by Calinda B
My banshee. Siobhan’s stomach curdled at the phrase. Her lip curled.
Cillian continued, oblivious to her distress. “Their wails chill the hearts of all who hear them. They’ve even been known to shatter glass.”
Siobhan’s heart fluttered like a wild bird trapped in a birdcage. “That’s what I’ve been hearing. Horrible, soul-sucking wails.”
Cillian nodded. “It appears the prolonged, insidious, unhealthy attachment to your grief has summoned your banshee and possibly stirred the spirit of Ailis O’Neill to rise as a banshee harbinger of doom. I think the sick children are collateral damage. And, from what I can discern, it seems your banshee destroyed Ailis’ grave acting in concert with your desires.”
“I’m doing this?” Horror rocked Siobhan’s soul.
“Not exactly. Your banshee is simply following orders, acting as she sees fit, summoned by your grief and rage. While Ailis haunts and kills the people of Ballynagaul through sucking their souls from their bodies, dragging them into some Hell-realm.”
Siobhan gasped. “Wasn’t it enough that she destroyed people’s lives while she lived? Now she continues to destroy them from the great Beyond?”
“So, it seems. She has no peace. Like it or not, Ailis is like the Dearg-Due, only, her actions seem random. She kills for the sake of killing. She takes her misery out on the living. And, she might be acting in conjunction with your banshee. It’s difficult to tell.”
The thought of something attached to Siobhan being in cahoots with dead Ailis sickened her. “This is…this is too much.” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
“Here’s my advice,” Cillian said. “I’ve prayed on it long and hard. I’ve sensed the spirits of the departed. You’re all trapped in a cycle of attachment. Dylan’s spirit has not yet released to heaven. He’s still very much tied to planet earth. His guilt and your suffering won’t let him rest. Ailis seems ensnared between worlds.”
Cillian’s words sent shivers through Siobhan. Dylan is still tied to me? And, Ailis is ensnared?
“You are the key to their release. You need to forgive those who have harmed you,” Cillian continued. “You need to say prayers from the Carmina Gadelica for both Dylan and Ailis.” He spoke in a calm and reasonable voice.
She felt gutted by a hunting knife, sliced and split apart from neck to groin. Instead of the miracle she’d hoped for, all she could hear was, “all of this is your fault, Siobhan.”
Cillian continued, saying something about, “You have to mean it when you say it…when you invoke the chant.”
She blinked and shook her head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He cocked his head and studied her. “Haven’t you been listening to me? I’m talking about the Carmina Gadelica. It’s a truly sacred text. You need to let go of Dylan and forgive him and beg forgiveness from Ailis. You have to set them free. That should send the Banshee away from here.” Again, he spoke with the reasonable tone.
Her head shook like it was in the grip of a pissed-off pit bull. She seized the metal armrests of the chair. “There’s no fecking way I’ll forgive either of them. None. And ask for forgiveness from Ailis? Fuck that. Do you hear me, Cillian Ward? No way.”
Instead of backing away from her, or responding in anger, he leaned in closer and spoke gently. “Siobhan. Ailis might have been a…bitch…but she actually did you no harm in life. Your anger with her is totally misplaced. You need to apologize to her, and to forgive her—which shouldn't be hard as she died horribly for whatever ‘sins’ she had committed in life. You didn’t see her dead body. I did. No one should be literally ripped apart and gutted for her sins.”
The hairs on the back of Siobhan’s neck grew rigid at the graphic imagery. “Are you kidding me? Her soul should be thrown to the wolves, shredded to pieces.”
He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, but thoughts like that only perpetuate your own suffering.” He reached for her shaking hands. “I know what I’m asking you to do is hard, but you need to find that last bit of courage that the desperate only discover in the darkest hour. Find your courage and use it to forgive and beg pardon of Ailis…and to release the poisonous part of your grief over Dylan.”
“I can’t,” she said, her head still shaking, flinging angry teardrops back and forth. “I just can’t. Did you know Dylan and Ailis fucked like rabbits before he died?”
“I’m sorry, Siobhan. People have weaknesses. It doesn’t mean Dylan didn’t love you. He loves you still in his own way, by remaining tied to your grief.”
Hearing that Dylan still loved her stirred buried feelings in Siobhan’s heart. It had been a long time since she remembered any joy she and Dylan had experienced. And, if he remained bound to this earth because of her, hadn’t he suffered enough? Hadn’t she suffered enough? “I guess you’re right,” Siobhan whispered. She gripped Cillian’s hands. “I’ll always love and grieve for Dylan. But a part of me hates him. And Ailis can rot in hell.”
“Siobhan.” Cillian’s quiet countenance crept through Siobhan’s rage.
“What?” she choked out.
“I know what it’s like to mourn a lost lover. Surely you recall how I came to be a leviathan.” He kept a steady gaze on her face. His eyes beckoned from the depths of his oceanic soul.
“Lassi mentioned it, yes.” She sniffled.
“Back in the 1700s, the same monster who took your Dylan’s life claimed my Rosalie while I was out being stupid and reckless with another woman. I knew I’d done wrong. When I went to find Rosalie and beg her forgiveness, I was too late. She was dead. Her eyeballs were plucked from her head, placed on a bale of hay, staring at me with betrayal when I entered the barn to find my Rosalie. I was tried for her murder and sentenced to hang. I had nothing to live for. Death by hanging didn’t seem a harsh enough punishment.”
He stroked her hand with his thumbs. “So, in the end, I got what I thought was worse. I ended up being turned into an immortal being. And my penance has been swimming to the bottom of the ocean to find the right kind of rocks to keep the Dearg-Due safe in her grave.” He sighed. “I held onto my rage and self-loathing for far too long. Finally, I forgave myself. I even forgave the Dearg-Due. She merely showed me the error of my ways. And then I met Lassi, my true love. I can only hope she forgives me. I’ve been an ass with her and her pregnancy. I should be the happiest man around. I am the happiest man around. But she’s convinced I don’t want to share in the life we’ve created.”
Siobhan hiccupped and sniffled. “That’s quite a penance to pay. But I didn’t do anything wrong except love Dylan. You betrayed your lover, same as Dylan betrayed me.”
“And yet here I sit before you, a better man for having suffered my sins and paid dearly for them.” Cillian’s gaze burned a path to her soul’s heart.
A spark of compassion began to burn inside. Siobhan fought against her feelings with shallow gasps. I will not cry. I can’t forgive Dylan. Or Ailis. I’m sure Rosalie would understand where I’m coming from. Had she lived, I doubt she’d be all cozy with Cillian. The emotions that threatened to escape disappeared into some inner dungeon. The door to the dungeon clanged tight. She took a deep breath and then searched the small room for a tissue. Finding a box in the corner, she drew her hands free of Cillian’s warmth, rose, and stepped to retrieve a few. When she returned, Cillian continued.
“You’re perpetuating your suffering, Siobhan. All your feelings…they won’t go away. But, forgiveness…or at least being open to forgiving, will allow you to learn to live with the tragedy, respect it, and let it be. You can live past it. It might be the only way you save Paul.”
“No.” The word slipped from her throat.
Cillian’s eyebrows lifted. He reeled back in his chair. He sat silent for a few minutes, while Siobhan glared at him.
Then, his expression grew steely and three-hundred years of wisdom spoke. “No? Siobhan, think about it. Do you want more people to suffer and die because you refuse to let go? I’m not saying
you have no right to suffer. Mourning the human condition is part of our existence. But you’ve been grieving far too long, dear, Siobhan,” he added, in a voice like a caress. He paused, letting the words settle.
His compassion moved her deeply, stirring a deep ache in her heart. She gripped the arms of the chair, trying to keep it together.
Then, he said, “Most importantly, do you want to lose Paul? If you haven’t yet realized it, you’re the one sentencing Paul to death by clinging to old wounds.”
His words crashed into her in a head-on, one hundred miles per hour collision. They t-boned her resolve. Her breath chuffed hard and fast. Panic seized her throat. The phrase, It’s all my fault began cycling through her brain. And…she choked out a sob. My Paul’s life hangs in the balance because of me. She had to face the truth. People had died because she refused to forgive. But this time, instead of finding new ways to beat herself up, resolve seeped through her pain. Then it’s up to me to fix it. It’s up to me to pay my penance and turn things around, if not for me, for the village she truly loved. And to save my child.
There were so many selfish reasons she couldn’t forgive. She’d been wronged, pure and simple. Her devotion had been betrayed by the man she wanted to share her life with. But, suddenly, different reasons to forgive appeared, coiling around her like wisps of spring after a hard winter. She loved the community of Ballynagaul. She liked Cillian Ward. He’s a good man. She adored Lassi even though she’d given her no reason to like her back. She’d genuinely liked Billy and Seamus. And Mary. What will this town do without Mary? And Lady Freddie. She’d done a lot to help Siobhan find a way to support herself, despite being wronged herself. And Stephen Breslin. A surge of pleasure skyrocketed through her. She took a few trembling breaths. And, without question, she had to save her wee Paul if there was any hope to be had.
Her face felt stiff and unyielding with so many emotions trapped inside. She reached up to massage it into submission.
Cillian watched her, a calm witness to her inner chaos. “Everything all right over there?”
“Yes,” she said. “You’re right. I have to do this for the people of this village, and for my Paul, if for no one else.” She sat taller. “But…I’ll do it on one condition.”
His eyebrows stitched together. “This isn’t something you can apply conditions to—you either forgive, let go, and move on, or you don’t.”
“Fair enough,” Siobhan said. “But my friend Lassi is grieving. She misses you, but she’s too proud to say anything.”
Cillian leaned back as if shoved by the strength in her words.
“You need to find your courage with Lassi. She’s the mother of your children.”
His forehead creased into deep troughs of confusion. “Children?”
Siobhan kept speaking, ignoring the confused look on his face. Not my place to tell about the twins. “And like you said, life only ever moves forward. So stop being a twat living in the past like I’ve been doing. It’s the present and future that matter.”
“I…I…I don’t know what to say, Siobhan.” The poor man looked like he’d been shot between the eyes.
“Nothing needs to be said, Cillian. We’ve both got to step up to life’s plate. The real question is…are we capable and willing to do it? There’s only one way to find out.” She rose to her feet.
“What’s that?” he said, rising to stand with her.
“Action, my friend. And right now, I’m going to act.” She turned and marched out the door, feeling lighter than she’d felt in ages. Finally, she knew how to defeat the Banshee and give Dylan his final rest. She hoped she could fix the town. But, if she couldn’t save Paul… Her throat seized. That I can’t bear. This has to work if it’s the last thing I do.
Chapter 23
Day 6, early afternoon - Siobhan
Siobhan tromped along the ground-floor hospital corridor, heading for her car and “Destination Forgiveness.” Each footfall brought a new sense of determination and resolve. As she strode, she nibbled on an energy bar she’d purchased in the 2nd-floor cafeteria. Her stomach rumbled as she chewed, grateful, no doubt, for the nourishment. When was the last time I ate a proper meal? She honestly couldn’t recall. Meals, it seemed, consisted of finishing Paul’s leftovers, grabbing a burned piece of cod and chips the cook at the pub had left in the fryer too long or wolfing down dry cereal with a toss-back of milk. That’s got to change.
Thudding footsteps rang out from behind her.
“Siobhan! Wait for me,” Cillian called.
She paused her stride and pivoted. “What for?”
“We need a plan for you to invoke a passage from the Carmina Gadelica. That’s the ritual I need to guide you through, remember? I need to give you a copy and go over the steps. I’ve got one over at the rectory.” He didn’t seem a bit breathless from his sprint.
Siobhan, however, felt winded from clumping down the stairs. She used to be fit and healthy. That’s going to change, too. I’m going to start walking more and maybe going to the gym.
“You knocked some sense into me up there. I couldn’t think for a moment.” He smiled, striding through the auto-doors alongside her. “Stop by the rectory in the next couple of hours. We can go over it. Then, you’ll need to head to the cemetery to perform the rite.”
Siobhan stopped. A light rain spattered her hair and face. “You’re going with me, right?”
Cillian shook his head. “No. You need to do this alone.”
Doubt swamped her thoughts. What if I’m incapable of forgiveness? What if I fail? Then, her thoughts drifted toward Paul, lying deathly still in his hospital bed upstairs. He deserved the moon from her. He deserved to see his mum happy and at peace. Most of all, Paul deserved to live.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said, “All right. I’ll be there.”
Cillian nodded. “Good woman.”
She glanced up at the dark skies. The wind and rain began to increase. No surprise there. “Can I give you a lift, Father Ward? You can’t exactly walk to Ballynagaul from Waterford City.”
“I’d be much obliged.” He smiled one of his “all’s-right-with-the-world” smiles. “But I’ve done it more than once…the walk I mean.”
“Seriously? It would take hours. And, you’d be a soaked rat and not a laughing one. And, I’d be heading to the cemetery at midnight if I had to wait that long.” Siobhan, for the first time in forever, returned a matching smile.
“And that’s exactly the time you need to arrive at the cemetery—midnight,” Cillian said.
Siobhan sobered. The middle of the night? What will I do until then to keep my anxiety at bay? With a sigh, she led him toward her Subaru.
During the hour-long trek to her home, Cillian instructed her on the ritual.
“It’s deceptively simple, really. You need to purify first. Bathe. Wash everything. Don clean clothes. No drinks for courage. Each time a negative thought arises, offer it up to something greater than the part of you that’s stuck in grief and rage. Whether you call it God, the Great Mystery, Allah, or Buddha, it doesn’t matter. There is something far greater than the mundane. Something vast and limitless by which we all abide.” He spoke with passionate reverence.
Siobhan side-eyed him.
His eyes shone and the most beautiful, soulful expression she’d ever seen radiated from his face. His skin glowed. Even his dark wavy hair seemed to glow with ethereal beauty.
“You’ve witnessed that thing of which you speak, haven’t you?” She flipped on the turn-signal, turning off N72 onto R674 toward Ballynagaul.
“I have. But truly, it’s all around us. I mean, look at all this beauty.” He gestured toward their surroundings. “It had to come from somewhere, didn’t it?”
“I never thought about it much,” Siobhan answered. She gazed at the green, pastoral landscape. She’d been so inwardly focused, so consumed with grief and rage, she barely noticed anything. She’d lived in Ballynagaul most of her life. She wanted to re
member Bally the way she used to—as a wonderful place to live. Now, she wanted to savor the rolling hills, the trees, the sheep, the stone fences…even the crumbling ruins of castles and humble dwellings, marking the passage of time. She passed places she once visited. On the right stood a farmhouse owned by Charles and Elisa O’Brien, where she and Dylan used to buy mutton. Up the road, stood the McNally sisters’ farm. They made some of the finest weavings in the world. Jackson Moore, whose cottage she now passed, crafted excellent mead wine.
It’s like I’ve been gone these past two years, completely possessed. Siobhan shook her head.
The windshield wipers kept up a steady rhythm, sluicing water from the window. In the distance, the rapidly moving clouds performed a teasing interplay with the clear blue sky, matching her mood of awakening from misery.
As she entered the city of Ballynagaul, she cast her gaze at the houses dotting the edge of town. She knew practically every family who lived here. Sure, there were newcomers all the time, but the heart and soul of Ballynagaul rested in its longtime residents. She hoped the people would forgive her for wallowing in her grief.
As they approached the rectory, Cillian continued his instructions. “Anyway, you cleanse. I’ll mark the passage in the Carmina Gadelica. You’ll be invoking Soul Peace.”
A shiver rolled down her spine. Hope filled her heart. But then, something foreboding and heavy smothered any lightness she’d been experiencing. Apprehension flitted through her brain, striking chords of fight or flight. Stop it. You’re simply afraid. Another shake of her head brought her back to the moment to focus on Cillian’s instructions.
“At the cemetery, you can imagine a great fire. Anytime a negative thought arises, or resistance to forgiveness appears, throw the thought into the fire. Take as long as you need. You’ll get to a place where no more dark fears will bother you. They might still be in your mind, but they’ll be softer…less distracting.” He frowned slightly, lost in thought for a moment.