Page 82 of Brother's Keeper

“Stay with me, okay? There’s healers…” Miles away. More than that, minutes away. Minutes my brother didn’t have. “They’ll help you.” I whispered the promise I knew couldn’t be kept, futile words.

Donovan’s breaths became increasingly damp and labored, and I drew him in again, tucking my chin over his head.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “So fucking sorry. I… I did everything wrong. It’s my fault. All of it. I… I…”

Donovan’s fingers were limp. His body was terribly still. I knew he was gone before I stopped talking. Myapologies were wasted on the night air that whisked them away.

Fifteen years earlier...

“Fitch?” My father’s voice accompanied a knock as he pushed my bedroom door open. “You awake?”

I flipped off the power on my Gameboy and stuffed it hastily under my pillow. “Yeah,” I replied, struggling with a tangle of sheets and blankets as I shifted to sitting.

“Got a minute to talk to your old man?”

I checked once more to be sure the handheld console was tucked safely out of sight, then nodded.

The light from the hallway silhouetted Dad’s form as he stepped into my room. He padded across the floor, leaving the door to click closed behind him.

The lamp on my bedside table flipped on, and I squinted at the sudden brightness. When I saw my father’s face, he had no frown or furrowed brow, so I wasn’t in trouble. Mostly, he looked tired. He was wearing his work suit at bedtime, either just getting home or leaving again—it was hard to keep track lately.

He sat on the edge of my mattress, clasping his hands in his lap and staring down at them for a long moment.

Maybe I was in trouble, after all.

He glanced over at me, and a smile cracked his stony expression. “You’re old enough to know… Well, actually your brother is old enough that we can be sure…” He scrunched up his face, then chuckled. “I practiced explaining this all day, and now I can’t remember where to start.”

My projector nightlight cast dim stars on the ceiling, slowly spinning. They held my attention for a moment before my father sucked a deep breath.

He turned to fully face me. “You’ve probably noticed Donnie isn’tlikeyou and me.”

I stared back at him, unsure if I was missing his point or if this was all for the sake of telling me something I’d realized years ago.

“Your mother?” he began again. “She’s human, and I love her very much. I know you do, too.” He tugged on the knot of his tie. “What I’m trying to say is there’s nothing wrong with being human—”

“I know Donnie’s not a witch, Dad,” I said.

My little brother denied the fact. His favorite game was telling me to move things with my telekinesis while insisting he was doing it himself. I used to argue with him about it, but that made him cry, so now I played along.

Relief washed the tension from my father’s face. “Of course, you do. Smart boy.” He reached over and ruffled my hair. “And you’re a great big brother,” he continued, “so you probably know this, too, but it isn’t always easy for humans in our city. Sometimes they need our help.”

Responsibility was my father’s favorite topic of discussion. It was the reason he worked for the Capitol, and why I would, too, one day. We had a responsibility to use our powers for good, to better the world. Since most of the world was made up of humans, we were responsible for them, too.

“Am I making sense to you, son?” Dad asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

His smile spread, and his hazel eyes sparkled. “Listen,” he said, “I need you to make me a promise, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, feeling uncertain about what came next.

“Take care of Donnie whenever you can. Look out for him. Keep him safe.”

My mouth dipped in a frown. “Safe from what?”

“Life.” He huffed a laugh I didn’t understand, then quickly sobered. “He won’t always have me, but he’ll have you. Better than that, you’ll have each other, and I think that makes you a couple of pretty lucky kids.”

I searched his face, struggling with the expression I couldn’t identify. Was he worried? Mom looked that way often, but I rarely saw it on him.

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