THE FIRE INSIDE

"It's the third one this week," Matthews said as he stood up. Police wandered through the house, taking pictures and looking for clues. I looked down at the pile of ashes on the ground. It was hard to believe that they were once a human.
"This is definitely strange," he said. Matthews had been my partner since I joined the FBI.
"Spontaneous human combustion. But why is this happening so frequently, and only in this city?" I wondered. Matthews and I gathered some photographs and samples of the ash, then returned to headquarters, where we ran tests. We also looked over the other two cases that had occurred that week.
There was nothing much that could be done. We issued a warning for people to stay away from anything over a certain temperature. This case baffled me. To think that someone could die within seconds and not even know it was coming.
"Well, I'm going home for some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, Richards," Matthews said. I decided to stay for a while, and look over the cases. While doing this, I decided to run the names of the three victims through a computer, and try to find any connections.
The first victim had been an 87-year-old man. He was found in the shower, most of the ashes had drained away. The next victim was a young teenage girl, who's ashes were found near her bike in her garage. The latest victim was found in the living room of his home, he was a teenage boy, he had been home alone playing video games at the time. That’s when I noticed a connection. The two teenagers were cousins, and the older man was the grandfather. The family was obviously not in touch very often, because the connection should have come earlier. Then, a bad thought hit me: this combustion was along one family line. I left a note by the DNA testing room telling the team to look for any unusual DNA, then I raced to my car. I drove to the families of the victims, and told them that it could be inherited, and to be very careful around high temperatures, though that was all that I could do at the time.
The next day, I told Matthews of my discovery. The DNA lab told me that they would require more time. It was then that Matthews received a phone call.
"We have another one," Matthews said with grief. We rushed to the scene. It was easy to find, I had been there the night before.
It was the father of the girl. His boss had called to complain that he was not showing up, and his wife eventually found his ashes in his car in the garage. Same place the girl had died. We gathered whatever we might need, and then we went back to headquarters.
"I did some research last night. I found info on some loon who wrote a book explaining what spontaneous human combustion might be caused by. I didn't get much more than the title, though, I'm going to stay at the lab, why don't you go to the library and see if you can find the book?" Matthews asked me when we got back.
"OK, I'll be back soon," I said as I left for the library.
The librarian had to search for a while, but he did eventually find the book, it was called Body Heat. I read it for a while in the library. It mostly had pictures and descriptions of old cases. There was one part that stated that there is a small fire, barely sparking within our souls. If that fire grew to be big enough, it could break out of its soul barrier, and cause the human to burst into flames, basically the explanation of SHC. I didn't believe any of it. Besides, how is it that this spark grew, anyway? I tried to think of why this was happening.
Over the next two days we had another case of SHC. This time the person wasn't related to the others in any way. He didn't have any trace of family anywhere in the country. Back at headquarters, DNA lab told me that the family DNA was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. I was confused by this case. I even ended up thinking that it could happen to anyone at any time, even me. I decided to get the thought off of my mind with a little walk outside. Somewhere downtown I met an old man sitting by a building.

“Sir, would you like me to tell you your fortune?” the man asked.

“No thanks, pal. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff,” I replied.

“Really? You don’t believe. Ghosts?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” the man asked.

“No, that’s absurd,” I replied.

“Is it now? Aliens?”

“Also absurd.”

“God?”

“Look. I believe that after we die, we rot in the ground. I believe that we are the only intelligent life in this Universe, and I believe that we evolved from apes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go-”

“Spirits?” he asked. For some reason, this shocked me.
"You are searching, and cannot find that which you seek. People are hot, though it is not yet summer. Those people are no more," he had said.
"What do you know of this case?" I asked him.

“There is more than first meets our eyes. We must not see with our logical eyes, but see with our questioning minds. This is the truth in this veil of lies that we call a world,” the man said.

“Do you have any information on the recent deaths?” I asked.
"I am a simple fortune teller, a palm reader. I could sense your worry. You think too loudly. There is someone else who can help. Go to the end of Ovodo drive. There is a small house. Red in color. The windows are boarded. Knock twice on the door. There is a man inside who will help you. Now, about the fees for my service..."
I paid the man his outrageous fees, and went to the house he spoke of. The house itself looked as though it was falling apart. It was definitely ancient. I knocked twice on the door. It opened, and a blind man stood in front of me.
"An old fortune teller sent me here. He says you can help me with a case," I said.
"I see. Come inside, but be warned, for this house exists in more realms than one," the man replied. I entered. It looked like an ordinary house. I sat on his couch when he instructed me to. He sat down on a chair across from me. I explained the case.
"That does sound strange. I don't hear any ideas from my friends," the blind man said.
"Friends?" I asked.
"My friends. You are blind, so you cannot see them."
"I'm sorry, I don't get what you mean," I said. I was a little befuddled at how this guy could call me blind, but I didn’t let him know of it. I got the feeling he knew anyway. The man was making no sense to me.
"You are blind to anything but plain sight. If you don't see it, you don't believe it. I was once like that, until a blinding flash opened my eyes, my true eyes. I may not see, but I feel. You do not. There are souls in this house, my friends. They have all been dead for a long time. They help me help others by preventing the horrible deaths that they experienced. Open your eyes."
"I don't see, or feel, anyone in this room except for you and I," I said.
"There is a mirror behind you. I call it the eye opening mirror. Every soul in this house gave a part of itself to make it. Look into the mirror, and you shall see," the man said. I turned around. Sitting on a table was a small mirror. I picked it up and looked into it. There was a fine layer of dust on it. I wiped it off because I couldn't see through it, and when I looked into it, I saw a horrific site: There were people everywhere. Ghosts. Some floated through the room, some sat in chairs, some stood right next to me, and all were looking at me. Most of them looked like they were still suffering from whatever had killed them. They were in pain, I could feel it. Grievous, I put the mirror down and went back to the couch.
"I am sorry," I said.
"There is one soul here that says he might know what is happening. He says he thinks that it is voodoo. Did you ever hear of a book called Body Heat?"
"I have, actually."
"Someone is using voodoo to make the fires grow."
"But how? And who? And why?" I asked.
"I can't be sure. I don't even know if there is a motive, it could be someone randomly picking names from a phonebook."
"The first three were related."
"Then perhaps there is a connection. This soul says that he died the same way your victims died. He remembers everything blacking out, and he could hear words being said. Strange words, and the temperature was rising. It got too hot, and then he was no more."
“I need to get back to HQ,” I said.
"I may know who it is. I once knew a voodoo artist. He said that once he had a victim, he was never satisfied until everyone that was connected in any way was also affected. I am not sure where this man is, but I can tell you that you need to go over the names of the victims once again," the man said.
Back at my office, I looked over the names again. Smith. Connor. Olson. Swithen. The unrelated one was Solon. That’s when it clicked. After hours of pondering every scarp of evidence, every little clue I could find, and even question my current beliefs, I realized that the unrelated one's name, Solon, was an anagram for Olson! Everyone connected in every way. I looked up the first names of every victim, and found that their names were all anagrams for each other’s. And that's when something else caught my eye. The one with the weird name, Swithen. Tawni Swithen. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Matthews’ house. The phone rang for a while, and then Matthews answered.
"Oh, hey, did you find anything? Wow, it's hot in here," Matthews said.

“Matthews, what’s your first name?” I asked.

“I told you when we first met, I don’t like my first name, I don’t let anybody know,” Matthews replied.

“It’s important,” I said.

“If you must know, it’s Twain. It’s getting very hot-”
"The next victim, it's you! Start an ice cold bath, that might stall it. If you start hearing anything odd, call me right away. Trust me, I know for sure," I said as I hung up, and headed for the old man's house. I knocked frantically on the door, but no one answered. I began to think that it was the old man performing the voodoo, so I broke the door down. He wasn't home, but a letter was on his table next to the mirror. I opened it quickly. It simply read:
See.
"See what?" I wondered. I picked up the mirror, and looked into it. The spirits were all gone, except for one, who was sweating and panting. He moved his mouth, but no sound came out. I was good at reading lips, but I couldn't make anything out of it.
See.
It was a mirror, of course! A spirit mirror. His words were backwards from what they would be outside of the mirror. He spoke again, and after a few tries, I got his message. It was a name, Norman Peters. Thanking the spirit, I ran outside. I hopped into my car, and drove toward the city. It didn't take long to find a phone booth. I looked up Norman's address, and found that it was quite close. I drove over to his house, and on the way Matthews called.

“I don’t feel so great... I’m in ice cold water like you asked, but I feel so hot...”

“Just stay in there, don’t go anywhere. I’m going as fast as I can,” I said, and then hung up. I was running out of time. I got to the house, ran up the stairs, and broke down the door. There was no furniture in site. There were a lot of candles spread across the floor, and a man was sitting with his legs crossed in the center of the main room. he was bald, and wore nothing but uderwear. His arms rested on his knees, and he formed circles with all of his fingers. He was chanting something.
"Norman Peters! Don't say another word! Stand up slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them!" I shouted as I pulled out my gun and aimed it at him. He ignored me. My phone rang, and I answered, keeping my gun pinned at Norman.

“Everything’s going black, and I hear strange words...” Matthews said. I could hear him panting.
"Don't make me shoot you!" I yelled. I shot a round at the ground near him. He kept chanting anyway. I knew I would probably pay for it, but I shot Norman Peters in the back. He fell over, but kept chanting anyway. I shot him again, and he stopped. I called Matthews.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

“I can see better, and I’m starting to cool off,” he said. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then looked up. Giving thanks, I suppose.

I knew I would be in trouble for entering without a warrant, and for shooting Norman. I didn't think anyone would believe me. But after going through court, everything worked out fine. And I found myself believing in a lot more than I had before. But I also found myself seeing a lot more than before. I started to get headaches, and sometimes I would see things out of the corner of my eye. It’s a side effect, I guess. As for the trial, It's a good thing that I had my tape recorder running. I discovered that if I turned up the volume on the recording, Norman's chants could be heard, coming from Norman, and also from Matthews, whenever he spoke, as though he was speaking with two voices at once whenever he opened his mouth. It also helped that, after hearing of this incident down to every last detail, the judge who had been looking at my case was Judge Whitney!