The Summoning (Custodes Noctis)

by Muffy Morrigan

  Two

  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.

  “I think I've been dreaming.”

  “Think?”

  “I'm not sure, it's more physical sensation.”

  “Hmm,” Billy said. Rob could picture him, leaning forward, listening with his whole body. “What do you mean exactly?”

  “I think I've been dreaming about being buried alive.”

  “You keep saying you think, are you unsure of the content?” Billy's voice was thoughtful.

  “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.”

  “Is there more?”

  “Yes, but I can't remember.”

  “You can't remember?” Billy repeated. “You've tried?”

  “I have, but even if I try as soon as I start to wake up it's gone. It's almost like...” Rob paused, thinking about it.

  “Something's blocking you?”

  “That's just it, I don't know. I don't even know if it's just a dream or something else.”

  “You called me.” Billy laughed. “You obviously think it's more than just a dream.”

  “I do, I'm not sure what it is, though. It's... It... Well, it feels almost like the Old One.”

  “How so?” Billy's voice was concerned.

  “I can't be sure, there is a familiar feeling about it. Could it just be a memory?”

  “Does it feel like a memory?”

  “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.”

  “So what is it? Fear of the loss of my Gift?”

  “If that was it you would have been having the dreams for a lot longer.”

  “Okay, Billy, what?”

  “I don't know. Let me do a little work here. The next time you sleep, try to guide it if you can.”

  “I wish you were here,” Rob said softly.

  “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.”

  “Promise me, I need the words, Rob, I need this bound.”

  “What's going on?”

  “Just do it.”

  “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.

  “Hey? You around?” Borja, one of Rob's regular customers called from the front of the shop.

  “Yeah, you want coffee?”

  “Only reason I come by, you know that.”

  Rob lau
ghed and poured two cups of coffee and carried them out, handing one to the dark-haired man. “I got a new blend in, Becci ordered it special.”

  “I liked that last one, but you're always looking for the perfect cup. You're like one of those wine guys.”

  “I am not, well, maybe a little.” He sat down on the stool behind the counter. “When you drink as much as I do, you get picky.”

  “I bet.”

  “What brings you by tonight?” Rob asked.

  “I need aconite, belladonna and a silver charm.” Borja sipped the coffee while Rob pulled the herbs off the shelf. “You've added to the labels.”

  “I have, I found a couple references in a Saga to magical plants used in Northern Europe and followed them back, I'm pretty sure these are the right terms in a proto-Uralic dialect.”

  “I doubt someone is going to wander in to correct you.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “No, not really.” Borja glanced around the shop. “The world is changing.”

  “It always is.”

  “No, Rob, there is something happening, I've been more aware of it since last winter, when you and Galen were gone. I know you were fighting something Old, something that is Not Seen.” The man put emphasis on the words, he understood the world—worlds. While most people saw Borja as a dark-haired, polite Native American, in reality he was only half that. The other half was a shifter, able to see into the Between World and at certain times of the year walk there.

  “Do you know what it is?” Rob asked, looking up from the collection of silver charms.

  “I'm not sure, something Old is moving, and I...” He met Rob's eyes. “I can't tell you everything, but I have seen something coming. I saw a desecration, I saw twisted metal and I saw Darkness there. I don't know what it means. It was not a place I recognized.”

  “But?”

  “You are involved, I sensed you there.”

  “Me?” Rob set the charms on the counter. “Which one?”

  Borja closed his eyes and let his hand run over the pieces. “This one.”

  “I just got it in yesterday.”

  “Which is why I am here today,” Borja said, smiling. “That and the coffee.” He leaned against the counter. “The vision, it's mixed up. You should know that. The time line is skewed in a way I've never experienced before.” Shaking his head, he sighed. “I wish I could tell you more, but the world is changing, and not the way most expect.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. There was a mention in one of the Sagas. I'm trying to track it down, about one of the Old Ones, it was just a line or two. I need more information before I can make any conclusions.”

  “Those who were here Before.” Borja nodded. “They are why you are here.”

  “The Keepers.”

  “No, you and your brother.” The man grinned and finished his coffee. “Never doubt.” He paid for his items and left.

  Rob watched him go then poured himself another cup and wandered over to the books. They needed re-arranging. He pulled all the books off the shelves, dusted the wood and considered them for a minute. After deciding how he would arrange them, he began re-shelving them, letting his mind drift. He'd discovered a long time ago that if his hands were occupied he could focus his mind and chase things that were less tangible with greater ease. One of his professors had explained it during a lecture, a long, boring lecture, but the fact was Rob found it easier to meditate if his hands had something to do. He'd never been one for just sitting and thinking. Maybe it was because of those hours he'd been trapped as a child. Or maybe... He shoved that memory away, not ready to face it tonight.

  Once he had the books in the order he wanted, he turned to the storeroom. They'd received several large orders that hadn't been completely gone through. Galen had checked the packing slips, but left the rest for Rob to take care of during his nocturnal shopkeeping. Rob opened the first box and started going through it, carefully arranging items in piles that he would move either into the shop or onto the storeroom shelves. Halfway through the second box, he found several books he'd ordered for his research collection. He made the mistake of opening one of them, and the rest of the sorting was forgotten as he began reading.

  “How long have you been sitting there?” Galen asked, coming down the stairs.

  “What?” Rob looked up, the soft light of a rainy morning was coming through the back window. “Uh...” Glancing at the pile of books beside him, he frowned. “Two books?”

  “You've been sitting there for two books?” His brother sighed. “English? Or something else?”

  “One English, one Latin, so not too long, I don't think.” Rob stood and stretched. His left foot was asleep, he wiggled it to get the blood flowing again. “I'll go get coffee.” He realized the pot he'd made the night before wasn't empty. Or was that the second pot? He'd been so absorbed in reading, he'd completely lost track of the time.

  “I was expecting it to be waiting,” Galen said, giving him an odd look.

  Rob smiled and walked through the shop. It was drizzling, a typical Northwest drizzle, although it was warm. He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. It made Galen happy because the plants loved it and Rob had endured his brother's enthusiastic explanations about how plants preferred rain to hand watering. He personally suspected it had more to do with his brother's Gifts than the rain, but he just let Galen talk. The morning air was heavy with the scent of coffee, flowers and rain. Rob couldn't help smiling as he headed across the street.

  “Morning, Rob, you're late,” Becci said, sliding the window open. “I've had one ready for ten minutes.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled her down for a quick kiss before taking the cup, leaning against the stand and waiting for her to make more. “I was reading.”

  “I saw the light on in the back. I almost knocked, but I was running a little late and the boss is a bitch.”

  “You're the boss,” Rob said, grinning at her.

  “I know, right?” She laughed and started Galen's mocha. “How was business last night?”

  “Borja dropped by, but that's all. I spent most of the night unpacking orders.”

  “Until you found some books?”

  “Well, yeah, until then. They were for the research section, and I’ve been waiting for them, but I wanted to make sure they were okay before I put them out.”

  “You mean you wanted to play with your toys before anyone else?” Becci giggled, the smile lighting her eyes in the way that made Rob's heart flutter.

  “Something like that. Thanks, Becci, I'll be back in a bit.” He took the coffees she handed him and headed across the street.

  Galen was at the bookshelves, frowning at them. He took the cup. “So, what's the new system this time?”

  “I think it's pretty obvious.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Top three shelves, magic. Herbs, charms, other, then subdivided by region, so Europe, Asia... Next shelves are herbals that can fall into magic and medicine, again subdivided by region, all alphabetized by author. It's the same for all the other subjects as well.” He glanced at Galen. “I color coded them too.”

  “Oh, is that why my bookshelves look like they have the measles?”

  “I was thinking polka dots, it was Becci's idea. She thought it would make it easier for some of our more casual clients to come and find a book. All the, ahem, less serious books are in the pink dot section.”

  “Becci's idea?”

  “No, she wanted little daisies. I thought the pink was less noticeable.”

  From the sound of mock disgust, he was pretty sure Galen would have preferred the daisies. “At least I know it will all change in a week or two.”

  “You never know.”

  “Did you sleep last night?” Galen asked, casually walking over to the counter and sitting down. His brother rarely commented on his sleeping habits.

  “I did, for a little while. Something woke me and I couldn't get back to sleep.”

  “Are we going to
talk about the something?”

  “Yes.” Rob took a drink of coffee.

  “Now?”

  “I'm not sure it's a something that's anything yet.”

  “Dor told Dera that you couldn't breathe.”

  “How do they know? They weren't even there!” Rob stopped, realizing he'd just said more than he should have.

  “And the late night call was to...?”

  “Billy.”

  “Why?” Galen was completely focused on him. Rob had always suspected his brother had some tiny hint of the Sight, maybe not even enough to consciously realize it, but that searching look was more intense than usual.

  “I'm not sure, Galen. I don't know if it's a dream or a memory or what. Billy has helped in that past, before I came home, you know that.” He took a breath to defend himself, but his brother just nodded for him to continue. “And Borja came in last night and said something was coming, something Old and it would involve me—us—and some now and some later. He said the time line was 'skewed'.”

  “Skewed? That's odd from a shifter. Usually they see visions as a linear projection.”

  “I know, he said there was twisted metal, desecration and Darkness, capital D type.”