by Bee Douglas
Royce is sitting on his back balcony with his feet resting on the ledge of the railing. “She okay?”
“Yeah.” I sit in the chair next to him. “Just nervous.”
“No doubt. She’s a champ though.”
Running a hand through my hair, I stare off at the view, keeping my comments to myself. She’s not a child, that’s for damn sure, but Nora shouldn’t have to face any of this. She’s too good of a person to be dragged into this mess. That’s a guilt I will never get over. But Royce is right. She’s faced a lot in her short life, especially as of late. The majority of the people her age worry about social media likes and how much alcohol they can drown themselves in each weekend. Nora has taken over the responsibility of raising her sister, working more hours than she sleeps, and pushing herself just to make it to the next day. Between realizing she’s an omen of Death and her world being twisted upside down, she’s taken it all in stride. While most would’ve broken, she’s survived.
“If everything I have wasn’t here,” Royce’s voice breaks through my thoughts, “I’d think about moving to New Orleans.” I look at him, brow raised. “It was filled with life. Music. Art. Nothing like this wasteland.”
The tops of buildings spread out for miles. His home is nestled on the outskirts of the city, but its close enough that the scent of smog is still present. While I revel in the never sleeping lights, Royce has always kept himself apart from all that.
“Why don’t you go?”
He doesn’t answer. I know why he won’t go. Trouble. But I can’t say anything different for myself, especially now.
The witch’s chanting is a distant background noise. Her voice rises a bit louder and Royce swears under his breath. “I hope she gets this mess figured out. I don’t know how much longer I can stand her in my house.”
“Stop whining.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with. I make it all the way out there just to find rubble and ash where their coven is supposed to be. The house was burned to the ground years ago,” he rambles on, sounding overly exasperated. “When I started asking around, that’s when I started losing my shit. I can’t even tell you how many times I was given a dead-end address or a nonexistent name.
“Finally, after I was about to say fuck it, this old crone of a woman finds me. She was creepy as Hell. She takes me to her.” He gestures inside the house. “I thought I was being fucked with again. She looks like some teenager, not a witch that’s been around for centuries. But... she’s the real deal.”
“We’ll see,” I grunt.
“Did any-“
A scream tears through the house. It’s Nora, but not in a way I’ve ever heard her before. It’s a haunting cry, one that would ward off even the bravest of men. I get out of my seat and gun for the stairs; Royce close behind.
There’s no preparing for what we walk in on. Nora floats a few feet off the ground. Her hair sprawls wildly around her, dancing around the way a fire’s flame licks at a piece of wood. Her mouth is wide open. The witch sits on the ground below her – eyes void of color, continuing her stream of words.
“What the fuck?” Royce mutters.
Not even a second later, Nora’s body crashes to the ground, landing with an echoing thud. At the same time, the witch falls to her side, losing her consciousness. I rush over to Nora. If I hadn’t just witnessed her floating in midair, I could easily have mistaken her for napping on the floor. Her face is serene as she sleeps.
“Nora?” I reach out, running my fingers across her cheek. Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I look up as the witch returns to a sitting position. “What’s wrong with her?”
She blinks her eyes several times as the color returns. “There’s nothing wrong with her. I told you she would have to be put to sleep.”
I look back down, checking her for injuries. But there’s nothing. Not even a bruise.
“What’d you find?” Royce asks. I completely forgot about his presence in the doorway.
“That girl has seen a lot of deaths in her life,” she explains. Her voice is laced with disbelief as she stands, eyeing Nora’s body on the ground.
“Is that a good thing? Banshees are supposed to be all about deaths and dying.”
The witch lets out a sigh, shaking her head back and forth. “I don’t know.” She rubs her eyes with the pads of her fingers.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I bark.
“I. Don’t. Know.” She draws out her words, clipping them at the end. “For most, a death can affect a mind and body. But that girl,” she points down, “swims in a sea of the dead, and walks out clean and untouched. I couldn’t pull any remnant of the Banshee from her. There were no hidden signs or trapped doors.”
“What do we do now then?” Royce asks.
Yvette walks around, using her breath to extinguish the candles. “Now,” she says in between each blow, “now we need to find a way to draw it out.”
“And how do you suppose we do that?” I clamp my jaw down tight, reining in my anger. The last thing we need is for the witch to walk out, leaving us stranded again because I lost my temper.
“What better way to tempt a Banshee than with a gift from Death?”
19
Nora
“They just gave you all of this?” Yvette asks.
The harsh screeches of hangers sliding over and over along the metal wardrobe racks make me cringe. While I’ve been getting ready, she’s snooped through the dressing room. She’s already looked through the makeup collection, tried on several pairs of shoes, and has moved on to sorting through the many dresses.
I shrug my shoulder, swiping on another coat of blood red lipstick. “I guess.”
“All of this,” she hold up one of the shorter pieces Luna ordered, “just to sing.”
“I didn’t ask for any of it. Xi’s a little eccentric, and I get all the perks from it.” I run the hot iron through my hair a few final times. The ginger waves are usually unruly, but I tamed them down, leaving my locks pin straight.
She pulls out another dress - the one I wore the first night I sang at the Playground. “And it doesn’t bother you at all?”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I put the iron down. “They pulled me from my life and dragged me into their fucked up little world. If wearing shoes that could pay off one of my student loans is yet another price I have to pay, then so be it. As long as the people I love are safe, I will continue doing whatever it is I have to.”
“Interesting. What was your life like before all this?”
I bite down on my tongue. Despite the fact that she made me strip down, I haven’t had any issues with Yvette. But I'm quickly learning the annoyance she brings out in others.
“I’m a nurse. I worked at a nursing home not too far from here.” I walk over to the racks of shoes, choosing a sky-high pair of stilettos. The thought of how much force it would take to knock her out with the heel stirs up a feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach. “Between work and taking care of my sister, I didn’t do much else.”
“You sang.”
“Occasionally,” I say, “but it was nothing like this. Alcohol and off-key karaoke.”
Smoothing down the wrinkles of the black satin dress, I turn every which way in front of the mirror. The fabric hangs tightly to every curve. Ever since yesterday, I haven’t been able to look Kane in the eye. As I undressed, I could practically feel his eyes roaming over every inch of my bare skin. His eyes turned fierce, like a predator, and I sure as Hell felt like prey he pinned down.
Clearing my throat, I do my best to keep myself from remembering his gaze. “What about you? You seem to be all-knowing.”
“I am.” Her arrogant grin makes me dislike her a little more. “I’ve been around of two centuries.”
That’s a fact I still have a hard time believing, and there’s a lot that I’ve learned to be true recently. She looks as if she could be in her late teens or early twenties. Even her hair, a short bob with blun
t bangs, is an up-to-date fashion.
“Some moisturizer you use,” I grumble under my breath.
“Like you,” she says, her head snapping in my direction, “I didn’t ask for this life. I was born in a world where people barely made it past their forties. I was supposed to be this beacon for my people. And, like you, I’ve adapted and have done what I need to. I will continue doing whatever it is to ensure the livelihood of my coven.”
“How is it you stay so young?”
Yvette’s face falters, her eyes darkening. “I am the La Croix Coven. In order to protect my people, I needed to become my people. When a new witch is born, my powers are drain to give her life. When one of them dies, I absorb their excess youth.”
“But that doesn’t answer why you look as young as you do,” I urge her on, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Doesn’t it?” Yvette’s tone transforms from cocky to a sad longing. “Decades ago, most of my coven was wiped out in a fight between your Reapers and the Changelings. Our home was burned to the ground, forcing us to relocate. We haven’t exactly had the means to supplement our family.”
I think back to all of what Kane has told me about the witches and their relationship with the after life world. They try to keep their hands clean of dirty blood, but that isn’t always the case. According to him, he hadn’t begun his work as a Reaper when a war broke out - light versus dark. With the help of some corrupt Accursed and kidnapped witches, the Changelings found a way to entomb two of the most powerful beings in Hell: Lucifer and Lilith. Since then, tension between Heaven and Hell has been worse than ever.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She looks at me, her wide eyes taken aback from my remorse fueled comment. Yvette then closes them, fighting back the tears that rim her eyes. “I befriended many of your Banshee ancestors. You truly don’t know anything about them, do you?” I shake my head. “You’re not playing some game?” I shake my head again.
Sitting down on the small couch, Yvette keeps her gaze trained on me as she speaks. “Banshees were created as a means to an end. Equal part saint and sinner. They were given the ability to bring forth a death with the simplest thing. The voice, no matter how quiet it may be, can be one of the most lethal weapons a person can possess. While the Accursed, the long distant cousin of the Banshee, are prohibited to harm any collector of souls without reasoning, your kind have the ability to obliterate every being on this earth, human and non.
“Their powers were extraordinary.” A smile dances upon Yvette’s lips. “But along the line, people sought out to destroy them. Nothing could really be done. Even to this day, no information has surfaced as to who ordered this genocide. Was it Hell? Heaven? No one knows. There were casualties on both sides.”
“That’s terrible.”
The witch nods her head. “That’s why it’s important that you reach the full potential of your voice. Without it, you’re a sitting duck.”
Time and time again, that same thought has crept into my mind. Why do I need to be hidden? What harm could letting me walk free do? Apparently a lot.
A knock comes to the door and Xi’s face appears in the open crack, smiling at the two of us.
“Nora, you look exquisite.” I offer him a small smile. “Are you ladies ready?”
“We are,” Yvette says, standing from the couch. “Just remember what I told you: focus. The potion I gave you earlier will help you become at one with yourself and, hopefully, open your eyes to everything around you.”
“Sure,” I mutter. Easier said than done.
The two of them walk out, leaving me to calm my ever-present nerves. They always flutter around right before I take the stage. Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the back access way. The lull of the crowd dies as soon as the lights turn up, signaling my entrance. The keys of the piano start almost immediately after I step out under the center spotlight.
“All around me are familiar faces; worn out places, worn out faces.”
Each night that I sing, there are more and more people present. Those that could not find seats, stand throughout the bar. I spot Kane tucked away in a corner booth, his eyes lock into mine, heating my core. At his side sits the same woman that seeks him out each night, her face close to his.
“Their tears are filling up their glasses. No expression, no expression.”
She reaches a hand out, using it to turn his face. Her painted lips land on his. And Kane? Even from the stage, I can see the way he kisses her back. The sharp bang of jealousy hits, making it harder to breathe. I close my eyes, pushing the images of them out of my head.
“I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.”
When I open my eyes, I keep them set on the people sitting closest to me. I don’t dare let them wander. Listening to what Yvette had said, I do my best to focus on each individual as I sing.
“Went to school and I was very nervous. No one knew me, no one knew me.”
It isn’t until I reach to support the rising notes that I start making out a hazy film forming around the bodies. What the hell? Blinking my eyes several times, the film is still there. It’s like a halo that forms all the way around them.
“I find it hard to tell you. I find it hard to take. When people run in circles, it’s a very, very mad world.”
As the song comes to an end and the piano fades out, the halos disappear. I glance at the pianist. He offers me a satisfied smile, oblivious to what I saw. Is this what she was talking about? My eyes opening up to everything around me?
The beginning of another song starts, startling me away from my thoughts. Taking in another deep breath, I sing once more.
...
By the time my set is finished and I can walk off stage, I feel empty. While I sang, those films formed around each person. The louder my voice got, the more vibrant the haziness became. I need to talk to Yvette.
But first, I need a drink.
I move down the back hallway as fast as I can, the heels of my shoes echoing. I push open the door that lets out near the bar.
“You okay, princess?” Quill stands in front of me. I didn’t see him approach. But then again, I’m having a hard time keeping everything straight. “You’re pale, which is saying something.”
I don’t laugh. “I need a drink.”
Keeping his eyes on me for a moment, he disappears. Several people around me turn and stare. Some offer compliments. I just smile as my nails dig into my palms. When Quill returns, he holds a bottle and a shot glass. Pouring a drink, he hands it to me. I don’t even taste the alcohol as I throw it back. It isn’t until my third shot that I feel the warmth of the liquid pooling in my stomach.
“You good?” he asks, he eyes roaming my face.
“Where’s Yvette?” His brow furrows. “The girl. The one with the black hair that came here with me.”
“Ahh! She left about half an hour ago.”
I groan. “Fuck!”
“Well, usually I’d buy you dinner first.”
I turn around, coming face to face with a man. I met him once before; he came to welcome me to the Playground with Xi. “Rex?”
He feigns insulted. “Baz.”
I roll my eyes. “Same thing. Have you seen Kane?”
“Hmmm, the last I saw, he and Vivian disappeared out onto the patio.” I clamp my jaw shut. My palms sting from where my nails press harder into them. Baz must’ve noticed because he lets out an amused laugh. “If you need a ride home, I’d be more than happy to assist you.”
“I don’t know the address.”
“To Kane’s place?” I nod. “I can shoot Vivian a text and find out.”
Whether it was intentional or just a slip of the tongue, Baz only pisses me off more. I scan the crowd. The four inches of my stilettos making it easier to look over people. Kane’s usually easy to find. Despite the way my body seems to always search him out, his height helps in crowds. People also have a tendency to par
t around him.
“Fine. Let me go change.”
Before slipping back through the doorway, I thank Quill. Baz follows me, keeping a close distance. When I push open the door of the dressing room, I scream. Kane sits on the couch with his ankle crossed over his knee. He stands up instantly as Baz follows in behind me.
“Can I help you?” He bites out.
“Whoa, killer.” Baz holds up both hands, taking a step backward. “I was just trying to help. I was worried that the little Banshee's friends went home without her. We weren’t sure if you ran off with Vivian or not. I was going to give her a ride.”
Kane’s body tenses. I step between the two, cutting the testosterone. “Thank you,” I say to Baz. “I appreciate you offering to help me.” He lets out a snarky laugh and shakes his head before shutting the door behind him.
“Are you okay?” Kane asks, his body still in defense mode. “I can smell the alcohol from here.”
“I’m fine. I just want to go home.”
“Nora-”
Reaching out, I pull the door open. “I want to go home, Kane. I don’t want to talk right now.” After searching my face, he finally leaves the room.
Emotions. All the different emotions bombard me at once. I can’t even keep them straight. Tears threaten to fall as my heart beats faster and faster. I dig the heel of my palm into the sides of the head, trying to calm the tsunami going on inside. I want to yell at Kane for acting territorial, even after kissing that other woman. I want to be cleansed of the images I saw on stage. I want to curl up in bed and just shut out the world. But I can’t. There isn’t time for a break down. There’s too much at stake.
20
Kane
When we arrived home last night, Nora went straight to bed. She had been complaining of a headache when we got in the car. Her breath reeked of tequila, which I damn well know didn’t help. But I let her slip off into the bedroom after she promised we’d talk in the morning. I wasn’t going to let us go back to how we were before.
It isn’t until almost one in the afternoon that she strolls out from her room. Her hair’s a wild, matted mess; her oversized t-shirt stops just above her knees.
