The Banshee's Desire (7 page)

"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?"