The Banshee's Desire

Chapter 4



"How is Angela?"

Jacqueline looked up from the book she'd been reading and couldn't help but stiffen. Gabe stood next to her with his usual scowl of disapproval on his face. For a moment, she almost didn't believe the words had come from him.

"She's alright. Not talking very much," Jacqueline said. "The doctor told me she is suffering from depression."

"Her ribs were broken?"

"Yeah, a few of them. And her arm, too."

Gabe's face darkened with anger.

"I should have got there quicker."

"What do you mean? It's not like you knew what was happening."

"Toby had asked me to take out the trash. I was being stubborn, taking my own sweet time to do it. If I'd gone out when he told me to, maybe she wouldn't be so banged up," Gabe said.

Jacqueline looked at him for a moment, understanding exactly what he was going through. She had done the same thing countless time in the week since the attack.

"Gabe, if I'd just walked her to the car like a good friend would do, I could have prevented it, too," Jacqueline said.

"He would have just got you."

"Maybe. But I have special skills that Angela doesn’t." She gave him a pointed look. "That creep wouldn't have stood a chance against me and I would have been justified in defending myself."

"You don't think you were justified in what happened later?" Gabe asked, his eyes darting around Merlyn's Bar to make sure Toby was nowhere in sight.

Jacqueline looked away.

"I don't know," she said softly. "Justice was served."'

"Yes, it was," Gabe said. "I think you did the right thing."

Jacqueline wasn't so sure. In the light of day, her action seemed impulsive. Yet, every time she looked at Angela's battered face, every time she thought about the haunting faces of the murdered women, Jacqueline felt she'd done the right thing, though she knew Toby would disagree.

She hadn't mentioned this new talent, the ability to see the murdered souls of a killer. It confused her. If they were souls, shouldn't they want to cross over? The two women had been more intent on the death of their killer.

She found herself looking even closer at Gabe, wondering if the soul of Derek Spark lingered around him.

Or her husband.

"You okay?" Gabe frowned. "You're staring."

"Maybe you should go by and see Angela," Jacqueline ignored his question. "I know she wants to thank you for saving her life."

"It's not necessary." Gabe turned away, but she thought there been a hint of red on his face, as if the thought of being thanked embarrassed him. "I'm sure she'll be back here soon."

"I don't know. She seems pretty bent on staying locked in her apartment. I'm worried she'll never come out again."

Gabe went behind the bar and lifted a few beer boxes.

"Give her time," he said. "She'll be okay."

As he carried the boxes into the back room, Jacqueline stared after him, looking for the same type of gray shadows attached to him that she'd seen with Jacob Fortensky.

There was nothing.

She was distracted from her thoughts as Toby and a Siberian Husky came into the bar. Toby glanced around and seeing only Jacqueline, locked the door.

"Okay, mom. It's safe," he said to the dog.

In an instant, the dog shifted, transforming into the familiar human form of Matilda Williams.

"Hope you enjoyed that," Toby said to his mother. "Because you won't be doing it again for a while. If ever."

"Don’t say that," Matilda frowned. "My hip will be fine after the surgery."

"Your hip is messed up because of shifting."

"I'm a shifter. It's what I do. Can't fight my nature," Matilda hobbled over to the table where Jacqueline sat. "Geez, my son can be a pain in the ass."

"I know," Jacqueline agreed. "But he sure has a cute ass."

"Gets it from his father," Matilda said. "He was a pain in the ass too, but he definitely had a cute tushy."

"Mom, please," Toby said. "You really don't have to share so much information."

"Why not?" Matilda asked. "Jacqueline is practically family now. She has a right to know about these things."

"What time is your surgery tomorrow?" Jacqueline asked before a verbal sparring match between mother and son could begin. "I'm planning to stay with you tomorrow night."

"It's at six thirty in the morning. Too early." Matilda groaned. "Stupid doctor wants me there at five to check in."

"They wanted her to check in tonight," Toby said. "But somebody was too stubborn to spend more than one night in the hospital."

"Somebody better watch it or his mother won't go do the surgery at all," Matilda warned. "Then you can just carry me around from place to place like any good son."

"You're getting the surgery," Toby said, going behind the bar. "I'm tired of hearing you bitch."

Jacqueline listened to the argument between Toby and Matilda with a smile. She knew they weren't really arguing. This was just their way of communicating. True, it was different than the way she and her own mother treated each other, but it seemed to work for Toby and Matilda. Underneath their constant bickering was a deep love that she'd only just begun to recognize.

"What you looking at?" Matilda asked when Toby went in to the backroom. Without waiting for a response, she pulled the book over. "Irish Folklore and Families. Sounds boring."

"It's not," Jacqueline said. "It's actually interesting stuff."

"Anything about your people in there?"

"A little. I've tried talking to my mother about it, but she hasn't been very helpful with providing details."

"Some mothers don't want their children to know the truth. They're afraid of the consequences."

"I don't think my mom is hiding anything, really. She did tell me that my biological family's name is O' Grady. I think she just feels bad about keeping the fact that I was adopted a secret in the first place."

"Feels bad? Are you sure she doesn't feel guilty?" Matilda pushed the book back to Jacqueline. "Listen, honey, I've been around a long time. I've seen some strange things and known family members to keep crazy secrets. Moms will do anything to protect their babies. Even lie."

She wanted to defend her mother, but in the last four months, she'd come to feel that something wasn't right. Her mother acted strangely whenever the adoption was brought up, telling her only that her mother had been a young Irish girl who'd gotten pregnant too soon and been killed in a car accident.

But Jacqueline knew there was more.

Gabe had once told her that the last time a half banshee had been created, it had destroyed half of Europe. She couldn't help but wonder if she was somehow related to the first half banshee.

But did she really want to know?

Sometimes it just seemed easier to float along in the world she and Toby coexisted in and forget about all the unknowns.

"You can't escape the truth," Matilda said, watching her closely. "No matter how much you may want to, it always finds a way to be heard. Keep pushing your mother."

"I will," Jacqueline promised and then changed the subject. "So, is there anything special you want me to bring to you at the hospital tomorrow night?"

"If you could sneak in a beer or two that would be great."

"I don't know if Toby will let me."

"Why does he have to know?" Matilda lowered her voice. "If you put the beer in a Styrofoam cup with a straw, no one will suspect a thing. Trust me. I've used that tactic many times."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Banshee or not, you're a good girl, Jackie," Matilda smiled and patted her hand. "I'm glad my son found you."

"Me, too."

"Is the sex good?" Hopeful, Matilda leaned forward. "His father was a dynamo in the sack!"

"Mom! Cut it out!" Toby had come back in the room and shook his head at his mother's words. "You really need to mind your own business."

"I just want to make sure that my son knows how to treat a woman in bed. Good sex is important," Matilda said, turning her attention on Toby.

Jacqueline grinned as Toby and Matilda started arguing again.

It was then that she noticed the slight shadow surrounding Matilda.

Oh God. Jacqueline gulped air and averted her eyes, already feeling her banshee blood stirring. Not Matilda. Wary, she glanced at the older woman again.

The shadow was gone, but she knew what she'd seen.

The mark of Death.



****





"Well, would you look at him?" Matilda pointed outside the door of her hospital room. "He's a looker. I'd like to get a taste of that."

"Matilda! A woman in your condition shouldn't be thinking about sex right now," Jacqueline chided. She watched the older woman continue to stare at the open doorway. "You need to be sleeping."

"Medicine isn't working so good," Matilda grumbled, but her eyes were hazy. "I'm aching worse than I did when the damn hip wasn't right."

"The doctor said it takes time to heal. You're going to be sore."

"Screw that doctor. He's only thirty years old. He has no idea what soreness is."

Jacqueline tried not to smile, knowing that such a thing would send the older woman into a tirade. Her hip surgery had been successful, though Jacqueline had worried the whole time. She hadn't told Toby what she'd seen.

Luckily, the mark of Death hadn't come back.

It probably had never been there.

She certainly couldn't see it now. All she could see was that Matilda needed to rest.

"Look, there he is. That man again. Come see. He can melt my butter anytime." Matilda struggled to sit up in her bed.

"Okay, calm down." Jacqueline hurried over. From Matilda's open doorway, they had a perfect view of the nurse's station. Several nurses bustled around, making notes on charts and talking softly. A young man stood at the counter of the station, earnestly talking with one of the nurses. Dressed in jeans and tight black T-shirt that showed off well-toned abs, the man appeared to be getting more than a few interested glances from passersby. He ran a hand through his dark black hair before flashing a smile and laughing at something the nurse said.

He looked over and met Jacqueline's eye.

A ripple of recognition ran through her.

"You know him?" Matilda's keen eyes took in everything. "He's looking at you."

"He seems familiar, like I've seen him before."

The man kept looking at her, a slight smirk on his face.

She walked to the door and shut it firmly.

"Aw, why'd you do that?" Matilda complained. "I just wanted to drool over him a little longer. He was eye candy."

"Sorry, but you need to rest. Besides, I brought you something."

"Beer?" Matilda's frown turned hopeful.

"Yep. Fresh from the six pack in my car." Jacqueline handed her the Styrofoam cup. "Just the way you like it."

"Oh, you are a sweet girl."

Greedily, Matilda sucked the beverage down. She let out a long burp when she was through.

"Much better. I can rest now." Matilda leaned back in her bed, closing her eyes. "How you holding up, Jackie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lots of dead people in this place. Lots of souls. Thought maybe you might be having a hard time of it."

"I'm fine."

But it was a lie.

The moment she'd stepped into the hospital, she'd had the urge to sing. Souls called out to her from every corner, but there was nothing she could do. So she'd suppressed the urge as best she could--a first for her and one that gave her hope.

"Just don't be taking my soul," Matilda's voice grew softer. "I need it."

"Don't worry. You aren't marked," Jacqueline said. "Go to sleep now."

For once, Matilda followed directions. In a few minutes, her deep snores shook the room. Jackie pulled out her cell phone and texted Toby.

Mom sleeping

Did she like the beer? Toby texted back.

Put her over the edge

Lol. Thanks 4 staying w/her

Toby hadn't wanted to leave the bar with Gabe again and Jacqueline hadn't minded helping out. She genuinely cared about Matilda. Staying the night with her was no big deal.

Jacqueline curled up into the hospital chair and settled in.



****





It had to be a dream.

There was no way everything that was happening could be real. Her mind wanted to accept that explanation, but yet, it didn't seem quite right.

Jacqueline was floating down a hospital corridor.

Her hair streamed around her, which was impossible since she kept it short. Yet, she could see that long locks of golden blonde drifted about her. She wore a gray dress made of light, soft fabric that felt silky against her skin. The material rippled in an unseen wind. It was almost as if she caused the breeze, was a part of it even, yet it did not touch her.

Strange. But it wasn't those things that worried at her the most.

It was her nails.

They were a deep ebony and sharp as a bird's talons.

The sight of them frightened her, causing her heart to beat louder until the sound of it was all she heard.

Wait. That wasn't right. It wasn't her heart at all, but the beat of someone else's. And it drew her like a moth to the flame. Without a will of her own, Jacqueline drifted towards the sound.

A room loomed up ahead and it was here that the pounding grew louder.

But something about the beat was off. It wasn't steady. In fact as she drifted through the hospital room's doorway, the noise of it began to slow down.

Someone was about to die.

Jacqueline could almost taste the essence of a soul about to let go.

She found herself hovering above a hospital bed. Below her lay an old man whose face twitched with pain. His gnarled hands opened and closed as he took each ragged breath his lungs afforded him. Though covered with a sheet, the outline of his painfully thin body was clear.

This man was preparing to die.

Nearby in one of the worn hospital chairs sat an old woman with white, curled hair. She stared at the figure in the bed, tears glistening in her eyes.

It was then that Jacqueline realized the woman couldn't see her.

The thought was freeing.

No one would witness the little drink of the soul she would take as she helped the man pass on. Her mouth opened and a beautiful song, more beautiful than any she'd ever created in her mortal form, rang out. The really fascinating thing to Jacqueline was that the melody had color. She could literally see the tune coming from her mouth in gentle blue hues that stretched down to the man in the bed.

He stirred as the first rays of the song touched his skin.

"Albert?" The woman leaned forward and grasped the old mans hand. "Albert?"

The man moaned softly.

"Oh, honey," the woman whispered. "It's time. Just let go. It's alright. I understand."

Albert shuddered and with a long sigh, his soul pulled free from his body. It drifted up to Jacqueline, a warm yellow glow that she reached greedily for. Her eyes closed and she felt her body drifting out of the room as she allowed the sensation of the spirit to run through her before it melted into the ether of the after life. It tickled her senses, and a long sigh of ecstasy slipped from her.

So strong.

So electrifying.

And the whole time her song continued, full of lament and woe. Vaguely, she heard the sobs of the old woman, but she didn't open her eyes. Instead, she let herself drift, feeling almost drunk on the sip of the old man's soul she'd taken.

What a dream!

"Not a dream, my dear."

Startled, Jacqueline opened her eyes, finding herself back in Matilda's hospital room.

Below her she could make out her own mortal form, curled up in a chair next to the bed. A short woman with long black hair stood by her sleeping form though she stared up at Jacqueline with knowing eyes. A pleated dark skirt and a form fitting silk blouse showed off the woman's petite frame. Shiny black high heels encased her feet.

"You must be Jacqueline." The woman gave her a warm smile. "I've been expecting you."

"I thought I was dreaming."

"Well, you are asleep, at least your mortal form is, but you're actually on what we call the astral plane right now." The woman gestured to the air around them. "If you were a full time banshee, this is where you would live permanently."

"Why am I here now?" Jacqueline asked.

"Tell you what, why don't you come down and I'll explain it all to you," the woman suggested.

"Um…I don't know how to get down."

"They really should make some sort of handbook for new arrivals." The woman shook her head in sympathy. "It's simple. Just think the action and it will happen."

Sure enough, when Jacqueline envisioned herself drifting to the tiled floor, her astral body followed.

"That's better." The woman sat on the edge of the bed. Behind her, Matilda moaned and moved restlessly. "Oops, I don't want to sit to close, but my feet are killing me. I hate wearing heels, but I think a good first impression is important. Don't you?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Death, Irish Division."

The woman smiled and Jacqueline realized that her eyes were actually a deep, swirling black.

"Death? As in the big guy, Death? The one walking around with the big scary axe thingy?" Jacqueline took a small step back. "I always thought you'd be…taller."

"I appear how I want according to the situation. I made quite an impression in the Middle Ages with the whole Grim Reaper look." Death sighed. "I just hated wearing those long robes. So unflattering to my hips."

Jacqueline didn't know whether to laugh or run away screaming. The whole situation just felt so absurd, so surreal. She was talking to Death!

"Your robes are nice," Death said, looking at the soft material. "Your ancestors all had an excellent sense of fashion."

"Is this, like, my uniform or something?" Jacqueline held out her hands. "And what's up with the fingernails?"

"It's a shame that Mr. Williams had to destroy the banshee who came before you. I charge all of those in the business of death with training new recruits properly." Death shook her head. "However, these things can't be helped and I know that your wizard was only doing what was best. In many ways, I think destroying Enya was a blessing for her. After all, her will was not her own."

"Enya? That was her name? The hag?"

"Yes, she was an old spirit, been at the job since the 1700's. She was actually quite beautiful in her day."

"Wait a second. Are you telling me that Enya had been a banshee for over 300 years?"

"Give or a take a few centuries," Death said with a shrug. "I don't keep track of everything."

"Is that a normal length of time for a banshee?"

"Yes. You have to understand, a banshee isn't born every day. It's not like the gene is that common. True, it runs within a family bloodline, but it remains dormant until that one little fetus is created, the one that embraces the gene." Death smiled at Jacqueline. "That's just what you did, dear. Enya knew the moment another banshee had been conceived. She's hovered around you all these years, waiting and watching--though you never knew."

Jacqueline couldn't believe all that Death was revealing to her. She'd never imagined the process of becoming a banshee to be such a commitment. Three hundred years of service…would she be expected to maintain that, too?

"So now that Enya is gone and I'm not quite a full banshee, what happens next?" Jacqueline asked.

"That's a very good question." Death slanted her eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I haven't decided. My boss has charged me with figuring this one out on my own, but I have to admit that it's a difficult situation. You aren't the first of your kind, you know. We've had…abnormalities before, but we'd like to try and work this out with you. I don't think a repeat of the past is what we need."

"You have a boss?" Jacqueline figured that Death would be in charge of all things. "And when you say repeat of the past--what do you mean? What happened before?"

"I'm hardly the end all be all, no matter what the storybooks might say. I don't have a paper scroll that I carry around with the names of people on it about to die. Not anymore anyway. Now I just use my iPad. So much faster," Death laughed before her features grew serious. "Jacqueline, there's always someone above you in the chain of death."

"God? Is He your boss?" Jacqueline felt herself flush with excitement. To think that she might get an answer to a question everyone wanted to know about!

"She. Not He! And while there is a higher power, that's still not who I answer to," Death said. "I'm just the Irish Death. There's other Death's out there, all assigned to different regions. Actually, this Galesburg Falls place is out of my zone. But since you are a special case, adjustments must be made."

"So who is your boss?"

"Ever heard of the goddess Morrigan?"

"Maybe. She sounds kind of familiar."

"She's in charge of all things Irish, Celtic, and Welsh. It's quite a little enterprise actually and she's been running it successfully for thousands of years," Death said. "But I digress. I didn't come here to explain the mysteries of the world to you."

"Then why are you here? How did I even get on the astral plane?"

"You did that yourself. You've been repressing your banshee nature here in the hospital, haven't you? But your subconscious knew what to do. It allowed you to walk the astral plane and reap souls as you would if you were really dead. Albert O' Hara was one of your countrymen, one of your charges."

"So if he'd been Jewish or Korean, I wouldn't have reaped his soul?"

"Ah, that's the thing. See, you're drawn to those from Morrigan's Celtic line. That's normal and as it should be. But for some reason, you're also able to reap any soul you choose. That makes you unique, an abnormality." Death leaned closer. "I thought this might be a nice opportunity to warn you that I'm watching you too. So are the other reapers. You're not making any friends with them, my dear."

Jacqueline drew back as the stale smell of mold and mildew came from Death.

"What do you mean?"

"For one thing, you take souls without the body being ready to let go. That's bad business. It throws off the balance of nature. And you reap what doesn't belong to you, souls that should be taken by the reaper assigned to them." Death said. "I can't have that."

"Alright, I'll be more careful," Jacqueline said, nervously.

"You better be, but I think you'll find it difficult."

"Why?"

"Because on the astral plane, you are whole and doing what you are meant to do. On the mortal plane, your human feelings blind you. They cause you to feel things like revenge, anger, desire. Emotion clouds your judgment, makes you do things with the heart rather than the mind." Death stood up. "I know you've been conflicted. I know you've been torn with a need to reap, to kill without discretion."

"No, that's not true." But even to Jacqueline's ears, the words sounded like the lie they were. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," Death's voice grew soft as she moved even closer to Jacqueline. "I've been testing you, making sure you can see my mark. You did well until the other night. You had the option to leave Jacob Fortensky alone or to be an instrument of death. We both know the choice you made was based on human emotion, on human desire. The pleas of those spirits got to you. You can't let that happen. You must ignore such things, no matter how much they tug at the proverbial heart strings."

"He deserved to die."

"Did he? Perhaps," Death nodded. "Perhaps. But that's not your call to make."

Death's black eyes stared into Jacqueline's. A prickle of pain ran through her and she found herself unable to breathe. A slow smile lifted the corners of Death's lips.

"Yes, in here, on this plane, you are mine. And you will behave. Reap only what belongs to you," Death whispered. "Or else, I will be forced to extinguish your light. Do you understand?"

Jacqueline nodded, still unable to breathe.

Death stepped back and the spell was broken.

"Of course, there is a way to no longer have to worry over these things at all," Death said. "You could let me kill your mortality now. Then you'd live here, doing the job destined for you."

Die?

It wasn't the first time Jacqueline had considered the possibility. It was what Toby had planned to do to her originally, not because he wanted to kill her, but because he'd known that it was the one way to ensure her safety. Being dead did have its advantages.

But she'd fallen in love with Toby.

Leaving him, never being near him again…even on the astral plane where her feelings were muted, the thought wasn't one she wanted to consider.

Death watched her carefully.

"I see," Death said, as if she'd heard Jacqueline's internal battle. "I see. Very well then. Just remember what I've said."

Death glanced at Matilda.

"Shame about this one," Death said. "I started to mark her earlier, but then decided to wait until I spoke with you. Since you aren't willing to die, a trade must be made. You took a life that wasn't ready. Now I take one to punish you and balance the scales."

"Wait!" Jacqueline cried, knowing what was about to happen.

To her horror, Death curled her hand and with one sweeping motion ripped Matilda's soul free.

"No!" Jacqueline watched as Matilda's essence floated free before dissolving into nothing.

"Take care of yourself, Jacqueline. Be careful with your power. I'll be in touch soon."

With a small nod, Death disappeared.