"Demon!" it spat.
"That's rich." He almost kicked it, because he hated being called a demon. But then Liz was there, and he didn't like losing control in front of her, because she was someone who exercised more control than he could ever hope to possess. A single flame still fluttered at her left ear, like a butterfly settling on her skin. It wavered out as she spoke.
"So what has it got to say?"
"It says I'm a demon."
Liz glared down at the banshee. "You," she said, "had better answer Hellboy's questions. He's not real fond of being called that — "
"Or dragon," he muttered.
" — and people who call him a demon tend to end up having the living crap beaten out of them. Or the dead crap. Whatever. So."
"Demon's bitch!" the banshee said, then uttered a laugh that rose into another terrible wail.
"Oh, can it!" Hellboy shouted. "People are trying to sleep!" He punched at the flailing spirit, the impact sounding nothing like stone on flesh. The banshee flipped on the ground, the scream lessening, and it only stopped moving when Hellboy raised his fist again.
"Sorry," he muttered to Liz.
"Hey, it deserves it."
"You're bound to me by the eye of the river demon," Hellboy said. "That means you can't escape me, ever, unless I will it. Now, why did Blake send you?"
"Who's Blake?" the banshee said.
"Hmm. I was hoping that one would get you." He smashed the spirit across the jaw with his left hand. It felt like hitting thick smoke, but its head flipped around, fire splashing from its eyes like fresh blood. "So now, tell me why you're here, and where you came from, and why it is you're keeping the good people of New York awake tonight."
"Good people? Good people? Stinking dirty people, hateful hearts, blackened souls, rancid breaths, and polluted lives, killing the land and sending me, sending me away to that dark place."
"Polluted lives?" Hellboy said. "That's enough for me. Liz, move off a bit and call HQ. Tell them Kate was right about Blake being responsible for all this. Meantime, I'll stay here and find out where he is right now."
"Blake?" the banshee said. "Blake? I don't know Blake. Who is Blake?"
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Liz said, and she smiled as she turned away. "Remember, you demon ghost bitch, answer the nice red man, or you'll be in a world of hurt."
"Charming," Hellboy said. "I charm when I need to, and only then."
"Charming."
Liz walked away, and Hellboy went back to work on the banshee.
* * *
Liz sat on a park bench, called her report in to Tom at HQ, and lit a cigarette. She could hear the commotion in the distance as Hellboy and the banshee had their chat. She was pleased. She hoped he hurt it. Someone is going to die! the creature had hissed. Someone close to you is going to die. Liz had instantly thought of Hellboy, but then somehow the banshee had forced her to replay those terrible memories she had tried to put down for years. Her mother, her father, her little brother ... those were the faces she saw as the banshee wailed again. And it could have only been doing that to gloat.
She smoked her cigarette, looked around at the lighted buildings surrounding the park, and it sounded to Liz as though New York were coming back to life.
A few minutes later Hellboy approached across the grass. Liz could no longer hear the banshee. HB took out a cigarette and lit it, breathing in deeply and looking up at the stars. "Beautiful night," he said.
"Like no other."
"Hard old hag."
"Did it speak?"
"Of course it did. It said London."
"Right. I'll call that in, then I guess it's back to HQ for us."
"I guess."
"And the banshee?"
Hellboy puffed at the cigarette, and its glowing tip lit his face redder than ever. "Back in dreamland," he said. "Let's go."
* * *
Baltimore, Maryland — 1997