The Summoning (Custodes Noctis)

The Summoning

A Custodes Noctis Novella

By

Muffy Morrigan

© 2011 Muffy Morrigan

Published By

Three Ravens Books

Dedication

This is dedicated with all my love and thanks to my readers

for embracing the Emrys Clan with such devotion.

A special thank you to those who have read this in every stage possible

as it evolved and who commented and made it what it is today.

And to Georgina Gibson for the stunning cover art.

Galen

The sun was shining through the windows, catching the massive quartz crystal that stood in one corner and casting a rainbow across the room in a sparkling arc of light. The warmth intensified the scents of the many herbs, oils and candles in the shop, and it all blended together creating an atmosphere that was both welcoming and comforting. There were other, hidden, things that offered a sense of protection that was very real, an invisible wall that kept unwanted things outside.

Galen Emrys watched the coffee stand across the street. His brother, Rob, was over getting their second round of coffees for the day. They had a coffeemaker of their own, but they both preferred the coffee from the stand, and Rob had an ulterior motive. He and the owner of Hot Babes Coffee were tentatively starting a relationship. Becci was all for it, and Galen agreed with her, but after the disturbing events of the past winter, Rob had withdrawn into himself.

The lingering aftermath of the attack by the
feorhbealu
were at the root of it, Galen knew. His brother was normally reserved, but not withdrawn. As
Custodes Noctis,
Keepers of the Night, they shared a psychic bond that allowed them to sense the other, communicate silently and survive wounds that would otherwise kill them. Individually, they had Gifts as well, Galen as the elder brother was Gifted with healing, Rob with the Sight, allowing him to see things beyond the everyday world—the supernatural world, the auras of every living thing, Galen even suspected his brother had a Gift for seeing the past and future, although they had never spoken of it.

Or so it should have been.

During the final battle with the
feorhbealu
, their leader had targeted Rob and stripped him of his Gifts in an attempt to stop the
Custodes Noctis
and the riders of the Hunt from finishing the fight. It hadn’t worked—at least not as they planned. The Hunt was victorious, and the
feorhbealu
were driven back through the Veil, the invisible wall between worlds.

Rob had been gravely injured, and while Galen had dealt with most of the physical injuries, he could not heal the wounds done to Rob’s Gift. The best he had managed was to keep a small hum of their bond alive, enough to keep them functioning. They had both had the chance to exist without the bond—something that usually resulted in death for
Custodes Noctis—
during the years Galen had been “dead” after their first encounter with the Old One of the Legacy. That separation was enabling them to survive now.

They were still efficient fighters. Maybe even more so, without the full Gift to rely on, they were more aware and their skills were honed now to a sharpness Galen had never dreamed they would achieve. Most
Custodes Noctis
never lived to acquire that level of skill, they were usually killed in battle long before. Even now in the modern age when the things they fought were fewer and far between, Keepers died young.

They’d had a close call shortly after their ride with the Hunt and the battle with the
feorhbealu
when Galen has nearly been killed by a drunk driver. He’d been heading home after a gig with his band, The Urban Werewolves, when his Jeep had been side-swiped by a driver that ran a red light. Thankfully, his brother and Becci were in the car behind him; they’d witnessed the accident but escaped injury. In the hours immediately after, however, Galen had been sedated and on life support. Rob had barely held on, Galen still wondered exactly how his brother had managed. They hadn’t talked about it. Every time he brought up the accident, Rob flinched, closed down and walked away. His brother was quiet and studious, but since the attack and the accident his brother was completely closed, unwilling to discuss either incident..

Galen picked up the polishing cloth and pulled off his bracelet—one of the symbols of his rank as
Custodes Noctis.
The seemingly simple band of copper, bronze and silver was the oldest of all the designs worn by the various families of Keepers. Each member of the
Custodes Noctis
received their bracelet on their thirteenth birthday when they returned from fosterage to study with their father and uncle as Tradition dictated. Keepers were separated by five years, allowing the elder brother to begin his training his skills as a healer before he went to retrieve his younger brother nine days before his thirteenth birthday. More than just metal, the bracelets were also woven with magic and bound to the wearer. When Rob’s had been made, Galen had taken extra pains with it, carefully weaving in protection.

He looked up, Rob was heading back across the street. Galen put away the cloth—a sure sign he was worrying—and turned to the shelf with herbs, planning on straightening them, only to discover Rob had been there before him. They were arranged in alphabetical order, by Latin name, and he noticed his brother had added the names in several different languages as well. Galen snorted, he really doubted he would have anyone coming in looking for valerian and calling it by its Old Norse name.

“Actually this one makes sixteen. It’s better than drinking a couple of pots of coffee.” Rob set the coffees down on the counter. “And I can talk to Becci, it’s goth day.”

“Oh.” Galen smiled. When Becci Anderson had purchased the coffee stand it hadn’t done well, until she had hit on the idea of Hot Babes Coffee. After enlisting the help of several like-minded women, they had turned the small stand into one of the most popular coffee stops in Tacoma, which was saying a lot in the coffee-flooded Northwest. While competitors complained it was because of the way they dressed, what made them popular was good coffee and good, fast service. Becci had made enough to open another stand, and Galen was proud of her.

“Nothing like a 1534 folio of
Saxo Grammaticus
.”

“Yes.” Galen couldn’t help grinning back. His brother’s ability with languages still surprised him. By Galen’s count his brother could read at least eighteen languages, ancient and modern, with the same ease most people read the newspaper. He also spoke most of them idiomatically; in fact, when they had first met the Riders of the Hunt, Rob had been able to communicate with them without any magical aid. After that first meeting, Galen had endured his brother’s long-winded complaints about one of his history professors and his pronunciation. “Not only will you mock, you will probably write a paper about it.”

“I only did that once,” Rob said defensively. “And that idiot Robinson had the translation completely wrong. There is a vast difference between a lake and the sea, it changes the whole… Stop grinning at me. He was wrong.”

“I’m sure he was.” Galen picked up his coffee.

There were dark circles under his brother’s eyes. He knew Rob didn’t sleep much, in fact some nights not at all, but there was something else going on. The few hours his brother did manage were being disturbed by something, and without the bond, Galen had no idea what it was. Rob had cried out loud enough to wake him the night before, through closed doors and down the hall. By the time Galen reached his brother’s room, Rob was awake, and out of bed. Rob hadn’t gone back to sleep, either. The careful arrangement of candles in the storeroom attested to that fact.

Before he could figure out a way to broach the subject, a harsh croak from the rear entry interrupted him. Galen got up and headed into the back to open the door. Two ravens looked up at him innocently, keys dangling from one beak and part of a windshield wiper from the other. They were the King’s Ravens, pledged to serve the King of the Hunt and his Champion. Since their induction into the Hunt, Rob was now King, Galen stood as Champion. The ravens had decided after centuries in the Between World, they wanted to follow Rob and Galen home and “serve” them there. Although Galen suspected they were just bored and looking for a new place to cause mischief. Ravens, by nature, were troublemakers.

Thousand-plus-year-old, supernatural ravens were at least a thousand times worse. Once they were home, the ravens had told Galen and Rob their names; their long, long names—apparently they added a title and a name for each king they served. After attempting to pronounce the multisyllabic tongue twisters several times, Rob had asked if they could call them Ealdor—meaning elder, and Federa—meaning uncle. The ravens had agreed, even allowing the further shortening to Dor and Dera. Their current favorite pastime was annoying Galen’s friend and bandmate, Flash, by dismantling his car and stealing his keys on a regular basis.

“Oh, Flash is going to be pissed,” Rob said from behind him.

“
He enjoys the game,”
Dera’s deep bass spoke in Galen’s head. He was still getting used to the idea of the birds speaking to him.

“I really doubt that,” Galen chided. Dera had chosen to serve him as King’s Champion whereas Dor preferred, and served Rob, who was King.

Dor chuckled and fluttered up onto one of the stools, dropping the keys. Dera followed suit and they both looked up expectantly. “I left dinner on the counter,” Rob told them. “Galen tried to put it in the fridge.” He paused while Dor clacked his beak with derision. “He said he might want it for breakfast.” Dera shook his head sadly and made a small croaking sound, then the two of them flew up the stairwell towards the apartment over the shop.

“True, it’s all good after the Between World. Dor told me everything tasted the same.” Rob looked up as a customer came in and smiled. “Can I help you?” he asked, putting on his “shop face.”

The flow of customers was steady through the day. The shop had a wide cross-section of customers and both Galen and Rob were kept busy. In addition to people coming in to purchase tangible items, Galen had a small side business as a healer. His great-great grandfather had been the first Emrys healer in Tacoma, when the town was in its infancy, and the tradition continued. The shop was in the same place, although over the years the offerings had been expanded to include magical and medicinal herbs, jewelry and other, more esoteric, items. After Rob had come home, they had added a small research “library” with books that were not for sale, but that customers could use under his watchful eye.

Becci stopped in at three with coffee for them, and by the time they were ready to close the door, Galen was exhausted. Three clients had been in that day, and all three had needed more than just a simple healing. Each one took a little more and by closing, all he could do was sit behind the counter and watch Rob balance the till and lock up for the night.

“You want to go up to Gateway for dinner?” Rob asked, frowning at him.

“Um…” Galen was having a hard time focusing.

“Come on.” Rob tugged him off the stool. “A walk will help, it always does.” The Indian restaurant was only a few blocks from the shop. “Let’s go.”