Enflame (Insight #6)(5)

Chapter Two


I thought it was the wind at first, but I was starting to think it was whispers that I could hear in the hallway and throughout the rest of this house. Charlie. I needed Charlie. She could help me out of this prison, tell me what to say to these invisible images that were guarding me.

I paced the room, trying to remember everything she and Draven had told me about what they did, how they did it. I remembered her telling me to show them my love, the emotion they’d forgotten. I did my best to clear my mind and find that emotion, but even when I thought I had it, nothing brought down the door to my prison. I let out a frustrated grunt as I stamped my foot.

Then an idea struck me: Nana. I was in my home dimension, the one I found Charlie in. The one Draven’s grandmother was still in.

In a frantic rush, I walked over to the desk, picked up the phone, and pressed the ‘O’ for an operator. When the electronic voice said, “City and state, please,” I froze. I didn’t know. I knew what passage the house was behind. I even thought I heard them say ‘Salem’ before, but there was more than one Salem. When the recording repeated its request, I slammed the phone down.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to remember everything I knew about them, anything that would help me find them now. As I fell into the seat behind me, the glow from the charging light on the laptop flickered to my side. I turned to the computer, finding it on and not secured with a password. It wasn’t long before I found my way online.

I Googled the lyrics to the song that led me to Charlie in the first place: ‘An angel fallen, a devil risen, our fate is calling, this world will not be our prison.’ The search engine produced thousands of results. Most of them led you to a place for a free download or other bands covering the song. I moved the cursor to YouTube. The first video that came up had over seven million hits. When it began to play, I heard the camera operator talking to someone with her over the roar of a crowd.

“God, Draven Michaels is going to be on stage any second! Is it wrong to hate Charlie?” the girl said with a playful laugh.

“So jealous,” another girl said.

The crowd began to cheer as a spotlight focused on Draven’s dad.

“Evan is on stage stand up so you can see it,” the camera girl said.

I watched as Evan, Draven’s dad, introduced his son’s band. I didn’t wait to watch them play. I clicked away and typed: ‘Evan Michaels Salem’ into the search engine. A few clicks later, I was sure I’d found a number that could be his. I wasn’t sure if it was an office or a home phone line, but it was worth a shot.

I glanced at the clock: it was 1 a.m. here. I didn’t want to wake anyone up, but as far as I was concerned, this was an emergency.

Three rings later, a man answered the phone. In the background, I heard people laughing and instruments that sounded like they were tuning up.

“Um...hi, Evan?”

“No, sweetie, this is Zack, his partner. Can I help you?” I heard him move into a quieter room. I was sure my trembling voice had made him wonder who I was.

“I...um...look, I need Nana.” Well, didn’t that sound ridiculous?

“Charlie?”

“No, I’m a friend of hers.”

“Is she okay?” he asked, trying to maintain a calm composure for my benefit.

“Yeah, safe. I need Nana, though. Do you have a number I can have to reach her?”

He hesitated. “I have Evan’s cell, but I doubt he’ll answer at this hour. I’m going to give you that, and the house number. If they don’t answer, you call me back, and I’ll drive over there for you.”

“Thank you,” I gasped.

“You’re okay? I don’t need to call the police or anything?”

“I’ll be fine when I talk to Nana.”

“All right,” he said, sighing just before he read the numbers off to me. “What was your name? So I can tell them you’re looking for them.”

“Willow.”

“Okay, Willow. You call me back if Evan doesn’t wake up when you call.”

“Thank you,” I said as I hung up the receiver, then dialed the numbers again as soon as I had a dial tone.

The first led to Evan’s voicemail. The second rang four times. On the fifth ring, a tender voice whispered, “Hello.”

“Nana?”

She hesitated, as if she were trying to place the voice. “Did something happen?” she asked in a fearful tone.

“They’re all fine, safe in Chara, but I’m not.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. New Orleans. Listen,” I said as I swallowed and glanced at the ice-covered hallway outside the study. The whispers ceased as if they were listening to my conversation. “How do you see the dead? How can you make them listen to you?”

“What dead? Willow, what happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“I do. Landen is furious and he’s going to kill Silas and I’m trapped—a witch told the dead not to let me out of this house, and I have to get out. I have to stop him.” I cringed at the absurdity of my words.

“What did Silas do? Did he hurt someone?”

“No…I don’t think...my...my...my friends died, and he brought them back. I think he brought them back.”