Valor: The Custos Saga

by Jessica Tastet

“Father, I told ya I will see whom I choose.” Simone rattled on, but she walked toward the storeroom anyway. “Be safe, my animus.”

  Cain nodded to her father one last time and slipped out the door.

  The bayou. Cain knew one person from the country, and he’d have to hope for luck to be on his side that it would be the right bayou of the hundreds in Louisiana.

  Twenty-Two

  Reximortum swooped into the dank shop, wondering how the ancient documents crowded on the shelves didn’t mold in this humidity. He’d forgotten how he hated the weather shifts in New Orleans, but the Vindica seemed to enjoy being entrenched in this city.

  He returned to his purpose as he searched the miniscule shop for its owner. The owner sat hunched over his workstation, repairing the binding of a fraying volume. His spectacles hung precariously from his nose and his large fingers moved smoothly over the binding. His white hair frayed in many directions around his hair, and his thinning flesh showed lines of veins crisscrossing his face under the bright lights.

  “Joseph Respichin, I’ve come for knowledge.”

  Joseph rose, startled, and only showed his distaste for a mere second. No matter to Rex. Men like Joseph hated to be afraid, and Rex remained someone to be feared.

  “Knowledge is contained within books, Rex.” He walked around his workspace. “Have you brought me a book?”

  Rex pulled a parchment from the folds of his coat. “Very delicate and quite painful to track down. We’re having difficulties with a translation.”

  Joseph grunted. “Don’t you have a man, I believe Andorne, for that?”

  “We do, we do.” Rex offered a pleasant smile. “He’s having difficulties about making a decision. We thought we’d ask for a second opinion.”

  Joseph unrolled it slowly, and his beady eyes sifted through the words. “The Latin is easy enough, but some of the words are out of context.”

  Rex nodded. “It’s a letter written from Abigail to Mennigas. The early Vindica manipulated their personal writings to avoid the inquisition.”

  “Ahh.” Joseph scanned the document again, his eyes lingering over phrases.

  Rex waited. Mennigas was the creator of the Book of Shadow Souls, the book he’d only held for mere weeks before Rosemary had stolen it from him. He’d barely scratched the surface of the book before he’d believed it destroyed. Obtaining that book again was the key to all that he wanted. He could wait for an answer.

  Joseph’s forehead crinkled. “Mennigas and Abigail were married?”

  “No.” Rex shook his head. “They were lovers.”

  “Doesn’t the legend say that she created the prophecy to stop him?”

  “Do you know what happens as a legend is passed down in families for five centuries?”

  Joseph nodded, returning to the document. Rex could feel the gears clinking in his head as he turned phrases over.

  “Mennigas was a Custos,” Joseph released the words with awe.

  “That’s the little matter needing to be cleared up.”

  Joseph delved further into the letter. “She tells him that his animus, soul, contains too many of their secrets, but her viscus, heart, holds the key.”

  Rex waited as he analyzed the phrasing, not just the translation. The order of the words, the capitalization, the delicate balance of syntax.

  He looked up from his document. “You need both books.”

  Rex nodded. “That was our conclusion. Of course, you work much faster. I might consider replacing Andorne.”

  He handed Rex the letter back. “I prefer repairing my books, but thank you.”

  Rex smiled. “I know, Joseph, but I consider you a man that I can trust and respect.”

  “My secret.” Joseph nodded. “How will you get both books? No one has heard a whisper about the Book of Heart in centuries.”

  “I believe it was kept in the family, but I prefer to focus on one book at a time.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You can let it be known that I’m looking for old documents. That should stir up some interest.”

  Joseph nodded.

  Rex slipped back out the door and eyed his surroundings before heading toward his St. Charles residence.

  Rex felt him move in before he felt him at his side, but he continued to keep his pace. Without abilities, he didn’t ripple a threat through Rex’s radar.

  “Sir, I have a proposition I’d like to introduce.”

  Rex would like to show him why he shouldn’t approach him, but the crowd wasn’t thick enough for them to go unnoticed. Too much was riding on timing right now for him to risk it. Once, in his youth, he would have made the man drop dead from a heart attack.

  “I know who you are, and I’m not crazy.” The man continued, quickening his pace to keep up. “The name’s Ronald White, and I’ve been studying your kind for most of my career in the FBI, and now that I work for a private company, I’ve figured out a way to use gene therapy to make humans have your abilities.”

  Rex stopped walking and studied Mr. White’s receding hairline, his sweating forehead, and nervous twitching in his temple. At least he had the wits to be nervous. “I do not conduct business meetings on the street. Send me a proposition, and I’ll let you know if I wish to meet with you.”

  His face spread into a smile.

  Rex frowned. “The next time, do this in an appropriate manner or I won’t spare you.”

  Rex continued walking, leaving him behind. It was an interesting concept, and Rex would not lie to himself that when he’d heard his words, he hadn’t thought about having more power for himself and his soldiers. It wasn’t a priority in the next week, but an idea to research in the future.

  This week was about a book. As far as he was concerned, a race was on. It didn’t matter if the other side knew it or not.

  Twenty-Three

  The wrinkled man in the rocking chair on the porch steeped in shadows watched Kline approach the front porch. The black dog at his feet picked his head up as he stepped onto the first step.

  Kline paused. “I’m here to see Magis.”

  The whites of his eyes didn’t blink. A dog howled from somewhere down the street. Finally, his head bobbed in a stiff nod.

  Kline stepped tentatively onto the next step, watching the thick dog’s head move his. At the screen door, Kline rapped his knuckles against the blue wood. A voice croaked from inside, and the door squeaked loudly as he pulled it open.

  Dim overhead lighting and candles glowed, but it was the intoxicating smell of frankincense that overpowered him and made the room fuzzy.

  “Magis?” Kline called into the room, blinking against the haziness overcasting the overstuffed room.

  A small rumple of fabric moved. “You shouldn’t have come.”

  “My father said you would help me.”

  Silence answered him.

  A small hunched figure emerged from the shadows. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to get word to him to warn him.”

  Her round, wrinkled face didn’t reveal any emotion, wiry gray hair shot crazily in all directions giving her eyes a steely iron appearance.

  “The young are sometimes foolish. The old sometimes too as your grandfather learned.”

  Kline felt the scorn she felt for them, his kind. He delved deeper, smelling the acidity of her blood. Anihi. Dark one.

  Why had his father made a pact with an Anihi?

  “Foolishness is only perceived as such when it fails. I won’t fail.”

  “Humph.” She shifted, pulling herself up with much effort. “I’ve foreseen your plan. It depends on a young woman. Foolishness.”

  Kline tensed. “Have you foreseen failure?”

  The shaky hand paused over a bowl. “The future is undetermined in this moment. Too many people with plans hoping to change destiny. Some plans will fail, some will succeed. It is too early to tell.”

  Kline watched as her fingers moved over containers of black roots and dried incense.
She stuffed them into a tiny satchel before pulling it tightly closed and handing it to him.

  “What is this for?”

  “Put it under where she sleeps,” Magis said, shuffling back into the shadows of the room. “It will open her to your plan when it is time.”

  “What about my father?” Kline asked, stuffing the satchel in his pocket. “I need him aware in case… I need him to know I’m planning something.”

  “It takes three days for news to make the journey. Lucilius monitors all other communication.”

  Kline nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. This could be your death sentence.” She sighed in the darkness, layers of fabric ruffling. “Your grandfather would be proud though. He never was one to sit by and let others have their way.”

  Kline nodded, unable to speak. He turned and pushed the screen door behind him and entered the clear blackness of a moonlit sky. The dog lifted his nose in Kline’s direction, but the old man didn’t blink.

  Kline bounded off the porch in one step and headed back toward the Quarter. By the look of the moon, he had a full hour before his surveillance time for the night ended. If he hurried, he could get to Angelica and place it under her bed before he had to report back.

  Trickery had not been part of his plan. He was sure he could convince her to help him on his own, but his father still had two years left of a fifty-year slavery sentence for the deed of his grandfather. If Kail failed, his sentence would be upped to life since Kail had no children to pay for his transgressions. Kail couldn’t take any chances.

  Beneath Angelica’s balcony, Kail sensed her asleep. Scanning the area with all his senses, he felt the desertedness of the street. He floated himself to the balcony, landing softly on his feet, careful to remain still a moment in case he’d been heard. Custos couldn’t fly, but telekinesis could be used on yourself to a certain extent. Hybrids weren’t strong enough to do this, so no human had ever seen another human flying. Custos wanted it to remain this way. He pushed the door gently that she’d left a small opening to allow the night air and slipped inside.

  Surrounded by pillows, it wasn’t difficult to see why his grandfather had fallen for her ancestor. The delicate features of a human woman and the strength of a Custos mixed in a mesmerizing body. Angelica’s abilities didn’t speak of hybrid though. Kline hoped to use this in his favor, but it also marked her. She’d need to be strong enough to withstand it all.

  Kline pulled out the satchel. He didn’t want to go against her will, but once his grandfather had attempted to merge the Vindica with the Custos, to bring the branches back together. He’d believed it was time, but Lucilius had made sure he paid for that political move with his position, his reputation, his life, and Kline’s father’s life.

  Kline’s oath to his grandfather on his deathbed had been to return their family back to their former place among the Custos council and unite the clan once again. Lucilius would have to be removed from his position in order for this to happen.

  Kline tossed the satchel under the bed. Angelica stirred in her sleep, gripping the pillow tighter. He backed out the door slowly. He’d stayed too long. His presence, his heartbeat had begun to summon her awake.

  He must get back. Duplicity, the name of this game they were all playing.

  Twenty-Four

  Angelica bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding in her chest and perspiration beading on her clammy body. Residual fear from her dream still coursed through her, and she shuddered as the images pounded against her skull.

  In her dream, she’d walked down a deserted street after leaving a small bar after five A.M. It had been a long night on her feet behind the bar. Angelica knew she didn’t work at a bar, couldn’t even apply until a few days, but it had felt real in her dream.

  Home had been right around the corner when she’d heard him behind her. Weirdly, she had felt him but the girl in her dream had not, almost as if she were split in two.

  She’d been lifted into the air and floated there, grasping at the wind, staring down way too far below at the cracked cement sidewalk.

  He’d wanted that book. Those same gravely words spoken to Gabney before he’d sent pain ripping through her body, burning through her until blackness had overcome the white streetlights.

  Angelica groaned. What were the chances of it being just a nightmare?

  She turned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 5:22 A.M.

  Angelica pulled the pillow over her head and attempted to relax her mind enough to return to sleep.

  She awoke again some time later to the sound of laughter and sunlight pouring into the window. She strained to see the clock without moving, and it was now 10:00. She must have drifted to sleep, finally.

  Laughter drifted through her closed door again and stillness washed over her. She recognized that laugh, but it couldn’t be.

  Angelica rose and hastily grabbed some clothes. She’d left clothes at Landon House, but she hadn’t brought much with her so the pickings were slim. Her things remained in storage, but she still hadn’t made plans to move them here.

  She was still pulling her hair back when she stepped into the small living area where Denise was curled up on a chair and Trevor was spread out against the sofa.

  Angelica felt as though she’d stepped into another dream. “What are you doing here?”

  “Is that a way to greet your best friend?” Trevor said, a goofy grin giving him a caricature appearance.

  Angelica looked from Denise to Trevor. “You’re supposed to be in school.”

  “So are you.”

  “I quit… well took some time off.”

  He grinned. “I was given some time off, too.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Just a little trouble now. I’m only suspended for two weeks. It’ll be all good when I go back though.”

  “I’ve only been gone a month Trevor.” Angelica groaned. “How did you find me?”

  She flung herself down on the sofa, but stood right back up. Nerves wouldn’t allow her to keep still.

  “Your cousin gave me the address. Figured I’d come check it out since I don’t want the parents to know I’m on vacation.”

  Denise was being quiet, and Angelica noticed that she hadn’t looked at her since she’d walked into the room.

  “Why didn’t you come wake me?”

  Denise shrugged. “Figured I’d find out what you’ve been up to the last three years since you haven’t been too forthcoming.”

  “You’ve been holding out.” Trevor chuckled and his wide shoulders shook with it.

  Denise turned on her with flashing eyes, which wasn’t a good effect on Denise. It usually meant anger or evilness depending on what was going on. “I wasn’t sure if he was even describing the same person. He’s had some interesting stories to tell.”

  Angelica turned on Trevor. “What have you been telling her?”

  “Oh.” Denise inched up higher in her chair. “Just about the criminal you’ve become. How you’ve tricked people out of gifts and money and expensive items. That’s sure a change from Ms. Virginal high morals in high school.”

  Angelica sighed and glared at Trevor. She imagined this is what it felt like for two worlds to collide; a strange numbness mixed with a sprinkling of panic.

  “We didn’t do anything illegal. Trevor is exaggerating.”

  Trevor laughed deeply, and Denise rolled her eyes.

  Trevor quieted. “What are you doing here, Angelica?”

  Denise grunted. “She’s spending time with these people that she won’t talk about.”

  Trevor bobbed his head up and down. It was a conspiracy: high school best friend ganging up with college best friend to analyze Angelica’s every bad decision. Next thing they’d be talking about that low cut homecoming dress incident.

  Trevor turned to her with a big goofy grin. “You’re hustling them.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  The doorbell rang. Angelica’s body temper
ature rose. She was becoming flustered and that hadn’t happened to her since she was five.

  When she’d get jittery, her mother would buy her a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles and milk. Lily would practice her story with her. My name is Sarah. I’ve five. My name is Jennifer. I’m six. He killed my mother, and Lily is taking care of me. I’m an orphan.

  She’d never forget her story, and there was always another doughnut and milk treat the next time they moved on to a new story.

  She’d never been nervous or flustered because she’d absorbed her story and made it her truth.

  She didn’t know what her truth was anymore. But that wasn’t true either. She felt more and more that she was where she belonged, and Trevor and Denise’s version were only stories.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Angelica cringed. “I’ll get it.”

  On the other side of the door, Lysander leaned against the railing in an easy slouch with his brooding eyes blinking in the morning sun.

  “Who is it?” Denise called from within the apartment.

  “Someone for me.” Angelica answered before going out onto the stair platform and closing the door behind her.

  Lysander grinned. “I don’t get to meet the friends yet?”

  Angelica smiled, still feeling flushed. “Right now I’m rethinking the friendship.”

  He nodded. “Gabney says you work tonight.”

  Did he come to ask her on a date? She wondered what the calling in sick policy was at work. Probably not a good idea after only a few days.

  Angelica smiled. “Until eleven o’clock.”

  “John wants me to escort you to the house tonight.”

  “Oh.” Angelica tried to hide the disappointment and managed to keep her face from reflecting it. “Any reason why?”

  His eyes flickered and his lip twitched. “There was a murder this morning. He doesn’t want you out alone, and Mark thought you’d like to attend training tomorrow morning.”

  Angelica breathed in calmly, though her heart picked up its pace. “Who was murdered?”

  “Megan Cicero. She made twenty-one two days ago. She trained at Landon House sometimes.”