by Ann Charles
“Stairs I can definitely handle. But after tonight, I’m declaring banshees out of my league.”
Chapter Sixteen
“So, let me get this straight, you’re telling me that banshees are part of my league?” I said to Aunt Zoe an hour later.
She looked up from her magistra notebook, her pen hovering over the page. “If one shows up to play, as it did tonight, then yes, dealing with a banshee is one of your responsibilities as an Executioner.”
The lines on her face seemed deeper than usual tonight, and her eyes were slightly red-rimmed. Several tendrils of her hair had come loose from her thick braid, giving her a bohemian air. When she’d first started taking notes on tonight’s happenings, I thought I saw a tremor in her hand, but after she’d written several lines on the page, it was gone.
I wondered if she’d been working too many late nights recently out in her glass workshop. Or did her current disheveled state have something to do with her dinner guests?
According to Aunt Zoe, Reid and his son had arrived after we’d left for Spearfish. By the time we’d returned, they were gone and the kitchen was all buttoned up, along with her lips. The kids had already been in bed asleep, so I couldn’t pester them for details until morning, darn it.
Thanks to Natalie, Harvey, and Doc running interference with the emergency personnel who’d shown up after the docent’s 911 call, Cooper, Cornelius, and I made it clear of the mansion without being seen. I’d ridden back to Deadwood with Doc in the Picklemobile, dozing in and out during the twenty-minute drive. Unlike the adrenaline rush that came with killing a Nachzehrer, all of that banshee’s shrieking had wiped me out. The others had traveled in Harvey’s truck, leading the way to Aunt Zoe’s.
By the time we’d rolled into the driveway, I’d caught enough sleep to recharge my brain. I hopped out of the Picklemobile, ready to hash out what had happened in that upstairs jail room and nail down how things had spiraled out of control so quickly.
I was also ready to find out if Reid had made any headway on breaking down the walls around Aunt Zoe’s heart. But at the moment, surrounded by a table full of tired and hungry escape room survivors, I didn’t want to put Aunt Zoe on the spot by asking about her old flame. That being said, curiosity had me leaning in her direction more than once, something Doc had noticed with one raised eyebrow that soon turned into two, along with a cringe, after I hit him with a super-sized smile.
Natalie dropped into the seat next to Aunt Zoe, a fried chicken leg in one hand and a glass of homemade lemonade in the other. “Are banshees considered to be ghosts or some other kind of supernatural creature?” she asked and ripped a piece of meat off the bone with her teeth.
Aunt Zoe must have made fried chicken for dinner tonight. Wasn’t that one of Reid’s favorites, along with her three-cheese potatoes dish and homemade lemonade?
“They’re fairies according to Irish mythology,” Cornelius said while reaching for the Betty Boop cookie jar in the middle of the table. He fished out two cookies, eyeing them suspiciously for a second before holding them up. “Are these blueberry cookies?”
I started to laugh, but then considered that mixed with the right ingredients, blueberry cookies might be pretty tasty.
“They’re chocolate chip with butterscotch and toffee bits,” Aunt Zoe said. “I made them earlier today.”
“Reid’s favorite cookies?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
I earned a glare from her for my efforts.
“Delightful,” Cornelius said and jammed the cookies into the scoops of vanilla ice cream in the bowl in front of him.
“Sparky, was that banshee of yours purty?” Harvey waved for Cornelius to pass the cookie jar. “Or did she look like somethin’ the cat drug in and the dog won’t eat?”
“She was beautiful.” I stood up from the table and went over to the fridge. I wasn’t really hungry, but I was terribly nosy. I wanted to see what other leftovers would clue me in on my aunt’s dinner with Reid. “She was young and willowy,” I told them as I opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. “She had porcelain skin, like an antique doll, and a heart-shaped face.” I bent, checking the middle shelf, spying what looked like a bowl of whipped butter. “Oh, and long silver hair.” I stuck my finger in the butter and scooped out a healthy fingerful, tasting it. Ah ha! It was sweetened with honey. “She was angelic, even, until she opened her freaky glowing red eyes.”
“And her loud mouth,” Doc added, joining me at the fridge.
Cornelius proceeded to give them an estimate of the decibel levels the banshee had been reaching, taking the spotlight off of me for the moment.
“Will you hand me one of those pale ales, Killer?” Doc asked in a lowered voice, his back to the table.
I handed it to him, along with the bowl of homemade honey butter, careful not to get what was left on my finger on the sleeve of his black thermal shirt.
“What’s this?” He asked, taking the butter. He sniffed it. “Is this the dairy version of Harvey’s love goop?”
I cringed. “Don’t remind me of that.” I pointed at the butter. “Try a little. It’s downright sinful. Aunt Zoe makes it from scratch for her homemade biscuits. There are probably a bunch of biscuits left over in the breadbox if you’re feeling like a snack.” I pointed toward the counter. Aunt Zoe always liked to make double batches when she baked. “I could sure use something to munch on after tonight’s insanity.”
He looked down at the butter and then up at me with a grin. “Did you use your finger?”
“Yes, but it was clean, I swear. I washed my hands before I sat down at the table.”
“Okay.” He set the beer on top of the fridge and then took my hand, lifting it to his mouth. His gaze had a devilish gleam as he licked most of the butter off my finger in one long stroke of his tongue, then sucked on my fingertip to get the last of it.
“Jinkies,” I said under my breath. Even after months of sleeping with the guy, Doc still knew how to light me up.
“You’re right, Boots. This is definitely sinful.” He leaned forward, whispering, “We should take that upstairs later. There are several more places on your body that could use a good licking.”
I gulped. “I think my unmentionables just caught fire.”
“Good.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over mine before adding, “They’ll just be in my way.”
Mercy me! Had someone cranked up the heat in here? “You’re smoldering again.” I fanned myself. “That’s not playing fair. You know that look of yours makes my heart swoon.”
He chuckled, letting go of my hand and taking the beer from the top of the fridge. I tried to take the bowl of butter back, but he held tight.
“What are you gonna do with that?” Surely he wasn’t going to hold onto it until we headed to bed? Harvey would have a heyday at our expense if he caught on to our game.
“I’m going to spread it on your biscuit.” Doc headed toward the counter, leaving me standing there with a damp finger, as well as other steamy body parts. He opened the breadbox and pulled out a zippered plastic bag of biscuits, holding them up for me to see. “You were right.”
Sure, okay, good. I blew out a breath, trying to smack some sense back into my silly heart and wipe the drool off its chin. Where were we? Oh yeah, dinner for Reid. Buttermilk biscuits. Honey butter. Doc licking my finger … No, back to the biscuits.
“Hey, mon cher, will you warm up that biscuit in the microwave first?” I asked.
His grin was downright wolfish. “I’ll warm up whatever you’d like, Tish.”
Cooper leaned back in his chair, glaring over at us. “Don’t you two start speaking in French over there. We’re not done investigating the crime scene yet.”
“Quit your barking, law dog. I’m just getting something to snack on.” I grabbed another pale ale and held the bottle up. “Anybody else want a beer?”
“Coop might,” Natalie said. “I can tell that his magic buzz has worn off because he’s turned back int
o a cop.” She laughed at the mock glare he aimed at her.
“No more for me tonight,” Cooper said. “I don’t want to end up in another jail with Parker before dawn.” He looked over at Doc. “You mind heating one of those biscuits up for me, too? I could use something solid in my stomach.”
After scoping out a few more storage containers, I finished my sleuthing in the fridge and returned to the table with a bottle of dark stout beer for myself that claimed to have a hint of coffee taste, according to the label.
“Where did you get this beer, Aunt Zoe?” I asked. It hadn’t been in there this morning when I was searching for some creamer.
She shrugged, keeping her nose buried in her notebook. “Who knows? Beer shows up around here like we live next to a brewery most days.”
That was sort of true. Whenever we had company over for supper, which was almost nightly these days, someone usually brought beer to share all around. But still, this particular bottle was from a microbrewery out of New Mexico. Where was Reid’s son from? I should have asked that when we were out hunting Nachzehrer together. I opened the bottle and let the subject drop for now, figuring I’d have to pester her more after everyone left.
Natalie leaned back and tossed her gnawed chicken leg toward the garbage. “I always figured a banshee would be a shriveled-up old lady.”
She missed the basket, but Cooper stood and picked up the bone, dumping it into the trash before heading over to open the cupboard where Aunt Zoe kept her over-the-counter pain medications.
“Me, too,” Harvey said. “I might’ve liked to hear her wail, just out of curiosity.”
Doc and I exchanged frowns. There was a reason he’d been sitting in that cell with his hands over his ears when Cooper and I finally made it into the jail. It was the same reason I’d taken the nearly identical pose on the other side of a steel door from the banshee right before being dragged from the dark by Cornelius. Her wails had been knockdown, head-poundingly painful.
“Could you hear her, too?” Natalie asked Cooper, as he returned to the table with a glass of water and a couple of pills.
“Yeah, but she wasn’t that loud when I was there with Parker. She was just wailing out the docent’s name repeatedly.” He shot me a smartass smirk. “The sound of Parker’s voice hurt my ears far more by that point.”
I held up my middle finger, not bothering with any fancy delivery methods. To Natalie, I said, “After Cooper disappeared, which we know was Doc’s handiwork, the banshee came out of the cell. She stood not a foot from me and started lifting her veil.” I shuddered at the memory of watching the fabric slowly rise, afraid to find out what was underneath.
Doc squeezed my shoulder, setting down a plate in front of me with a steaming buttermilk biscuit cut in half and a healthy dollop of honey butter smeared on each piece. The smell alone had me licking my lips.
I picked up half a biscuit and took a bite, groaning in approval.
Aunt Zoe looked up and smiled.
“Anyway,” I continued, licking the sweetened butter off my lips. “It was after the banshee lifted her veil that she opened her mouth and really let loose.” I took another bite of buttery biscuit, holding in my groan this time. “I sort of got the feeling she had something to say to me and was going to scream her head off until I got her message.”
“Or,” Cooper butted in, “she was pissed at you for dragging her to some other realm without having a clue how to return to where we’d started.”
I picked up my bottle of beer and pointed it at him. “Like I told you in that jail, it’s your fault for not listening to Doc when he told you to let go of me.”
Doc set a plate with a biscuit and butter down in front of Cooper. “Eat this. It’ll make you feel less growly, you lush.”
Grumbling, Cooper took a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment as he chewed. I knew that feeling. Aunt Zoe’s biscuits were scrumdiddlyumptious.
“Why do ya think she did that?” Harvey asked Doc after he’d returned to the chair next to me with his pale ale.
“You mean scream like that or show her face to Violet?”
“The face part.” Harvey dug into the bag of pretzels he’d gotten earlier from the pantry. “Does her showin’ her face have some kind of special meaning? Something to do with Sparky bein’ an Executioner?”
“That’s a good question.” Doc looked at Cornelius. “Did the banshee show you her face before she started keening?”
Cornelius pulled one of the cookies from his bowl of ice cream. “No. One minute I was telling you I could hear some male voices coming from the other side of the room. The next, a barn owl–like shriek knocked me to my knees. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before the second one hit and bowled me over.” He slapped his palm flat on the table as a demonstration.
“Could you feel her sitting on top of you?” Natalie asked, referring to what Doc had told Cooper and me upon entering the cell room that the banshee had Cornelius pinned down.
He picked up the ice cream covered cookie, studying it, then nodded. “I suppose that was what I felt pressing down on me, making it tough to breathe. She’d sunk her claws into me and continued to keen. It was like having ice picks stabbed into my ears. That made it hard for me to focus on much besides trying to block out the sound.” He nibbled the cookie. “It wasn’t until Violet showed up and lured the banshee away that I was able to breathe freely again and get back on my feet.”
I took another bite of biscuit, chewing on my thoughts. Cornelius made it sound like I’d purposely invited the banshee to join me on my surprise journey to the next realm over. In reality, I’d been trying to escape her chilled touch, and ended up accidentally using my physical medium skills to drag her out of there, along with Cooper. At least that was the theory Doc had come up with on our trip back to Deadwood and later shared with the others. Cornelius had agreed with Doc’s theory, especially since I had a history of dragging others with me between realms, including him.
“Doc,” Aunt Zoe said, glancing up from her notebook. “Cooper said that there were five ghosts standing near you in the cell when he first peeked in the window.” She waited for his nod of confirmation before continuing. “You mentioned that you’d picked up their scent after Cornelius joined you in the jail room. So, do you think that before Cornelius came upstairs, the ghosts weren’t there?”
Doc tipped his head slightly. “I believe that’s correct.”
“The pied piper strikes again,” Natalie said, raising her glass to him.
Cornelius held up his cookie in return before shoving the last half of it in his mouth. “Great Zeus, these are delectable,” he mumbled.
“I’d walked around the room,” Doc continued, “checking each of the cells for clues, but … Oh, hey! That reminds me.” He reached in his front jeans pocket, pulling out a piece of paper, which he tossed in the middle of the table. “I found a clue.”
Harvey scooped up the paper and read aloud, “One rubber duckie, two rubber duckies, three rubber duckies, four.” He lowered the paper. “What in tarnation is that s’posed to mean?”
Natalie took the sheet. “Each number is written in a different-colored marker—green, yellow, black, and then red.” She looked up at me. “It’s part of a combination.” She pushed back her chair. “I’ll be right back.”
After Natalie disappeared into the dining room, Aunt Zoe focused back at Doc. “So, were those ghosts trying to pass through you, or whatever you call it when you experience their deaths?”
“Initially, I believe that was the idea, but then the banshee showed up and everything shifted.”
“What do you mean, ‘shifted’?” Cooper asked.
Doc tapped his finger against the beer bottle. “I have two theories about what happened when it comes to the ghosts and the banshee, and I’m not certain yet which is the most probable.”
We all sat still, waiting for him to make sense of the whole scene. Well, all of us except for Cornelius, who was stirring his ice cream into a
soupy mess.
“Like Cornelius and Violet said,” Doc continued, “when the banshee was keening, her wails were a knockdown, deafening force. In order to block out the sound as much as I could, I had to put up mental barriers. My first theory is that those barriers acted as a mental block that kept the ghosts at bay, as well as muffled the banshee’s cries to a small degree.”
I considered further ramifications related to that theory. “If that’s true, then you might have found a way to keep other ghosts like Prudence from trying to possess you, for lack of a better word, when you’re not ready.”
He scoffed. “I don’t think a concrete bunker buried a mile under the Siberian tundra could keep Prudence out, but maybe the barriers would work with other ghosts.”
“What’s the other theory?” Cooper asked.
“The ghosts were shielding me from the banshee and her keening to some degree, but not entirely.”
“Interesting.” Cornelius paused in the midst of stirring. “Both theories would explain why I was knocked out by the banshee while you were able to withstand her shrieks somewhat. However, the second theory means that not only were the ghosts unaffected by the banshee, which seems to be the case if you consider the description of the five apparitions according to our specter detector here,” he said, pointing his spoon across at Cooper. “But that they also were shielding everyone else in the room.”
“But you could hear her screaming in that jail room,” I said, trying to keep up. “And so could Doc. It was just Cooper and me who couldn’t, so was it a limited shield?”
“Your boyfriend is a mental medium, so he’s tuned into airwaves you aren’t. As for me, my sixth-sense abilities are auditory-based. And let’s not forget that the banshee had her claws sunk into my back.” Cornelius looked at Doc. “That lack of a ghost shield in the other realms would explain why Violet and Detective Cooper could hear the banshee’s shrieks just fine there.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m leaning in the direction of the latter of the two theories.”
Natalie returned with a piece of paper and pencil. “A ghost shield,” she said, dropping into her chair. “Sounds like something out of a comic book.” She’d apparently been listening in from the other room.