Brothersong (Green Creek #4) - T.J. Klune Page 0,64
said, “Raise your hands.”
The boy looked at me. “What?”
“Raise your hands. Put them in fists like you’re gonna punch me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“I want to see your fighting stance. Dad’s been teaching us new stuff. I want to show you.”
The boy’s smile faded. “I don’t….”
“Come on, man. Do it. Let me see your stance.”
He spread his legs. He raised his arms. His hands curled into fists. “Like this?”
“Move your thumb. If you keep it like that, it’ll break if you punch someone.”
He moved his thumb. “Better?”
I nodded. I looked at the first boy. “Does it look like he’s going to attack me?”
The first boy shrugged. “I guess.”
“Good.” I turned back to the second boy. He stood there, fists raised. He screamed when I punched him in the goddamn mouth. His lips split, blood spilling and staining his teeth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he howled, putting his hands to his face.
“Don’t talk about my brothers again,” I told him. “If you do, I won’t hold back next time.”
He was crying, his nose bloodied and broken.
He stumbled backward.
The girls weren’t laughing anymore.
I left them behind.
“Joe!” I called as I headed back toward Caswell. “Hey, Joe! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you. Come on out. You want to play? We can do whatever you want, I promise.”
He didn’t answer.
I told myself it was okay. It was fine. Nothing was wrong. He was probably snitching back at the house. I was going to get in trouble.
I walked through Caswell, looking for him. People waved. Witches. Wolves. Humans. They said, hey, Carter, hey, what’s up? Good to see you, Carter. Yo, Carter!
I said, “Joe. Joe!”
I went to the house. It was a big house. It was a nice house. I hated it. It wasn’t home. And even though I’d been here longer than I ever was in Green Creek, I knew it wasn’t where we were supposed to be. It didn’t feel right.
Kelly sat on the porch, an open book in his lap. He looked up at me as I approached. “What are you doing?” His voice was high-pitched and wobbly. I loved him more than I could ever say.
“Did Joe come back?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been here for almost an hour. He hasn’t gone inside.”
“Shit.” I whirled around, scanning the compound, listening as best I could for that birdlike heart that beat in my little brother’s chest.
“You cussed,” Kelly said, sounding awed.
“We need to find Joe.”
I heard Kelly stand behind me. “You were supposed to be watching him.” It wasn’t an accusation. Not from him. It was merely statement of fact. But it still burned.
“Help me.”
He did. We ran through the compound, looking everywhere we could think of. In the school. On the docks. In the garden that belonged to a kindly old witch who was blind but could see the future, or so it was said.
He wasn’t there.
He wasn’t anywhere.
Panic clawed at my chest.
“Joe!” I shouted.
“What’s wrong?” a deep voice said, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Kelly and I turned around.
There, standing with a strange smile on his face, was my father’s second.
I said, “Have you seen Joe?”
Richard Collins shook his head slowly. “Have you lost him?”
“No,” I snapped at him. “I didn’t lose him. I just can’t find him.”
He laughed. “Oh, I see. Well. I’m sure he hasn’t gone far. I’ll keep an eye out for him. Run along, little princes. You should notify your father. He’ll want to know.”
I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want my father to be angry with me.
To tell me I should have been watching Joe.
That he was my responsibility.
“I don’t like him,” Kelly whispered as Richard walked away, heading toward the front gates.
“I don’t either. Come on. Maybe Joe’s back at the house already.”
He wasn’t.
And it was as we were climbing the steps that we felt it.
Fear. Through the bonds. It was a small thing, because Joe was a small thing.
But he was scared.
We barely made it to the door before it burst open, banging against the side of the house. Our father was there, eyes red, nostrils flaring. He saw us, and we cowered before him. He said, “Where is he?”
And I said, “Dad, I—”
He pushed by us, tilting his head back. He roared, and it filled the world, consuming all other sound. The people of Caswell stopped what they were doing. Every single one of them. They looked to my father as his call echoed over the lake.