by K. Weikel
Chapter 27
“Your books?” Becca chokes.
Banshee nods and stares at Becca, making her feel both terrified and uncomfortable. “The Leaders aren’t the only ones that hide behind a mask. Or a name.”
“What do you mean?” Becca asks quietly, her head spinning.
“Eleven years ago, I was one of Quill’s little band of brainwashed followers, willing to give up whatever is asked for no matter the price to keep the society running how it is. Quill kicked me out after… an incident with one of the other people in the posse… But I don't need to get into that yet,” he chuckles creepily. “Let’s just say I had a gun, and using that gun brought comfort to me.”
He takes off the mask and Becca feels her chest tighten.
“So,” she says, her voice shaking like a leaf in the cold wind of November. “It was you who gave me those boxes and the notes.”
And not Eduard, She thinks to herself.
“No,” Banshee smiles, the tear in his flesh moving slightly as he talks. “But the intention was there.”
“What do you mean?” Becca swallows her fear and plants her feet on the hard floor. She’s not running away, not this time, no matter what it is he’s about to tell her. “What do you mean, Banshee?”
It can’t be Eduard.
“It’s a strange thing to hear you call me that. To hear anyone call me that, really. Let me officially introduce myself, since I never did. Well, I did. Once. But you were too little to remember me.”
Another smile large enough to contort his face in the dimness of the rooms lighting spreads across his face as Becca becomes more and more confused. She knows him?
“I’m sure you have so many questions, Becca Reed.”
“And if I didn’t think you knew the answers, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“I’m flattered,” he chuckles, and in his eyes flash something—excitement maybe? “Do you want to sit down?”
Banshee sidesteps to reveal a black metal chair. He pats the seat and nods, the smile still glued on his face. Becca shakes her head and Banshee’s face twists into something that looks like hurt.
“You won’t sit?” He asks, his voice fragile and soft.
Becca takes a step closer to him, her arms stiff and her hands clenched into fists.
Then she stops, changing her mind, and his face switches to anger.
“You will sit. You will sit, Becca Reed!”
Banshee leaps forward and grabs Becca roughly by the arm.
“You will sit!”
“No!” Becca cries out, struggling against him. He pulls her to the chair as she tugs and thrashes to break free. He throws her onto the seat, the front legs lifting up from the ground and smashing back down onto the wooden ground. Becca sits in the cold metal chair, trembling and feeling the fire grow inside of her as Banshee wipes a bead of sweat away from above his eyebrow.
“That’s better,” Banshee sighs, almost sweetly, but his eyes tell a different story. He leans forward and places his black-gloved hands on the black metal armrests attached to the chair. His face is inches away from Becca’s, and she can’t help but recoil at the distance.
“Now,” he says. “Obviously my books didn’t give you enough information, and that’s why you came looking for me. What do you want to know, Becca Reed?”
Becca swallows, hoping it would make her mouth less dry, make it easier to talk, but it doesn't.
Banshee slams his hands on the chair, and Becca leaps into the air as it startles her.
“What do you want to know?” He screeches.
“Everything,” Becca hisses, feeling that same boost of confidence that she had had the day of her trial come back into her system.
Banshee smiles. “I thought you would never ask.”
Abruptly, he stands up. He doesn’t miss a beat when he starts talking, as if he’d rehearsed what he’d say a thousand times.
“Eleven years ago, I had been one of the three leaders for the Light Clan. My name was R. J. Jean. Rupert James Jean. I worked in the disciplinary branch of the government, and I would sit in at court hearings to make sure the right punishments were carried out—make sure my punishments were carried out.
“One day, a month before I… I’ll get to that part momentarily. But one day, three black masks robbed a White Clan couple, broke into their house. I was called in to look around, make sure everything was okay, that nothing was broken, and to take inventory on the missing items.
“The couple introduced themselves politely, as all white masks are supposed to do. I said hello back, and then a little four year old comes running up, saying she dressed herself. She was covered in both black and white clothing. No colors, like many children her age wore, just the two different colors. Her parents were horrified and told her to go change. I laughed and kneeled down to introduce myself before she could run off to obey them.
“’I’m Rupert J. Jean,’ I said, and she smiled and told me her name. I told her I liked her outfit, and her parents hastily apologized. Of course, I didn’t care about that. I knew she was different. No child mixes the two colors of clothing and just those two colors. They’ve been raised not to from their parent’s fear of them being thrown in with the Dark Clan, and if their parents were in the dark clan, their parents were afraid of the death penalty for mixing the colors.
“She had a cut on the side of her face. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to look like it stings. It looked a lot like mine does now. But for some reason, it infuriated me. I asked her what happened and she said a man with a knife cut her.
“I finished up what I needed to do and then I left. Something inside of me snapped. I was angry.
“I went to find the guys that robbed the house. Two of them had died in a rioting over the new law passed about segregating the Light Clan and the Dark Clan from certain public places, should the owners decide to follow through with it. But the last one… the last man was still alive. And I wasn’t going to let that slide.”
Banshee starts pacing excitedly, a craze stirring in his eyes as they dart around the room.
“It took a month for me to find him. I showed up at his living quarter door and knocked. I knocked… The excitement grew inside of me as I anticipated the door opening. I waited and waited… But the door never opened. I finally unlocked the door with the master key I had from the position I was in. I could almost taste the revenge on my tongue…
“I snuck in. Looked around. Everything was dark and all the lights were off. Everything was in place. I remember hearing the boards creek beneath my feet as I walked.
“Then I heard this booming voice explode from the doorway. It was the man. He was dressed in black and wore a plain black mask. I’d never seen anyone wear a plain mask before. It was strange.
“He asked me what I was doing here and I told him who I was. He pulled a knife on me. But the joke was on him.”
Banshee walks to one of the corners of the room, the back left according to the position of the front door, and bends down to pick something up. The item he now holds is hidden behind his long cloak that covers his hands.
“I shot him. Dead. After that, I stepped over him and ripped the mask from his despicable face. His shameful face… I carried it out of his room, out of his little home, and to the girls’ front door. She opened it. She called for her mom. I told her, ‘I got him. I got him for you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.’” Banshee’s voice starts to sharpen, starts to rise, to get grittier.
“She called for her parents. They came. They came and sent me away. Told Quill. Sent me to court. I should have died, but Quill was young then, was merciful. He changed my name. Changed my name to Banshee Fletch. B. F. That was the man’s name. The man’s name I killed. Quill told me to wear the mask to show everyone my shame! He told me to wear it—to never—take—it—off!"
He turns around quickly to Becca. “But I did, Becca Reed. I did. I did it in front of Quill and his minions. Quill said that was the
last straw. He told me no more.
“He watched me carefully, but I watched him even closer. I knew who he would pick to be the next leader. That girl. That little girl with the mismatching clothes. That girl—that girl was you, Becca. Becca Reed.