FROM
BOOK OF TIME
The Custos Book 1
Chapter 1
TIME IS COMING
Ashmael Nocte looked like a man with the worry of the world set squarely on his shoulders. As the leader of the Custos, in many ways, he was just that. Dark and foreboding, his expression never changed from the deep furrow of his brows, to the firm set line of his lips. Even those of his troupe who knew him best, stepped aside to see him coming. He was not a male to tangle with.
He, and he alone, knew the lengths his nemesis would reach to force the pendulum to swing away from his control. Balance was always the goal, but never the status. It was always to one side or the other with the next shift teetering from a ledge, waiting for an unseen distant breeze to tip it again. Moments of calm were suspect. The twisted game had played out more times than he could count, and he was weary.
Ashmael strode into 43 Chartres like he owned the place, mostly because he did. It mattered little to him that it was on the even side of the street or in the 500 block. He had been in this place since before the Quarter, before the square, before the cathedral, and before those who called this plot of land in the deep basin ‘home,’ had known it existed.
Eternity was a laughable way to describe his existence. He is, he was, and he would always be. It was decreed before there was anything, and would continue long after the known world was scattered to the far reaches again.
Those who claimed the title of Custos would all one day claim their due rest, but not Ashmael. He would never know the touch or comfort of another, nor ever experience the ease that comes with laying down his burdens. His job, like that of the one he opposed, would never be complete.
From the outside looking in, number 43 was just another door in the wall, nothing impressive or noteworthy to the passersby who flocked to this stretch of pavement by the thousands day after day. From the inside, the creature comforts were plentiful. If one had to live forever, there had to be an up. Anything and everything he could want was available, except for a partner to share his load. Most days he didn’t notice. Today was not that day.
It was nearly time for the book to change hands again. His nerves were zinging with overloading static from the heightened awareness and energy of the event. He’d give a great deal to be able to offload the excess. With any luck, this change would go as smoothly as the last one had thirty years before. Each Keeper was only tasked to do so for that length of time. To Ashmael, it seemed like it had been yesterday.
His deep set, dark eyes darted around the room at the others who were actively not looking back at him. Every Custos knew that one day their turn would come. Each was doing their best to remain grounded for the upcoming moment when they might be called to serve. It was never announced who would be the guardian for the new Keeper, they just were, and Ashmael didn’t know who would be the one any more than they did. The guardians would all be in place for the exchange and one would just know. Like a key connecting into a tumbler, there was only one who would fit.
The bell over the door chimed as it opened and all heads turned to see who entered. Ashmael quirked a single brow high to see a female figure. It was not unheard of for a female Custos to be sent to serve, only uncommon. Then again, on occasion a tourist wandered in. His lip twitched with recognition of the newest body in the room as the back lit figure emerged from the halo cast by the closing door. This was no tourist.
“Weiss. It’s been a long time.” His quiet acknowledgement echoed through the room as he tipped the bottle of smoky bourbon to fill a glass on the counter.
“Nocte.” She replied with a nod before taking in the others around the perimeter.
“Sassy britches!” came a challenging laugh from a shadowed corner before her eyes could penetrate it. “Must be a scramble coming this time if you’ve left the Farther Fields to join us for another round finally.”
Weiss’s hand came up to her chest and her head tossed back in mockery at the verbal jab. “You wound me Ardon West. I guess the creator knew you’d need help again huh? Sending a female to watch your back and all.”
Ardon strode from his spot in the long shadow, his face set firmly in a scowl. “As if. You and I both know why you’re here, and it isn’t to watch me.” He tapped his chin and held up a finger pointing to her nose. “Though, perhaps you should. Maybe you could learn a thing or two.” He measured her up and down with slow deliberation and walked an arc around where she stood.
Weiss snorted loudly, stepped around Ardon to the counter opposite Ashmael, and nodded to the bottle. “I’ll have one of those if you’re pouring.”
Ashmael pulled another glass from under the bar, setting it, and the bottle, side by side before turning to walk to the doorway at the end that lead to his private space. “Serve yourself.” He called back as he disappeared.
If Weiss had facial hair, she would be stroking it. Instead, she looked like she was wiping crumbs from her mouth. Pouring a drink, she turned to the room once Ashmael closed the door he had passed through. “So it’s gonna be like that?” she asked the room, but no one in particular.
“No, it ain’t gonna be like that.” A lean, lanky male replied coming forward. A pair of stormy hazel eyes found her before the words permeated. “White Diamond is everywhere lately. We’re all on edge.”
Weiss let a heavy sigh fall before she tipped the glass and poured its contents down her throat in a single dump. “Tell me something I don’t already know Greyson.” She said setting the glass down. “I could walk on their backs from here to Canal and never touch the ground. I can’t recall them ever being so obvious.”
“They are getting desperate.” He shrugged off. “The Keeper has managed to stay unfound the entire duration this time. That hasn’t happened in ages. If they miss the exchange, they may have another thirty years to wait for a chance at the book.” Greyson commented back quietly the fact that everyone else knew, but no one was saying.
Weiss’s eyes shot wide. “She hasn’t been found even once in thirty years?! Damn. Good for her.” She nodded firmly. “Who’s watching her?”
“Jensen.” Greyson replied.
“Has he checked in?”
“No.” Ardon interjected into the exchange firmly.
“So, we don’t know if they are in town or close?” Weiss queried as she turned sharply, taking in the weight of the potential.
Everyone around the room shook their heads negatively in unison as though pulled by a common thread. Only Ardon spoke. “If Ashmael knows, he’s the only one.”
“Damn it.” Weiss said under her breath before grating her lower teeth against her upper lip. “Anyone got any good news?”
She hadn’t noticed the figure sitting near the vacant fireplace in the corner with their back to her, until Rourke stood, straightened his spine, and turned to face her. “We have a name.”
Weiss slumped a little. It had been forever, if not forever plus a day since she’d seen Rourke. She gave herself a mental rebuke at the internal drama of her thoughts. Forty years was not forever, but they had trained together, watched out for one another, and lost track of each other when the Farther Fields called her back thanks to a White Diamond she encountered. Forty years was forever enough in her mind.
She had never known if Rourke had fallen too, or managed to evade a killing blow. They were close as siblings with no blood between them. It was all she could do not to run to him, thankful he was here. She stared him down waiting for more, she nearly jumped when he didn’t speak again for a long moment, and actually jumped when he finally did.
“When Rex makes his parade, the vine will bloom, and a rose will need to grow thorns.” He said unblinkingly.
Rourke was still absorbing the shock of seeing Weiss standing inside 43 as he recited the passage. He had watched her fall in the skirmish so long ago, but could not stop then to know more. When she hadn’t checked in again afterward, he had mourned at length the loss of his closest friend. She had put herself before him and paid the price in his place. He had cursed her for it ever since.
When she walked in, and he heard Ashmael acknowledge her, he had needed to remain facing the wall to get himself under control to see her. Would she be the same? He fought himself to be able to stand, turn, and finally check. Looking at her now, it was as though nothing had happened. She was still a compact powerhouse. Her musculature was evident under her clothes, and her eyes shown just as bright a blue as he remembered them to be. He wanted to shake her, he wanted to curse her, and he wanted to hug her. The conundrum and conflict was hard to bury beneath the stony face he normally wore.
When they realized simultaneously that no one else had spoken, they both tripped over their tongues to speak and talked over one another. It was the moment of levity the room needed. Loud laughter rang out from the dozen bodies that filled the space. Ardon clapped her on the shoulder before moving away back to where he had been. “Good to have you back with us Sassy.”
Weiss groaned and snarled as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
“Sure. Sure.” He countered, waving her off as he turned away. “Whatever you say.”
Weiss looked between Rourke and Greyson. “So, somebody catch me up.”
The bell over the door tinkled again as the shadow of two large bookends crowded through the narrow arch, paused, exchanged a glance, and simultaneously rushed for Weiss. “You’re back!” they exclaimed together as she was smashed between the two large males. Landon and Langston were cut from the same cloth and seldom seen apart. It was rumored they wined and dined the females on Bourbon together too on any given night. The others speculated just how far their cooperative efforts really went, though no one knew for sure.
The ages melted away as they pulled back and set her down. Even now, after so many years, there was no doubt who was whom. Landon was an eyesore in his bright floral print shirt, and Langston was in a one pocket short-sleeve that likely had a few extra holes in it besides the ones for his arms and head. Their tastes in clothing could hardly be more different, but everything else was the same. Short, spikey, white blonde hair and fiercely dark chocolate eyes stared out from deeply tanned faces on both sides of her as she caught her breath. “Yes, I’m back. I could hardly let you guys have all the fun, now could I?”
The twins exchanged a mocking look, and like so many other things they did together, came back with the same reply. “Fun? We’re having fun? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Weiss swatted them on opposite shoulders and shook her head. As though nothing had changed, the antics began. It was good to be home. Langston grabbed her up in a giant bear hug as she laughed. “So much has happened while you were away sassy girl. The world has changed.”
Weiss allowed herself to be led off by the two males, noting the others in the room who hadn’t spoken as she passed them. There were a number of familiar faces, and a few she didn’t know. She didn’t have the heart to retort her thoughts to Langston that the world was always changing, and would continue to do so. For the encounter that was coming, a few moments of irresponsible glee would not hurt.
She hadn’t been present for the last exchange, and would need to catch up soon. The one before it had been disastrous and she remembered it well, even though it had been successful. They had nearly lost the Keeper as the book reached their hands. Yes, the world had changed, but some things would forever be the same.
They were The Custos. The sacred guardians over every Child of Light, the Keepers of the book that held the world between its pages. They could not fail, or the world as it was known, would fall forever.