Read The Blood Keeper (The Blood Journals) for Free Online Page B

his shiny SUV. All the crows landed on top of it, clutching at the metal runners on the roof. I drew nearer, saying, “What brings you to Kansas?” because he never, ever came only to visit his mother.
    The look he cast me was grim, and I froze. Nick was also never grim: he teased you even when he was yelling at you. He pulled open the rear door and reached inside. A boy fell out with a startled grunt, landing on the warm grass at my feet.
    “I’ve brought you a curse to lay in the ground,” Nick said, resting his fingers in the boy’s hair.

WILL
    By the time Ben and Dad drove up, I’d decided the mud monster and the taste of blood that came with it were all in myhead. There was no other possible explanation. I was letting this taste get to me because I’d rather have the huge fantasy of a mud monster distracting me from what was really about to happen: my family sitting down for our first dinner without Aaron.
    Mom and Dad and I had gotten used to the dynamic, to eating at the bar in the kitchen so that it wasn’t quite so obvious. But with Ben coming home, finally, we had to sit at the dining table. Had to eat at place mats and pretend to be fine.
    We’d set the table with the presidential dishes—for when the president visited, of course—and real silver. Mom had made a salad, and I’d concocted a lime and pineapple punch that probably nobody would drink but me, but it looked fancy in the crystal pitcher.
    The dogs started barking in the backyard, scrabbling at the wooden side gate. We heard the car door slam. Mom went to stand in the hall, and I waited just behind her. When they pushed through the front door, I thought, suddenly, what if it wasn’t Ben who walked through but Aaron?
    But then there was Ben, who I hadn’t seen in the longest year of my life.
    He swept in and picked Mom up so she could hug him right. His eyes pinched closed and his fingers bleached out where he pressed them into her back and shoulders.
    She kissed him and smoothed back his hair. She wiped tears off her cheeks and smiled at him so brightly I could see it reflect off his face.
    I hung back, feeling like a kid. Trying not to think about Ben in his uniform at the funeral last summer. Better this, now:just my older brother in jeans and a shirt, seabag hanging off one shoulder. Looking at me.
    “Hey, Will,” he said.
    His skin was different, darker, maybe. His hair the same buzz cut that always made me want to grow mine out. He was skinnier and bulkier at the same time. My brother and not my brother. It took me a second too much to react. His outstretched hand hung there too long.
    Dad pushed in and said, “Are you hungry? Dinner’s ready.”
    Ben grinned. “Smells amazing, Mom.”
    “Will made the sauce.” She squeezed my shoulder and I nodded fast. We piled into the dining room before anybody could be more uncomfortable. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the sauce. Dad said the blessing. Mom thanked me for such a lovely meal. I managed to say, “I’m glad you’re home, Ben.” And I meant it, too. We sat opposite each other, and if I ignored the empty place next to me, it was almost like everything was normal. I could throw peas at him, and he could reach under the table to kick my shin if he wanted.
    Dad asked how his traveling had been, and Ben said smooth. I was pretty sure they’d had this conversation in the car already and only repeated it for our benefit.
    While we ate, Ben launched into a long story about one of the NCOs in his battalion at Camp LeJeune, who, during boot camp a few years back, had bribed his fellows for their leftover brass off the shooting range to make into a sculpture for his mother. He’d been caught with it all, of course, and lost leave privileges to visit her. Among other things. Ben hedgedaround those other things, knowing Mom didn’t like to hear all the details.
    I laughed at the story, which got a frown from Ben. “Wasn’t it supposed to be funny?”
    “It’s ironic,” he