Free The Hunt: A Custodes Noctis Book by Muffy Morrigan

it? The whole thing?”
     

    “Yes, sir.”
     

    “You are ambitious, aren’t you?” the priest said with a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve read it all at once since I wrote the thing, I thought the only one who had was my editor.”
     

    “I had a few questions about Petronius?”
     

    “Ah yes, the alchemist who called himself after Nero’s arbiter of taste and elegance. Bloodthirsty bastard.”
     

    “Petronius?”
     

    “Nero.”
     

    “Oh.” Rob sighed, this was proving to be harder than he thought it would be, so he decided to try something else. “Could I make an appointment to talk with you about Petronius? I also read your treatise on the lost Sagas of…”
     

    “Good god! Do you sleep?”
     

    “Not lately,” Rob said wryly. “Father Blake, would it be possible to…”
     

    “Where are you?”
     

    “Tacoma, I could be at the Abby this evening.”
     

    “No, no, I have an errand in town tonight, perhaps we could meet someplace there? You could buy me dinner.”
     

    “Dinner?” Rob blinked. “There’s an Indian place on Sixth Avenue.”
     

    “Sixth Avenue? That’s perfect, I’ll meet you there at six.”
     

    “Thank you,” Rob said, breaking the connection with a shake of his head. He’d never had a chance to tell the priest his name, he called right back, but the operator said Blake was in class and unavailable. Rob tucked his cell phone back in his pocket, then turned to the books in front of him.
     

    Sometimes he wished he could approach research the way his brother did. Galen had a contented calm when he was working, the sense of joy he got from the books and research flowing around him in bright colors. Galen was also, in some ways, a more efficient researcher. He didn’t get caught up in what he was doing, he rarely lost himself—well, that wasn’t quite true. Galen often lost himself in his books, he just didn’t have that frantic sense of purpose that characterized Rob’s research, or that obsession to remember ever tiny piece of what he’d read.
     

    It was the years apart that caused it, Rob wasn’t quite sure how to explain it to his brother. There were two parts to it for him. The first was simple, it sounded pathetic when he thought about it, but it was true nonetheless. Somewhere along the way he’d become convinced of the idea that if he had just known the Sagas better he would have spotted the mistranslation and would have been able to prevent Galen’s death and the long years apart. If he had just known more, they could have served as Keepers together, waiting for the Old One to rise, so they could fulfill the Legacy. The rational part of him knew that wasn’t true, knew that things had to unfold the way they had, but irrational part didn’t always agree.
     

    The other reason was simple as well. Custodes Noctis valued learning, and at one time had been among the few educated people in Europe. Knowledge was power and Keepers wielded a great deal of power. Rob had known with Galen gone he wouldn’t be able to serve as a full Keeper, but he hoped he could become a vassal. The word had come to mean slave, but when the Custodes Noctis had been formed it was the designation given to all those pledged to serve the Keepers. Rob had planned to step into the role of Vassal Scholar—an adviser to the Custodes Noctis, the person they turned to when they needed answers. It had been centuries since anyone had served in that role, but it was part of the Tradition and Rob clung to those Traditions as he grew older. All of them, from scholarship and physical training, to the tattoo on his left arm. At one time, the design was something that set the Custodes Noctis apart from the rest of the population. Tradition dictated the the design was started on their thirteenth birthday, then added to as a Keeper met each step along the path of his life.
     

    He sighed, his need to know hadn’t changed since coming home. In fact, if anything, it was getting