The Banshee's Revenge

Chapter 1



The wizard lay on the ground, panting in agony.

Pain seared through his organs like a hot knife slicing through butter. Every part of him ached as his body was slowly boiled alive. The words to a defensive spell were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get them out.

Death was on the way.

The half banshee, Jacqueline Huston, stood above him, her green eyes swirling with concentration. But what drew his attention, what filled him with both fear and fascination was how the green orbs were outlined by a deep, dark crimson.

"How are you feeling, Foster?" Jacqueline grinned. "Getting a little warm for you?"

The wizard was unable to respond, the pain too great.

"Remember in the old days when ignorant peasants would burn witches at the stake? Well, you are getting a taste of what that feels like. Only I'm being way more creative than our forefathers. I'm burning you from the inside out. It's a slower process, but the end result is the same."

Foster wanted to scream as the burning inside his skin created smoke that seeped out of his pores, but she'd crushed his vocal chords. The fight he'd been so sure would go his way had ended in disaster when Jacqueline seized him by the throat and squeezed just enough to cause damage, but not kill him.

"Don't you know smoking is bad for your health?" Jacqueline laughed at her own bad joke and gestured to the smoke his body gave off. "That shit will kill you."

Oh god. The pain.

He could feel himself dying and welcomed it. Anything to stop the pain.

"Before you die," Jacqueline said, leaning over him. "I want you to understand why I’m roasting you, Foster."

Her eyes grew a deeper green and the red outline became brighter.

"It's because you and the Brotherhood of Merlyn tried to kill me and the one I love. It's because hundreds of years ago, your ancestors allowed a young girl to be raped by one of your kind and did nothing about it. You're all a bunch of cowards hiding behind magic." Jacqueline placed a hand on top of his forehead. "Someone has to stop you."

She pressed on Foster's forehead and his brain began to boil. He embraced death with a sigh of relief. Now the pain could end.

But it didn't end.

Foster's soul drifted above his body, and he stared down at himself, horrified by the pitiful shell he'd left behind. He was a mess. Unrecognizable almost. The wizard's pride reared up and the outrage he felt bubbled into words, no longer hindered by the damaged vocal chords.

"You bitch," he said to Jacqueline who still bent over his body. "Gwydion is going to enjoy ripping you apart."

"Gwydion ran from me the last time the two of us met up." Jacqueline turned her head slowly in his direction. "I'm much stronger than him now, thanks to the power of Death."

Foster backed away, but his gaze searched the secluded wooded area by the river. Where was the light he'd always heard about? Where was he supposed to go? What happened next? Surely he wouldn't have to stay on the same dimension as the evil bitch that'd just killed him. He was a wizard. A powerful being that deserved respect even in the afterlife! He'd always been told that he would ascend to a higher level of consciousness.

"Foster, normally this is the part where I or some other poor Reaper would have the task of helping your worthless soul cross over to the other side where you will either be reborn or be given some other task that suits your nature." Jacqueline stood and gave him another smile. "But you see, the other Reapers are afraid of me, and don't dare try to pick up the souls I don't want. I think it goes without saying that I won't be helping you. Well, let me correct that statement. I won't be helping you cross over."

With a little laugh, she blew him a kiss and then opened her hand. Foster felt a new pain ripping through him. Slowly, Jacqueline began closing her hand, and as she did so, he could feel himself fading.

It hit him then what would happen, and the fear he felt was ten times greater than when his body had boiled.

Once her hand closed, none of his soul would ever exist again.
*****
When it was done, a part of her felt guilty about Foster.

True it was just a small part and it was way deep down in the last little bit of humanity she possessed. Jacqueline wasn't sure what to do with the feeling. Her banshee half, now tainted with the essence of Death, consumed her more and more. It gave her both an amazing power and an incredible, draining fatigue once her deeds were done. The need to kill the wizards who'd wanted to harm her, the desire to rip the soul out of anyone who looked her way, the blood lust she felt every time her thoughts turned to Gwydion--these needs ruled her, crushing the human part of herself day after day.

But no matter how many of the wizards she took vengeance on, there was still one that could break her.

Toby.

Every time she thought of him, the pain would roll around in her heart. He'd asked Death to kill her quickly. It didn't matter what pretty words he'd told her after she'd triumphed. He didn't really love her.

But oh…how she still loved him.

When Foster--the wizard she'd been tracking for weeks--had led her back to Galesburg Falls, she'd been hesitant. What if she saw Toby? What would he do? But after some thought, she'd realized that's what Foster was probably hoping--that her love for Toby would be too great and she wouldn't be able to follow him. Jacqueline suspected Foster might even be running to Toby for help, perhaps thinking that luring her here would force Toby to kill her.

And as a wizard, he would have every right.

She'd been a very bad banshee, leaving a trail of dead members of the Brotherhood behind her.

Tired, she stared down at the gurgling river and wondered what Toby would do when he found the body? Did she really want to find out?

How had everything gone so wrong?

Because you're a killer now, Death whispered in her head. You're losing yourself and your own supernatural nature to me every day.

"Shut up," Jacqueline whispered through gritted teeth. "I don't want to talk to you."

But I'm always with you, my dear. You made sure of that when you took the essence of a being more powerful than you.

"You're delusional." Jacqueline dipped her hand in the cold water and pressed it to her warm forehead. "I killed you. Some powerful being you are."

And who do you think is driving the car-- so to speak? Who is really in control here? Death's laughter reverberated through her head. It's me that helps you kill those wizards. It's me who decides our next move. One day I will truly be reborn through you. Then we’ll see who really absorbed whose essence.

"That's enough!" Jacqueline stood and concentrated on closing her mind to Death's taunting voice. When she had control once again, she opened them to find the moon illuminating her reflection in the water.

It was a sight she had been avoiding.

A pale face with sharp green eyes and surrounded by a tangled mass of streaked gray and blonde hair looked back at her from the water. Her cheekbones were prominent as if the skin was stretched a little tighter across them, and her lips were cracked and caked with small drops of blood. A scar ran along her forehead-- a memento of a fight she'd won against a different wizard.

This is who you are now, she told herself. Banshees don't use Clinique.

To be fair, it wasn't the worst she'd ever seen herself look. A few months ago she'd turned into the hag version of a banshee. That had not been pretty at all.

Sitting back on her knees, Jacqueline listened to the night and felt the bothersome weariness that always came after using her power creep up on her. A frog croaked for its mate, while a lone crane skimmed across the water in search of an unsuspecting fish and a quick meal. Small, nocturnal creatures living close to the river rustled in the grass as they darted from their homes to start the evening. They paid no attention to her. The veil of invisibility she always wore when not tormenting a wizard gave her an anonymity that was both welcoming and oppressive.

The sound of laughter trickled through the night, humming on the currents of air, until it reached Jacqueline. The happy pulse of the merriment warmed her, and she stood, knowing where it came from and wondering if she dared follow it.

That would be risky.

Merlyn's Bar was off limits--no matter how badly she wanted to see the owner of the place. She'd done what she came to do: kill Foster. Now was the time to go and not take chances.

The laughter trilled again, louder and more boisterous. Tempting.

"A peek can't do me any harm," she decided.

Her heart pounding, she moved up the path, towards the little bar and the man she knew so well.