Whispers of the Damned: See Series Book 1 Page 19

“Charlie...this day’s arrival is not your fault. The lesson you take is to use the weapons given to you.” As she walked by she squeezed my arm. “Never leave them behind again.”

  I gave myself a second to digest what had happened. I rubbed my hands across my face as if I could wipe away the stress. I had to step away and then come back. I needed time to figure out what my instinct had right and what was wrong, and how I could use it.

  I took a deep breath and went to find Draven. I could hear their voices mumbling in the kitchen. When I walked in, I saw Aden sitting on the counter and Draven leaning against it, waiting for the second he could come for me.

  “You’re early,” Aden said. “Nana still had one minute on the clock.”

  I locked eyes with Draven. He walked slowly to me, looking over every part of me. I knew he was trying to see what was wrong. The frustration and anger in his eyes told me couldn’t.

  “What happened?”

  “I stepped into a memory.”

  “What—why? How is that possible?”

  “It was a reflex. I didn’t mean to do anything stupid.”

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, reaching up to steal a kiss.

  “I’ll leave you guys alone,” Aden said, walking to the door.

  “No, wait,” I said, feeling bad that he felt like he had to leave.

  He turned and smiled, displaying his adorable dimples. “It’s late.”

  Draven put his arm around me as he led me to his sanctuary, his studio. As we walked up the steps I lied to myself. I told myself that the world outside of these walls didn’t exist. I hadn’t awakened a beast.

  Once we reached the studio. Draven went to his guitar then pulled an amp closer to the couch. He sat on the end and held his arm out, encouraging me to come to his side. He laid the guitar across us and moved my hands so they would rest on his. He slowly began to play the chords that I always heard in my mind. I watched the way he moved his fingers, how they slid almost angelically down and up the neck.

  The sound I’d heard would always change as if it had mood swings, but what Draven was playing was the heart of it, the baseline of what I could hear.

  His lips rested on my temple, silently encourage me to take control. Then he moved his hands over mine.

  My fingertips fell into place like they found their home. As I played the chords, I was flooded with emotion. Overwhelmed by what I’d been through. What was taken and all that hung in the balance.

  “He was there...your dad helped you,” Draven said as he watched me. I wasn’t sure how much Draven had seen of what I’d uncovered. His calm mood told me it wasn’t much past the evil I stood up to finding a reason to flinch.

  “I can’t do this. Not yet,” I said knowing this night had already tested me.

  “This is the only memory you’re missing…and you need this to make you whole. I don’t know why, but I know you need your dad. He can be there when I can’t.”

  I closed my eyes looking for strength.

  “I’ll show you Mom first,” he whispered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said quietly.

  I listened intently to everything around me.

  “Feel the calm of the room, the warm sensation that says you’re safe…watched over.”

  I cleared my thoughts and only listened to my breath.

  “See it within first, let her come to life in your mind…she’s beautiful, angelic. The worries of life are nowhere in her image. Her eyes smile adoringly. Her hair and body float on a wave of energy. Everything around her is a white glow.”

  I held an image in my mind of this beautiful woman. As he said the words, I remembered her. I remembered that she was always here, silently watching.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” Draven whispered.

  I let them open slowly, and before us she appeared. My heart began to pound. Draven put his arm around me and leaned us forward. The image of his mother stepped closer, she didn’t look at Draven. She smiled at me like I was the most precious thing she’d ever seen. Draven had described her perfectly: her skin was almost ivory, and her hair flowed in the still of the room. Her image knelt before us, and I began to tremble.

  Draven moved his hand across my back to calm me. “She loves you.”

  “How can this be real?” I asked breathlessly.

  The image of his mother rested her hands on mine. The fear I had washed away. She slowly let go of my hand then reached for Draven. She cupped her hand around his cheek and leaned her forehead to his. He smiled at her and pulled me closer. She let go of him and stood before us again. Her eyes reflected relief, encouragement. I furrowed my brow, questioning her calm as she faded. Even though her image had vanished, I could still feel her.

  “She didn’t leave us. She’s not trapped between this place and another. She’s simply free—watching over me until I don’t need her to anymore.”

  I couldn’t respond because in the room I felt someone else—the presence of my father. I felt a wave of beautiful, unconditional love absorb me. Tears welled in my eyes…how could I forget such a beautiful emotion?

  Draven reached his hand to cradle my face. “He’s strong, but gentle. You can see the passion for the life he had in his dark eyes. There’s a pull to him…it may be the signature of his gift in music. The one that called so many to hear him, or…simply the love he has for you. It’s powerful. Beautiful…”

  I started to tremble uncontrollably. The only thing worse than forgetting Draven was forgetting that I was never alone. Draven let his hand fall and tilted his head, encouraging me to look. I held his stare as a lonely tear streamed down my face.

  I felt a warm hum on my hand and slowly looked down. I saw a strong hand and the image of a silver wedding band. I turned my hand to hold it and tried to understand how real this was. I could feel the warm hum of life. Hushed tears began to flood from my eyes. I drew my eyes up from his hand to his waiting stare. His dark eyes glinted warmly as he smiled angelically at me.

  His image gently pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around me. I reached my numb arms up to hold him. I felt life, not breaths or the sounds that a body would make—life, a beautiful life that loved me, loved me more than I could ever imagine. My tears fell, but they weren’t of grief. They were of happiness. I felt so complete. I heard the sound of the guitar begin. I couldn’t tell if it was Draven playing or just the haunting sound, but I didn’t care either way. My father swayed me back and forth with the rhythm I heard.

  As we moved I felt the old Charlie coming back to life. I’d been humbled, true. Yet the confidence I had withstood the storm. I couldn’t bow to the fear of failure. I had to lift my head toward the hope of clarity.

  The music began to slow. My dad’s embrace softened. I sat back and stared at him, trying to read his eyes. His eyes moved to Draven. He smiled slightly and nodded at his guitar. Draven nodded respectfully at my dad. My dad reached for my hands and placed them on Draven’s across the strings then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. The warm sensation of love flowed through me, even when he faded from sight it remained. As I drifted to sleep exhausted from my day I met him in my dreams. All night we played the song I’d always known.