rounds?”
“Not ’til morning,” the man said. “You have nice skin, Brand. I wonder if it would fit me.”
Brand smiled at him. “You can look but you can’t touch.”
Joseph smiled back at him. “You have to sleep sometime.”
With a shrug, Brand said, “So do you, Joe.”
“Joseph,” he said. “I’m not tired.”
“Well, if I get tired, I’ll just knock you out and tie you up before I go to sleep.”
“You’ll have to get close to me to do that.”
Brand shook his head. “Joe, you might creep out your average guy, but you’re just dog shit I need to scrape off my boots.”
“Start scrapin’,” Joseph said and launched himself off the bed at Brand. He held a metal slat sharpened to a point, and he swung the makeshift knife with precision.
Brand expected the attack, and while he was no longer a Sekutar warrior, he was still a skilled fighter with many years of training. He moved in so fast that Joseph couldn’t react. Brand used both hands to block the swing, spun inside, and slammed his elbow into Joseph’s nose. The man’s head snapped backward. Brand followed through with a punch to the throat, and Joseph dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Joseph gagged and tried to breathe. His eyes bulged with fear and pain.
Brand watched calmly. “Thought you were all that and a bag of chips, didn’t you?” Brand asked. “You may scare the little people, but I’m the meanest son of a bitch in this place. I’d have you spread the word, but you’re not going to be alive much longer unless I decide to save your sorry ass.”
Joseph rolled around on the floor, gagging.
“I collapsed your trachea with that punch, Joe. You’ll suffocate in a few minutes.”
Brand watched him struggle on the floor. Joseph pointed to his throat. His face reddened and he tried to cough.
Brand cocked his head to the side to watch.
“A friend of mine says I shouldn’t just kill people all willy-nilly,” Brand said, “but I’m not sold on the benefits of letting enemies live.”
Kneeling beside him, Brand brushed his duster aside and pulled a knife from his belt. “You were planning to skin me, right? Now that the tables are turned, perhaps that’s what I should do to you.”
Joseph’s eyes widened further, and Brand gave him a wicked smile.
“This is gonna hurt,” Brand said. “Move your hands away from your throat, or I’ll cut off your fingers.”
Joseph tried to twist away, but Brand pulled him close. He yanked one hand free, pressed it to the floor, and placed a knee on Joseph’s forearm. Joseph kept choking, his face turning purple. Brand pulled the other hand away from the man’s throat and straddled his chest, keeping the arms pinned. Joseph’s eyes watered, while his mouth widened and contracted like a fish on dry land.
Brand stared into his eyes for a moment then cut a hole into Joseph’s throat just below the trachea. He wiped the bloody knife on Joseph’s stubbled cheek then pulled a dollar bill from his pocket, rolled it into a tight tube, and jammed it into the hole.
“That ought to hold you for a little while. Try and breathe quietly. If I regret this for even a minute, I’ll pinch that bill closed while I watch the lights go out from your eyes. Got it?”
Joseph nodded, fear dripping from his eyes.
Brand shoved him against the wall.
“Damn,” Brand said. “Jonathan is a bad influence.” He moved over and sat down on the bunk to await the morning rounds.
JONATHAN SHADE
Kelly jerked the arrow out of her chest and let it fall to the sands of the Sahara. The archers rushed toward us, no longer firing. They were mostly teenage boys, and they wore more black eyeliner than I’d seen since I searched for a missing person at a goth club.
I looked around us and saw men approaching from a nearby road. We stood in front of a white target filled with arrows, so I suspected this was some sort of archery training or maybe a competition.
Turning back to the
“Not ’til morning,” the man said. “You have nice skin, Brand. I wonder if it would fit me.”
Brand smiled at him. “You can look but you can’t touch.”
Joseph smiled back at him. “You have to sleep sometime.”
With a shrug, Brand said, “So do you, Joe.”
“Joseph,” he said. “I’m not tired.”
“Well, if I get tired, I’ll just knock you out and tie you up before I go to sleep.”
“You’ll have to get close to me to do that.”
Brand shook his head. “Joe, you might creep out your average guy, but you’re just dog shit I need to scrape off my boots.”
“Start scrapin’,” Joseph said and launched himself off the bed at Brand. He held a metal slat sharpened to a point, and he swung the makeshift knife with precision.
Brand expected the attack, and while he was no longer a Sekutar warrior, he was still a skilled fighter with many years of training. He moved in so fast that Joseph couldn’t react. Brand used both hands to block the swing, spun inside, and slammed his elbow into Joseph’s nose. The man’s head snapped backward. Brand followed through with a punch to the throat, and Joseph dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Joseph gagged and tried to breathe. His eyes bulged with fear and pain.
Brand watched calmly. “Thought you were all that and a bag of chips, didn’t you?” Brand asked. “You may scare the little people, but I’m the meanest son of a bitch in this place. I’d have you spread the word, but you’re not going to be alive much longer unless I decide to save your sorry ass.”
Joseph rolled around on the floor, gagging.
“I collapsed your trachea with that punch, Joe. You’ll suffocate in a few minutes.”
Brand watched him struggle on the floor. Joseph pointed to his throat. His face reddened and he tried to cough.
Brand cocked his head to the side to watch.
“A friend of mine says I shouldn’t just kill people all willy-nilly,” Brand said, “but I’m not sold on the benefits of letting enemies live.”
Kneeling beside him, Brand brushed his duster aside and pulled a knife from his belt. “You were planning to skin me, right? Now that the tables are turned, perhaps that’s what I should do to you.”
Joseph’s eyes widened further, and Brand gave him a wicked smile.
“This is gonna hurt,” Brand said. “Move your hands away from your throat, or I’ll cut off your fingers.”
Joseph tried to twist away, but Brand pulled him close. He yanked one hand free, pressed it to the floor, and placed a knee on Joseph’s forearm. Joseph kept choking, his face turning purple. Brand pulled the other hand away from the man’s throat and straddled his chest, keeping the arms pinned. Joseph’s eyes watered, while his mouth widened and contracted like a fish on dry land.
Brand stared into his eyes for a moment then cut a hole into Joseph’s throat just below the trachea. He wiped the bloody knife on Joseph’s stubbled cheek then pulled a dollar bill from his pocket, rolled it into a tight tube, and jammed it into the hole.
“That ought to hold you for a little while. Try and breathe quietly. If I regret this for even a minute, I’ll pinch that bill closed while I watch the lights go out from your eyes. Got it?”
Joseph nodded, fear dripping from his eyes.
Brand shoved him against the wall.
“Damn,” Brand said. “Jonathan is a bad influence.” He moved over and sat down on the bunk to await the morning rounds.
JONATHAN SHADE
Kelly jerked the arrow out of her chest and let it fall to the sands of the Sahara. The archers rushed toward us, no longer firing. They were mostly teenage boys, and they wore more black eyeliner than I’d seen since I searched for a missing person at a goth club.
I looked around us and saw men approaching from a nearby road. We stood in front of a white target filled with arrows, so I suspected this was some sort of archery training or maybe a competition.
Turning back to the
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