Romancing the Banshee

by Alecia Monaco

  She’d somehow managed to climb right through his body, making a door through his heart, straight into his soul.

  Chapter 7

  She was gone when he woke up.

  For a minute, fear stabbed at his heart like icy needles. Then he remembered she’d said something about going to the market early to get groceries for their interview with the leprechaun king.

  He rolled over in his bed, running a hand over the impression she’d left beside him. They’d slept in a tangle, unwilling to lose skin on skin contact for even a moment. He’d planned to wake her by putting his tongue to good use between her legs, but she’d gotten the jump on him and left.

  Dragging himself out of bed, he stretched, feeling at once strained and relaxed. He stumbled to the bathroom, hoping to rouse himself with a hot shower.

  When he emerged later, freshly showered and shaved, he heard the sounds of Aisling unloading groceries into his kitchen cabinets. Throwing on jeans and a green sweatshirt, he joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she peeled potatoes over the sink.

  “I missed you this morning.” Her cotton candy hair was in braids, wound about her head like a coronet, leaving her neck bare. He nuzzled it, appreciating her clean, flowery scent. “I wanted to wake you in a special way.” His blood turned hot at the thought of it.

  “I needed to get food for brunch.” She turned off the faucet and extricated herself from his arms, carrying the pot of potatoes to the stove. “We should discuss a few things before they get here.”

  OK, so she’s not feeling especially romantic this morning. Maybe banshees were night people… or creatures. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” He grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit she’d placed on the table and took a bite.

  “First, you need to let me do the talking. I’ll make your case to them, and you just smile and speak when spoken to.” She put a head of yellow cabbage on the cutting board and hacked it in two with a knife.

  “All right.” He had to give it to her in the knife-wielding department. She had him beat, hands down. “Anything else?”

  “Yes.” She had the cabbage chopped at warp speed. “I think it would be a really, really bad thing if they found out what happened last night.”

  “What do you mean?” He feigned a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. “You talking about our dinner at the Olive Garden?”

  She dumped the cabbage into the steaming pot of water with the potatoes. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Oh, all that spectacular fucking that went on between 2:00 and 5:00 this morning?” He polished off his apple and tossed it into the trash. “I’d forgotten all about it.” Something about her attitude bothered him, making him want to provoke a response from her. They’d spent the entire night locked together, with him inside her body for most of it. Why was she acting like an annoyed babysitter?

  “Call it what you want, just don’t tell them about it.” She shoved a loaf of bread into the oven and slammed the door.

  “Won’t that make your bread go flat?” He intercepted her as she tried to storm out of the kitchen. “You know it wasn’t just spectacular fucking.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him, calling his bluff.

  “All right, it was spectacular, but it was far more than fucking.” He caught her by the wrists and took her in his arms. “You know how I feel about you.” Looking down into her unreadable face, he continued. “Don’t you?”

  “I’m a novelty.” She stared down at the floor. “I’m not someone you can make a life with.”

  “I can’t believe you’d say that.” He let go of her. “You’re so much more to me than anything I can even put into words.”

  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pink velour track suit. “You don’t owe me any pretty words. I stare death in the face every night, remember? I can take it straight.”

  Dammit to hell, why was she doing this? “You want it straight? OK, here you go. I’m in love with you. How’s that?”

  Her face crumpled just as a swirl of glittering white mist appeared in the living room. Aisling regained her composure at once, ready to greet Queen Maeve and King Seamus as their forms began to materialize.

  ———

  “So, do we have a deal?” Aisling held her breath and waited for King Seamus’ answer.

  “Let me make sure I’m understanding you.” The leprechaun king, rather awkwardly seated with a pillow beneath him in a dinette chair, turned his blue eyes to Declan. “You’re saying you’ll give us the land near Boston, free and clear, if we call off the death warrant against you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Declan used what Aisling imagined to be his most persuasive attorney voice. “My great-grandmother, Maeve Connor, left the land in a trust for me. It’s a beautiful old homestead on the outskirts of Boston, with plenty of clover and a wine cellar in the house available for your personal use.”

  Seamus sat back in his chair, giving Declan an appraising stare. “I see you’ve studied our lore, young lad.”

  “I’ve had an excellent teacher.” Aisling felt Declan’s eyes on her, burning like embers. She forced herself to ignore the magnetic pull, to focus on the meeting at hand.

  “Dear, your colcannon was excellent.” Queen Maeve fluttered her wings and gave Aisling a gentle pat on the hand. “Let me help you with the dishes.”

  “Oh, no, Mother Maeve, it’s no trouble.” Aisling stood up with the intention of gathering the plates and silverware littering the table, but a wave of the queen’s hand cleared the table. She say back down as the dishes appeared in the cabinet, washed and neatly put away.

  “That, my dear, was no trouble.” Maeve smiled at Aisling.

  “Tell me this much, son.” Seamus unfastened the gold buttons holding the ends of his green vest together. “How came you to have such a glorious bit of land going to waste? Why haven’t you married a fine lass and had you a passel of babes to make good use of the property?”

  Declan’s eyes darted from Aisling back to the king. “Well, sir, I’ve been focusing on my career for the past few years.”

  “Do you plan on getting married, lad?” Seamus peered anxiously at Declan.

  Declan looked straight at Aisling. “If the right woman will have me.”

  “And you’ll have some young ones with her?”

  “I’d like nothing more.” The man she loved continued to stare at her, and Aisling felt the same twist of the knife in her heart she’d experienced every time he mentioned his desire to become a father someday.

  “Then consider it a deal, son.” Seamus jumped down from the dinette chair, puffing up to his full three feet of height. “You and your brood may visit the homestead whenever you wish. Just leave the clover field be, and we’ll call it even.” He extended a small ruddy hand to Declan, who gave it a hearty shake.

  “That still leaves one matter unsettled.” Aisling knew she should feel relieved that Declan was out of danger, but knowing she was fast losing any reason to remain with him blotted out any happiness his safety might have brought her.

  “Why is Declan immune to my keening?” Aisling turned to Maeve with her question. “He should’ve died on the spot, but as you can see, he’s very much alive.”

  The queen glanced from Aisling to Declan and back, her violet eyes fathomless with hidden knowledge. “There could be several causes of his immunity,” she finally said, speaking slowly as she folded her hands on the table.

  “We have nothing to go on.” Aisling clasped her hands, pleading. “He needs to know for his own safety, and I need to know for my own future as a banshee.”

  “But, dearest,” Maeve smoothed down the front of her wispy violet silk gown, “Are you sure your future lies in being a banshee?”

  “What other options are there?” Aisling didn’t dare hope.

  “There are always options.” Maeve gave a nod of her regal auburn head.

  “That still doesn’t tell us why he didn’t fall to my keening.” Aisling wa
nted to get this over with, to make a clean break if she could, for Declan’s sake if not her own.

  Maeve turned her gaze to Declan. “You must be sure you want to know the reason.” She tilted her head, her amethyst studded diadem catching the light from the kitchen window. “I promise you, my son, you will never be harmed by a banshee’s cry. Your immunity is eternal.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Declan rose to pull out Aisling’s chair. “What about you, Aisling?”

  “It’s your life.” She lurched forward out of the chair and said her goodbyes to Seamus.

  “Thank you for being so understanding.” She shook the king’s tiny hand.

  He let out a merry laugh. “He’s a fine lad, Aisling, a fine lad. We had a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.” Seamus made his way over to Declan to iron out a few last minute details.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Maeve stood at Aisling’s side. “You look terribly unhappy.”

  “I’m just…” She screwed up the last ounce of bravado she could muster. “I’m just homesick, Mother Maeve. Nothing a few days back in the fairy realm won’t cure.”

  “If you say so.” Maeve stroked Aisling’s cheek. “Come home and take some time off. This situation seems to have taken quite a toll on you.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mother, honestly.” She looked up to see Declan watching her from across the room. Her heart accelerated to the point of pain.

  The man could undo her with a single glance. What hope did she have of ever getting over him?

  ———

  “All’s well that ends well, as Seamus said. He and Maeve should be meeting with Morgan Le Fay right about now to cancel the warrant.” Declan settled into the couch, mulling over the events of the day. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Over,” she muttered, her back to him as she gazed out the window at the mellow Connecticut afternoon.

  “How about we celebrate?” He stood up and stretched. “You, me, a bottle of champagne, and no clothes. What do you say?”

  “Declan…” Her voice hid a barely suppressed sob. An alarm sounded somewhere in his head, a bell of warning, alerting him to impending pain.

  “Don’t.” He crossed the room in three steps and grabbed her, spinning her around to face him. “Don’t even start with talk of leaving.”

  “You know I have to leave. We’ve just been living a dream here together the last few days.”

  Shock turned into pain, and pain boiled over into anger. “Why in the hell would you walk away from what we have together?” He shook his head in disbelief. “This hasn’t been a dream. You wake up from dreams. This is living, breathing reality.”

  “It’s not my reality.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “You saw my reality today when Seamus and Maeve showed up.”

  “Do you think I’m going to try to stop you from being a banshee?” Emotions stronger than he’d known he could possess spilled over like toxins from a beaker. “You can go out on the prowl ’n howl every night for all I care, as long as you wake up beside me.”

  “It’s more than that.” She pushed him away. “I have to go. Just trust that I’m doing what’s best for you, please?” A sob choked her. “Declan, you have to believe that I’m doing this for you.”

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but it damn sure isn’t for me.” He had to stop her. He felt like a train careening off its track, derailed from the only destination he’d ever wanted. Grabbing her, he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers, feeling their tears mingle. “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I kiss you, and I’ll let you walk away.”

  She let out a cry, and he kissed her again, this time with more force, sliding his tongue into her mouth, stroking it against hers. He broke the kiss, staring down into her eyes. “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you go.”

  She wrenched herself from his arms. “I don’t love you.” Her eyes never left the floor. He backed away, feeling something rip apart inside his chest. “Then go.” A bitter laugh tore itself from him, grating against his ears. “You came to end my life, and you’ve done it.” He made a clumsy stab at wiping away his tears. “Mission accomplished, Aisling.” He gave her a mock salute.

  She held onto the window, giving him one last look. “I’m sorry, Declan.” Tears infused every word. “Someday, I hope you’ll understand.” She unlocked the window and pushed it up. “Have a happy life.”

  And in a whirlwind of mist, she was gone just as suddenly as she’d appeared. Declan fell to his knees, wondering if heartbreak would prove more fatal than the cry of a legendary banshee could ever hope to be.

  Chapter 8

  “How long are you going to keep this up?”

  Aisling looked up to see Maeve standing over her. She blushed, willing the image in the crystal gazing ball to fade away. She’d taken it out of the cottage she shared with another banshee to study it in secret beneath her favorite apple tree.

  “It’s been almost a month.” Maeve tapped the surface of the crystal with her fingernails. “How long are you going to continue watching him this way?”

  Aisling sighed, trying to ignore the wave of sickness she felt every time she thought of losing Declan. Even the green splendor of the fairy realm, with its eternally blooming flora and endless rainbows, failed to soothe her sadness. “Until I see that he’s moved on with his life.”

  “And is he doing that?” The queen folded her arms over her violet gown, batting her gossamer lilac and gold butterfly shaped wings furiously.

  “He needs time.” She didn’t want to admit that Declan looked as miserable as she felt whenever she chose to spy on him with her crystal gazing ball.

  “He needs you.” Maeve sat down on the oversized red and white spotted mushroom beside Aisling. “Dear, how long has it been since you went out on assignment?”

  Aisling slunk down on her mushroom seat. “Not since my return, Mother Maeve.”

  Maeve nodded, looking as if none of this surprised her. “Aisling, have you ever considered retiring from the banshee life?”

  Her jaw dropped. “How could I even consider such a thing?”

  The queen shrugged. “Your heart isn’t in it anymore. Maybe you should follow it to its true destination.” She indicated the fading image of Declan in the gazing ball.

  Aisling closed her eyes and exhaled. It would be such a relief to tell Maeve the truth. “I would, Mother, if I wouldn’t end up hurting him more by returning.”

  “My child, how could he possibly suffer more than this?” She peered down at the ball, where the last fleeting glimpse of Declan could be seen, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

  “He wants to be a father.” Aisling felt tears rising in her throat. “We both know that humans and banshees can’t breed. If I went back to him, he’d want me to stay, and he’d lose any chance of ever having children of his own.”

  For a moment, Maeve looked stunned. Then she burst into hysterical laughter.

  “I hardly see the humor in this, your highness.” Aisling stood up, tugging the skirts of her white banshee dress into place, preparing to leave in a proverbial huff.

  “Dearest, dearest.” Maeve grabbed Aisling and pulled her back to her seat. “Hear me out.” The queen cleared her throat and tried valiantly to stop laughing. “Did it ever occur to you that your Declan Mahoney isn’t quite human himself?”

  Aisling’s mouth formed a perfect round circle of surprise.

  “Don’t you see that it was the fey blood he carries in his own veins that made him immune to your keening?” Maeve clutched Aisling’s hand in a maternal grip. “I thought it was your attachment to the banshee life that kept you from going to him. If I’d known…”

  “How could he possibly have fey blood?” Aisling felt all the air go out of her lungs. “He feels as human as any other. My banshee senses would know if he was fairy kind.”

  “I’ll admit it’s just a trace of our blood running through him, but it’s strong and true
.” Maeve gave Aisling’s hand a friendly squeeze. “His great-grandmother, Maeve Connor, was my Goddess-Daughter.”

  “You mean she was…”

  Maeve cut her off. “Named for me. One hundred percent flower fairy. Which means your Declan has just enough fairy blood of his own for you two to be able to have as many children as you desire.”

  A rush of joy shot through Aisling with the force of a tidal wave. “I have to go to him. Oh, my Goddess.” She leapt up from her mushroom stool, gazing around the emerald green fields of the fairy realm. “I’ll miss this place, but…”

  “You can come back anytime you wish.” Maeve stood up and embraced the banshee. “This will always be your home.” She pointed west, to the portal leading into the human realm. “Now go, bring some happiness to the man you love.”

  “I’m not sure how he’ll take the news about being part fey.” Aisling bit her bottom lip.

  “I think he’ll accept any amount of shocking news if it brings you back to him.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Aisling gave the queen a quick kiss and prepared to pass through the portal.

  “Hold up there just a minute, missy.”

  Aisling looked up to see a giant white bird circling overhead.

  “I have business with you before you depart.” The bird came to a smooth landing on the toadstool she’d used for a table, perching on top of her gazing ball.

  “I’m in a major hurry to get back to the earth realm.” What on earth did the giant fowl want with her?

  The bird peered at her over its beak. “Been feeling a little queasy lately?”

  “Well, yeah,” she admitted, putting her hand over her stomach. “But I’ve been going through a rough time.”

  “Is that so?” The bird let out a cackle. “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say before you go.”

  ———

  It had been a month. She wasn’t coming back.

  Declan wandered around his apartment, the same way he’d done every night since she’d gone. She’d left all of her new clothes behind, including the black nightgown she’d worn the first time they’d made love. He kept it under the pillow that lay on what he’d come to think of as her side of the bed. It helped him to have hope, to hang on to every shred of belief he could conjure.