alien to his brother, and he had the strangest sense that it had been intelligent, something lurking deep within Rob that Galen had never seen before. It was something new or he would have sensed it. Prior to their battle with the Hunt, the bond had been strong enough for them to communicate easily, so nothing could have hidden itself. Even though his brother had the unnerving ability to make something “true” or read as true through the bond if he believed what he was doing was right. Galen knew nothing like this could have been lurking. This did not feel right in any way. In fact, Galen had the fleeting impression that Rob might not even be consciously aware of it.

His brother sighed, letting out a breath like he’d been holding it for a long, long time. “I don’t know, Galen. I think… I think I might be losing my mind.”

Rob

There was nothing. The darkness was complete and silent, it was as if he was encased in a tomb of impenetrable material that nothing could breach, not even air. After attempting to draw several unsuccessful, panicked breaths, Rob jerked awake, gasping for air. He covered his face with shaking hands, the dream was more frequently terrorizing his few hours of sleep. Running a hand through his hair, he took a slow, deep breath, trying to center himself the way Galen had shown him when they were young. It was hard, though, the sensation of being buried alive still very much with him, and controlling that primal terror was almost impossible at the moment.

Knowing there was no chance he would get back to sleep, Rob got out of bed and wandered through the silent apartment. He paused by Galen’s door long enough to make sure he hadn’t disrupted his brother’s sleep again. The last couple of nights his scream brought Galen running, and trying to talk his way around that was getting more difficult. If Rob knew what was going on, he’d tell his brother, in fact once or twice he’d almost blurted it out anyway, but as it was, there didn’t seem to be any point. Sometimes, when he first woke, it felt solid enough to get a handle on, strong enough to heed what felt like a summons, but then it would disappear like dreams did—or so he heard. Mostly he remembered his dreams. So, he guessed it was some leftover memory surfacing from those days when he’d been buried alive as one of the rituals for the Old One of the Legacy. There
was
something in his current dream that seemed almost familiar, almost like that, Rob concentrated, trying to bring the dream into clearer focus, but it was already slipping away.

He padded downstairs. He’d use the coffeemaker in the shop so he wouldn’t wake Galen. When he’d first moved home, his brother had only one pot, upstairs in the kitchen. After discovering nothing woke Galen faster than the smell of freshly brewing coffee, Rob had purchased another coffeemaker for downstairs to keep him company on his nocturnal watches. He got the coffee brewing, and walked through the shop, turning on the open sign and unlocking the door. Over the last couple of years, he’d developed a night-only clientele and they were used to him being available several evenings a week.

Rob loved the shop at night. It felt entirely different, the energies that flowed through the building—through the world—were different when the sun was down. Before his Gift had been taken he’d been able to see the difference as well, the soft glows that ebbed and flowed around everything changing color, and what he thought of as temperature, at night. The world really was a different and changed place when the sun set, and he always felt like it was a place he belonged.

That might have been because of the Sight. Even when he was a small child, the night was never pitch black, everything had some small energy glowing around it, and until he’d learned to control his Gift, it had continue to grow until he was assaulted every moment. He’d started his nightly vigils then, when he was in his middle teens. Galen was dead, or so he believed, and he was the only Keeper to survive the severing of the bond. Of course, his father and uncle assured him that it was because he and Galen had never performed the Ritual of the Swords, the formal bonding as warriors, as
Custodes Noctis.
Rob knew better. He had known the instant Galen’s heart had stopped—he should, he’d been the one who’d stopped it, and he knew that for a moment he’d died too, dropping into a gentle shimmering lake. When he woke to discover the lake—and the bond with his brother—gone, he’d been mired in grief for a long time. Without the formal training, his already powerful Gift had gotten out of control and he’d gone searching for answers.

Thinking of that, he glanced at the clock and pulled out his phone. Billy Hernandez, the shaman who’d helped him on his first faltering steps towards controlling his Gift, would still be up at this hour. The older man only slept between moon-set and sunrise, and according to the calendar Galen had hanging behind the cash register, the moon didn’t set until three.

“Rob?” Billy answered before there was a ring on Rob’s end of the phone. “What is it?” No preamble, no chit-chat, the shaman knew if there was a late-night call there was a reason.

“No, I know I’m buried, I am just not sure…” Rob trailed off, trying to catch any of the slivers of the dream again, but they were gone.

“If it’s a dream at all?” the shaman offered. “Is it a sending?”

“That’s what I’m not sure of, I can’t tell. It’s gone before I can get a hold of it. Since I lost the Gift…”

“Rob!” Billy cut him off sharply. “You have to remember that you don’t need that Gift to walk in the other Worlds. You have become too focused on this loss. I am not
Custodes Noctis
and I know some of your other guides weren’t as well. So, tell me what you can.”

“It’s dark, pitch black, no light, nothing.” He took a slow breath, reaching in to find what he could. “There’s no sound, and I can’t breathe.”

“No, it doesn’t, not really. There are echoes of the Old One, but this feels different. I think I’ve just convinced myself it must be a memory because of what happened.”

“But, Rob,” Billy said gently, “when you were buried as part of the ritual, it wasn’t completely dark, you could hear and you could breathe—the scent of the incense is a key part of that memory.”

“If you need me, I will be,” the shaman answered. “I will see if I can find more of what might be disturbing you. Have you spoken with Galen?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Rob thought about that for a minute, all the reasons he’d used to convince himself about why he hadn’t mentioned the disturbing dreams to his brother. “I’m not ready.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I like that answer,” Billy said thoughtfully. “I’ll do some work on this and talk to you tomorrow. If you sleep before then, call me.”

“I will call you if I sleep, I give my word, honor bound,” Rob said solemnly, breaking the connection. Something tugged at the edge of his awareness as he spoke the words. He focused on it, trying to chase it down, but whatever it had been moved quickly out of his awareness.