Page 19 of Into the Isle

Once outdoors, Damon lifted his hands over his head and stretched. Through a large yawn, he said, “I’m surprised you showed up, given everything that’s happened. I respect it. You have grit, sister.”

“Thank you,” I answered back, watching him wobble in place.

He picked at his nose and flung it away, then scratched his ass. “You were right. The breeze is nice. Stuffy in that bitch.” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder at the pub. “I need to take a piss. Can the gifts wait?”

“Of course, Damon.”

My half-brother wandered down the dark alley to the side of the bar. When he got to a specific spot that wasn’t already marred by dark piss-stained soil, he turned away and unzipped his pants.

I glanced over my shoulders. It was empty. My heartbeat was steady as I slunk down the alley like a wraith through the parting mists.

Damon hummed tunelessly to himself, staring down at his work. A loud stream splattered off the ground at his feet. He said, “You know, I think you still have a chance of getting in if your magic decides to show up.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Big if there, right?”

“I’m sorry, brother. Please don’t hold it against me.”

My voice was right behind him.

Damon jolted and pissed on his own shoe. “W-What—”

My arm wrapped around his neck from behind, before he could turn to face me.

And I squeezed.

Damon let out a choking sound. His arms flailed in front of him as his urinating abruptly cut off, his whole body going tense.

He might have been taut, but he was also drunk, squishy, and easy to ply. I kept him in a full nelson, arm-bar wrapped behind his neck to complete the chokehold.

Damon’s eyes bulged. His tongue flapped as he let out silent screams. He writhed in my grip, weakly, and spun in circles. He tripped over himself, staggered to his knees. Dirt kicked into the air. I hovered over him, knees bent in a fighter’s stance as the fight went out of my half-brother.

His contracting muscles loosened. He clawed at my arms a few times. Then they fell to his sides and dangled uselessly.

I gently let my brother slide from my grip, unconscious. When I stood to my full height, staring down at the heap in the darkness, I was hardly breathing heavily. It had been easy to choke the drunkard out.

Inside, I felt a quick pang of guilt and remorse. Part of me said he didn’t deserve that. Then the darker part of me took hold, and said he was unworthy. That he would have squandered this opportunity.

I reached behind me and pulled out a length of rope, a measure of duct tape, both “gifts” I’d gathered from the house before arriving. I’d planned to tie him up and stick him in the darkest corner of the alley.

I hesitated. Piss puddle around him. Cock still out in the open. Sleeping like the dead.

It looked like Damon Halldan had simply passed out standing up, after getting drunk all day. Everyone would believe it . . . at least for long enough. I had no need to tie him up and hold him hostage, because he had essentially already done that to himself.

With a sigh, I stood taller, put the rope and tape away, and said, “Maybe next year, Damon.”

I left the alley, dropping the abduction items off at my longhouse and grabbing my spear before leaving.

I rushed out of the village onto the banks of the ocean. Moving quickly, I only went into a sprint once I made it to the outskirts of town and knew no one was watching me.

It had been less than twenty minutes since my altercation with Damon. There was a chance he’d already been discovered.

Then again, everyone in that damned place was sauced. There was a possibility no one would notice for a while yet. Even once they did, would anyone believe Damon that he’d been choked out by his sister? Would he even want to tell people, and suffer the humiliation?

Of course they would. Of course he would. I was a bog-blood. Whatever they could do to taint my name, they would. When everyone awoke next morning and went about their chores, they would see me missing.

So I had to move fast.

The Gray Wraith sat in the same spot we’d left it the night before—half in the water, half on the sand. It was eerily quiet out at the beach.

I rushed to the boat, stood at the hull, and bit my lip.

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