Banshee Box Set

by Sara Clancy

  His fingers trembled as he finally found the bus. From somewhere hidden within the fury of the monsoon, Benton picked up on the faintest cries of the great horned owl. It was impossible to hear their movements and he didn’t attempt to get them in sight. His sole focus was on getting the electronic, folding door of the bus to open. With wavering fingers, he clawed at the hinges, pushing and pulling. But the sheets of metal held in place.

  Each time his attempts failed, the panic within him surged to a new height. He had dreamed again. And while so much of it had been unlike anything he’d ever known, he instantly recognized the slow, surfacing burn at the back of his neck. His most basic instinct was surging to the surface knowing he needed to raise the warning. He needed those about to die, to hear and listen to him. But he didn’t have a name to warn them about, not even a cluster of names. The only thing screaming in the back of his mind, repeating over and over in a frantic mantra, was ‘Fort Wayward.’

  His fingers slipped over the slick metal again. A bellow ripped from him as he began to pound against the door. The sound didn’t emerge from him, from the paranormal part of himself. It was him. His voice, his foreboding, his terror, and dread poured out in a single cry. With every step, every heartbeat, his dream replayed within his mind. He had never been the victim before. For years, he had slipped under the skin of killers and sociopaths, parasitically feeling their euphoria of the destruction and pain they caused, awakening, back into his own mind, the repulsion with himself. He had never been the prey before. He had never been the one being hunted.

  A hand fell onto his shoulder and he shuddered from the touch. His feet tripped up around themselves as he whirled around. The bruises on his back flared with pain when he banged against the bus door, but he pressed against it, forcing the wall of metal to keep him upright as he blinked into the rain.

  Nicole had pulled her hand back but still kept it in the air. Her long hair, darkened by the rain and shadows, draped over her tawny skin like a sooty cloak. In that instant, she closely resembled the specters that he spotted standing motionless in the downpour. The grim reapers hid too well within the shadows of the storm for him to truly see their numbers but he knew they were there. Each one of them watching. Each one waiting.

  “Benton!”

  He snapped his eyes back to Nicole, a steady burn filled his lungs, telling him that he had yet to take a decent breath. She inched closer and he flattened his back to the door.

  “It’s just me,” Nicole comforted him. “It’s okay.”

  “We need to get on the bus,” he insisted.

  “Okay, we will. But breathe for me first, okay.”

  She walked him through it, exaggerating the motion so even his frazzled mind could understand and mimic. The rampaging energy that ravished his chest began to ease. Then Death drifted closer. Latching onto Nicole’s shoulder, Benton flung her around as he lunged forward, effectively putting himself between her and the ghostly figure. He stared into the hollowness of its eyes and Death stared back. Still waiting.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Benton spotted Dorothy emerging from the fog of the rain. Having grabbed their forgotten umbrellas, she stood as the only dry human in their group, a hint of sanity poking in through the clashing thoughts that filled his skull.

  Before she could ask, Benton yelled over the storm. “Open the bus. Get inside!” His voice must have come out with a lot more authority than he heard it because she didn’t argue. With a quick flick of the key and a mechanical whoosh, the doors folded and they all huddled inside, Benton never taking his eyes off of the nearest grim reaper. It didn’t try to follow. It remained where it was, untouched by the rain, watching as he closed the door between them.

  “What are you looking at?” Dorothy asked.

  Benton didn’t look at her as he spoke, “Death is out there.”

  “Right. A thin metal door should take care of that.”

  It was clear that the older woman had thought her words would be lost under the rain pelting against the metal roof. Since Benton wasn’t particularly keen to think through the legitimacy of his plan, he didn’t comment. Finally, ripping his gaze from the foggy glass, he looked around the bus. Wind howled along the sides of the bus, creating the illusion that the bus was filled with hundreds of people. Shadows clung tightly to every crevice they could find and a thick chill spilled across the floor.

  Dorothy closed her umbrella and sunk down unto the driver’s seat, twisting around enough to keep Benton and Nicole in sight. Nicole pulled her backpack out from under the first row and hurriedly opened one of the pockets.

  “How’s the doctor?” she asked.

  “Shaken,” Dorothy said. “But very rational. He thinks that the storm blew out the windows and a power surge destroyed his equipment. He’s sending his staff home and was very comforted when I assured him that we’re not going to sue.”

  “Well, that’s a win. Right? Go team banshee!”

  The light quiver in Nicole’s voice drew Benton’s attention. He looked over just as she flipped open the lid to the small first-aid kit she constantly carried with her. Blood drooled from three gashes that ran across her forearm. The crimson liquid mixed with the water pouring from her made her entire arm look ripped and raw.

  “It’s just a scratch,” Nicole assured, when she spotted them both watching her. “I got a bit too close to an owl. They have really sharp talons.”

  For all the cheer she forced on her words, she couldn’t suppress her whimper of pain as she began to clean the wound. Benton was faster than Dorothy and had less space to travel. He sat on the seat across the aisle from Nicole and, with gentle insistence, took over the task.

  “We should get you to the hospital,” Dorothy said.

  “I’m a registered first-aider,” Nicole said, with no small amount of pride. “And in my professional opinion, I don’t need stitches. Just a stable bandage and a couple of pain killers will do."

  “You’re not a professional,” Dorothy argued.

  Her angry tone vanished when Benton, being a little too enthusiastic with the antiseptic cream, pushed against the wound. Nicole winced with a pained moan and it took a few minutes to reassure them both that she was okay. Benton was still mumbling apologies as he began to wrap a clean bandage around her arm.

  “Almost done,” he promised.

  Nicole smiled. An expression she refused to lose even as pain flickered across her face.

  “I guess this means that you’re dreaming again,” Nicole said with overenthusiastic glee. “That’s great. I told you Death was there to help.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dorothy cut in. “Death helped you?”

  Her question was left unanswered and Benton concentrated on making sure each wrap of the bandage was perfectly in place.

  “I never stopped dreaming,” he said. “I just wasn’t strong enough to handle it. We need to get back to Fort Wayward.”

  “Why? What did you see?” Dorothy pressed, with obvious frustration. She scowled as Benton remained silent. “I’ll start you off. When you closed your eyes you saw...”

  “A horde,” Benton said.

  “A horde of what?” Dorothy snapped.

  Benton couldn’t stop himself from matching the tone. “I don’t know. These dreams don’t actually come with an encyclopedia entry. There are gaping blind spots to my knowledge, and no amount of yelling is going to fix that.”

  Drawing in a steadying breath, Benton carefully worked the tip of a safety pin through the layers of fabric, cautious to not poke the soft skin underneath. He could feel Dorothy’s gaze burning against the side of his head, but it was nothing compared to the fire raging at the base of his skull.

  “Please start the bus,” he said, with all the calmness he had left. “I need to get to Fort Wayward.”

  Nicole was quick to rush in before her mother could respond. “Benton, we can’t be prepared unless you tell us everything. I know it’s hard. But can you please try?”

  “Death kept me
on the outside. I don’t know how it pulled it off but I wasn’t contained to one body. That was the problem. I couldn’t settle into any one particular skin. There were too many.”

  After helping Nicole, Benton rested his forearms on his knees, clasped his hands together until they ached, and told them the details of what he had seen. He spoke about the coming storm. The faces within. The manic laughter. Having never experienced his dreams like this before, there was a lingering doubt within his mind of how much of it was literal. Perhaps, if they were lucky, some of it might just be figments of his imagination.

  Dorothy’s voice shifted into professional calm mode when she asked, “How many of these faces did you see?”

  “Hundreds,” he shrugged. “Thousands. They’re a throng. It’s kind of impossible to tell.”

  “And they hide in the storm?” Nicole asked.

  He nodded, only looking up at her as she moved to her seat.

  “Well, that’s good,” she stated optimistically. “When the storm ends, they’ll go away or die or something. So, we send out a storm warning, get everyone off the streets, and wait them out.”

  “Would that work?” Dorothy asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Benton murmured.

  “If you don’t know anything, how are you so sure that this swarm or throng is going to Fort Wayward?” Dorothy asked.

  “Because a huge chunk of being a banshee is warning the people that are about to kick it,” Benton blurted, his fear fueling the rage that flared within him. “And all my instincts are screaming at me that Fort Wayward is in its path.”

  “Okay, so,” Nicole nervously flicked her eyes between her mother and Benton, “storm warning is still our best bet? Mom can call into the station and tell them that a tornado or something is on the way. Everyone hunkers down and the swarm passes over. That would work, right?”

  “Except that things like weather reports exist,” Benton said.

  Nicole swept one hand up to indicate the storm barreling around them.

  “Yeah, okay. But it’s possible to check the severity of a storm online. As soon as they know it’s just a thunderstorm, I don’t think they’re going to board up their doors.”

  Nicole slumped a little, absently covering her wound with her hand as she thought. “But if mom says it, that will have more force, right?”

  “They’ll trust a meteorologist over me,” Dorothy said. “Especially with all the Canada Day preparations.”

  Nicole bounced on her seat. “Canada Day!” she declared with a smile.

  “Yes,” Dorothy said slowly. “People will be trying to pack up what they can and–”

  “No, but Canada Day!” Nicole cut in.

  “We’re on the outside of your head,” Benton reminded her with a slight smile.

  The glare she shot him had no heat behind it. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it irritating when someone withholds information?”

  “Exceedingly,” Dorothy cut in. “Get to the point.”

  Nicole couldn’t stop moving as a restless energy filled her.

  “The speaker system set up around the Fort. Like the actual Fort. Every year they use it to announce the activities and you can hear it clear across town. It should be set up by now,” Nicole explained.

  “I guess if people hear me on a loud speaker, they’ll take it more seriously,” Dorothy mumbled. Benton only shrugged.

  “Not you,” Nicole said. “Benton. You’ve heard his banshee wail, mom. We all saw what it did to the Dullahan. Imagine if we could amplify it.”

  “His scream did kill that horseman thing,” Dorothy mumbled in contemplation.

  “The Dullahan,” Nicole said quickly. “And that was a huge learning curve. The first time I heard it, he was only strong enough to scare the Leanan Sidhe. He’s getting stronger.”

  Benton’s stomach lurched and a quake of panic flooded his words, “Or maybe they were just two different species that reacted in two different ways. There is no guarantee that my scream will do anything. It’s a stupid plan.”

  “Hey,” Nicole crossed her arms defensively before remembering her wound. “So far, your plan has only been to get to town. I think we need to hash out a stage two.”

  “How about one that doesn’t rely on me doing something that I can’t do on command?”

  “You’ve done it before,” Nicole pointed out.

  “Yeah. But only when something was trying to kill me.”

  “I’m sure we can get one of them to try and kill you.”

  Benton gaped at her for a moment before he buried his face into his palms.

  “Your scream is really weird. Horrendous even,” Dorothy said, thoughtfully.

  “Thank you,” Benton said without lifting his head. “I was wondering how I was going to get rid of that pesky self-esteem.”

  Between his fingers, he caught sight of Dorothy rolling her eyes. “What I mean is it’s bloodcurdling and not easily identifiable. It’s not a sound that makes you want to rush out and see what it is. Even if it doesn’t stop the swarm, it will keep people indoors.”

  “Okay, fine,” Benton huffed as he slapped his hands down against his thighs, the impact squishing out another trail of water. “Just to recap. Our plan is to get into town. Hope that we can break into the Fort. Cross our fingers that the speaker system is working and undamaged by the rain. Hand me the mic and pray for the best. That’s it. That’s our plan?”

  “Plan B is to scare you,” Nicole reminded him.

  Benton clicked his fingers and pointed at her. “Emotional scaring, let’s not forget that. Here’s an idea. Can we maybe have a backup plan that doesn’t rely solely on me?”

  “Well, we do have your recording,” Nicole said. She glanced around the two and exhaled a long sigh. “Remember? When mom found us after the Dullahan attacked us?”

  Benton lifted his hand to display the mass amount of scar tissue across his palm. He had tried hard to forget that day but didn’t think that was ever going to happen. Nicole flinched.

  “Right. Sorry. My point was that mom had been driving a police cruiser that day. The scream was caught on the dash cam. If you can’t scream, maybe playing that in will work.”

  Benton slowly turned to face Dorothy. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you deleted that tape?”

  “No. It was evidence. I found more than just the two of you that day,” Dorothy said.

  Benton cringed. It seemed like his relationship with Dorothy was constantly swinging between gratitude and self-preservation. The Constable wasn’t the first person to ever stumble across him with a few unexplained dead bodies. And, by previous experience, things only ever got worse after the police became involved. It was kind of impossible not to look suspicious when you constantly knew a murder was about to happen. He wanted to trust Dorothy. But it was never clear how much she covered his back because he was useful, and how much had only happened because she was protecting her child.

  “Oh, calm down,” Dorothy said. “It’s not like someone would hear it and leap to the conclusion that you’re a banshee. And even if they did, I’m pretty sure there is no law against being an Irish folktale.”

  “I’m still not comfortable knowing that it’s in police files.”

  “Right now, we should be excited that it is,” Nicole cut in. “I can get a copy of the tape and if Benton can’t scream, we’ll play it into the speaker.”

  “Will that work?” Dorothy asked.

  Nicole shrugged and turned to Benton. No matter how much she researched, she was really no wiser about Benton’s abilities than he was.

  “I’m not ecstatic about this plan,” Benton admitted. “But if you are, let’s give it a go.”

  “I am certain this will work. Generally speaking,” Nicole said with conviction.

  Benton bit back his smile. “Well, that’s comforting. Generally speaking.”

  “We can think up something else on the way.”

  “You’re not going,” Dorothy cut in.

 
Both teens snapped around to face her and gasped a befuddled ‘what’ in unison.

  “I’m not taking my daughter into a paranormal battlefield. Besides, you’re injured.”

  Nicole looked about a second from launching out of her seat. “So is he.”

  “Yes, but we need him,” Dorothy said.

  While she did her best to hide it, Benton could clearly see the pain that burnt across Nicole’s feature’s at that comment. Not knowing what to say, Benton could only ball his hands into fists and watch as Nicole lifted her chin, the muscles around her mouth twitched as she fought to keep her expression calm.

  “You need me, too,” she insisted. “You couldn’t even get Benton to close his eyes in there and he was a willing participant. How are you going to handle him when a demonic swarm is closing in? Not to mention just getting him through the trip back. He’ll get hypothermia before you get a mile from Peace Springs.”

  “Hypothermia?”

  “See? You don’t even know that about him! This is a three person job, minimum.”

  Dorothy’s eyes flared with anger as she growled her daughter’s name.

  “Do I get a say?” Benton cut in.

  “Well?” Dorothy hissed.

  “I don’t want Nicole to get hurt,” he said weakly, his words almost covered by the storm. “But I’m not sure I can do this without her.”

  “There,” Nicole said triumphantly. “It’s settled.”

  “Can’t do it without her?” Dorothy repeated. “How exactly could she help? All you have to do is scream.”

  “See, right there, that is why I need her. I need someone who has my back. We’re a team. We started with just the two of us and we were doing pretty well.”

  “People died,” Dorothy countered.

  “To be fair, most of them were dead before we got there.”

  The Constable’s eyes narrowed. “Impertinence isn’t your best option right now.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem like I have many good ones, so I’m just going to roll with it,” Benton shrugged as his hackles rose. “And for the record, just because I dream it, doesn’t mean I’m beholden to anyone. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me responsible.”