My Brothers’ Keeper: Book One of the Keeper Trilogy

By M. L. Magee

When Scarlette Manning is thirteen years old, she witnesses a tragedy in her family and is forced from that day forward to carry the guilt and responsibility of a gift that she involuntarily receives: mystical powers. Because her parents believe magic is the family curse rather than a gift, she is forced to master her powers in secret in order to protect herself and her family from supernatural dangers.

Now twenty-two, Scar has lived a lie, concealing the most important aspect of herself from those she loves most. She believes she has been successful in hiding her powers—until the night when one of her brothers has a life-altering experience that sends her spiraling back to the horrific event of her childhood. Although she cannot change his fate, she may yet be able to use her craft to tip the scales from death to life.

In this novel of magic and the supernatural, only time will tell whether a young witch can keep her family safe from the terrors that roam their town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483422657

Book preview

My Brothers’ Keeper

BOOK ONE OF THE KEEPER TRILOGY

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M. L. Magee

Copyright © 2014 M. L. Magee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2264-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2266-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2265-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014922429

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover Design done by Ron Causey of Ron Causey’s Photography and Graphic Design

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 1/23/2015

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

"Family. Our first introduction to the world around us. No matter what tragedy or triumph you have experienced, you can find your way by reading how Scar and her family found there’s."

B.R. Sargent, Ph.D., family therapist, author and executive director of the District Heights Family & Youth Services Bureau

"I fully expected this to be like most of the others in the mystical and magical realm. However, I was shocked. This is nothing like the rest! It stands on its own. Uniquely orchestrated

for such a time as this!"

Demario Davis, Professional Football Player

I

dedicate My Brothers’ Keeper to my brothers, Justin and Jonathan, our unique bond, our friendship is the primary inspiration for my book. And to Shaniya and Cori, you girls put a smile on my face every single day. Everything I do is for you.

~ One ~

July 2003

Except for a few cars steadily moving down the street, people leaving work late, or parents picking up their children from after-school practices, the streets of Thick Hollows Town were quiet. There were no women chatting and gossiping on their way to supper or to their hair appointment, no men arguing passionately over sports on their way to the bar.

Thick Hollows, Georgia, only about six miles from end to end, was not far from Savannah and appeared the epitome of a small town. Old brick homes surrounded the quaint and charming strip of stores and boutiques, and the single school in the middle of town served students from pre-K to twelfth grade. The mysteriously beautiful trees that encompassed the entire town, creating the feel of a secluded island, formed a canopy as rich and green as a rainforest.

But appearances can be deceiving. Rumors floated around Georgia that the residents of Thick Hollows were about as nice to each other, let alone to outsiders, as wolves are to sheep. Whereas the people in small Georgia towns in all directions from Thick Hollows were warm, open, and welcoming, these townspeople were exactly the opposite.

It hadn’t always been that way. The townspeople used to be as pleasant as the town itself was beautiful. But now, the 333 residents of this small town kept to themselves and trusted no one. Women who braided each other’s hair and shared their deepest secrets as girls, men who fought imaginary wars in their tree houses and camped together in the woods, wouldn’t look twice at each other. It was as if someone had stolen any sense of community right out of Thick Hollows, a theft that can be traced back to the accident of 1983 when a family of three was butchered. No outsider had been seen in town, and so the residents knew the killer had to be a native; there were no witnesses, and so the killer could have been anyone among their number. Meetings were held, questions were asked, and investigations were made, but no one came forward and no answers were found. It was an incident that the town could not bounce back from. Betrayal and distrust still thickly polluted the air.

Despite this tragedy, the townspeople seemed to stay because of the town itself. Thick Hollows was picturesque during any season, but nightfall brought many inexplicable things.

Let it suffice to say that rumors of Thick Hollows being haunted hung like a dark cloud over the town and provided another reason for its residents to keep their distance from their fellow townsfolk. Word traveled to the surrounding cities and beyond about the myths of supernatural occurrences in Thick Hollow. Myths of restless spirits both good and evil living amongst the townspeople, and giant beastly animals roaming in the woods.

Many outsiders believed the myths to be nothing more than stories the adults told to keep their children from sneaking off in the night, while others were intrigued enough to travel to the mysterious town and prove its validity for themselves.

Although there had never been any sightings of these creatures, every once in a while trees would be harshly slashed and parts of buildings damaged. The townsmen—in every attempt to disregard the legends of the town as much as their fellow residents—would quietly plant new trees, repair or rebuild the damaged buildings, and turn their backs never asking questions. But they always made sure they were safe in their homes before nightfall, their windows closed and doors locked tight.

Gossip that usually spread like wildfire in small towns was limited to family members in their homes and only moved from house to house in rare moments of interaction across bloodlines. The main topic of gossip among each family was about the new young sheriff and his family who had moved into the town a little more than three years ago. That amount of time would be enough for the subject to have exhausted itself in other towns, but not in Thick Hollows.

The Manning’s were in fact a strange yet appealing family. Willow, the soft featured beauty with her luminous chocolate skin who exuded class, strength, and love effortlessly, was the matriarch; and Giddian, with his smooth light brown skin well toned body, and strong handsome features was her life companion and soul mate, and the backbone of the family. Somewhat embarrassed by his given name, Giddian made it clear that he preferred to be called Ian. The two met and married while attending college in Winston Salem, where Willow was raised by an eccentric old lady named Maud following the death of her parents.

Willow never knew her parents or how she came to live with Maud. The only trace of her history was contained in a small worn brown leather lockbox with the initials S.K.M. engraved on it. Maud promised to give the box and key to Willow after the birth of her fourth child.

Other than their names and the role Ian played in their lives as town sheriff, the town knew very little about the Manning family and, in spite of their continued gossip, preferred it that way. When they first arrived, the Mannings had the nerve to enter private property and knock on the doors of neighbors, the mayor, councilmen, and other townsmen unannounced. A strange family indeed, the people of Thick Hollows declared them. But now that they understood the town, Willow and Ian seemed to have settled down to be quite normal by the town’s standards.

Today the beautiful Willow and her handsome Ian were watching their kids play on the floor. Each child possessed strong angelic features, as if presented to Ian and Wil, the name Ian preferred for his wife, right from the hand of God.

The living room, like the rest of the house, was large. Willow and Ian were all but melting into the plush leather cushions of the deep beige sofa, which Ian never tired of praising. Although he was right more often than not, Wil regretted the purchase when she found him sleeping on the couch instead of watching the kids or helping her clean the house, and she found herself wishing she’d bought an old lumpy sofa instead. But there were other times when she found Ian and their beautiful children snuggled together on the couch sleeping, which always overwhelmed her with joy.

She never could figure out how they all fit on the couch comfortably, but they made a wonderful picture. At the moment her kids were sprawled on the soft white carpet enjoying each other’s company. There wasn’t much that made her happier than seeing them together like this, and so she snuggled closer to Ian and watched with a loving smile on her face.

Willow adored her family. She remembered each child’s birth in vivid detail, particularly since it was so difficult for her to conceive. But years of frustration and the tediousness of their visits to fertility clinics for rounds of doctor visits and shots failed to compare to the joy she experienced the first time she felt her babies kick in her stomach or the first time she held each of them in her arms. The struggle only strengthened the love and thickened the bond they shared.

With Scarlette, her first born, she and Ian had gotten pregnant on the first round of fertility treatments. It was a fairly easy pregnancy minus the last three months of bed rest leading nevertheless to preterm labor and Scarlette’s premature birth. Her twins, Klark and Kyle, were a little more difficult. It took her and Ian a little over three years to conceive the boys. And when it finally happened, she was sentenced to bed rest almost the entire pregnancy until, like Scar, they were born two months ahead of schedule.

Max, however, was her miracle baby. After Klark and Kyle were born, the doctors told her that she would never be able to have any more children. They told her that it just wasn’t possible and they tied her fallopian tubes.

Depression hit her hard after that because she always dreamed of having a large family. The first two years after the twins were born, Willow suffered with feelings of inadequacy as a wife and as a woman. She almost couldn’t handle being incapable of providing the man she vowed to do anything for with the big family she knew he secretly wanted as well. She was also saddened because she would never receive what Maud had promised her upon the birth of her fourth child, that large piece of who she was, her history, that was locked in an old leather box. However, knowing there was nothing she or anyone else could do, Willow fought off the depression and eventually learned to cope. She closed her small home design business and devoted her time to her husband and the three children they had made together.

Four years later, while they were in the process of moving to Thick Hollows, everything changed. Willow didn’t understand why she was always so tired and kept having dizzy spells, or why she would suddenly get miserably sick at different times of the day. She blamed the fatigue and the dizziness on the physical strain of the move, but the sickness? At first she thought she was going through early menopause. As if she hadn’t gone through enough already, she found herself thinking frequently.

When Willow went to the doctor, he explained that her tubes had come untied on their own and she was pregnant. She was in a daze at this news for weeks, so afraid that she would miscarry that she didn’t tell anyone, not even Ian, until after the first 12 weeks of her pregnancy. Keeping her secret had been hard because she so needed to talk to Ian to allay her fears, but she wanted to make sure everything was okay before she broke her silence. When she did, Ian was ecstatic and by her side for as much of the entire pregnancy as his work would allow.

The night she went into labor, however, was not one she liked to remember. It still gave her chills to recall the indescribable pain, far greater than her previous pregnancies, and the rush to the hospital. Worse was the drop in the baby’s heart rate and then her own. Complete darkness came after that. When Willow woke up and the grogginess was gone, her rising panic was eased when she realized Ian was holding a perfectly healthy baby boy, Maxwel Landon Manning, birthed by emergency caesarian. Possessing soft hazel eyes like his father, little Max’s warm caramel skin and plump cheeks completely overshadowed his rough beginning.

Now, almost three years later, here they were: her strong and dedicated husband and best friend, Ian; her now teenage daughter, Scarlette, already so independent and headstrong; her ever-so-energetic and happy twin nine year-old boys, Klark and Kyle; and her bundle of joy, Max, who wasn’t just a miracle baby but quite special. Willow could sense what he was from the moment Max was born, though she could not name it.

The night she and Max went home a few days after his birth, Willow was awakened by a knock on her front door. When she opened the door, the image of a frail silver-haired lady slowly emerged from the mist. It was Maud. Willow was immediately overcome with a rush of emotion as she gazed with loving affection at the only mother she’d ever known. As she wiped away her tears and attempted to gather herself, she remembered Maud’s vow. She could see that Maud carried the brown box in her left hand and in her right was the key. Maud slowly embraced Willow and whispered something foreign in her ear. Willow hadn’t even thought to question her because Maud was known for expressing herself in any one of several different languages. Willow simply kissed her cheek and pulled her into the house.

While Willow went about locking the door, Maud made her way up the steps and into Scarlette’s bedroom without any directions as if Maud was as familiar with the home’s layout as the Manning’s themselves. That was Maud for you, Willow thought. Her first time in the house and she knew exactly where she wanted to go. Willow followed her up to Scar’s room.

Maud stepped to the bedside as Scar slept, then placed the key on her forehead and the box at her feet. Kneeling by her head, she whispered something in Scar’s ear and removed the objects. With a parting kiss on the cheek, Maud left to repeat the process with Klark and Kyle, and then finally Max. After seeing all four children, Maud handed Willow the box and key, walked out of the house, and disappeared into the misty night. Willow did not understand how, but she knew she would never see Maud again.

As she turned the key to unlock the answers to her past, Willow wondered how Maud found out about Max because she hadn’t had the chance tell her. Then she opened the lid and all other thoughts ceased. Inside were old pictures of people that, due to the uncanny resemblance to herself and her children, she identified as her family. Under the pictures were two beautiful old-fashioned wedding rings, one for a man and the other a woman. At the bottom of the box were several folded sheets of paper. Selecting the one on top, Willow unfolded it and discovered it was a letter addressed to her from her mother, Alona. In the letter, Alona explained that Willow came from a long line of witches, which was shocking enough, but what resonated most with Willow were these words: Your powers are a gift, Willow, my child. You must cherish those gifts and use them responsibly, and with your powers, bring harm to none.

Completely shaken by the news that she was a witch, Willow quickly stuffed the letter back into the box and shut the lid. As she did, her fingers grazed something on the bottom of the box. Flipping it over, she saw a message in French etched into the wood of the box. Willow thanked her lucky stars that she minored in French and read the phrase out loud. Simply translated, it read: And the spell is broken.

As the last word left her lips, a flood of memories washed through her as if someone had flipped on a switch she’d been unaware was off. She remembered the first time Maud gave her the box with the family spells, pictures, and the letter. Maud had told her that, shortly after writing the letter, her mother, father, and twin older brother and sister had been brutally butchered for being witches, which they had freely admitted. She only survived because she was too young to understand her powers let alone use them.

Maud, appointed Willow’s guardian, was charged with teaching her the family history and how to use her powers for good. Willow learned quickly, and knowing that her powers would not go unnoticed, Maud feared for Willow’s safety. She knew that whoever had killed Willow’s family was still on the hunt for the child who escaped. For her protection, Maud casted a spell of forgetting on Willow, causing her to no longer remember her personal history, Maud’s teachings, or Willow’s powers. Maud had then moved them away from their home.

Now, almost three years after opening that box, Willow was still more than a little wary of her powers. The other witch in the family, however, did not share her concerns. Her bright-eyed baby boy loved his powers, using them as he pleased and most always to his advantage. Willow knew she would have to start teaching Max not to use his powers carelessly. But he was not quite three, and he enjoyed what he could do so much that she was sure the lessons could wait a little while longer.

Ian watched his three boys with amusement as they played on the floor. Kyle rolled on the floor in a fit of laughter while Klark pouted and rubbed at his forehead where Max made the toy fire truck he had flying around the room crash into Klark’s head. Suddenly, as Ian watched the concentration on Max’s face, the truck turned and hit Kyle in the nose.

Ow! Hey! Geeze, Max! That hurt! Holding his nose, Kyle sneered at his howling brothers, then started laughing himself.

Ian personally didn’t mind magic. He actually got a kick out of the little tricks Max played on his older siblings. On the other hand, more serious acts, such as Max flying or changing the weather, were pretty unnerving.

Growing up a magically deprived child with non-magical parents, Ian learned at a very young age that his parents were straight and strictly against all things magical. He could still hear his father saying, even as he watched his children playing, ‘Magic is different; and those who possess magic are different, unpredictable, and cannot be trusted. Magic is wrong.’ His parents held on to that belief throughout his upbringing. They probably still did, he imagined, sure that nothing had changed since the last time they’d talked, almost two years ago. Heated words had been exchanged after his folks discovered both his wife and baby boy were witches.

Ian had a more open mind. As a third generation cop with ten years of experience under his belt, he considered himself better for said open mind, especially his willingness to believe in magic. He could write a very horrific knock-your-socks-off thriller based on some of the things he’d seen. About a year and a half ago, he’d put away this arrogant self-absorbed teenage punk named Macalaster. The kid claimed he was a warlock and went on an animal killing spree, but he didn’t just kill these animals. Cats, dogs, foxes, deer, and cows were brutally mangled before they died. When questioned, Macalaster didn’t deny any of what he had done. All he said in response to questions about why he had done it was, Because I can. Interestingly enough, no weapons were ever found on the scene.

Something in that kid’s eyes had given Ian the chills. It gave him more than a little comfort that Macalaster was now behind bars. Which, in turn, reminded him that he needed to make a call to the judge next week to ensure Macalaster stayed there.

Shaking the uncomfortable feeling Macalaster always gave him, Ian looked at his kids and smiled. Then he took Willow’s hand and kissed her palm, then pulled her close and together they watched their boys play while Scarlette moped in the corner.

Scar was steamed because her parents deemed what she thought was a perfectly executed silent treatment as moping. Moping and pouting were for babies, she thought, lifting her chin a little more. As of thirty-six days ago, she was thirteen, a teenager—practically an adult—and she expected to be treated as such. Not like a child, as her mother had that afternoon during their argument. Which was exactly why she was shooting darts of loathing through her red hot eyes at her parents.

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Mom, why can’t I go over to Samantha’s house for her sleepover? She’s my best friend in the entire world!

Certain her daughter couldn’t see her response, Willow rolled her eyes. That’s what you said about Abigail Wilkson just last week, Scarlette.

Why did her mother have to remember everything she said? Scarlette knew her mom wouldn’t have said no if her real best friend, Paige, was going, but she moved away almost a year before and left Scar to die of boredom. Neither Samantha or Abigail were really her best friend, and in fact Scar didn’t even like Samantha that much. She knew Samantha only invited her because she thought she would get an expensive gift because her parents had a lot of money.

But Samantha’s seventeen year-old brother Bradley was drop-dead gorgeous and Scar wanted to show off her newly developing body in the dress her dad just bought her. She knew that, from the several conversations they’d had recently, Bradley still only saw her as his sister’s little friend. Well, she was no longer the child he pushed in the dirt or who got scared when he told spooky stories.

Scar wanted him to notice her, to look at her as the woman she was becoming, and she thought this sleepover was the perfect opportunity.

Well this time I mean it! Samantha said that we’d paint each other’s nails and do each other’s hair.

I just did your hair yesterday, Willow said, exasperation evident in her tone. Scarlette’s soft black curly hair was currently in four long plats tied at the ends with bows and barrettes, that Scarlette detested.

Scar audibly huffed and rolled her eyes, an act she knew her mother hated almost as much as Scar hated her hairstyle. Come on, Mom! I promise I will call every ten minutes. That is, I’d be able to if you and Dad would buy me a cell phone.

Having this conversation more times than she cared to count, Willow switched her responses to autopilot and focused more on the spaghetti she was cooking. You know you can’t have a phone yet, Scarlette. You’re too young.

As I recall, you and Dad said a few months ago that I was growing up and maturing. She was referring to the very nice conversation they’d had at lunch on March 19, 2003 to be exact. The day Aunt Rose gave her the gift she proudly considered a rite of passage for all women. If that is indeed the case, Mother, why am I not mature enough for a cell phone?

She’s her father’s daughter, Willow thought, so determined and opinionated. She smiled. "Because you are just not that grown yet to need a cell phone. Now, she said before her very outspoken daughter could retaliate, to get back to the original conversation. No, you cannot go to Samantha Stone’s house because I don’t know her parents. And although their older son appears to be a nice boy just like Samantha appears to be a nice girl, he and his friends might be at the house. Your father and I don’t want you around older boys. That’s final."

But…

Because I said so, Willow replied, interpreting her daughter’s next question. Willow watched her first child’s eyes, so much like her own, fill with tears and her face, with skin light and smooth like her father’s, turn fiery red before Scar turned and stormed off.

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And that, Scar thought, her temper slowly and involuntarily dwindling, was that. She hated that she could never stay mad long.

As she watched her brothers wrestle around on the floor, she wished they knew how good they had it. They always got what they wanted, especially Max. Max was a witch, she thought, with envy. She couldn’t understand how her mother had been a witch all her life and not realized it until recently. Scar heard the stories of her mother’s past divulged in the little brown box, and she was fascinated by it all. But to have powers like that inside you and not know or remember? She just couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

A small part of her wished that she could just have her mother’s powers or that she’d been given powers like Max. It’s not that she was jealous of Max, she assured herself. It’s impossible to do anything but love him. He was always so bright and happy, and he was so beautiful that he lit up every room he was in. Scar only wished she also had something to make her stand out, to make her special.

Sensing Scar’s mood, Max toddled over to her with understanding obvious in his eyes. When he reached her, he gave her a sloppy kiss on the lips and nuzzled her neck. In return, Scar picked him up, kissed him on the nose and both cheeks and lastly on the mouth, an act of endearment she shared with all of her brothers.

You’re too smart for your own good, Max, but I’m fine. I promise, she insisted at the look her baby brother gave her. Your big hug and kiss just made it all better.

Sing! Knowing she loved it, and he loved to hear it, Max jumped up and down in excitement. Dragons, witch, fairy!

Used to the drill, Kyle and Klark came and sat down on either side of Scar to complete the three-part harmony.

In a far away land not so long ago

Dragons flew high above the people below.

They spit orange and red fire as hot as can be,

Their scales different colors blue, red, pink, and green.

The humans that ride them are strong, fierce, and brave.

Together they fought against evil;

Trolls and giants they’d slay.

Some witches were bad but mostly they were good.

Cast spells and made potions in caldrons as all witches should.

They flew around town, never using roads.

Whoever messed with witches were turned into toads.

Now fairies, of course, were the bestest of all.

Whenever they felt they’d grow big or stay small.

As they flew around, their fairy dust would follow.

They built villages and kingdoms in trees they made hollow.

Some fairies grant wishes of your heart’s desire.

But before they give them there’s one thing required.

It’s quite simple, very easy, and I promise you can trust me.

The one thing they ask is that you truly believe.

I believe! Again, again! Well aware of his charm, Max jumped in Scar’s lap. Peeeeease.

Scar laughed and nuzzled his neck. Then she tickled him, making him kick and scream with laughter.

OKAY! OKAY! Lettie! Breathless from laughing, Max levitated out of Scar’s reach. Then he remembered how she had felt before, and concentrating a little harder, he lifted Scar in the air with him.

Scar’s gasp was filled with both surprise and delight. Max had only done this once before, when she got in trouble for playing in Willow’s makeup. And just as then, the sensation she felt from flying was unlike anything else, weightless and free, powerful and untouchable. Nothing could compare to moments like this that Max, her Max, shared with her.

She loved this little boy. All three of her brothers meant the world to Scar, but Max was special, their bond stronger. He understood her in a way no one else in the family ever could. Max was the brightest part of her life, and Scar knew she would always be there for him and he for her.

Fully enjoying the moment, both Scar and Max began flipping and twisting in the air. When they collided, they broke into a fit of laughter, catching the attention of the rest of the family.

Scarlette! Get down from there! What did I tell you about making your brother pick you up like that? He is just a baby, and picking you up takes too much power and too much energy! cried Willow.

But…

You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Get down now, her mom said, pausing between each word for emphasis.

But Mom…

Max, baby, put your sister down now. She knows she should not have asked that of you.

Max lowered them both to the ground as tears slid down his cheeks. Scar gathered him close and kissed his tears away.

I’m sorry, Max, Scar whispered in his ear. Then she looked up at her mother. You just don’t get it. You don’t understand!

What don’t I understand, Scar?

You don’t understand me, or us for that matter. She gestured to encompass her brothers. All you do is say no and fuss. And once again, you’ve ruined a happy night. Max turned in her lap and hugged her neck while Klark and Kyle touched her hand. She gave them all a quick squeeze.

"You never