A Hollow Cry (After Life Book 1)

by Bee Douglas

  “Go ahead and open the envelope.”

  Able to stand on her own, Nora slides a finger under the lip, breaking the seal. Her lips thin into a hard line as she reads the card that’s inside. “What is this?”

  “Reapers receive these. They tell us what we need to know about the souls we reap,” I explain. “Do you see what made him damned to Hell?”

  “He was an addict and an adulterer,” she lists off. “He had a child pornography fetish.”

  “Thomas Montgomery was at the park with us. He stood in the shadow of a tree.” Nora looks up at me in disgust. “A brain aneurysm killed him. You cannot see it, but his soul left his body.”

  “When you spoke that other language, you were reaping his soul?” I nod, a little surprised she heard me through the pain. “Why are you showing me this?” Her hands absentmindedly twist the envelope, crumpling it.

  “I thought if you saw exactly what it is Reapers do and how we do it, you would stop putting yourself down.”

  “You can say that because you aren’t the one potentially killing them. You’re putting those people’s lives in danger when I sing. They’re not all murderers or thieves.”

  “But that doesn’t mean their souls aren’t already destined for Hell,” I counter. “Every single person that has been in the Playground has years and years before their time. We’ve ensured that. While there are a handful of them already marked for Hell, some have the beginning signs of a damned soul.”

  “That’s not fair though,” she says, her voice hardening.

  I shake my head. “Not, it’s not, but life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that.”

  A sigh slips past her lips. “You took Aggie’s grandfather’s soul. He was a kind man.”

  “Gunthrie?” The recognition in her eyes is the only answer I need. “He spent a good amount of his life abusing his wife and children. The man you knew may have been kind and harmless, but at one point, he wasn’t.”

  “You’re serious?” Her expression slowly falls. “That must be what tore their family apart.”

  “More than likely,” I agree. “You are not harming the people that come and see you sing. For me and the other Reapers, this is what we do. We collect the souls of the damned. Given the choice, would you want to make the world free from men like that?” I point down the alley. Flashing lights of an ambulance dance along the brick walls.

  “I’d rather not do any of this, but I don’t have choice in that matter.”

  The sound of my phone ringing startles the both of us. I pull it out of my pocket; Royce’s name flashes on the screen.

  “What?” I answer.

  He clears his throat on the other end. “Things are looking up. I need you and Nora to meet us at the boardroom.”

  Nora stares down the alleyway, watching as the paramedics remove Montgomery’s body. Hatred seethes from her pores.

  “Us?”

  “I have the witch,” he explains.

  I end the call. “Royce found the witch. We need to go to the boardroom and meet them.”

  Her jaw is set, but she looks at me with acceptance. “Let’s go.”

  16

  Nora

  The last time we drove to the demonic conference room, I was scared shitless. I did my best to hold onto every ounce of courage Even though we rode in the same town car with the same driver, everything is different this time around. Kane sits alongside me in the backseat instead of Royce, who had talked my ear off the entire time. Silence settles between Kane and I. I have a slight idea as to what we’ll be walking into. Nevertheless, a hive of nerves buzz around in the pit of my stomach. But the great unknown doesn’t seem as terrifying anymore. I am a Banshee. No matter how much I try fighting, I can no longer ignore it. Despite not feeling the whole potential murderess complex, if it means ridding the world of people like that fucking pervert, I’ll manage.

  I was taken by complete surprise spying Hannah across the way. She looks happy. I rarely got to take her to the park much. In fact, I never got to take her anywhere. But when I did, I’d let her run around and play till she was tuckered out. I’ve dreamt about the day I’d get to see her again. It would be perfect, even with the overwhelming emotions. And yet, seeing her today hurt me more than I even could’ve imagined. I fear what she must think of me disappearing. Knowing Dina, she put some demented twist on the whole situation. The fight we had before I left wouldn’t have helped anything. With that fear clawing at my back, I will still take that moment for what it is. I got to see her and she’s happy. And... it’s all thanks to Kane.

  The man that rode with me in the car is not that man I faced the night before. Something in his mind had switched, bringing out his inner demon. That’s where I’ve been mistaken. I allowed myself to forget who he really is. Kane’s feared. People on the sidewalks clear the way, trying their best to avoid stepping in his path. The devils at the Playground walk on eggshells. Even Quill, with his bouncy, humorous personality, shuts down with just a mere glare.

  Being taken under his care, I get the rare opportunity to see that Kane isn’t the walking nightmare most think he is. The man I’ve come to know has an underlying gentle touch. When I talk, no matter what it’s about, he listens. He rarely breaks eye contact and added commentary when needed. And the moment that I’m able to squeeze out a laugh or two from him, I feel accomplished. But that’s where I went wrong. At the end of the day, Kane is who he is. He’s his own kind of devil. But as all the stories say, even the Devil was an angel once.

  The driver, Singh, pulls up along the curb. From the car, the makeshift demonic headquarters tower overhead. Vertigo punches me in the stomach.

  “Stay in the car,” Kane orders, his tone sharp. I nod as he holds my gaze for a moment longer – molten copper taking over the soft light in his eyes that I’ve seen all day. The car door slams shut, rattling the cab.

  A man I’ve never seen before stands outside. I thought my skin has a fair complexion. His is almost luminescent. The nearly white locks of his hair dance along his shoulders. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets, staring as Kane nears him. The two of them, standing in a face to face stare down, are intimidating. One light, one dark; both bearing an air of power.

  “Singh,” I whisper, naively fearing they’d overhear me, “who is that?”

  “Hmm?” He looks up from the newspaper in his hands. Where he got it from? I have no clue. “Not good.”

  The strange man wears a scowl on his face, which only deepens with every word he speaks. By the way Kane’s back becomes rigid, it’s not something he’s happy about. While I watch the showdown on mute, the people passing have their volume turned all the way up. And based on their glances, it’s not a G-rated conversation.

  “Should we do something?”

  Singh doesn’t say anything. His attention is sucked back in the newspaper, but the sound of doors locking makes it clear that he wasn’t ignoring me.

  Finally, after what seems like ages, the porcelain man backs away to leave. Before turning around though, he looks at the town car. Goosebumps rise along my arms. I swear his eyes make contact with mine through the tinted window. Kane doesn’t move from where he’s rooted on the sidewalk. Even under the jacket he wears, I can tell the tension in his body doesn’t ease as the other man leaves.

  “Kane,” I call, cracking the window. He doesn’t look at me, but he motions with his hand for me to get out.

  Throughout the lobby, which is impeccably decorated, not a single person can be found. Even in the elevator, Kane and I ride up by ourselves. I have a million questions bouncing around in my head. They dare to break through the wall of silence, but I fight them, repeating to myself that this isn’t the time to place.

  The door of the weird conference room is shut. Kane opens it. No knocking. No announcing our arrival. Just barging in.

  There’s another man standing in the corner of the room. He was here the last time too. He’s tall, possibly as tall as Kane. But while my devil is tall
, dark and handsome, this man’s bronzed skin and waves of dark hair make him seem eerie. His name’s Griffin. From what I’ve been told, he is a weasel of a man. Apparently, he will do, and has done, anything to ensure he comes out on top.

  The other three men are what the people of the after life world refer to as Death. They rule in Hell with a princely stature. Anytime I try picturing a creature from Hell, men in crisp suits is the last thing that comes to mind. The lack of horns or flaming crowns makes me think that there’s some inside joke that flies over my head. From a beard to different ethnicities, any one of them could be confused with an everyday business man. But instead of hurrying to miss rush hour traffic, they gamble with the souls of humans and enjoy torturing them for shits and giggles.

  “Nora,” the man in the middle, Belial, perks up as we walk in, “it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  I’m sure it is. I keep the comment to myself, offering a small smile instead.

  There was one night that I asked Kane to tell me more about Death. You would’ve thought he agreed to waxing his legs; the two running neck and neck with one another on the torture scale. Nevertheless, he went into fine detail for me.

  With the help of some of the Accursed, Switzerland of the after life world, the Changelings found a way to entomb Lucifer and Lilith. The princes took over as interim rulers, all while trying to find a way to free their master. They may be terrors in the pits of Hell, but in the mortal realm, they are confined in the center of a star – pentagram. Their astral projection forms don’t have enough power to step outside the barrier.

  Leviathan’s a smartass. On the left side of the table, he has a perfectly maintained beard and seems to only be capable of speaking in snide comments. At the opposite end is Satan. Despite believing that he and the Devil were the same person, Kane told me that I was wrong, but not far off. Toying in any sins relating to rage, he’s probably the closest thing to the Devil. He’s also the only one to show me any sign of their underlying power. Shadows darkened under his eyes and inky veins stretched out, turning him into a walking nightmare. Finally, tucked in the center of the two, is Belial. From what I’ve already experienced, he’s the most level headed of the three. He has just a sliver of patience. Together, they are the Three Stooges of the demonic underworld.

  “Any progress?” Belial asks, directing his question to Kane.

  “There’s something about her.” His tone flattens, void of any emotion. “When she sings, it’s like she’s sparked some electric current. I can feel it throughout my whole body. None of the demons have felt any change though.”

  “I bet that’s not the only thing that’s sparked,” Leviathan mutters under his breath.

  Beside me, Kane’s knuckles crack as he fists his hand. “Once she has the full potential of her abilities, I think you will be quite pleased, my Lords.”

  “That remains to be determined.” Satan eyes me from the chair he sits in, lips curling into a sneer.

  “Do you feel like you’re achieving anything, Miss Nora?” Whether or not he shares the same view as his brother, Belial at least turns the conversation back to me. I shake my head. “Well hopefully with the help of the witch, you will be able to take hold of all the strength a Banshee can pose.”

  “Excuse me, my Lords.” The man in the back of the room steps up, standing on the other side of Kane. “Might I suggest an alternative route in handling the Banshee?”

  If Kane’s body tenses anymore, I fear it will harden to stone. I sneak the edge of my pinky to graze his. There’s no ease to how strung tight he is, but his hand twitches at the whisper of my touch.

  “It’s been weeks and there hasn’t been any positive change. Perhaps there needs to be a custody adjustment of the Banshee.” His voice is hoarse. He sounds like what I would picture a rat’s voice to be.

  Whipping my head in his direction, I shoot him a murderous glare. “Excuse me?”

  Griffin blatantly ignores me, which only pisses me off more. “There has been some speculation from those who have witnessed the way these two interact with one another.” Leviathan’s gaze wanders to where Kane’s hand barely brushes against mine. I pull my hand away, crossing my arms over my chest. The corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk. “I fear she is not being pushed hard enough.”

  Belial poses the question: “What do you propose, Reaper?”

  “I have the means and the-“

  “Like Hell am I going to stay with him,” I snap. Anger bubbles up in my stomach.

  He lets out an exasperated sigh. “As I was saying, I have the means and the lack of biase-“

  A growl tears from inside of me. I take a step closer to him, looking him dead in the eye. “Did you not fucking hear me? I am not going anywhere with you.”

  “Be quiet.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. Did he just scold me like a child? I turn around, nearing the judgment of Death. I stay clear of the pentagram. Kane had warned me never to cross the ash barrier. There’s no coming back from it if I did.

  “I have done everything you’ve requested.” I do my best to keep calm. My heart is beating in its own rhythm, and I can taste the bitterness of bile in the back of my throat. “From day one, I’ve spent countless hours researching what a Banshee is. I’ve paraded around that bar like a jackass, singing songs and doing my best to find the inner best running around inside of me. Have I done something wrong?”

  The three of them share a look. Satan’s eyes glimmer, but no one answers my question.

  “Nora.” Kane’s voice whispers from behind me.

  “No,” I snap, wincing at how harsh it comes out. “I will not be held hostage from another stranger. Not again.”

  Griffin clears his throat. “Do you see, my Lords?”

  “Holy fuck! Do you ever shut up?” My irritation surpasses control. As I turn to the Reaper, I am taken aback by the scene going on behind my back.

  Kane stepped in front of me. He has a firm grip on Griffin’s throat in one hand, while he clutches his raised hand in the other. His dark and fearsome eyes are crazed.

  “You will not lay a hand on her,” Kane seethes through gritted teeth.

  Air catches in my lungs; my heart flutters inside my chest. The man who had threatened to rid me of my own hands now steps up, protecting me from his fellow Reaper.

  Behind us, the jokester brother laughs. “Now, now,” he manages to get out between breaths of air, “play nicely children.”

  “As admirable as your offer is,” Belial concedes, “Nora will remain under the protection of Kane. Having a familiar connection will allow her to feel more comfortable with herself. Torturing her will not lure the Banshee out.”

  “But-“ The grip of Kane’s hand tightens, cutting off Griffin’s voice.

  “We only care about her voice. We could honestly care less who she fucks,” Leviathan continues.

  “Brother!”

  He simply shrugs a shoulder. Satan’s eyes glisten as he watches both predicaments unravel in front of him. All the anger and rage in the room must be like some aphrodisiac to him.

  The sound of the door opening takes everyone by surprise. Royce’s head peaks inside, taking in the scene that lies before him. A maniacal laugh echoes through the room.

  “I go away for a few days and all Hell breaks loose,” he teases. With a final warning glare, Kane frees the weasel from his grasp.

  “You’ve returned,” Belial states. “And the witch?”

  A moment later, a young girl follows Royce inside. Her frame is petite. She wears bootie heels and tights under her skirt. It’s not exactly what I picture a witch to wear. From what Kane had said, there’s only one witch left that knows anything about Banshees. And with the last one to roam the earth over one hundred years ago, it’s safe to say that I wasn’t expecting the witch to be my age – or younger. But here she is.

  “Just as you requested,” Royce says. “A number three with a side of fries. Hot and ready.”

  “Yvette, it’s bee
n a long time.” Satan greets the witch nonchalantly, as if welcoming a longtime friend. But from the way she rolls her eyes, I assume friendship is not their vocabulary.

  “I take it you’re the big bad Banshee?” she asks, her French accent clipping at the end of each of her words. I nod. Her hazel eyes look me up and down. Letting out a puff of air between her painted lips, she holds out a hand. “Yvette La Croix at your service.”

  17

  Nora

  We don’t stay long after the witch arrives. She doesn’t have much patience for the princes, which leaves their little weasel appalled.

  “You contacted me,” she tells them. “You need my help. Don’t get it in your heads that I’ll be serving under you thumb.”

  The inside of my cheek still aches from where I bit it to stop myself from laughing. She has spunk.

  “Have you done any research?” Yvette sits on one of the bar stools at the island. She and Royce returned to the apartment with us.

  I gesture to the piles of books in the living room. “We’ve gone through books and online databases. There hasn’t been much of anything.”

  “Of course not,” she says, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “And your family didn’t tell you anything?”

  “No. My mother walked out when I was little and if my father knew, he didn’t tell me.”

  Yvette nods. “Banshees don’t pop up like gophers.” Royce snickers. “They are derived from bloodlines. Only one harbinger is born in a generation. Males are too weak to bear the Banshee gene. If no females are born, the trait skips, which weakens the power. Since no other Banshee has come into the light, I’m going to assume it stems from your father’s side.”

  “How many Banshee bloodlines are there?” Kane leans against the counter.

  “It started with five. Then that branched out.”

  “And there aren’t any left?”