Right after class Monday evening, Brand and Mag headed home to change clothes. When they got close to the house, Brand said quietly, "Let me check it out first, just in case."
"To see if he's been there and left something? If he did, I can handle it as well as you can," Mag protested.
"Just… don't argue. Okay?"
Mag sighed in resignation. "Okay." He watched as Brand moved furtively to the front walk and then up it to the small porch, testing the door handle. After a moment, Brand disappeared around to the side of the house, so Mag thought it was probably safe to at least go closer. He was about to step onto the front porch when he heard the sound of swearing from behind the house.
Hurrying around to the back, he arrived just in time to see Brand jump down from the tall tree in the corner of the yard, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. He held something in his hand and when he saw Mag, he quickly put whatever it was behind his back.
"You might as well show me," Mag told him. As he said that, he looked up at the tree's branches. The lowest ones were a good eight feet or more off the ground. "How the hell did you get up there? You didn't have time to climb, get whatever he left, and…"
Brand shrugged. "I'm athletic?"
"I don't care how athletic you say you are, that's one hell of a distance to jump to. Just like when you get up on the dumpsters." He eyed Brand, shaking his head.
"This is what he left," Brand said instantly, obviously trying to deflect Mag's speculations. Bringing his hand from behind his back, he showed him a dead puppy with a piece of rope tied tightly around its broken neck.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Mag spat out in horror. "He—the puppy—belongs to a kid a couple of doors down from us. Damn it. Damn Fedor."
"Yeah, I know," Brand said dourly. "We should bury it. Better the kid thinks it ran away than… than this."
They did, in the dirt where Mag's garden had been just a couple of days ago. Then they went to the back door. Mag checked to be certain it was still locked and that the windows on either side of it were tightly closed. When Brand cocked an eyebrow, Mag told him, "I want to be sure he didn't get inside."
"He'd have locked up afterwards—or even if he's still in there," Brand pointed out.
"Yeah, well…" Mag inched the door open, peering around it into the kitchen.
"It's safe. He's not here," Brand told him.
"How do you know?"
Brand shrugged. "Instinct?"
For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, Mag thought it was more than that. But what? How does he know? Taking Brand's word for it, Mag pushed the door the rest of the way open and they went inside. Brand dropped his backpack on the kitchen table and opened the fridge, taking out one of his drinks and handing Mag a bottle of water.
Mag made quick work of the water, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. Smiling slightly, he said when Brand washed the container for his drink, "Someday you're going to tell me what sort of concoction's in those. More than just 'something I learned about in one of my nutrition classes'."
Brand grinned. "It's actually blood, mixed with protein powder and fresh fruits."
"Uh huh. The fruit and powder I'd believe from the frozen packages in the freezer and the can on the shelf. The blood? No way. And if it's so good for a person, why don't you let me have some."
"Hey, there's the blender, have at it."
Mag grimaced. "I'll pass. Veggies I can deal with but fruit, not so much so."
Brand waggled a finger at him. "You're supposed to have two cups of them a day."
"Do tomatoes count? They're a fruit."
Brand just rolled his eyes, picked up his backpack, and headed towards the stairs to the second floor. Mag followed slowly. He had questions he really wanted to ask Brand—things that had been bothering him about how much Brand had changed since he'd gotten away from Fedor.
But now's not the time. This afternoon, though…
He vowed he'd make Brand sit down and talk to him. It was time. Past time, in fact, now that Fedor had stepped things up another notch.
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