Witness (4 page)

“Why would that make them dangerous? Draven dangerous? Why does it matter how our eyes change – that they change?”

“How your eyes change is just a connection I made a few weeks ago…I never realized it reflected what you saw…that my son was seeing living nightmares…that you were not.”

“You never knew that we saw differently?” I asked sarcastically, doubting his every word. I knew Nana could see…that she knew what we went through.

“I suppose I was spared from the details…I didn’t…I didn’t realize how complicated – and different – it was for each of you.”

“Why would how Draven sees make him dangerous?” I asked impatiently.

His expression filled with empathy. “I think your father…I think you should ask your father.”

“He’s dead,” I said louder than I should have. The people at the table next to us glanced in our direction. I nervously looked out the window again as I pulled my hood a little lower before locking eyes with Evan. “Look – I’m tired. I’m over this. I don’t understand what we are, why we have to be the ones to save these damned souls. All I want is for it to end. If you know something, then just say it. Don’t play games with me – I’ve had enough one-sided conversations with Dad for a lifetime. I deserve to hear an answer from someone – and right now, you’re the one staring back at me, so start talking.”

Evan took a sip of his coffee, then sat cup down as he glanced out the window.

“Evan,” I said to get his attention.

He looked back at me as he reached for the blinds on the window and pushed them up slightly to make it hard to see in but easy to see out. I wondered for a moment if he knew who was out there – why I was so anxious when I came in here.

“Listen…I don’t think…” he looked down and then up at me again. “I know that no one has ever talked to you about how your dad could see – how what he could do led to his death – and right now, I’m not sure telling you is such a good idea.”

I sat up straight, my eyes wide. I tried to focus on him to ‘see’ him, to see what he knew from a forgotten past, but I was too anxious. He was right: no one had said anything about how my dad could see. ‘Led to his death’ – what was he talking about?

He raised his hand to stop me. “You will not be able to see it – so don’t try. I’ve lived in a house full of people that can see most of my life. I know if I don’t think about it, you will not see it.”

“Start thinking about it,” I said coldly “This is my dad – and now you’re saying that he and Draven see or saw the same way – that it killed my dad? How dare you even try to hide something like that from me?!” I said shortly as I glanced nervously at the parked Aston Martin.

“Stop looking out the window. I have no doubt that boy can feel your energy and knows you’re close. You need to be still – calm. Hide yourself in this crowd.”

“What? My energy?”

“Yes, your energy – you know what I’m talking about. You know when your dad is there, even if he doesn’t show himself. You feel Draven or others near you. Britain, that girl with him – they’re very aware of energy...trust me.”

I swallowed hard as the reality of Bianca only a few feet away from me sank in; I hated that I feared her. “How do you know that?”

“I just do. That’s what we are: energy, a solid energy - and what Britain and his friend do is control energy, control positive, aware energy. He knows when you’re scared, when you lie, and how you feel about others just by being aware of you.”

“I’m never around him; just text.”

“That’s enough to let him know what’s going on.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Change the subject? I’m gonna tell Draven about the texting as soon as I get to your house. Seriously, Britain is just a friend; even he would tell you that. Tell me why you asked me if I thought Draven was dangerous. Tell me why you think seeing killed my father.”

“Alright,” Evan said as he leaned forward and held my stare. “When you see, tell me what it’s like.”

“I don’t know. It’s like falling into your imagination. I’m not here anymore; I’m standing in the thoughts of others, scenes of their lives - but I don’t even know if I’m doing it right, that I’m not just making it up – assuming.”

Evan smiled slightly, and I saw a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “I’ve yet to grasp it, but I know that you’re explaining it right…I know that you need to trust yourself.”

“We aren’t talking about me. Draven. My dad,” I said, leaning forward to match his stare.

“Right,” he said as he sighed. “OK, well…imagine seeing without trying…imagine having a nightmare come to life around you without warning.”

My eyes glassed over and struggled to look calm. “Is that what’s happening to Draven?”

Evan nodded. “That has been happening for a while…what has begun to happen is what scares me…it scares me because I watched your father fight the same battle - and I can’t…I can’t...” Evan looked down and cleared his throat.

I reached for his hand. “I won’t let it happen…tell me so I can stop it…tell me if we run, he’ll be safe - and I’ll run right now.”

He gripped my hand. “I can’t tell you that anything will change if you run – this war is within him…whatever is going on with these escorts or whatever you call them is just an annoyance to an already complicated situation.”

“What war? How does this have anything to do with how my dad died? All of you told us it was a bus crash?”

“It was,” Evan said quickly. “But…but he was the reason it crashed.”

“What?!”

“Shh, Charlie,” he said as he squeezed my hand. I could see him struggling to remain calm, fighting the dark emotions under his calm expression. “Listen…I need you to try and understand this. Draven refuses to talk to me about it – to any of us. You can’t let him face this alone…you have to understand what he is going through.”

“Then tell me.”

“OK…imagine that when you see. Step into these memories that you were able to pick something up and bring it back with you.”

“Can I do that?” I asked as I questioned if that were possible.

“I’m sure you could…but Nana taught all of you to leave what you see there, to not touch or step too far into a memory.”

I nodded, remembering her telling us that…I remember her telling us that seeing was a gift that could not be toyed with.

“Now,” Evan said before clearing his throat, “imagine a nightmare coming to life – but in this nightmare you weren’t a witness of what has happened; you were a target.  What would you do?”

“Defend myself.”

“Right…with whatever was around you.”

“How is that bad?”

“It’s not. What is bad is that you can’t control when the nightmare ends. So, if you had a rock in your hand and flung it at what was attacking you and the nightmare ended without warning, that rock would come back with you - and if you didn’t realize that the nightmare was over, you would still aim your weapon, and whatever was in your way would pay the price.”

“Rock...me...imagine – stop with the metaphors. Is that what happened? My dad was sucked into a nightmare, defended himself with a rock - but it ended and he still threw the rock? How did that kill him – crash the bus? The driver survived; he didn’t hurt him.”

Evan tightened his jaw; he reminded me of Draven when he did that. I assumed that either I wasn’t reacting the way he thought I should or he was tired of my impatience.

“A chair, not a rock. Your dad flung a chair that was never on the bus to begin with through the windshield. It shattered the front window, then the bus ran over it. The driver over corrected, which caused the bus to spin out of control, then roll - eleven times - down an embankment.”

I moved my head slowly from side to side. I think he was waiting for me to cry or show some kind of sympathy, but I didn’t…maybe because I knew I could see my dad when I wanted, that he wasn’t really gone – or maybe because I was just too focused on the fact that Draven had been living through nightmares on a daily basis.

“And you and mom didn’t think that any of us deserved to know any of this?” I said with a sting in my voice.

Evan looked down and let my hand go as he sat back. “We didn’t...we didn’t want you to fear ‘seeing’. Nana, Draven’s mom…your dad always told us that it was an honest mistake…your dad thought he could control it – it’s true that he was ending his touring career to raise a family, but he was also ending his tour career so he could be around your mom…she had the power to stop the nightmares.”

“How?”

“Love. He loved her, and when he was around her, around Kara…he was too happy for the nightmares to come to him.”

“Love...really? Then why are you worried about Draven? Does he not love me? Does he not have the ability to be around me twenty-four seven?”

“He does, but Draven is younger than your dad was when he mastered this. Draven…Draven is angry, and your dad was always calm.”

“Angry because I won’t leave here...so by not leaving, I’m trapping him in a nightmare.”

“I don’t know, Charlie. By the time I had met your dad, he had lived through this for years. He had a balance. He did tell me that his emotions would cause what he saw to be more or less fierce…when the boys confessed that they could see – that you and Madison could see – we knew that Draven was in danger more than the rest of you, that he was a target for a darkness – simply because he could see the core of it.”

“Why him?”

“Who knows? All I know is that after you were hurt – after your accident – his mood became dim...the nightmares started coming to life around him.”

“You haven’t been here – so how do you know? I’ve been here – with him. He hasn’t said one word about this – no one has.”

“He doesn’t understand what is happening to him. He hasn’t talked to anyone about it.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Nana told me…she has been watching him, seeing him when he has his guard down. Aden saw scrapes on his side when Draven was changing the other day – when he asked him how it happened, Draven thought of the moment, and Aden saw the nightmare before Draven could hide it.”

I pulled my hands to my stomach, trying to block the sick feeling that was taking over every part of me.

“So how do I stop it? By running away? Taking him to a place he can’t be mad? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Right now…right now, all he wants to do is give you the song you’re looking for, make you feel safe enough to go…all he wants to do is keep you safe.”

“Then we’ll go – problem solved.”

Evan moved his head slowly from side to side. “No…he’s made up his mind that you were right, and if he knows that I’ve told you about this – any of this – well, it won’t be good.”

“Then what do we do? Put him in a padded room where he can’t hurt himself - or others?”

“No, Charlie. Stop looking for an absolute – there isn’t one.”

“You said these people you brought back could see like Draven...how do they deal with it? Why did you bring people here with the same problem?”

“They ‘deal’ the same way Draven has so far: with music. They like the idea of commanding the dead – they have it in their minds that if they can control the dead here, then they can control the nightmare they live through…I still fear the worst, though.”

“How can it get any worse than this?”

Evan looked toward Britain’s parked Aston Martin, then back to me. “I found journals that belonged to Britain’s grandfather…journals that say at one time he could ‘see’, that he fought a living nightmare.”

I sat up slowly as a numbing feeling came over me. “What are you saying – Britain is one of us?”

“I’m saying that his grandfather was. Apparently, all at once the nightmares stopped; he never wrote of them again. In fact, when I found later journals, the handwriting was drastically different…he was a new man, a wealthy man that had every desire he could ever want.”

“You’re confusing me, and I’m too tired to put all of this together. What are you saying?”

“All those people…all the people that I came across in the UK that could see…they were afraid of how Draven could see…they say…they say…that those who see like that are bred by the devil…that they must either live through the nightmares or give in and serve.”

“What?! Who says that?”

“It’s just myths…wise tales. I don’t believe them…Draven, your father, these kids that came home with me – they aren’t bred by the devil…they’re just tortured by him.”

“There has to be a reason,” I mumbled.

“I agree.”

“What’s your theory?”

He crossed his arms in front of himself and gazed across the table at me. “My theories and ideas run in every direction. I’m nothing more than a scared parent – looking at my last hope.”

“If I’m your last hope, we’re doomed.”

“Don’t say that,” Evan said as he looked down at the table.

“There are too many loose ends – Britain, whatever’s happening to Madison…I can’t think straight,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“Those aren’t loose ends; they’re clues, clues that tell me that you’re a triple threat and they’re doing whatever they can to stop you.”

“Triple threat? How?” I said in a desperate tone as I struggled not to get sick to my stomach.