Draugr Read Online Free Page B

glanced at the rest of the front page. There was something about city taxes and a festival named
Islendingadagurinn
and at the bottom of the page was a grainy picture of a dead cow. The article below it explained that this cow, like several others recently, had been killed and had all its blood sucked out.
    What kind of town was this?
    I got off the bench, stepped out into the sunlight. I didn’t want to be cold anymore. “This is all way, way too weird.”
    Both Angie and Michael stood too. Michael folded up the paper. “Yeah, I’ll say. Last year all we did was suntan, roller blade, and go fishing. And listen to Grandpa’s stories.”
    I crossed my arms. “We had better tell Grandpa tonight, for sure. Even if he thinks we’re just being stupid, crazy kids.”
    Michael and Angie nodded in agreement. They followed me down the sidewalk and we started trying to find our way out of town.
    â€œHey! Hello there!” someone yelled from behind us.
    We turned around. Standing by the bench we were just on, waving a plastic bag, was a blonde-haired guy who looked about fifteen. He was wearing a black T-shirt and blue-jean shorts. He was as tall as Michael but very stocky.
    â€œHey!” he repeated.
    It took me a moment to realize the bag he was holding was mine. With the book I had just bought. He started coming towards us.
    â€œYou forgot this,” he said when we were face to face. He had blue eyes and was grinning. His face was tanned.
    â€œOh . . . thanks,” I answered as I took the bag. “I’d have been mad at myself if I lost it—hey, how’d you know it was my book?”
    â€œYou look like the bookish type.” His grin got even bigger, revealing straight white teeth.
    I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
    â€œI mean it in the nicest way possible.” Was he reading my mind? I noticed that his hair was shaved at the sides like a skate boarder’s. He looked familiar, almost like someone I had seen on TV. “You three are new in town, aren’t you?”
    â€œHow could you tell?” Michael asked. “Is it stamped on our foreheads?”
    â€œNo. I know most everyone around here who’s my age. This place fills up with tourists and visitors in the summer. Besides, your shirt has the Dallas Cowboys on it . . . we’re all Blue Bomber fans here.”
    â€œWho?” Michael’s face became a living question mark.
    â€œWinnipeg’s football team.”
    â€œI’ve heard of them,” I said, even though I hadn’t. I just wanted him to look at me. “We’re from Missouri.”
    â€œMissouri? How come you don’t have accents? Why don’t you say
Y’all
and all that stuff?”
    â€œWhy don’t you say
eh
all the time?” Michael asked.
    â€œUh . . .” he paused, still grinning. “I see what you mean.”
    â€œWe grew up in Montana,” I explained.
    â€œThey
grew up in Montana,” Angie added. “I’m from North Dakota.”
    He looked at her and I felt a twinge of jealousy. “My name’s Brand.” This time when he smiled, dimples formed in his cheeks.
    We all introduced ourselves and Brand shook everyone’s hand. He had a firm, warm shake and I didn’t want to let go. Angie winked at me when Brand wasn’t looking and I almost blushed.
    â€œSo where you guys staying?” Brand asked.
    â€œWith our Grandpa, Thursten,” Michael answered.
    Brand laughed. “Ol’ Thursten. Does he still tell that story about the headless barmaid?”
    â€œYes,” I answered. “Do you know Grandpa?”
    â€œHe used to recite stories to us kids at school. We’d all have nightmares later. He’s really good friends with my grandmother. They sit and talk Icelandic to each other. Can’t understand a word they say . . . except when they point at me and say
eykom
every once in a