His attention was pulled away when the shop phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, the number was private. “Emrys Apothecary.”
“Robert?”
“Stephen?” Rob asked, although he recognized the priest's voice.
“Have you spoken with him yet?” Even though he'd obviously tried to hide it, Rob could hear eagerness in Blake's voice.
“We're working on it.”
“I have something to add that might help,” the priest said, sounding grim.
“What?”
“The deaths have begun.”
“How do you know?”
“I'm a bit of a monster, you know.” Stephen chuckled. “And there are reports of the sacrifices for the Hunt beginning as well.”
“What's in this for you?”
“Survival. If the feorhbealu get loose, among other things, they will come after me.”
“Ah, I see,” Rob said sarcastically.
“Now, now,” he chided. “I told you, I'm willing to help.”
“Self-preservation is a good motive.”
“Yes, it is. You might be surprised to know there are others as well.” Blake's voice changed, taking on the gentle note it had held once or twice the night before. “I promised someone.”
“Who?”
“Thomas!” Stephen roared suddenly. “If I catch you creeping around in here again, I will nail you to a post! What? Fine, just speak up, don't whisper, don't sneak up on me like a thief! I need to go, Robert. I'll speak with you later. I'll be waiting for news.” He broke the connection.
“Who were you talking to?” Galen asked from behind him.
Rob jumped and turned to him. “Stephen.”
“What did he want?” Galen handed Rob a coffee and sat down.
“He wanted to know if I'd talked with you about what he and I discussed last night after you left.”
“The Hunt?” Galen said bleakly.
“Yes,” Rob said carefully. “He told me that as the feorhbealu rise, they will call other creatures of darkness to them, things that move in the physical world, and before the feorhbealu manifest themselves, they will raise what amounts to an army.”
“An army?” Galen quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Well, Stephen can be a bit dramatic when he's emphasizing a point. I suspect there will be some, but not an army.” Rob took a deep breath and before Galen could say anything else he plowed on. “Stephen believes, and I agree, that the feorhbealu are rising where the Hunt is.”
“When I ran into the Hunt we were out by the ocean, Rob.”
“I know.”
“Why there?” Galen asked.
“Think about it, Galen, where did our family first settle?” Rob watched Galen think about it, the colors swirling around him in soft silver and blues, with a hint of purple. “Right, they stopped out there first.”
“But that doesn't explain...” Galen trailed off. “The Hunt is more tied to our family than we know, isn't it?”
“I think so.”
“But Rob, those things were in the park south of town, not out there.”
“Those were not feorhbealu.”
“Then what were they? Did Blake tell you that?” Irritation bubbled around Galen, flowing through his voice and buzzing up the bond.
“No, he didn't. Well, he did, but once I realized what we were talking about, I remembered a reference to what I think are the feorhbealu and the things we faced in the park.”
“More of the Sagas?”
“No.” Rob grinned, he'd been waiting for this all night night. “The cite says 'the question of a malevolent force that occupied the spiritual plane was first raised by the healer Godric of Caledonia, when approached about a plague that was infecting the local area. He notes that the force, while serious, did not yet occupy the role of chief of ills. “That plague is yet to come, and will lay waste the earth.”' He was talking about the illness that preceded the feorhbealu, the things that came before them.”
“He could have been,” Galen said thoughtfully.
“He was! Don't you see, Godric was writing immediately before rumors about the feorhbealu started appearing.”
“The timeline's right, I hadn't thought of that. Hmm.” He looked over at Rob with a grin. “And quoting something I've written to win an argument is bad form, you know.”
“Maybe.” Rob took a sip of the coffee. “We have to join the Hunt, Galen, and stop the feorhbealu.”
“Even if Blake is right and that's why the Hunt was created, those days are long past, Rob.”
“We can reclaim them for what they once were.”
“No,” Galen whispered.
“It's the only way.”
“I can't.”
“What is it?” The emotion that he'd sensed from Galen earlier was back, and this time Rob knew exactly what it was—fear.
“The call, Rob, it's getting stronger, and if we join, I don't know.” Galen put his head in his hands for a moment.
“Galen?” Rob put his hand on his brother's shoulder. The fear shivered up the contact. “We can take control of the Hunt, the way it used to be.”
“I'll lose myself,” Galen said desperately.
“No.”
“How can you say that so confidently?” Galen snapped, looking up at Rob. “No one has in centuries.”
“Stephen told me if we willingly enter into the ritual, we can change it back to what it was.”
“I'm not sure I'm ready to believe him.”
“I'm not either.” Rob swallowed, now came the hard part. He'd been half-hoping Galen would just agree.
“But? I hear a big 'but' in there, Brat.”
“The Hunt is back.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“It's calling you.”
“Uh huh.”
“Stephen said they're going to come for you no matter what, Galen.”
“I was pretty sure about that, too.”
“If we go to meet them, we can take control. If they come for you, there's no hope, and this way, I can stand as your champion. We'll ride together.”
“I'll lose myself,” Galen repeated.
“No, you won't, I'll be there.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am,” he said, hoping Galen wouldn't hear the lie in the words. “We don't have a choice.”
“I know.” Galen's shoulders sagged and the fear flowing through the bond ramped up a notch, and with it a cold desperation. “Can you watch the shop for a minute?”
“Sure,” Rob said. He waited until Galen had gone before digging the piece of paper out of his pocket, it was the number for Stephen's direct line.
“Yes?” The priest answered on the first ring.
“It's Rob.”
“I was wondering when you'd call,” Stephen said, the suppressed eagerness present in his voice. “What can I do for you, Robert?”
“I want to talk a little more about joining the Hunt.”
Chapter Eight
Galen
Cold mist filled the world, swirling and eddying like a living thing, then it slowly cleared. The moon hung over the fields, clouds passing over it, brushing the land below in shadow. A wide field opened up, wind moving the grass and making the branches of the winter-bare trees whisper like the soft voices of a hushed crowd. The pounding of hooves was slowly filling the air, the howling of the dogs that ran before them echoing through the landscape. For a moment everything paused, then the call of a horn blasted through the night. The shadows lurking by the trees raised their heads and raced across the open space, laughter filled the air. “Come, brothers, we ride!”
Rough shaking invaded the nightmare. Galen tried to pull away, to go back to the field. “Galen!” A stinging slap brought him out of the dream. He opened his eyes. Rob was standing beside the bed, a wild look on his face, he raised his hand again. “Galen?”
“Ouch,” Galen said, rubbing his cheek.
“You back?” Rob asked anxiously.
Ga
len looked around his room, light was coming through the windows. The clock read 8:10. He pushed himself up and took a deep breath, the memory of the dream slowly unfolding in his mind. It had felt real, so real he could still feel the cold wind on his face. He blinked slowly, the mists curling around him, the call sounding, causing an ache in his bones. The shaking began again, a voice clear over the call of the Hunt, the pounding of the hooves. He forced the sounds of the Hunt away, focusing instead on that brain-jarring shaking. He opened his eyes again and looked at the panicked face of his brother. “I need coffee.”
“Yeah,” Rob said, his hands still on Galen's shoulders as he looked him over with the unfocused look that meant he was using the Sight. “You're back.”
“I think so.”
“Good.” Rob straightened. Worry was flowing off of him in waves.
“Thanks. I'll be right down. Can you get me one of your coffees?”
“What?” The surprise on his brother's face was comical.
“I think owls nested in my brain, I need to chase them out.”
“That'll do it. Okay, one six-shot Americano coming up.”
“Four shots, Brat. I told Becci you could only have quads.”
“When you're awake, but right now you need six. Trust me.” Rob punched him lightly on the arm. “Don't be too long.”
“I won't.” Galen waited until Rob left before dragging himself out of bed. He was grateful that his brother hadn't once said “I told you so” although he had every right. The Urban Werewolves had a gig the night before, and while Rob encouraged him to go, he'd cautioned against an after party. Galen had no idea what prompted him to stay and drink when Pete and Sean invited him. In the two days since they'd spoken with Blake, Galen had noticed he was getting a little—as Flash put it—surly. He could sense Flash's worry and had an argument when his friend had called Rob to pick him up. Galen had a fight with his brother too. It was so unlike his usual behavior he could understand their concern, and honestly, he had no idea what was causing it, unless it was a last-ditch effort to hang on to the life he was pretty sure he would lose in the next few days. The problem was, with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, Rob had been sure he shouldn't take the sleeping pill—and that meant he'd been vulnerable to the call of the Hunt.
Galen knew the Hunt was pulling him away, and he knew it was inevitable, but the fact they were going to go looking for it was still hard to swallow. Rob was sure that was the answer, not only to the call, but to the rising feorhbealu. Galen wasn't so sure, he didn't trust Blake, and more to the point, he was pretty sure his brother was up to something. He wasn't sure what it was, but that confidence that Rob got when he had something up his sleeve was flowing around him, touching everything with a soft wave. Galen was worried.
He headed down into the shop. He could hear Rob singing softly. His brother had a deep baritone, Galen had tried to talk him into joining the band, but Rob had laughed it off, saying that while Galen could swipe intricate classical guitar pieces for solos, he really doubted anyone at a gig would like to hear him sing Machaut or other late-medieval composers.
Galen paused in the door to see if he could figure out what Rob was singing. Whatever it was sounded old, the notes strung together in a way that sounded foreign to him. He couldn't make out the words, but the language, too, sounded old. When Rob was researching, or explaining some snippet he'd found in the Sagas, he often sang it, so Galen was used to hearing odd snatches of things. But there was something about this that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
He'd also heard Rob on the phone to Blake twice the day before, voice hushed. Galen caught a sense of anticipation through the bond. He'd asked Rob point blank what was going on and his brother had said they were just discussing the Sagas and the Hunt and he was making sure he had everything they'd need when they left.
Galen didn't believe him.
The bond they shared as Custodes Noctis didn't really allow them to lie to each other, since they could sense the deception, but Rob, as Galen had discovered the year before, was pretty good at bending the truth to suit him. The fact he believed whatever he was doing was right made it feel like the truth, even through the bond.
“Hey,” Galen said, stepping into the shop.
“I had to fight for your coffee, you know. Becci almost didn't give me two of them. I had to convince her it was for you, and she didn't believe me until I told her you'd been out with Pete and Sean last night after the gig.”
“Yeah.” Galen took the coffee Rob held out. “Did I do that?” he asked ruefully, noticing the bruise on his brother's face.
“What?” Rob touched the bruise and laughed. “No. It happened during the show.”
“That was you?” Galen chuckled, sitting down on the stool beside Rob. He'd noticed an altercation at the back of the room, but he couldn't really tell what was happening because of the lights and noise.
“It was.” Rob grinned. “He started it.”
“How?”
Rob shrugged. “You know.”
“No,” Galen said, looking at his brother, reaching out with the Gift. Rob's casual humor wasn't reassuring him. “What happened?”
“I'm pretty sure it was one of them.”
“One of them? Like the guy who was in the shop?” Galen was annoyed, his brother had decided, once again, to face something without Galen at his back.
“Maybe.”
“Rob.”
“Yes, he was. He was there looking for you, I think. Or maybe us. I'm not sure about that. But I thought I should stop him before there was bloodshed.”
“What did you do?”
“Solved it. At least for the time being.” Rob took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window. “I thought we could hit the road about noon, it takes a couple of hours to get over there right?”
“Closer to three,” Galen said, trying to ignore the cold knot of fear in his stomach.
“It seemed like forever the last time we went.” Rob smiled, the bright, carefree smile from when he was a child.
“It did, didn't it?” Galen agreed.
“It's going to be alright,” Rob said quietly.
“I'm not sure about that.”
“It will. We're joining voluntarily. That will make all the difference. And we'll serve together, Galen, as it once was.” Rob's eyes brightened. “We can reclaim the Hunt, Galen! And it's the only way to defeat the feorhbealu.”
The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book Page 11