The Banshee’s Desire
Victoria Richards
Copyright 2012
Copyright 2012 Victoria Richards (victoria-richards.com). All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead, as well as any events or locations is entirely coincidental.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, any means of reproduction, either electronic or physical, of any part of this book, without written permission is unlawful piracy and deemed a theft of the author's intellectual property. You may use the material from this book for review purposes only. Any other use requires written permission from the author or publisher.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Author Info
Other Books by Victoria Richards
Chapter 1
A cold wind howled outside Antrim Castle as if the Devil himself rode it.
The shrieking wail ripped through the enchantments safeguarding the old Irish ruins from mortal eyes, fanning the flames of an argument between the thirteen wizards gathered deep in the recesses of the dungeon. The sound was a reminder of what they were divided on, of the woman who they considered an anomaly, an abomination against the purity of their supernatural bloodlines.
Half banshees were not supposed to exist.
And yet one had been created right under their noses.
How could a woman like Jacqueline Huston wield so much power? It wasn’t right and certainly wasn’t a part of the laws of nature. And the fact that she could reap souls and still retain her human form--unacceptable.
And what would happen if she turned her attention to one of them?
Worried didn't begin to describe the Brotherhood of Merlyn's feelings on the subject.
"She's unnatural," one of the wizards proclaimed to his brethren in a loud voice. "She cheated Death and now there will be a price to pay. For all of us! We've seen it before!"
"Settle down, Foster."
The wizard who issued the command stood to meet Foster's gaze. As leader of the council, he'd listened without comment to the mutterings and accusations hurled about, only an occasional nod or a twitch of his nose to show his feelings on the matter.
"You are making wild accusations that we have yet to explore," the wizard said, his tone challenging. His old eyes stared into Foster's until it was clear who was dominant.
Foster sat.
The elder wizard smiled at this show of respect, but there was no mirth in it.
"We'll agree the woman is unnatural and something should be done about her. However, if experience has taught us anything, it's that we must tread carefully." The wizard looked around the room until his gaze settled on another council member. "Spark, what say you to all the noise this woman is causing? After all, she has had a direct effect on your family."
Everyone turned their attention to Spark, the tall thin wizard with coal black hair at the end of the table. Of the thirteen wizards gathered, Sparks sixty five years of life made him one of the younger ones there. He stared at the table top, his dark eyes reflective. A long moment passed before he spoke.
"She should be destroyed."
Around the table came murmurs of agreement.
"Destroyed?" A hint of doubt peppered the old wizard's deep voice, causing the others to fall silent. "Though your son was acting under his own directive, Spark, his idea was not a bad one. Capturing the half banshee and bringing her to the Brotherhood would help make us more powerful. We have enemies who still wish us harm even after all these centuries have passed."
"Then have Toby Williams bring her to us!" Spark answered angrily, still not meeting the old wizard's eye. "If you can reach him, that is. I hear he is smitten with her. And wasn't he the one we asked to watch her so that we could be alerted if she displayed any of her powers in the first place? Odd how we haven't heard a word from him, and yet, we know she has been reaping souls."
Spark looked at the old wizard, his gaze cold and severe.
"Or are you going to protect Toby and his spawn? The spawn which killed my son, Derek, by the way. You've always had a soft spot for Josiah Williams’ kid. That's why his family's council seat continues to sit empty rather than be filled by someone who is worthy of being a part of our group."
A little ripple of discord ran through the room which the old wizard silenced by holding up one hand.
"Spark, your son was killed because he made a miscalculation."
"A miscalculation?" Spark stood, anger flashing. "How do you figure that?"
"Derek Spark and Josiah Williams were supposed to have killed that child when it was a baby. The offspring of rival wizard families taints the purity of the bloodline and has the potential to create a completely new sort of…creature. Obviously, Derek had the opportunity to take care of matters on his own when Josiah failed in the task. But he didn't. He decided to play the odds. And looked what happened to him. Smote by the hand of his own nephew--your grandchild, Spark--because he didn't follow orders. Yes, he miscalculated badly," the old wizard said. "It's a shame really. Derek had potential. It could have been nurtured if you hadn't kicked him out of your family."
"You have no right to lecture me about sons," Spark's voice was ice and his eyes narrowed. "At least my son wasn't responsible for creating a half banshee that destroyed half of Europe. Or have you forgotten about that?"
"Be careful Spark. Be very careful," the wizard warned. "You don’t want to upset me."
The walls of the castle shook and Jonathan Spark suddenly grabbed at his throat. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath. Some unseen force choked him though there was little doubt where the force came from.
"Listen to me carefully. Circumstance may be different, but the end result is still the same. If Derek hadn't played a hand in Eric Huston's death, the half banshee wouldn't have been born. Your son did that, but you have a chance to right that wrong." The old wizard released his spell and Jonathan Spark gasped for air. "Bring me the half banshee. I'd hate to destroy such an unusual creature without really knowing what she can do for the Brotherhood."
Spark stared at the other wizard, a silent war of wills stretching between them. But in the end, it was Spark who acquiesced. With a nod, he sat down, rubbing at his neck and saying, "As you wish."
"And Jonathan, try not to piss her off. If there is one thing I've learned from my centuries on this planet, it's that women are more manageable when they're in a good mood."
Spark nodded.
"I also want your grandson, Spark. This mixed blood creature must be put down quickly. He has powers that we can't comprehend. Bring him to me so that I can kill him."
"And if his father is…resistant?"
"Do what you have to." The wizard looked at the only empty seat on the council and shook his head regretfully. "The time to play favorites is past. The creature is too great a threat."
Jonathan Spark smiled coldly.
"Consider it done".
****
Being able to see the mark of Death was a perk of Jacqueline Huston's new powers.
As she scanned the back room of Merlyn's Bar, she couldn't help but look for the tell tale hint of darkness which showed her who would be dying soon. A part of her shive
red with anticipation over it even as she tried to stay focused in the here and now of playing pool with her best friend Angela.
The pool balls made a solid clink as Jacqueline's break ball rolled into them.
"Yes!" she whispered gleefully, watching the balls roll in all directions.
"Not bad." Angela frowned. "But I hate being stripes. It's bad luck or something. I never win when I'm stripes."
"Boo hoo," Jacqueline mocked, aiming at a solid red ball. "I'd feel sorry for you, but I don't."
"Sassy!" Angela smacked Jacqueline's butt as she walked by. "Don't make me angry. I would hate to throw down my wine and have to teach you a lesson."
"That would be alcohol abuse," Jacqueline said. "Toby wouldn't like it if you poured wine on his floor. He'd probably make you clean it up with your tongue or something."
They both looked over at Toby Williams, owner of Merlyn's Bar. Tall, sandy haired, and very well built, he managed to own the space with his sheer presence. He chatted casually with one of the regulars, throwing his head back to laugh at something that had been said. As if he knew the two ladies were watching him, Toby glanced over and winked one deep blue eye at Jacqueline.
"Damn, that man is smitten with you," Angela sighed appreciatively.
"I know." Jacqueline couldn't hide her grin of delight. "I'm pretty smitten with him, too."
"Really? I hadn't noticed."
Both women laughed.
"Seriously, Jackie," Angela said. "I'm really happy for you. You deserve someone nice like Toby."
Angela turned back to the pool table, but Jacqueline pondered her words.
Do I? Do I really deserve someone like Toby?
It was a question she asked herself at least once a week.
She never could come up with a satisfactory answer. There were odd thoughts brewing in her lately, thoughts about death and chaos that had never been there before. It seemed the anniversary of her husband's death four months ago had awoken more than just her latent banshee abilities.
It had awoken the need to create death.
Several times in the last few months, she'd caught herself watching the flicker of the soul in an innocent person, something only she could see, and wondered if she could just yank it out and have a little taste.
But that would mean death for the soul's owner.
How could Toby love her when she had strange thoughts like that?
She gave an involuntary shudder, trying to push away the morbid thoughts, but they clung to her. Jacqueline found herself again looking around the bar, reflecting on who might die soon. Who had the potential to let go of the mortal coil so she could swoop in and claim it? What a rush it would be to sip on a soul before sending it on its merry way.
Whose shoulder was the hand of death tapping on next?
That guy.
A tall man sat at the bar, munching on stale peanuts. His back was to her, but Jacqueline could see a dark shadow around him--the pall of death. It wavered like a flag, still thin, which meant death was coming, but wasn't quite there yet.
"Jacqueline? You okay?" Angela's voice brought her back to reality.
"Sure."
"You have a weird look on your face."
"Sorry. I was just thinking about something."
"You've been preoccupied lately." Angela took a shot and did a fist pump when she sank the ball in the pocket. "I've been worried."
"I'm fine."
"Ever since this place was robbed by that freak, Derek, you've been different."
The words were quiet, but Jacqueline didn't miss the pain in Angela's voice when she said Derek's name. Derek Spark had been a rouge wizard with an agenda which included seducing and tricking Angela. In the end, he'd resorted to threatening to kill her and Toby's mother Matilda. There had been a vicious battle, but Derek had been defeated.
Toby's son, Gabe, had killed him.
Gabe walked into the bar right then, carrying a heavy beer box. The disgruntled look on his young, handsome face said it all. Gabe obviously thought he was above such heavy labor.
"What are you looking at?" He asked Jacqueline as he walked past.
She didn't reply, knowing that doing so would only be an invitation to a battle of words.
"I see Gabe still has a stick up his ass," Angela commented, looking after him. There was a wistfulness on her face Jacqueline didn't like. She'd seen it before and knew what it meant: Angela was crushing on Toby's son. "Too bad it's such a fine ass."
"Down girl," Jacqueline said. "You don't want any of that. Gabe is just a twenty year old kid who doesn't understand the ways of the world very well."
"How could he? I mean, if I was raised in a family of morticians who never let me experience any fun in life, I might be a little off kilter, too."
You have no idea, Jacqueline thought.
"Still, he's kind of young for you. I mean, you are almost forty," Jacqueline pointed out.
"No, I 'm not! That's still…years away."
"He's twenty, Angela. It would be like training a puppy or something."
"A cute puppy with a nice ass."
"Don't go there."
"Well what about you then? Toby is older than you by several years, right? He would have been about Gabe's age when he had him." Angela gave her a speculative look. "Right?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but Toby was around eighteen when he and Gabe's mother got together," Jacqueline said. "They were too young to know what they were doing."
That wasn't quite true. But it was a good enough explanation for Angela. She didn't need to know about the laws of wizards and how the family lines were not allowed to mix.
"You never let me have any fun," Angela teased. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to be content with looking at the puppy."
Jacqueline smiled, but she wasn't sure Angela would be able to keep the promise. She knew her friend too well. When Angela saw something she wanted, she went after it. Gabe had better watch out.
A commotion at the bar got their attention.
The man marked for death slumped forward, and as Jacqueline watched, the darkness surrounding him grew more solid. She felt drawn to him, the urge to sing welling inside as it always did now when a soul was lost. Unable to help herself, she moved towards the bar.
Toby and Gabe were both bending over the man who appeared to be choking. Toby glanced at Jacqueline, seeing something on her face that alarmed him.
It was her eyes. Had to be. They turned a deep, unnatural green when her banshee nature went into action.
Gabe glanced at her and then back at the man who was trying to cough up whatever he'd swallowed. Wrapping his arms around the choker, he administered the Heimlich maneuver. With a whoosh of air, a peanut sailed out of the man's mouth and onto the bar.
The black matter around him dissolved, though oddly, there were gray shadows lingering nearby. They almost appeared to have form. Human form.
What was that about? Some new power she had yet to discover?
Before she could think about it, irritation at Gabe welled inside her, and Jacqueline contemplated his soul, wondering if she could just yank it right out of him. After all, he'd cheated her of something she'd really wanted just now. How dare he!
Besides, a little voice whispered in her ear, it would be a justified action. He did kill your husband, Eric.
No!
She forced herself to step back, a wave of shame washing over her.
It was one thing to claim a soul that was on its way out and sing it to the other side, but Gabe…well, what she'd been thinking had not been part of the normal banshee job description. Taking a soul just because you could was never a good thing. She didn't need to go to Banshee Training 101 to know that.
Jacqueline had accepted the part Gabe played in Eric's death. She didn't like him because of it--maybe she never would-- but she could see that the circumstances were…extenuating. She opted to try and put her anger over it aside.
But it was tough to see that smug young boy
and know what he'd done.
There were moments…where…the anger rose up.
"Jacqueline, you okay?" Toby's voice, gruff and rumbling, soothed her in a way that no one else's did. It brought her back to the present where she felt more in control of her actions. "Everything is alright now."
"Yes. I just came to see if I could help."
"We're fine." Gabe turned to her, his tone short and clipped. He gave her a hard look. "Your…skills…aren't needed here."
The man who'd choked turned to Gabe and offered his hand.
"Thanks, man. You saved my life." He flashed them all a bright smile, but it couldn't disguise the fact that he was beyond tipsy and heading for totally wasted. His bloodshot eyes twitched, darting back and forth between them, and making Jacqueline think he might be high on more than just beer. He swayed a little on the bar stool, almost falling off. "I'm Jacob Hill."
"You okay?" Gabe asked, the perpetual frown he always wore deepening.
"I just got carried away watching the game." Jacob pointed to the screen above the bar where a basketball game was in progress. "I'm a San Antonio Spurs fan."
"But the Spurs aren't playing."
"I know. That's why I got pissed off and choked on the peanut." Jacob looked over at Jacqueline. His expression turned sly as he studied the pretty young woman. "Wow, you have amazing eyes. They're so green. Beautiful. You wanna come have a drink with me? You could bring your friend. I saw the two of you earlier. I bet we could have us a real good time."
Normally her eyes were brown. Nothing extraordinary. She figured there must still be traces of banshee green in them.
And as for introducing this guy to Angela--no way! He may have escaped the call of Death but there was something about him…something that just didn't sit right with Jacqueline. Sweat dotted his forehead even though Toby kept the bar a chilly sixty nine degrees, and she didn't like the way he looked at her, as if she were a piece of meat he'd like to tear apart.
"Thanks for the offer, but I have other plans." She turned to Toby. "Are we getting together later?"
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