The Legacy: A Custodes Noctis Book (5 page)

“I started a little earlier than usual last night,” Galen said with a grimace.

“I figured as much when the store was locked up this morning.”

“I meant to be down sooner.” Galen shrugged. “Didn’t make it.”

“How are you holding up?” Flash looked at him closely. “I know the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death hit me really hard for some reason.”

“No worse than usual.”

“You’re lying to me, Galen.”

“Probably. I’m not sure.”

“You coming to practice later? We do have that gig at Rat’s on Friday. He said that we’d get half the take.”

“If the money actually materializes it’ll be some kind of epic miracle.” Galen snorted. They had played Rat’s Nest three times, always promised cash, but always something came up, the bar tab, breakage—something—and Rat never got around to paying. “His nickname’s a little too appropriate.”

“I don’t know,” Flash said, grinning. “Seems kind of mean to the rats out there.”

Galen laughed with him. “Yeah. I’m not sure if I’m up to practice, Flash. I can’t seem to shake this headache.”

“You need more coffee.” Flash got up off the stool.

“I haven’t even finished my second.”

“Uh…”

“Did Sara just get to work?” Galen said, grinning at the blush that suffused his friend’s face.

“Maybe. I’ll be right back.” Flash was out the door before Galen could raise another protest.

As the door banged closed behind Flash, Galen closed his eyes, trying to focus a little healing inwards. His father had scolded him once or twice for using the Gift to cure hangovers, but this time it felt different.
He took a deep breath, letting himself relax.
“It’s harder to heal ourselves than others, Galen,” his father had said to him. “Why?” Galen asked. “I’m not sure. The Gift is focused outwards most of the time. We can do it—it’s just much harder, and the bigger the need, the harder it is.”
 The headache wasn’t diminishing. Galen shifted his focus from healing to diagnosis, trying to figure out what was causing it. The realization it was coming from somewhere outside himself caused his heart to beat a little harder than usual. The scar gave a painful twist, hard enough to take his breath away.

“You okay?” Flash had a hand on his back.

“Can you go in the back and grab the dark red bottle? The one with the poison sticker on it?”

“Sure.” Flash was back a few seconds later with the bottle in hand. “One of your weird-ass concoctions? You know that whole fucking shelf, most of the bottles have poison stickers on them.”

“Yeah, they do.” Galen took a sip of the bitter liquid, pausing as it moved out through his body, stilling the twisting of the scar. “I thought people might be less likely to try them that way.” The ache in his chest receded, but the headache didn’t.

“Got you another coffee. Mocha or latte?” Flash held out two cups.

“Mocha, thanks,” Galen said, taking the cup.

“Bunny?” Flash said, sitting back down beside him.

Galen grinned. Since forming the band, they had spent many happy hours looking for an imaginary lead singer whose name would go well with the band. Bunny and the Urban Werewolves was the last in a long, long list of possibilities. “Bunny works, but I was thinking the other day about Heather. Nice blond name. Cheerleader type.”

“So’s Bunny.”

“True, I guess the search goes on.” Galen sighed, taking a sip of the mocha.

“Hard losing your Dad and uncle the same day,” Flash said suddenly, apropos of nothing.

“It was.”
Especially considering they died for me. It came for me again, we thought It was gone after I…but It came again, five years after. Looking for me, looking for…Sometimes I think we didn’t make the right decision, maybe we should have…Coulda, shoulda, woulda, doesn’t get me anywhere now. I couldn’t save them.
He sighed.

Flash had been watching him. “Come out with us tonight, man, even if you don’t want to practice, let’s go out somewhere away from here, that way you can’t brood.”

“I’m impressed you got all that out without taking a breath.”

“If I stopped to breathe you would’ve interrupted me.”

“Thanks. Let me think about it?” Galen sighed as Flash rolled his eyes. “If someone comes in and needs to be zapped I’ll be in no state to go out, you know that.” Zapped was Flash’s word for the healing Galen did. Flash still didn’t quite believe it, even after Galen had healed him after a serious accident on stage.

“I know, I just don’t want you hanging around all by yourself doing that brooding thing you do,” Flash said.

“I don’t do any brooding thing. The last time you accused me of that, I was preparing for the defense of my dissertation.”

“You were brooding about it and I fixed it.”

“You took me to a strip club and got me drunk, the night before my defense.”

“You felt better afterwards. And don’t frown at me,
Doctor
Emrys, you got through just fine with your boring old musty degree.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go away, Flash, I have customers coming in.” Galen smiled at Flash as the other rose and headed towards the door.

“I’ll be back tonight.”

“Fine. We’ll see you then.” Galen turned to the man who came in the store. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for some frankincense,” he said gruffly.

“Tears or powder?” Galen asked, shifting his shoulders a little. Something about the man set him on edge, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something.
Sometimes I wish I’d gotten the Sight, being able to “see” people would be very helpful.
The man followed Galen as he walked back behind the counter.

“I’d prefer tears,” the man said.

Galen turned to get the jar from the shelf, the sudden sense of unease growing as he turned his back on the man. He pulled the jar down and put it on the counter, glancing at the man’s hands. They were bruised, the skin broken on one knuckle. “How much?”

“Do you have half a pound?” the man asked with an odd grin.

“Of course.” Galen began measuring out the resin on the scale. He often wondered why he carried frankincense at all.
 I can still smell that stuff they were burning before the ritual…Frankincense was part of it.
“Here you go. That will be fifteen dollars,” Galen said, dropping the sack on the counter.

“Right.” The man dug a grubby twenty out of his pocket and handed it to Galen, letting his fingers come into contact with Galen’s hand. A slight shock, cold, like the touch of death, ran up from the point of contact. Galen jerked his hand back and set the change on the counter. The man smiled at him, a mocking look in his eyes. “See ya soon.” He turned and walked to the door. Pausing at the entrance, he laughed. “Very soon.”

The door slammed closed behind the man. Galen realized his hands were shaking. Something had shivered up that touch, something that felt like the thing that had killed his father and uncle, that felt like the thing that had taken his brother.
Can It be back? A five-year cycle of some kind? In all my research, I still don’t know all that much about It, the thing had existed in various forms since forever. In the first form those people worshipped It, after those first days…It was so much worse, what It became, what It did to all of us.

He stopped, drawing a deep breath and focused, using just a tiny bit of the healing to drive the tension away
.
He laughed at himself, as the tension in his shoulders eased, even though the headache was still there.

Galen put the jar of frankincense back on the shelf. The bells chimed on the door again, he turned quickly, already preparing for the worst. “Hi, Lana,” he said, mustering a smile.

“Hello, Galen. Do you carry chasteberry?”

“Yes.” He walked over to the large shelf labeled “women’s herbs” running his eyes over the various bottles on the shelf. “Do you want pills? Capsules or tablets?”

“Of course I want pills. Tablets, please, capsules make those awful-tasting burps,” she said with a look on her face like she was smelling something very unpleasant. “Those sleeping pills you sold me were terrible.”

“They worked, didn’t they?” He was still smiling.

“Well, yes, they worked, but I didn’t know how long I could stand it.”

He pulled the bottle of pills off the shelf and walked back over to the counter, still with the fake smile pasted on his face.
He rang her up, put the bottle in a little bag and handed it to her. She gave a little humph and left the store.

A delivery truck pulled up outside. Galen went out to meet the driver and direct him where to put the boxes in the back of the store. As the driver was leaving, another customer came in and then another. It was nearly an hour later before Galen got back to his boxes. He cut the tops open and started inventorying the shipment of herbs.

“New goodies?” Rhiannon asked. She’d come in moments before, bringing the smell of fast food tacos with her.

“Some herbs, a few magical items I’ve been waiting for, some other stuff.”

“And the big, long box?” She handed him one of the bags she had in her hand.

“The box that looks almost like it might have something pointy in it?” Galen said with a laugh.

“That’s the one.” Rhiannon had picked the box in question up and brought it over to him. “Something sharp and pointy?”

“Very.” Galen laughed at the look of pure glee in her eyes. “I meant to wrap it.” He shrugged. “Open it if you want.”

“What? For me?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“Ten year anniversary, thought I should get you something.” Galen handed her the box cutter. She eagerly opened the box, whistling as she pulled out a archer’s falchion. Galen had chosen the short sword with her height in mind. She ran a loving hand over the scabbard before pulling the blade out and taking an experimental swing with it. “Do you think most women get that turned on by a sword, Rhiannon?”

“If they don’t there’s something wrong with them.” She grinned. “You didn’t have to, honey.”

“Yes, I did, Rhiannon, I would’ve never made it through without you,” he paused, looking at her.

“You would’ve done fine without me.”

“No. You were so calm, so strong, even after everything that had happened.”

Past

Ten years before

Day Two

He was cold, cold and wet. That was the first thing that crept into Galen’s awareness. The ground was hard under him and he could hear sirens in the distance. He was still lying on the road, the cold seeping up from the pavement.

“Hold still. Help is on the way,” a woman’s voice said. Galen opened his eyes. Well, actually he opened his right eye, the left one didn’t want to open. A woman with soft ginger hair was holding his hand, gently patting his wrist, and a man with white hair was kneeling beside her. “What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Uh, Rob?” Galen said, confused.

“Your name is Rob?” the woman asked.

“No, Galen. My brother, Rob, is he here?” He felt panic twisting in his chest. He tried to sit up. Pain stabbed through him. He could feel his side burning.

“No, no, lie still,” the man said, pushing him back down. “There was no one else here. I looked around. I called the police, they’re on their way. An ambulance, too. What happened?”

“They took my brother. We were at the diner and then, they took him.” Galen stopped, unable to go any further.  “My Dad, I need to get a hold of my Dad.” Galen could hear the sirens, they were quite close now. He tried to reach out for his brother, but couldn’t stretch beyond his body. With a small groan, he tried to focus some of the healing to give himself a little more time—he knew he only had a minute or two left of consciousness. “Call him, his number is two zero…” He couldn’t hold on anymore.

The next time awareness raised its head, Galen was in a hospital. He could tell by the smell. They’d given him something, he had an odd feeling of disconnect he suspected must be coming from painkillers.
Galen looked around. His left eye still wouldn’t open very far. He was alone in a room, the IV stand beside the bed had a bag of blood hanging from it. Something was wrong. He floated on the drugs for a minute, casting around, trying to figure out what it was. The answer slammed into his head with a near physical force. “Rob!” he heard his voice in the quiet room.

Galen took a deep breath. When he sensed a little of his strength had returned, he reached out for his brother. He slowly extended out beyond himself, letting the hospital room dim as he searched for Rob. After a minute, he thought he felt the tiniest hint of his brother—pain, a confused rumble of thoughts, fear. Over it all was fear. “
Rob?” 
He’d never managed to communicate actual words to his brother, but he tried this time.
“Rob? Can you hear me?”
For just an instant he thought he felt a sliver of recognition, he wasn’t sure.
“I’m okay, Rob. I’m coming.”

He tried to sit up, only to discover restraints on his wrists. He pulled against them. They wouldn’t budge. He tried to stay calm. The need to find his brother and his own fear of being restrained were creating something very close to a panic attack. Galen ran through his training, trying to find a way out of the restraints. Finally, he relaxed, letting the muscles in his arm go limp and he started easing his hand out of the restraint. He’d nearly worked his left hand all the way free when the door opened.