The Brotherhood: Blood by Kody Boye Read Free Book Online Page B

raise their tent without much trouble.
    While Odin lay beneath its folds, per his father’s request both to stay out of the way and to rest after a long day’s worth of travel, Ectris Karussa stood outside, barking orders to the men he commanded and beckoning them with mad gestures to secure the supplies in the clearing that they managed to stumble across.
    While dozing in between the realms of consciousness, eyes clouded over and head ready to dwell off into sleep, Odin noticed a tiny tear in the ceiling, one of which could seriously hinder their comfort come tonight.
    What would he say? Odin thought.
    The itch started in his middle finger, then extended up his hand and into his arm, where it snaked up his appendage until it met his shoulder. Once there, it blossomed within his chest into a flame of desire that beckoned to be touched, but could not ever be reached in the physical sense.
    Maybe, just maybe, if he were quick enough, he could mend the fabric before his father managed to return to the tent.
    Lifting his finger, he concentrated on the jagged tear and willed the tent to mend itself of its own accord.
    One moment passed, then two.
    Nothing happened.
    Slowly, as if done by its own accord, the fabric that made up the upper flaps of the tent began to sew themselves together, each individual thread twisting and curling beneath the will of his magic to form one greater, finer instrument.
    In light of his newfound discovery, Odin couldn’t help but smile.
    I did it, he thought. I did it!
    The tent flap parted.
    Odin’s breath caught in his chest.
    His father—whom, up until that moment, had been ignorant to his activities—stepped in, mouth agape in horror and eyes alit in rage. “NO!” he roared.
    Immediately, Odin allowed his hand to fall to his side.
    Maybe he didn’t notice, his conscience whispered, begging him to play the liar’s fool and watch the adult man as he stepped forward and into the tent. Maybe if you don’t say anything, he won’t think you did something.
    That, of course, would not happen. He knew better than that, even knew that he’d been caught red-handed as if he were stealing a sweet from the cookie jar. That, however, did not lessen the fear of punishment any, so when he simply stared at his father and asked, in as calm a voice as possible, “What?” he felt the strings of unease begin to play across his heart, a choir in the greatest hall of punishment.
    “I don’t want you using that,” the man said, mouth snarled in rage. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Dammit, boy! You know what I’m talking about.”
    “No I don’t.”
    “Don’t lie to me, Odin.”
    The growl that followed raised the hairs on the back of Odin’s neck.
    Knowing that there was no point in trying to trick his father, he sighed, then bowed his head, only to have his jaw turned up within the next moment.
    Within his father’s eyes, he found nothing more than rage.
    “You nearly blew yourself up when you were little,” the man said, tightening his hold on Odin’s jaw to an almost-unbearable pressure. “Don’t be cocky with me, boy. I’m not going to ask you again.”
    “Father—”
    “ Do not use magic any more. Do you hear me?”
    “You can’t keep me from using it!” Odin cried, disengaging himself from the man’s grasp.
    With each step back he took his father reciprocated with a forward advance of his own. Trembling, Odin knew he would be seriously punished, possibly even beaten, but in his father’s face he couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be something more there—something that, while not overtly visible, led him to believe that a bit of fear, even unease rested in the hollows of his eyes and the curves of his snarled lips.
    “Father—”
    “Come here, Odin. Looks like I need to teach you another lesson in manners.”
    “I thought you wanted me to fix it!”
    “That damn magic is going to kill you if you keep using it. You