My Brother's Keeper

It’s three miles from our house to Mallard Park. I know it will take me at least an hour to get there. Odile fell silent after her request to stop at the cemetery. It wasn’t unreasonable and wasn’t too far out of the way. Instead of staying on the path to Mallard Park, I had to make a right turn at Pelican Drive and walk half a mile to the entrance of the old cemetery.

Tell me again why we didn’t take Dad’s car. Odile asked after her silence.

“I don’t know how to drive, and I’m forbidden from getting behind the wheel,” I reply, not wanting to get into too much detail about the reasons.

Is it Karen’s rule or the Asylum’s recommendation? Odile asks. She’s slightly amused.

“Medical doctor, you know the guy that has me on three antipsychotics, a handful of mood stabilizers, an antidepressant, anti-anxiety, and a multi-vitamin. Apparently, these medications come with warnings, and operating heavy machinery is one of them.” I glanced at the ground just before stepping over a baseball-sized pothole on the sidewalk.

Did it take all of that to shut me up? Odile sounded surprised. I would have, too, if I had learned I lived in someone’s mind.

“I hadn’t missed a dose until a few days ago,” I mention, wishing I could go back and fix that. Maybe if I didn’t open the lines of communication, the act of murder wouldn’t be on my birthday wish list.

I looked up and realized I was standing at the entrance to the Coscoroba Hills Cemetery. All the times I had passed the cast iron gates since my mother’s death, I had thought generations had lived in the community. What I realize now is that it was for those who died before the takeover and were added to following the demise of our people.

I’m surprised you didn’t know about the bloody history of this town. Odile says as I step through the gates and onto the pebbled path.

Our mother was buried in the last row on the left-hand side. For years, her grave marker was nothing more than a wooden cross hammered into the hard ground, but after a few years, some of the citizens pulled together and got her a gravestone. It was nothing spectacular, just a granite slab with her name etched on it.

“It’s not something I was taught in school,” I answered as I made the right turn toward her plot.

That would be barbaric. Though shocking, knowing how that turned out for them. If it helps any, our mother rarely went into detail. I got the cliff note version of the incident. Odile said with a sigh.

As I stepped onto our mother’s grave, I felt the air grow heavy. The wind picked up and caressed my face as if it were pulling me into an upward glance. I see our mother’s torso for a split second and try to avoid running.

“Why does she torment me?” I ask as the wind whips my ponytail around my head.

Like I’ve told you before, you are weak. It’s not that she doesn’t love you. Odile laughed. Okay, so maybe she doesn’t, or maybe she does. She did spend a lot of time with you inside the mirror, preparing you for the tasks you would be completing. She knew when she died, they would try to take our magic. I’m convinced she switched us because I have always been stronger than you.

Just as I’m making progress with my witch of a sister, she turns the sisterly discussions into a comparison of power.

“What do I need to do to get my magic back?” I ask. I’ve grown tired of her antics concerning the usage of magic.

No clue. You will have to figure that out yourself. Odile says, and I wish I could slap her.

We stand there in front of our mother’s grave in silence. I don’t know what to say, and Odile’s consciousness feels agitated. Was she expecting something to happen?

I could feel my mother’s conscious body in the air around me. While Odile may have found the feeling comforting, it made me uneasy. I longed to know about her time in the mirror and blamed Odile’s brain for now, allowing me to recall my time before her death. How was it that my sister could keep the memories of seeing our mother, but I wasn’t allowed to? Was it because she didn’t love me? Maybe she put a curse on me so that when I crossed over, I was a blubbering idiot still trained to do her bidding. The trained dog who traveled through another realm to give her information on others? Was that what Odile was alluding to in her conversation? I wished she would be more straightforward with her thoughts. She may be inside my head, but it wasn’t like I could see inside hers.

Suddenly, the wind dies down, and the tension in the air dissipates. I look around, and my mother’s conscious body is no longer present. It’s just me and Odile standing in front of our mother’s grave.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” I mutter, feeling disappointed.

I could feel Odile’s agitation. You’re such a drama queen. What did you expect to happen?

“I don’t know, something more than just a gust of wind,” I replied, frustrated.

What were you expecting? Odile asks.

“How about good luck with the hunt today? Or even happy birthday, girls. Enjoy your day of pillaging.” I say as I rub at my temples.

You always expected far too much from her. Odile states angrily.

“You keep talking like I remember any of this. I’m not you. The mirror world isn’t a constant thought. I don’t remember anything other than feeling like my world was reversed. Until the other day, the only issues I suffered from were bad dreams and our mother’s dead body haunting me.” I reach out to touch the grave marker. I’m not sure if it was supposed to be a sympathetic gesture or if I just wanted to touch the smooth stone, but the moment my finger hit the curved top, I felt a sharp pain and blood tricked from my hand onto the stone. I watched in horror as it disappeared into the granite.

Well, that’s a surprising twist. Odile said with a laugh. You have no idea what you just did.

“And you do?” I asked angrily as I sucked the blood from my finger.

I have an idea. Odile says and then refuses to elaborate.

“Are we done here?” I ask impatiently.

Yeah, we need to get to the park before our first sacrifice decides to go home. We don’t want to tango with his mother. Odile says.

I bid the grave marker farewell with a growl and proceeded to leave the graveyard while still sucking on my wounded finger.

The walk from the cemetery to the park was not as long as I had thought. I had no idea what was waiting for me when I got there. I was sure the families already knew what would happen on my birthday. I don’t see how unless my mother sent out a mass email telling each of them that their kids would be next if she died. It seems sadistic, but knowing the little I do know about my mother, it’s something she would have done to get a rise out of them.

The first citizen attack was over food, a loaf of bread, to be precise. Food was not an easy commodity in the kingdom, and the people of this town had so much. When our people saw they could overpower the citizens, the rest of the battles were silly. Then, only a handful of citizens remained. Some died of natural causes in Eider, and some blended with our kind. Odiel was not the best storyteller, and I was sure it wasn’t the honest truth of what happened, but she was at least giving me an idea of our mother’s thoughts.

Our mother had watched her aunt throw herself into the lake to be with the one she loved. Then she watched as the citizens of Coscoroba drowned the sorcerer and his daughter in the same lake, only their bodies never emerged from the waves. To save her people, our mother traveled to another realm where she found they could thrive, and instead, they murdered, plundered, and took it for themselves, driving her into madness that I could ultimately understand.

She had plotted with my sister and sent me to other homes to watch through mirrors and report my findings. Then, she put her devious plot in place. If she died, the gates would be sealed, and their only way to return to the kingdom they had once lived in would be their only refuge. Things might have been different if they had chosen to coexist and not overthrow another realm. For a moment, I could empathize with our mother. She had bent over backward to provide a new home for her people to have them treat her badly. There was more to the story; I was sure of it, but nobody would tell me because nobody wanted to take responsibility for what had happened. Now Lenny was sitting in a dark room waiting for his execution while I ran around town looking for heirs to murder.

“Who was it that started the attacks?” I asked cautiously.

She never said who started it, just that they had squandered everything she had given them. True love had ended their world, and it wouldn’t save this one. Odile said.

“What happens when we open the gates?” I ask. If the kingdom was left in ruins and its borders closed, how could they return?

You ask too many questions. Trust our mother knows what she is doing. Odile says angrily.

“How am I supposed to trust her if I don’t remember her?” I ask innocently.

Odile remains silent, and the rest of the walk is uncomfortable. There is a difference in the types of silence I received from my sister. This one felt cold and cruel as if she kept some deep-rooted secret from me. I already knew she was telling me just enough to keep me compliant with our mother’s goals. It didn’t help that my father also seconded these claims but refused to give any details. I didn’t think he was in cahoots with my deceased mother, but it was still odd he never strayed past what Odile had told me.

Then, my thoughts fall back to Lenny. He hadn’t murdered my mother, at least not in the sense that I remembered. Yes, he had cut her into small pieces, and I had assisted in putting them down the drain, but he hadn’t committed the crime. Why was he willing to take the fall for Odile? I doubt it was to open gates to a dead kingdom. I did hope he found peace in death. He seemed to accept his fate when I spoke to him. He had known the plan to a point, just like me. I wished I had asked more questions about the mirrored land or spent more time with the paper he had given me.

My birthday came so fast that there wasn’t time to cross-reference each sacrifice with the notes he had given. My mother hand-picked each of these lambs to open the gate and then tricked her journal into giving me just enough information to keep me in check. Why was everyone doing the same thing? Why was it like I was a child learning to walk with breadcrumbs? Would I ever know the truth?

Are we there yet? I hear Odiel’s annoyed tone and wonder how much of my thoughts she had heard.

I look up just as I step off the sidewalk and onto the dead grass of Mallard Park, “Yes,” I reply with a shaky voice.

No turning back now, Odette. We have a job to do. Odile said, the excitement in her voice reaching a squeal.

I pulled out my mother’s journal and read what I could about my first victim. Once educated on his thoughts, I plot with Odile about how we plan to eliminate the first heir.