The Banshee's Desire (10 page)

What a mess.

Jacqueline took a deep breath, conscious that Gabe watched her closely.

"Something on your mind?" Gabe asked. "You know that this Finneus Spark is only trying to trap you, right? He probably plans to take you straight to the Brotherhood."

"I can take care of myself."

"So I've seen."

The suggestiveness in his words stung, mirroring too closely the direction she'd just managed to talk her mind out of going.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, not bothering to hide her hostility.

"I've seen things, too, Gabe. Things hovering about you that make me crazy," she said. The sight of Derek Spark materializing in a gray haze next to him had almost caused her to lose control. Luckily, Gabe had chosen to walk away, and for whatever reason, Derek's soul had suddenly disappeared.

She was grateful it hadn't been Eric or she might have lost it completely in front of Angela.

"So you can see them, the spirits of murdered souls," Gabe said, his voice softer. "I'd been using an enchantment spell to keep them away from you."

"You knew this would happen to me?"

"The stories I've heard about the first half banshee suggested part of her madness was because she couldn't block out the voices she heard." Gabe shrugged. "I figured it might be the same for you so I wanted to do something to stop that."

"Can you cast a spell on me that would stop me from seeing any of them?" she asked.

"No. Or at least, I don't think so. Why haven't you told Toby?"

"And worry him more? No. I can handle this. I just have to be stronger."

"Jacqueline, you know the original half banshee went crazy right?"

"I'm not her." Defiant, she glared at him. "I can deal with this."

"I'm guessing you saw Derek earlier," Gabe said. "What if it had been Eric? Would you have been in control then?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you kill Matilda?" he asked.

"No!"

"Did you see her soul pass on?"

"Yes."

Gabe raised an eyebrow.

"Did you help it move on, Jacqueline? Or did you let temptation get the better of you?"

"I had nothing to do with her death, Gabe."

He backed off, but continued to stare at her. In his eyes, she saw all of Toby's possible fears.

Like father, like son.

"Gabe," she said, trying to control her temper. "Could you tell me the story of the half banshee?"

"What good would that do?"

"I want to understand what I am, what I could…become."

Gabe grew thoughtful, his eyes hooded. At last he nodded.

"Alright." Closing his eyes, he held out a hand to her. "Come here. My magic will allow you to see the story Derek told me, the story as he showed it."

Nervous, Jacqueline slipped her hand in his.

His palm was warm and she realized the warmth of it slowly spread up her arm, through her body until she could feel herself wrapped in it. There was no pain, but she found that, even if she'd wanted to, she was unable to open her eyes.  Her body no longer felt solid.

"Gabe?" she tried to ask.

"Let go. Let your body go back through space and time."

****

Efa stood on the hill watching the wizards burn her village. Her long, tangled hair was covered with soot and dust. One of her arms hung in an awkward fashion and blood spilled from the gash in her gut.

But Efa felt none of the pain that should have accompanied such wounds.

Instead, she heard the melodic keening of her family spirit, the one who took all pain and helped the soul cross to the other side. It comforted her, though she knew that for most members of the family, the sound was frightening.

Death was coming.

The wizards who hid themselves in the damp and dank
Antrim
Castle
, calling them the Brotherhood of Merlyn, had finally decided to seek their revenge. After torturing the villagers of Antrim for weeks with disease and lack of food, the time had come for the wizards to finish them off. It was the final punishment in the wizards' eyes for the death of one of their own, the one called Artro.

Never mind that Artro found it acceptable to take the young maidens of the village and steal their innocence. Never mind that the wizard would often torture and leave for dead the unfortunate lass that caught his eye. Such things had been going on for over a hundred years.

So when one of those young girls had been brave enough to fight back when Artro attacked her, catching him off guard and killing him with a knife, it was only natural that the villagers would rally around the girl in celebration. They had hid her in their homes and prayed to the goddess Morrigan for protection.

But such things had only brought down terror, pain, and death on the village. The wizards demanded she be given over to them. When that hadn't happened, the watering well had dried up and the crops wilted in the field, leaving them with little to eat.

It was all her fault.

And Efa knew there were things the villagers didn't know, things they would have condemned her for, things which would have caused them to turn on her.

She was in love with one of the wizards. Jervis. He'd come across her one spring morning as she bathed in the waters of Antrim pond. Something about him had mesmerized her and she'd felt drawn to him, knowing instantly he was from the castle. The power whispering off his skin had been irresistible.

They'd made love that same afternoon and she'd given him her virginity willingly, vowing to be together whenever they could. Weeks and months had slipped past as they met in secret. The love they shared grew deeper.

And then Artro had spotted her at the village well. Flushed and happy after an afternoon of love with Jervis, Efa had no idea the pretty picture she made. Artro wanted a piece of what he thought was his for the taking.

The knife she always wore strapped to her leg had slid into Artro with ease during their struggle.

It was Jervis that protected her. He stalled the others, trying to reason with the wizards that she had only been protecting herself. But when it became clear that the matter would not be put to rest, Jervis warned her to leave the village.

They were not to see each other again.

Efa couldn't do it. She loved him too much. And she couldn't tell the others the truth-- that she was in love with Jervis.

Eventually, the wizards had grown tired of playing with the lives of the villagers from a distance. They had come for her, led by an old man in black robes and who looked like a bitter wind would push him over. His long gray beard hung to his waist, signifying his seniority over the other robed men.

"Give us the girl," he demanded in a voice that carried around the village. "There is no sense in harboring the whore. The Brotherhood brings death to your village should you not give her up."

Efa, hiding in a nearby hut, heard it all. Trembling, she'd been unable to move.

"Very well," the old wizard said, when no one came forward to turn her in. "You bring this on yourselves, on your children."

He'd uttered some words in Gaelic and a great black cloud hid the sun, causing a chill to fall. Fire bolts rained down on the village, catching the straw thatched roofs on fire. People fell to the ground, writhing in pain from an unseen force.

"No!" Efa screamed, watching a young boy twist and convulse as blood poured from his ears and nose. "Stop it!"

Without thought, she ran to the old wizard, ready to give herself up.

"So you're what all the fuss is about." He looked her over with a grim smile. "You’re the reason my son, Artro, was killed."

Efa paled. Artro had been his son. No one had known that.

"I can't wait to strip your skin from your bones," the old wizard said, his voice deceptively soft. "I'll do it nice and slow, prolonging the agony as you have prolonged mine by hiding yourself."

"No!" Jervis pushed his way out of the robed wizards. "Stay away from her."

"What's this?
Defiance
in my ranks?" The old wizard shook his head. "Jervis, you disappoint. Don't tell me you've been tempted by the pleasures of the flesh?"

"These villagers have done nothing to warrant your anger. Artro committed terrible acts of violence here. Death was better than what he deserved."

The old wizard's face grew red with rage and the other men in his party shifted uncertainly. The air stilled and the ground trembled as his anger escalated. His eyes closed and he murmured in Gaelic.

A strange, ethereal light was being pulled from the other wizards causing them to moan in pain. Efa watched the tendrils of light merge together and then flow like a stream into the old wizard's body.

"He's taking our powers," one of the wizards cried out.

Turning to her, Jervis shouted, "Run! Everyone run!"

Chaos further descended on the village as the old wizard used his new found power to rain hell down on them. Lighting cut down tree branches, the earth cracked wide enough to swallow the village homes, and the wind whipped the pitiful survivors around.

Efa dodge and darted, narrowly avoiding being hit by a flaming rock. She'd fallen hard in her attempt to escape and she was certain that her arm was broken. The old wizard's magic surrounded her like a net.  Something sliced against the flesh of her stomach, and she knew that he had tracked her without leaving the spot where she had last seen him.

The blood, warm and wet, spilled down the front of her dress.

She braced herself for the next attack, but it didn't come. Jervis. He had done something. That had to be it. Gasping for air she hobbled off to the wooded hills in the hopes of hiding.

That had been an hour ago and during that time, hope had slowly left her. Now with the sound of the banshee singing in her ears, she knew the end of her time was near. She just wanted to know what had happened to Jervis. Where was he?

Her question was answered when she spotted him being dragged to the center of the village by the old wizard.

Even from the distance Efa was at, Jervis looked half dead and had obviously been tortured. One of his ears was gone and judging from the way he moved, his leg was broken, too. But it was his face that really got Efa. There were jagged lines of blood running down from his eyes.

Or rather, where his eyes used to be.

Horrified, Efa covered her mouth to keep from screaming. Her love. They had done this to her true love.

Maybe she still had the power to stop it.

Slowly, Efa staggered back to the village, the first sparks of anger building within her. The closer she came, the angrier she got, and the louder the wail of the invisible banshee became.

"Ah, there's our little one." The old wizard caught sight of her and grinned, pleased. Efa noticed that blood leaked out of one of his ears, as if the power he'd stolen from his own men was taking a toll on his body.

"Efa?" Jervis jerked up his head, trying to figure out where she was. "Go away. You have to run."

"No." The old wizard's grin grew bigger. "She must come to me. She's mine now."

The wind howled in lament.

"You may say farewell to Jervis and then--" The old wizard's eyes widened as he focused on something behind Efa. "A banshee."

Efa barely heard him as she slipped down next to Jervis. She ran her fingers through his soft hair before leaning down and kissing him gently on the mouth. Her heart ached for him, for them.

"This is most unexpected," the old wizard muttered. His face had darkened with anger again. "And unfair. I wanted to obliterate her light, rid all dimensions of any trace of her--not turn her into a soul eater."

Efa had no idea what he was talking about. All she could see was Jervis. Soon they would be together in death.

"Still there will be some satisfaction in taking my time with it." Thoughtful, he turned to look down at Efa. She yelped as he grabbed her broken arm and yanked her to her feet. "Just look at you. Already your life slips away. No wonder your banshee draws near. I may not get to enjoy your pain after all."

He shook her and then used his magical strength to hurl her a few yards away against a tree. Efa could feel darkness gathering around her as her soul prepared to make the long journey home.

"Blast it all!" The old wizard shouted. "Even if you become a banshee I will have my revenge!"

She knew he was about to send a parting blow of magic her way. Efa braced against the tree, ready to accept it.

The wizard drew his hand up, producing a crackling fire ball. With a cry of anger, he threw it at her.

But it didn't kill her.

The burn of it singed her flesh, but Jervis shielded her from the full assault. Using his last bit of magic, he'd materialized in between Efa and the fireball. Whatever spell he'd used to propel himself forward zinged into Efa, leaving her breathless.

Her heart stopped, and for an instant, she was dead.