Always Be My Banshee

by Molly White

  “So, this afternoon was the first time you’d seen him since you were sixteen?” Dani asked. “No wonder you were thrown.”

  “Considering the circumstances, I think you held it together pretty admirably,” Sonja told her.

  Cordelia’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. I don’t know what to say to him, or even what we would talk about. He seemed surprised that I still existed, so I guess that he never got the letters I sent. I mean, as far as he knows, I just ditched him in the middle of the night. And it’s been almost fifteen years? It’s not like we’re going to just hop back into each other’s lives like nothing happened. We’re different people now. And there’s all his League business to consider. If he’s as high up as I think he is, then he probably can’t have a relationship without his girlfriend being approved by Akako Hiyashi herself.”

  “That actually makes sense,” Sonja agreed.

  “And if you decide to reconnect with Alex, how is that going to affect things with Brendan?” Jillian asked. When Cordelia opened her mouth to object, Jillian added. “Honey, we’ve seen the way you look at each other. Trust me, it’s a look we recognize.”

  “Things with Brendan are…I don’t know.” Cordelia threw her hands up. “When I’m with him, it’s just so peaceful. I feel nothing when I touch him, just the endless quiet of the grave. And that’s soothing.”

  “Man, that’s dark,” Jillian marveled.

  “I meant for that to come out differently,” Cordelia agreed. “But he’s becoming harder to read, not easier. I don’t want to trust someone only to have them turn on me,” Cordelia said. “I’ve had enough people using me for my talent. I don’t need that here, too. Maybe it’s better that I just stay away from both of them.”

  “Well, if that’s what you feel you need, that’s a reasonable path to choose,” Dani told her. “But if you’re attracted to either one of them, and you like them, I think it would be sort of sad to end up alone. Speaking of which, have you thought about Thanksgiving, hon? I know Clarissa and about half the mamas around here want to invite you.”

  Cordelia frowned, sipping her soda. “Really? Why?”

  “Because you’re single and gorgeous and there are a lot of unmatched people in Mystic Bayou, and so far, all of the ‘imported partners’ have chosen to stick around instead of dragging their kids into the outside world,” Jillian said, shrugging. “So they’re willing to take their chances.”

  “But if you pick one, make sure it’s Clarissa’s because she’s a hell of a cook. Besides, Zed has pretty much laid claim to you as an adopted family member,” Dani told her.

  “Well, that’s…weird,” Cordelia mused. “And I’m not interested in that. The big holiday meal, the potential set-ups, anything.”

  Honestly, the very idea made Cordelia shudder. So many people crowded around a table, handing each other plates and platters. She’d be passed out by the end of the night—and not from a full belly.

  “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Even if it’s just to bring you some leftovers,” Jillian said.

  “You know, this is a real downer of a conversation,” Sonja said, pulling the bottle of vodka from the emergency kit. “Romantic aversions and holidays spent alone. This is not the light-hearted frolic of a girls’ night I was promised.”

  Cordelia laughed and nodded to her dinette set. “OK, pour me a shot of that—a light shot, mind you, because I don’t really drink—and I will lighten the mood. Let’s move over to the table.”

  “You’re not going to do a reading for us, are you?” Jillian asked, clearly skeptical. “Because we don’t want you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. This isn’t a Ouija-board-and-truth-or-dare sort of gathering.”

  “No, but I appreciate the consideration.” Cordelia plucked an old deck of cards from her purse, a safe pack that only she had touched, and had played solitaire with for years. The others moved toward her table, with Cordelia nudging them along. While they were trundling along, she made movements toward each of them that they didn’t even notice. Sonja poured a considerable portion of the vodka into a pitcher with orange juice. Jillian just got juice, and was content with it.

  “Now, ladies, gather round for the most stupendous demonstration sleight of hand this side of the Mississippi,” she said in her best imitation of a carnival talker—never barker, that was a misnomer—as she shuffled the cards. “Now, steel your nerves because this astonishing feat of prestidigitation was taught to me in my misspent youth by none other than Melvin the Magnificent—world-renowned keeper of the secrets of magic and mystery.”

  Dani giggled, breaking Cordelia’s concentration on her banter. “Melvin was a darling. He was the closest thing to a grandpa I would ever get. He was a real finger-smith. Featherlight hands and a master at misdirection.”

  She shuffled the cards between her hands, fanning them out in a spread, tapping them against the table. “He originally taught it to me to help me figure out spatial awareness, how to move around people without touching them. But then he figured out I had a knack for it, and he amused himself by teaching me different tricks.” She offered Dani the deck. “Pick one.”

  Dani selected a card and Cordelia nodded. “Look at it, don’t show it to me.”

  Cordelia spread the cards again, flipping them and shuffling again. She fanned her hands over the deck, then reached under the table and knocked it twice. She picked up the deck, cut it, and motioned for Dani to slide the card back into the deck.

  “Now, think about your card, picture it in your mind,” Cordelia said.

  “Isn’t it cheating if you’re a psychic? You can just sense which card she touched,” Sonja observed, watching the process very closely.

  Cordelia continued to shuffle the deck. “Not really. I’m not a bloodhound. The whole deck feels the same to me. It’s just sort of a tickle of awareness that someone else touched it.” She paused to pull a card, the three of spades, and showed it to Dani. “Is this your card?”

  Dani shook her head. “No.”

  “How about this one?” Cordelia held up the six of hearts.

  Dani snickered. “No.”

  “Hmm, weird. How about this one?” Cordelia held up the four of diamonds.

  “It’s OK, sweetie. It’s been a while since you’ve tried,” Sonja said soothingly.

  Cordelia grinned. “It’s OK because I suck at card tricks, but tell me this, Dani. Where’s that necklace you were wearing before?”

  Dani gasped, her hand going to her bare throat. “What the hell?”

  Cordelia shrugged and lifted her hand, the tiny silver bee charm suspended from a long chain by the tip of her finger, barely making contact with the metal.

  “How did you do that?” Sonja demanded as Dani grabbed her necklace out of Cordelia’s hands.

  “Same way I took your watch. With my shields all the way up so I didn’t see a damn thing,” Cordelia said cheekily.

  Jillian burst into guffaws at the furious and confused expression on Sonja’s face as Cordelia dangled the watch in front of her face.

  “And Jillian’s phone,” Cordelia said, dropping it gently on the table.

  “Not my phone!” Jillian cried, snatching it up from Cordelia’s hands.

  Cordelia cackled. “Sorry, but it was just sticking out of your back pocket.”

  “OK, but I didn’t feel you take it. At all,” Dani protested, her hands at her neck.

  “I took the phone, the watch, and the necklace before we even got to the table,” Cordelia said. “But all the silly tapping and hand-waving was to keep you distracted so you didn’t realize they were missing until I wanted you to.”

  “Sorcery!” Jillian whispered.

  “That was the sort of thing Melvin taught me, because he figured it might help me eventually,” Cordelia told them. “Of course, my mom wanted me to put it to criminal use, because she was never one to waste an opportunity, but I refused. It was just another way I failed her, ref
using to become a pickpocket.”

  “Your mom sounds like a piece of work. And I say that as someone whose mother is also a piece of work,” Dani said. Cordelia was relieved to see no real resentment on her face as she dropped her jewelry around her neck again.

  “Mine will never meet my baby,” Jillian offered. “I don’t think she’ll care, but I stand by it.”

  Sonja conceded, “My mom’s pretty amazing. My dad, too.”

  “They are,” Dani agreed.

  “I’m basically depending on them to re-parent me,” Jillian added. “What about your dad?”

  “No clue who he was,” said Cordelia. “I don’t think my mom even knew.”

  Jillian’s gaze took on a knowing quality. “Well, if Mel and Yelena and Henry and these two, for that matter, have taught me anything, it’s that your blood family sucks sometimes, but you can find another family—one you make yourself—and they can make up for what you went without.”

  “I would really like that someday,” Cordelia admitted. “And hey, I’ve already collected myself a surrogate grizzly bear brother.”

  “You did,” Dani said. “And he will eat Brendan or Alex if they hurt you, so just keep that in mind.”

  “Really?” asked Cordelia.

  “That’s an exaggeration,” Jillian assured her.

  “Oh, good.”

  Jillian nodded. “He would just make them disappear so no one ever found them.”

  “That’s comforting, thank you,” Cordelia sighed.

  Buoyed by the courage from her girls’ night, Cordelia marched right up to Alex’s door the next morning to have an honest conversation with him.

  And then she turned right back around because that was a terribly stupid idea. Unfortunately, he’d spotted her through the window and caught her just as she’d cleared his porch.

  “Cordy, did you need something?” Alex asked.

  “I just wanted to stop by and…well, I don’t want to say apologize for leaving so abruptly, because that was more of a professional courtesy than anything else.”

  “It’s not the first time you’ve left me abruptly,” Alex said with an ironic tilt to his lips.

  Cordelia cleared her throat. “Ah, right to the point then.”

  “Yeah, Cordy, right to the point,” Alex said, his brows furrowed. “One minute, we were talking about running away, making a normal life together, and the next, you were gone. What happened?”

  She sat at the picnic table closest to his trailer. He followed, sitting on the rough wood, despite his carefully tailored slacks. This was a conversation she wanted to have in the open, where anyone might come and save her by interrupting. “Bernadette happened. I was packed and ready to meet you. I decided to have one last dinner with my mother. Give her a chance for closure, you know? One last nice memory? For once, she was…almost normal. Sweet, which honestly, should have tipped me off. We got through a conversation without arguing. She even made me a cup of tea, which turned out to be full of some sort of sleeping pills. I woke up the next morning, and the trailer was moving, and we were in Nebraska. About three hundred miles away from you. And my phone was still in Ohio. For the first time I can remember, we didn’t go back to Candella that winter, which I can only imagine was to keep you from looking for us there. How did you end up here? Working in the League under an assumed name?”

  “Believe it or not, they came to the carnival looking for a lion shifter that was causing some trouble,” he said. “I helped them resolve the problem without anyone getting hurt, which impressed them. So the League sent me to college and law school on scholarships and funneled me right into the legal department. And the name change? Lancaster, Ohio was the last place I saw you. I didn’t want my dad to be able to find me. I can’t believe you’re using your real name. Aren’t you worried about your mother tracking you down?”

  “That was part of my agreement with the League, that they help me stay invisible to the outside world,” Cordelia said. “In my initial contract, I asked for all sorts of conditions to protect my anonymity. The League bought my apartment under an LLC. They process my mail and my bills. I have almost no digital footprint or trackable financials.”

  “So not entirely different from traveling, then,” Alex replied.

  “Exactly,” Cordelia said.

  “It’s sort of strange, thinking that kids don’t grow up the way we did anymore.”

  Cordelia shrugged. “It’s more difficult to get people excited about contortionists and clowns when they have the wonders of the internet. Plus, people are more suspicious than they used to be. Do you ever miss it?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “It took me a long time to get used to staying in one place for months at a time. The weather gets warm and my feet get kind of itchy, you know? I just want to climb in my car and start driving for parts unknown. And then I remember I have bills and condo payments and I snap out of it. So, what have you been up to?”

  “Oh, this and that.” She burst out laughing. Alex was still so normal, in that way she’d craved normalcy like oxygen when she was younger. “I’ll try to sum up fourteen years in a few sentences. Honestly, I’ve been well. Happy. Settled. I like my work with the League. I tried to contact you, early on. After I left, I sent letters to the AAM, hoping that they’d catch up with you, but you never responded.”

  His brow furrowed. Mail was a problem for people who moved constantly, so a long-standing practice among carnies was to use the offices of American Amusements Magazine as their mailing address. The trade magazine staff was kind enough to forward the addressee’s mail along the carnival’s planned route. When she’d first left the carnival, she’d practically flooded AAM’s offices with long, heartfelt letters, telling Alex that they could still be together. She told him about the job she’d found in DC, her little apartment. She’d written him for months, and he’d never responded. She’d been so lonely. She’d spent her entire childhood wishing she could be alone and then she’d had it and she’d hated it. It had taken two years for her to get used to it, to appreciate it.

  He shook his head. “I never got any letters. If I had, I would have come to find you.”

  Cordelia insisted, “I wrote dozens of them, for months.”

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “My dad was always the one to check the mail.”

  Cordelia nodded, pursing her lips. She’d expected it to hurt more, the cauterizing of that wound. It helped, she supposed, that it hadn’t been Alex who rejected her, but his father. “He was never a fan of mine.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I had known you were still out there, waiting for me, I…I would have come looking for you. But you were gone without a word and I thought that was some sort of sign. That you didn’t really want me anymore, so I took the hint.”

  “It wouldn’t have done us any good, because I was still pretty much under my mother’s thumb then,” she said, shaking her head. “And you were still under your father’s. We were kids, Alex.”

  “Still hurts,” he said, smiling sadly. “Thinking of what could have been. I even got married, thinking it would help me move on to be with someone else. It crashed and burned within a year.”

  That stung, more than she’d expected it to. She’d known in some small corner of her mind, that one day, he would be out in the world, connected to someone else. But the confirmation burned like hell. “So where does this leave us?”

  “Where do you want it to leave us?” He reached for her, his fingertips nearly brushing hers. She snatched her hands back out of instinct, but was glad that she’d done so when she saw the sullen expression on his face. “That’s still an issue?”

  “Yes, psychic powers don’t go away when you’re an adult,” she cried. “It’s not like acne!”

  Frustration boiled up within her, burning away the rose-tinged nostalgic light of her memories and making way for recollections of the moments that weren’t so golden between them. He was patient. He’d been kind. But he’d also been a tee
nage boy, demanding, stubborn, occasionally petulant. She’d let herself forget the arguments and petty fights, the moments he’d made her feel small and damaged because of her gift, without saying a word.

  She pulled away from him, backing toward her own trailer. “This leaves us as two people who knew each other a long time ago, and barely know each other now.”

  “Cordelia.” He started to follow her, but she held up her hand.

  “Treat me like the stranger you thought I was,” she told him.

  9

  Brendan

  Something was wrong with Cordelia.

  She wouldn’t talk to him, beyond very perfunctory basic pleasantries, before scurrying off. She barely made eye contact with him. It was like she was allowing him to observe her from a distance. She was coming out of her trailer more often, which was good. She was going to the pie shop for meals regularly, usually in the company of Sonja, Jillian, or Dani, and he was pleased for her. She spent an amount of time with the hulking mayor that would worry Brendan, if he himself hadn’t seen how devoted Zed was to Dani.

  Brendan stood at the main office lot, smearing SPF 50 into his pale skin and waiting for his partner to show up for work. He’d been thrilled to finally receive the “go ahead” email from Jillian the evening before, and he’d fairly bounced out of bed that morning. They would be stuck in a confined space together for hours today; she would have to talk to him.