My Brother's Keeper

When I wake up, Pax is gone, and I am huddled on the floor under his blanket. I toss the cover to the side and force myself to stand. I did not feel rested, and the way my bones popped sent sharp pains through my body.

Happy birthday, sister.

I hear Odile in my head and glance toward the small mirror. She’s there with a bitter expression on her face. Was there going to be any point in the day when she wasn’t staring at me?

There’s a gift for you under the bed.

I will never know how it got there, but when I pull the package out, it’s wrapped in faded paper and smells like it had been kept in a box of mothballs. I unwrap the box containing a journal and a ruby-encrusted dagger.

This is our mother’s spell book. She has enchanted it a little, but I understand that once we complete the mission, it opens up, and all her spells are there. It has all the things we need to do today. The who’s who of the royal families. The weakest picks, the strongest heirs, and those who must die. This is her life’s work, and we get to carry out the conclusion.

Odile is far too excited. It’s almost disgusting her level of excitement.

“And the dagger?” I ask aloud.

She used to keep it in the top drawer of her dresser. It’s enchanted with her magic, supposed to make the slicing easier. I look over as she demonstrates.

“And you know this how?” I ask, but I do not want to see the answer. Odile graciously allows the question to slip by her, and I grab the journal, rolling it over in my hands. It’s bound in brown leather, and the writing is small but readable, which I was grateful for.

I open it and inside is an inscription, For my daughters on their eighteenth birthday. Had she been expecting me to gush with excitement? The pages inside are primarily blank, with only one passage.

Today, you embark on your journey. Open the gates, the borders, the door. Please do not fail me as I have failed you. See you on the other side.

Whatever my mother had meant by her heartfelt note, it isn’t how I feel. It also means that alive or dead, this had been her plan from the start. Have twins, close the gates, get pissed at her baby’s father, close the borders, and finally put everyone on a countdown. I’m starting to see why Odile is so dramatic.

Magically, the following journal entry opens, and I can read further.

The entry is a list of names and locations and a brief history of each of the victims, or, as she calls them, sacrifices. Minor notes in the margins let me know I’ll be filled in on the hows and whens once I get to the moment. This is a very technical game of seek and destroy.

We need to agree on what happens next. Odile says as if she has already read our mother’s words. Then again, it could be Odile’s magic unlocking our fates for one sadistic episode at a time. I have a feeling that regardless of how I felt about the mass murders, I would have been sucked into this moment willingly or not.

“I say we get some breakfast and then figure out what to do. How long do we have?“ I ask as I skim the rest of the entry. Specific instructions state the first victim’s info will not be available until mid-morning. We have a few hours to kill, as it’s barely dawn.

We have about twelve hours to complete the process, Odile answers.

“And what happens when the door opens?” I ask as I cram the journal and dagger back into the box.

We can go home.

“But this is my home,” I state.

This is a death trap, Odette. You are not seeing the big picture here. Odile’s voice is intense. She’s ready to move, but I wonder if this is the path I want to take. Why couldn’t she do this on her own?

“I will grab breakfast and hopefully spend a few hours with my brother before we start the first mission. I will talk to you later.” I grab a dirty shirt from the hamper and toss it over the mirror, muffling her and her absurd thoughts.

I first walk to Pax’s room and find him sitting on his bed, looking at a storybook. I find it odd but then realize what the story is. He’s reading Swan Lake, a human adaptation of what happened in the Kingdom of Coscoroba. I’m sure the story is wrong, but it must have a touch of truth to it. The prince died at the hands of an evil sorcerer. My great-aunt had been a victim as well. After that, it’s a little muddy because I’ve heard so many versions in the last week. I need to find out how much is right and how much is fabricated.

“This man was my uncle?” Pax asks as he turns the book around for me to see the picture.

“I don’t know if that’s what he looked like, but yes, Prince Siegfried was your great uncle. He died before your mother was born.” I’m providing secondhand knowledge as Pax reads the story in a new light.

“How does this make me the heir to the throne?” He puts the book down, frowning. His eyes are red-rimmed, and his lips are chapped. After our conversation last night, I can tell he didn’t sleep a wink.

“I don’t know much, but I know the prince’s brother married the lord’s daughter from Merganser. They had two daughters. While your grandfather stayed behind, your mother and her sister came here to escape the closing borders. Only to be trapped here instead.” I take a seat next to him on the bed. “I was told only a male heir can take the throne, and since your aunt never had children, you, by default, became the heir.”

“But I’m half-human,” Pax retorts sleepily, rubbing his eye with his hand.

“So am I, but I’m still the witch’s daughter.” I take a deep breath and place my hand on his shoulder. “I know what I have to do to keep you safe.”

I sat in Pax’s room for an hour until he fell asleep. The boy was exhausted, and his questions were answered. It was a lot for him to take in. He had already been observant enough to know nobody left the city, and the generations kept declining.

My mother’s journal notes the same timeline. By cutting the borders, she had limited the lifespan of the kingdom’s citizens. They were forced to take new identities, live in homes initially meant for someone else, and survive on customs and traditions they didn’t create. All to keep the dimension from being any different from the world it was ripped from.

“Everything okay, Odette?” I hear my father’s voice the moment I step into the hallway.

“Yeah,” I reply with a shrug.

“Happy birthday,” he says, handing me a box. “I was going to wait until tonight, but I figured you would be pretty busy today with everything you have to do.” His eyes move around the hallway and finally meet mine. I know he doesn’t want to say it.

“Thanks.” I unwrap the gift.

Inside the box is a smaller package, and inside that box is a necklace. The white-gold chain has a small pendant with a locket. I look at him and smile before opening the locket to find a photo of him and myself. It was the first picture taken after we had left Eider. It was an odd photo to choose from, but he was limited since I don’t exactly pose for pictures.

“We’re strapped on where to get things these days. Few people were willing to assist me.” He glances down at the ground and then at me with a smile. “Your therapist helped.”

“That was kind of her. I’ll thank her the next time I see her.”

If you ever see her. At first, I thought I was Odile with the intrusive thoughts, but after a moment of silence, I realized it was mine.

The last time I visited her office, we discussed Lenny’s execution and my disconnected feelings about my mother’s death. I did not know the unexplainable turn of events we faced. I also had not thought about what would happen after my birthday.

I thought I would return to therapy, share some gossip on my lackluster birthday, and then talk more about the feelings I didn’t have and the trauma I didn’t want to face. I never thought everything would end.

I have no memory of life before thirteen, minimal memory till fifteen, and plenty of unpleasant memories after that. I always knew I wouldn’t be memorable, but I still figured I would get a minimum-wage job and a studio apartment. I never thought I would leave high school, become a serial killer, and hopefully switch to heroics by opening the gates.

“Odette?” my father’s voice cuts through my thoughts and grounds me.

“Yeah, Dad?” I reply, focusing on his face.

He reaches out and touches my cheek. “Whatever happens today, please know I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say with a smile.

I love my father, but the thought of leaving him does not cause anxiety. However, the idea of leaving Pax behind makes me feel sick.

According to my mother’s journal, she expects both daughters to have the same disdain for Pax. While I know Odile won’t hurt him in this realm, I’m not sure she’ll accept him in the other.

Learning Donald has found love with a woman of Merganser and Coscoroba blood increases my distrust in the royal hierarchy. I do not feel any of the kingdom’s clans can hold any form of a throne. At least with the borders closed, they will be forced to live side by side. Then when the time comes, and the door is open, all bets are off, and the throne can be conquered.

I’m sure she wrote that while still distressed about my father’s life choices, but what did she expect? All of this was caused by the choices she made. Her curse locked me in a mirror for most of my life.

Using the city as a gateway into the human world is a great idea. Forcing them to live suspended in time and space is not a great idea. What was she thinking? Other than watching us all die from lack of food and fresh water, one at a time. Everything is limited. All supplies are what’s present and never what’s available for trade. Because we can’t trade, she shut off that option. Now I have to go running around a city, killing five royal bloodlines to open a gate and make sure Pax makes it to the throne because if we stay in the city, we’re doomed to a fate far worse than death. Evolution is impossible, and Eider Asylum runs the city from its forest location.

By the time Pax wakes, I’ve been given my first victim. My mother’s journal had done precisely what it had stated. I’ll lure the first three into one of Odile’s traps, and the last two are mine. One is a mystery and the final, I’m almost certain, is Preston Stuart, the heir to the house of Eider.

“Happy birthday,” Pax says, hugging me tightly.

His are always the best of all the hugs I’ve ever been given.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Let’s get breakfast. Those donuts won’t eat themselves.” He punches me playfully on the arm and races down the stairs to the kitchen.

I laugh to myself before taking a deep breath and chasing after him.

I’m going to enjoy my last meal before I go on a blood-crazed killing spree.