But I know the truth,

I know the whole shebang

I know the names of the men they had to hang – “Unmarked Helicopters”

– By Soul Coughing

After Mockingbird was done at the Star Light Lounge, it met up with Brother Roger at his house. The bird retrieved the surveillance photos and videos that were watching the House of the One God. Several people entered and left, most of them were known guild members. A few were unknown people whom Brother Roger or Mockingbird didn’t recognize. His eyes grew heavy as he watched the videos. Before he knew it he was sleeping on the couch. Mockingbird cuddled up with him in his lap.

Brother Roger found himself standing in the thick fog, similar to the one at the Three Bars House, except the annoying voices. As the fog began to lift a large orange tabby cat approached him. The only distinguishing feature was its violet eyes and a small patch of fur missing from its tail. Brother Roger contemplated if this was a dream or if it was someone’s battle avatar was messing with him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Do you normally talk to strangers?” replied the cat.

“Smart ass,” he blurted out.

Brother Roger couldn’t help it, he was tired and annoyed. The cat sat down and sighed. Its tail began to twitch back and forth irritated.

“Ok, kid, we don’t have much time. I’m about to give you a glimpse of your enemies life. It’s only fair since she knows so much about you,” said the cat.

“What do you mean, how does she know about me?”

“When you lost to her she snatched an excessive part of your future away. Every wonder why you only wager 1-percent of your future in most battles? Well in the ancient days, at least 20-percent or more of a person’s future was wagered. When the winner received his prize he also gained a portion of the loser’s memories, and in rare cases some of their powers. The Old Witch now knows about you and your surveillance methods. That’s why she was able to manipulate you so easily. When I defeated her in combat I received a large percentage of her future and a taste of her past. It’s time to even the odds. Hey, Turnabout is fair play.”

“So can anyone do this?” he asked.

“With the right training, anyone can ‘read the tealeaves’,” the cat said. “Come on, we have a limited window.”

Before Brother Roger could ask any more questions he saw the world whizzing by. The sun rose from west to east. As it speed up his vision blurred.

His body felt foreign, like he was wearing someone’s else's skin. He looked at himself. He had breasts and long straight brown hair. His mind was buzzing with thoughts and uncontrolled emotions that danced in his head.

“Well sweetie, are you anxious to finally get home?” asked a man in a dark gray business suit.

In the back of his head, he knew they were going home.

“I don’t think I’m ready yet, father,” she replied.

Brother Roger wasn’t sure if he said that or if the person he was inside said it.

He heard the cat’s voice say “just go with the flow.”

Brother Roger sat back as a quiet observer, watching the events unfold.

The man pushed her hair from around her ear, and said, “You are very pretty, very much like your mother.”

She smiled and sat back in the chair. Roger tried to access her memories and found that he could.

It was almost like reading a script from a play. Apparently, much of her life was a confused mess. He could recall an old man wearing black robes yelling at her. Another memory flashed as she took a few pills while a nurse observed her.

From what he could tell she just got out of a mental institution and was on her way home, after being there for over three years. He ran another mental check and, although her dad was very needy, he was not abusive towards her in any way.

By the time Roger could sort out the memories, they pulled up to a small condo in the heart of a city. Her mind was still foggy and she didn’t know exactly what city she was in. The garage door opened up and they got out of the car. Her father helped her with her bags as they walked inside.

“SISTER!” yelled a younger teenaged boy.

She turned to see the source of the noise. It was her little brother. He couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15-years-old. He gave her a big hug.

“My you have sure grown,” she said.

Her mind was trying to figure out the last time she had seen him. His face had grown older as he asked her a thousand questions a second. She tried to best to answer them but remained vague in her answers.

Brother Roger could tell something bad occurred, but her memories were mismatched he couldn’t piece together what transpired.

“I just got here myself, my foster parents finally let me come since you were coming back,” her little brother said.

“Well, I’m glad to finally be able to see you, Bobby,” she told him.

She ran her hands through his unwashed brown hair. It was curly unlike hers. They continued to talk as the phone rang. Her father picked up the cordless phone and answered. Both brother and sister lowered their voice in order to hear the conservation.

“Yes dear, yes dear, ok dear, I know, they are both back safe and sound. Oh, do you want to talk to them? Ok, once sec.” said their father. “Kids, your mother’s on the phone and wants to talk to you.”

If felt like she walked up to a grave and saw her name and death date chiseled in it. Even her brother stopped talking and stared at her wide-eyed.

“Come on kids your mother’s busy and doesn’t have a lot of time to talk.”

She hesitantly took the phone. Her father adjusted his wide framed glasses as he watched her.

“Hello?” expecting not to hear anything.

On the other end, Brother Roger could hear someone breathing. It also sounded like someone gasping for their last breath of air before they died. The girl’s mind flew into a panic. The breathing on the other end sped up as it tried to say something.

“Barbra? Why did you do this to me?” it asked.

Her voice sounded like a combination of barely audible scratches, slight Russian accent and if the person was talking as they coughed.

“Bad children need to be punished,” said the raspy voice.

Beads of sweat poured down from Barbra’s face. Her mind couldn’t string together one coherent thought. Dark voices from deep down inside of her told her she was worthless, and it was her fault this was happening. Her hand trembled as she gave the phone back to her father.

“Did you have a nice talk, dear?” her father asked.

She couldn’t see his eyes through his glasses because of the reflection. Barbra just nodded and walked to her room. The voices keep telling her she needed to die. She ran into her room and slammed the door.

The voices began to grow louder and louder as she fished through her purse for her medication. When was the last time she took her pills? She couldn’t remember, but the phone triggered the voices in her head and wouldn’t stop.

“I cast you demons out in Jesus’ name!” yelled Brother Roger who had enough of the voices.

He didn’t know if that would work, but he wanted to try something. He could hear the voices, too.

“Shut your worthless mouth, she belongs to us!” one of the voices said to him.

Roger concentrated on her stomach as he filled it with a golden light. As he fed it, the pressure built up until it exploded all around her. For a moment the room was filled with the light, and then it faded away.

Her mind was at peace. Barbra muttered a soft thank you as she began to cry into her pillow.

“Is…this actually happening, in real time?” thought Brother Roger.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Keep your focus, and go with the flow,” snapped the cat’s voice. “You doubts will Mickey Mouse the connection!”

Brother Roger decided to watch first and ask questions later. There was a knock at the door and her little brother kept asking her if she was ok. She yelled at him several times to go away. Eventually, he conceded.

Barbra could hear him slump down by the edge of the door. She decided to ignore him.

She put her hands to her head and began to rub her temples trying to clear her mind. Brother Roger saw this behavior before when the witch was frustrated.

“Why is she not dead?” she asked herself.

“What do you mean by, dead?” asked Brother Roger.

“My father killed her, stabbed her to death when one day. I was powerless to stop him. I don’t know what the fight was about. But he stabbed her over and over. Then he talked me and my brother into saying it was my entire fault. She used to beat all of us; I guess my father had enough. One day she was hitting me over and over with an extension cord when my father tried to stop her. She went into the kitchen and pulled out a kitchen knife and he got it away from her and stabbed her with it.”

“You little bitch! You allowed him to kill me. You are nothing but a little whore! Oh, why was I punished by God for carrying a demon spawn like you inside of me for 9 months? I should have cut you out myself, instead of giving birth to the Whore of Babylon!” said a female voice with the Russian accent.

“Mother why am I a bad person?” cried Barbra.

Roger felt another presence in the room, but was limited on his ability to detect it. An icy cold hand touched Barbara’s shoulder. Its fingernails dug into her skin.

Brother Roger decided he had enough. He built up the golden light again. This time he focused all his energy on creating a white-fire barrier around Barbra.

He felt the source of the voice trying to break through. Every time it crashed against the barrier it’s took on a human-like form. Through her eyes, he saw a ghostly apparition pacing back and forth in frustration.

The hunger in the ghost’s eyes searched for a way through the protective barrier. Roger’s only thought was to exercise the ghost and send it anywhere but this place. Erecting the protective barrier took a lot of him and young Barbra. If only he had his Bible he could have banished the ghost with ease.

“Do you have a Bible?” he desperately asked Barbra.

He didn’t like the idea of being another voice in her head but didn’t know what else to do.

“I don’t know?” she replied.

She rose to her feet and she began to feel lightheaded. Vision grayed out and she fainted. The medication had worked its effects through her blood stream as she fell fast asleep.

Before Brother Roger could orientate himself he heard knock on the window. Rubbing her eyes Barbra sat up. The knocking on the window continued. She lazily looked out of the window and saw a young man staring back.

He was furiously waving to her. She got up and opened up the window and he crawled in. She gave him a hug and as he tried to kiss her. She turned away pretending to be shy.

“Why are you faking it?” Brother Roger asked.

“I’m so glad I was able to find you, my Bar,” he said with a German accent.

He seemed nice enough, even if he was crawling through her window at 3 am.

Then Brother Roger realized who this guy was. It was Taaoon, but a few years younger! His dark skin and facial features was a dead ringer for Baba Yaga’s chief bodyguard.

“You father didn’t hurt you yet, did he?” he asked.

“See if she can read auras?” asked the cat.

Brother Roger examined at his energy field, and there was nothing special about it. When he scanned auras in the earth-realm people with magical potential and/or mages all had a purple tint to it. This kid didn’t.

“No, he hasn’t touched me yet, please you need to do something, and I’m so scared,” she cried on his shoulder.

“I brought something from home,” he said pulling out a handgun.

She looked over at it and kissed him excitedly. Brother Roger felt the lips of the boy as embraced each other.

“I really didn’t expect that,” Brother Roger said spitting.

"Pfft," replied the cat. “I think I’m going to be sick,”

“I had no choice, or he wouldn’t follow my plan,” she said mentally.

“You can hear me?” Brother Roger asked her.

“Yes, now shut up! You are nothing but voices in my head, NOW SHUT UP!” she screamed mentally.

“What plan are you talking about?” asked Brother Roger.

The cat replied, "Don't ask me, I'm just a cat."

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to stab myself!” she thought as she looked around for a sharp object.

Roger felt helpless. If this was actually happening, he had an opportunity to stop her. She grabbed a comb and began to stab herself with it. Brother felt the pain as she repeated it over and over. The young Taaoon grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“Sorry, I haven’t taken my medication in a while. The voices are coming back,” she told him.

“You liar!” responded Brother Roger. “At least about the medication.”

“If you don’t shut up I’ll stab this kid in the face!” she mentally said.

Roger’s mind ran in 50 directions as he tried to figure out how to stop her. Her bedroom door started to open as she kissed him again. Her little brother was standing there watching the whole thing.

“He’s in the bedroom asleep, quickly before he wakes up!” she commanded.

The older boy turned around and quickly sped off. When they were alone her little brother approached her.

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think he’s cute, but did you have it?” she asked.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a large kitchen knife. Bobby’s mind looked like it was lost in thought. Brother Roger scanned his aura; he had magical potential like she did. Then he saw the plan.

She was going to have the Arabic kid, whom she met at the mental hospital, kill her father. Then her brother would kill the guy, and she would call the cops. They would claim he wanted to run off and get married, but her father said no. So he eliminated the father. Brother Roger needed to stop this.

“You need to help me stop this!” he called out to the cat.

“Do you know how much concentration it’s takes to keep us here and coherent? If I break focus, we go back,” the cat replied.

Brother Roger summoned up all his reserves, and part of hers, and forced it through her head. It made her dizzy as she stumbled backward. Bobby caught her before she fell down. Roger had temporary control of her.

“Stop him, this is wrong,” she muttered.

“Yes, my Queen,” Bobby said and ran out of the room.

Then Roger realized who Bobby was, in the astral plane he assumed the appearance of the Arabic kid who was about to commit a murder. Her little brother was Taaoon! His mind saw a flashback of the past. The two playing castle and she always played the queen and Bobby played the knight defending her from the evil dragon.

“Daddy sat back and watched mom beat me and did nothing, he needs to pay,” she said.

The mind blast was wearing off.

“Murder is wrong, no matter how you justify it,” Roger said.

She was getting back to her feet as a gunshot went off. She ran to her father’s room and found the room was dark. She flipped on the light and saw the young 18-year-old teen standing by the bed with the smoking gun in his hand. His face was full of fear and alarm.

Her father was dead, and one bullet to the head was all it took. Her little brother was standing next to the murderer. Sitting in the corner of the room was a decaying body sitting in her mom’s rocking chair.

The chair was rocked back and forth on its own. The body was covered in flowers and perfume but did little to cover up the stench of decay. The Arabic teen muttered something in a mix of his home languages when he saw the body.

“NOW SACRIFICE THE BOY, AND BRING ME BACK!” yelled the voice from an unknown source.

Barbra searched around; someone else was in the room. The teen stood still his fingers trembling; shards of ice reached up from the floor and froze his legs in place.

“Yes, mother!” Bobby responded.

Before Roger could take over Barbra again and stop Bobby, he was jumped on the teen knocking him down to the ground. Bobby repeatedly stabbed him over and over with the knife.

“I’ll kill you for touching my sister like that!” Bobby yelled as blood arced across the room.

Barbra began laughing. Roger could tell she was enjoying seeing how easily she could manipulate people. The corpse of her mother started to cackle malevolency. Black shadows rushed towards the corpse. The animated the corpse raised its finger and pointed towards Barbra.

“You are all good children. Now we much eliminate those two voices still in your head, my daughter. The Holy one seeks to stop us,” said the corpse in it's raspy voice.

Bobby stopped and turned to his sister.

In unison, Barbra and Bobby responded, “Yes mother dear.”

Brother Roger struggled with controlling Barbra.

"It's like holding on to a greasy rope," complained Roger. "Wait, did I just say that through Barbara?"

Bobby dipped his hand in the boy’s blood and swirling it around. He grinned as he walked over towards his sister. His hand glowed brightly, as he began to mutter some twisted language as he stalked closer.

“I’m going to bind your souls and use you as mother’s new playthings for the rest of eternity,” Bobby said in a discernable language.

“Sorry kid, but I’m not looking to get remarried,” said the cat’s voice through Barbra. “Time to pop smoke.”

Brother Roger felt a pair of claws sink into his back as he was pulled up and away.

Immediately Brother Roger sat up and saw he was still in his living room. Mockingbird was still sleeping. He rubbed his forehead trying to determine if he was dreaming or if it really happened. He checked the time on his clock. Only 20 minutes had passed.

"Yeah," Brother Roger said. "There's no way this could have been real. I need a vacation after this."

A beeping sound echoed in his ear. He received a piece of astral mail.

Brother Roger clicked an invisible button to bring up the mail options. It was a letter from Mr. Bad Kitty marked urgent.

He opened it and it read, “That was close one!”