My Brother's Keeper

Tristan Mueller is four years older than me and is already completing his residency at Eider Asylum. He’s part of Doctor Stuart’s first-round picks for his new-age therapy testing. Apparently, hooking a thirteen-year-old girl up to an Electroconvulsive Therapy Machine and documenting the effects on memory is considered barbaric. It’s too bad it wasn’t outlawed before I was released from Eider with minimal memories.

Tristan isn’t one of Preston’s cronies, nor was he acquainted with my arch-nemesis. He knows Doctor Stuart’s work and follows the man’s teachings. Honestly, he could have had a better taste of whom to worship.

From all the information I have gathered, I can’t find evidence suggesting Tristan is an evil man. He is well-informed regarding the royal hierarchy, and his knowledge and understanding are extensive. However, being at the bottom of the noble bloodline, he doesn’t seem interested in participating in the battle royale for the throne. Unfortunately, he is unaware that his lack of interest and weakness have made him my first target.

“What do you suggest we do?” I ask as I spin in circles, looking for the proper location to complete the slaughter.

We need a reflective surface. Odile states, and I continue spinning.

“Aside from the river, there aren’t any reflective surfaces in range from the road,” I said as my head became woozy.

Then, you will have to lead him to the water’s edge. Odile says in a matter-of-fact tone.

However, to lure Tristan, I must know him. The only thing is, I don’t know him. My mother’s notes mentioned he had a weakness for broken people. I’m the walking manifestation of his weakness. I don’t think I could be any more damaged.

I nod, though I’m not sure the plan will work. I knew Odile’s strength when she used my body, but I had no idea how she would complete the task without a physical form.

Tell him you dropped something in the water. Odile says as if it solves all our problems.

I am not a liar like my sister. I can only hope he doesn’t see through my tears.

It was noted that Tristan lived a block from the park and passed by twice daily. Once in the morning on his way to Eider Asylum and once in the evening on his way home. He lived with his parents, as most royal families do. They know they’re stronger in numbers. It’s smart, but it doesn’t stop a prophecy. I wasn’t dumb enough to jump straight into the belly of the beast. I had to be cunning and lure my victims away from those who could protect them.

I positioned myself on a park bench closest to the road and looked as lost as possible. It isn’t very hard since I’m lost every day. With the number of episodes I’ve had over the last few years, I’m shocked I can even function independently.

I look down at my watch.

He should turn the corner in a few seconds. Odile says, and I feel my body tense.

Like clockwork, the blue car turned onto Mallard Park Road and began driving in my direction. I mess up my hair and pull my knees to my chest, forcing myself to rock back and forth while screaming about broken hearts and missing candy. He would have been an idiot if he ignored a sight like this.

As expected, Tristan pulls over and exits his vehicle, cautiously approaching me. At first, he stood and observed before grabbing me by the shoulders, halting my body from its endless sway. I slowly look up at him, and he smiles warmly.

I feel bad about killing this one, I tell Odile. I know she’s lurking; I can feel her presence.

Too bad. The only way for this to work is to bring him into the trees. You’re too open. Someone will see.

“Are you okay?” he asks me. His hazel eyes are concerned, and his touch is comforting.

Of all the men to murder, it had to be this one. Couldn’t my mother have found another young man to take Tristan’s place?

“He’s in the trees. He’s in the trees.” I point frantically at the tree line while pulling at the hem of my shirt.

I hear the fabric rip, and I must stop myself from clenching.

“Who’s in the trees?” he asks as I continue to point.

“Evil man in trees near the water!” I groan, maintaining eye contact.

I had hoped he would look at me like I was crazy because, in all honesty, I am, but no, he just keeps standing there like he wants to help me, and the longer he stands there, the more I want him to help me.

When he steps away to check the tree line, my heart sinks. I know what’s waiting just beyond the hill. The water allowed Odile to travel between the worlds for only a moment. Tristan may stop near the water’s edge but isn’t coming out. I get up to follow him. If I don’t steer him in the right direction, the act will fall onto me, and I wasn’t willing to take his life.

When he reaches the edge, he turns to look at me. I’m standing next to him, watching my face ripple in the water, toe to toe with my mirror image. I watch as the reflection’s face twists.

“Nobody’s here, sweetie. Where do you live?” No sooner had he turned his back to the water. I saw two slender hands reach from the darkness and wrap around his throat.

Odile yanks him into the water, and with a loud snap, I know she has completed the first murder. I’m officially a willing accomplice. Like Lenny, I could wind up on death row at Coscoroba Prison.

Just. Like. Lenny.

Odile straightens her shirt and smiles. “Your turn,” she says before disappearing.

I grab the journal and wait for the next instructions to appear on the page. When the words bleed out the steps, I learned the location of the ritual is several yards from where the body rests.

I straighten my hair, pull my shirt down, and tuck the journal back into my bag. Entering the water, it only takes a moment to grab the body. Tristan looks peaceful in death, which in some odd way should comfort me, but it only makes my guilt of his death more finite.

I grab the body by the arms and attempt to pull him out of the water.

“It sure would be nice if you would help,” I groan as I pull, inevitably falling on my ass.

You are such a whiney baby, I hear Odile say in my ear.

As her pale hand extends through the water, I observe the sun’s rays burning into her pale skin. She snaps her fingers, lifting Tristan into the air before laying him on our improvised altar. I know she cannot escape the water because of the sun. It is a part of living in the other world, but my intuition tells me that I did not face this issue in the looking-glass world.

“Thank you,” I say aloud, knowing she can hear me.

I quickly set up a makeshift altar on the bank of the river. Looking at my mother’s journal, I pull out the essential items. A thermos to hold the blood of the heir, a glass bottle to hold the heart, and a dagger enchanted with our mother’s magic to assist with the removal of said heart. I couldn’t dissect a frog in biology. How was I going to cut someone open and effectively remove an organ without making a mistake? Not to mention, I still had to bleed the body so I could complete the blood ritual.

I open the journal and follow the steps to complete the ritual. My mother’s swirly handwriting makes the process seem foolproof, but the laughter in my head says it was far from easy.

I grab the knife and run the blade across my pants before slicing one of Tristan’s wrists and letting it bleed into the thermos. The original spells required a chalice, but since we had to move the blood to another location, it’s easier to place it in thermoses and then move it to the chalice for the final sacrament.

Each thermos opens one gate, and there are five gates, one for each kingdom. Tristan’s family is from the Mallard Kingdom. Known primarily for its fishing, the Mallard family rules their lands fairly and justly. Of the five kingdoms, theirs are the least likely to go to war, and their borders remain true to Coscoroba, even though they could easily give their alliance to the Red Wood.

Even after the closure of the kingdom, the Mallard family has never stopped caring for their people. Tristan was chosen because he lacked the thirst to lead.

Once the thermos is full, I take the knife and cut down the center of Tristan’s chest, revealing his sternum. I break the bone with a loud snap and pry open the ribcage. I take a few minutes but eventually get the heart into the jar. I close everything up and place it in my bag.

My mother’s journal explained that the sacrifice was not final unless the body was buried correctly. In this case, I’m looking for the blood tree. It’s supposed to be void of leaves with a white trunk that would bleed when marked with a knife. Tristan’s body is to feed this tree to open the first gate.

It’s to your right.” Odile says, and my eyes finally see where she is looking.

“I didn’t bring a shovel,” I say as I press my fingers to my temples. Of all the supplies to forget, it was the shovel.

Check the ground. We did quite a bit of preparation for this endeavor. The shovel may be old, but it will still work. Odile says flatly. What did she mean by preparations? Who helped her do what?

I walk to the tree and find a rusted shovel lying in the foliage. I’m unsure what to think of this, and I fear what she would do if I questioned her work preparing for the slaughter.

When I dig a grave, I understand why Odile needs me to complete these tasks. She can kill someone while traveling through reflections like a ghost. But she doesn’t have the physical body to remain solid. In short, she can’t help me dig.

You realize it’s going to get more complicated from here, right? Each family we choose is more bloodthirsty than the last, Odile says through our telepathic link.

“What’s the purpose of doing all of this? These people don’t seem so excited to get home.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead and continue digging.

We have to do this so everyone can go home. Do you want all these people to die from starvation? Odile is trying to sound innocent, but I can hear the venom in her tone. She wouldn’t do anything for anyone other than herself.

“What about the soil and water?” I mention. Did she forget we had been to the kingdom the night before? Or was that a hallucination? I wish I knew her reality from mine.

Once we get the gates open, I can fix all of that. It’s the last spell in the book.

I do not believe her. If the spell was there, why didn’t our mother fix it before she lost her mind and flipped sides?

“This makes me uneasy. Seems too public,” I mutter under my breath.

Trust me. Would I lead you astray?

Did she just ask me that?

“Yes. Yes, you would.” I look at her again. Odile’s reflection is staring at me with her lip in a pout.

I already know Odile is evil as hell, but I also understand that I must do exactly as she tells me to be rid of her. Many people will die for my brother to sit on a throne. Gates will open, and people will feel like themselves again, not trapped in an earthly realm with no magic.

Anything to convince yourself this is normal.

The stronger my enemy will become as each gate opens. This includes Odile. She will betray me, but I’m not on her playing field. She needs me for this stage, but she will turn on me once the gates are open and the kingdom is restored. I will have to watch my back with the royal families and my sister.

Digging a six-by-six hole under the blood tree takes over an hour. As the diagram shows, laying Tristan’s body out takes another twenty minutes. Odile does her magic to close the chest cavity at my request. I place the two coins in his eyes and toss the clumps of dirt onto his body. Once done, I look at my watch and sigh. Knowing I’m an hour away from the subsequent murder, I grab my bag and head to the reservoir’s location.

There are five locations along the river leading to the lake. Stop one is at the river crossing I had slept walk to several days earlier. My mother’s journal stated there was a basin under one of the large rocks on the far side of the river. This means I must walk through the water to reach the large stone on the other side. I took a bit to move the stone to reveal the basin.

You’re going to make us late, I hear Odile say in my head. She sounds annoyed.

“I don’t see you out here doing this,” I growl as I push one last time. The rock topples, exposing the basin under it.

Mom must be crazy if she spent all this time assembling this intricate maze of basins, reservoirs, and blood magic. What does she have to hide?

I take the thermos from my bag and open it slowly before pouring it into the basin. It fills only to drain. I watched as the blood disappeared into the reservoir below. I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen. Do I think the heavens should open and a light beam down as the sacrifice is accepted? Oh no, no! That would have been asking for an affirmation I did my job correctly.

NO! I get pulled into the worst episode I’ve ever been in.

Let me take a moment to describe how my mother moves in my dream; it’s like a nightmare. It’s a hobble with no legs. Her eyes bleed, her mouth is agape, and this disgusting guttural groan comes out of her throat. She’s watching me and replays every bit of my work, making it appear worse than it was. She’s showing me as an emotionless murderer with no remorse for what I had done.

I felt remorse! I have an odd way of showing it.

I didn’t want to kill Tristan. Besides, Odile killed him; I just did the dirty work.

One down, four to go.

Her voice is sinister, and it sends chills down my spine. All I can remember is Lenny cutting chunks from her limbs and handing them to me with his knife. I would look at them and put them down the drain—no emotion, utterly void of any connection.

For a first memory, it’s not a pleasant one. However, I am entranced by it and fear pulling myself from the vision before my mother shows me what she’s planning.