Free The Conduit (Gryphon Series) by Stacey Rourke

brother.              
    “Holy crap, Gabe! You’re friggin’ huge!” My “play it c ool” maneuver was off to a bang-up start.
    “Thanks.” He didn’t tear his eyes off the television as he asked, “That all?”
    Lounged on his black and tan striped comforter, he wore a raggedy, white t-shirt and a pair of navy blue, nylon-mesh shorts I had seen him in a thousand times. Only now they barely fit him. The shirt was stretched to its maximum capacity. His new bulging muscles strained against the thin material. If he sneezed, the shirt would be ripped to shreds. The muscles and veins in his legs protruded like the professional body builders in magazines. I could see the cause for concern now. This kind of change didn’t happen naturally in a matter of days.
    “No, I…how did this happen?”
    True to form, his sarcasm kicked in. “What can I say? I drank my milk and it did my body good. Now, go away.” He turned the volume up on the TV to let me know we were done. I was nowhere near ready to give up.
    I stomped over to the TV, clicked it off, and spun to face my brother with my hands firmly on my hips. “Are you on steroids?”
    “What? No!” His face reddened as he scowled at my accusation. “How could you think that?”
    “This,” I gestured at his new mammoth frame “…is not natural! So, if it’s not drugs, then you tell me what’s going on. Tell me how yo u managed to look like a runner-up in a Tough Man contest in such a short amount of time.”
    He sprang off the bed and stalked over . His hot breath assaulted my face as he snorted down at me. I’m used to feeling small next to people; however, his increased muscle mass made me feel downright puny. He could snap me like a twig if he wanted to. With that in mind, I realized angering the heaving beast might not be the best idea. Self-preservation made me take a tentative step back. He matched my step and leaned down, his face only inches from mine. Every muscle in his body tensed. His hands balled into fists. His nostrils flared. I stared him down. Roid rage or not, I wasn’t going to let him bully me.
    Through his locked jaw he snarled, “I. Don’t. Know. Maybe it’s something in the Tennessee water. Or maybe I’m becoming the friggin’ Hulk. I have no idea! But I am not on drugs. And the fact that you would even accuse me of that…”
    “Look at the way you’re acting,” I said in a purposely calm voice. “Tell me this doesn’t seem like stereotypical ‘roid rage.’”
    “This isn’t ‘roid rage.’ This is annoying sister rage.”
    “What about your anger, like, twenty-four/seven? That my fault, too?”
    He squinted at me in confusion but didn’t deny it. “What makes you think I’m angry?”
    I decided now wasn’t the best time to mention my little talent. “Because I know you.”
    He gave a bitter laugh. “You know me, huh? Yet, you don’t know that after everything that I’ve been through, I wouldn’t touch drugs? And you can’t think of any other reason in the world why I might be upset?”
    “What do you mean?”
    He leaned back and mulled over his words before he spat them out. “Like life has been so great I should be turning cartwheels?”
    “What exactly is so terrible, Gabe? Moving here?”
    “No.”
    “Then what? Are you ticked at Mom for sending us here?”
    “No!” He turned on his heel and stalked to the window. With his arms folded tightly across his massive chest, he glared out into the darkness. “Mom’s doing all that she can for what’s left of our family.”
    A familiar cloak of sadness swept over me. I slumped down on my brother’s bed, my hands folded in my lap. “Is this about Dad?”
    Silence was my confirmation.
    “How long have you felt this way?”
    “Gee, Celeste, I don’t know. How long has Dad been dead?”
    “You’ve gotta let it go, Gabe. It was an accident. A terrible accident. We all miss him, but he’d want us to move on. To find a way to be happy