The Banshee

1545

“What I want is to sing!” Saoirse replied, looking right at the handsome stranger that had asked. His eyes... they seemed far too old within such a young face, and she couldn’t help but stare deeply into those enigmatic wells that barred the doors of his soul from her. She was confident she didn’t fancy him, she was happily engaged. But he compelled her attention nonetheless.

“I don’t doubt you will.” He replied. His tone seemed bored, but he leaned towards her as though interested. “Have you been on stage yet?” he nodded at the band bringing life to the pub in a well-lit corner. There was no actual stage for them to perform on, but the melodies they produced flowed through all who had gathered there, making them feel larger than life, as though raised above all in attendance.

“I’ve tried.” She looked away, trying to hide the flush of embarrassment rising from her neck. “They say I don’t have the tone.” She failed, when she looked up, she caught him staring at her neck, a faint smile on his lips. He raised his eyes back to hers, a trick of light made them flash red.

“There’s an aura to you.” He replied. “I think you will indeed sing one day. When you do, I will come to find you.” He stood, leaned in to kiss her cheek, and walked away.

As he disappeared within the crowd, all she could think of was how his lips had felt like ice to her skin.

1578

With her family surrounding her, Saoirse lay abed, frail, and weak from the Consumption that had ravaged her body. Her children wept quietly as they tried and failed to provide her with comfort.

“He lied.” She whispered. Her eyes closed from the effort it cost her.

“Who lied Mammy?” her son asked. He was unable to hide the grief in his voice.

“The man with the strange eyes and cold lips... he told me I would sing, and that he would come to find me when I did.” She coughed, blood staining her lips.

Her daughter, 7 months pregnant, spoke gently. “You always wanted that.” She was kind not to add that the talent had always eluded her mother.

Like a cat being swung by its tail in a barn…

“They say there is a last time for everything we will ever do.” She stared at the ceiling as she spoke. “Our final meal, enjoying a dram of whiskey, the last time we pick up our children… putting them down to never lift them high again.” She coughed again, and the pain of it stabbed her lungs. The monologue had cost her. “I don’t remember the last time I tried singing…” A tear rolled from her eye.

“No more my love.” Her husband admonished her softly. “You need rest.”

“Your last… breath.” She whispered, practically exhaling the word.

It was the last thing she ever did.

Her spirit watched as they mourned her. The clocks had all been stopped at the time of her passing, and her children had taken great care to cover all their mirrors with blankets to ensure her soul wasn’t trapped in their home.

The candles they lit around her body struggled to remain aflame as the cold winter wind howled through the open windows and trees alike.

At night, her family, friends, and fellow villagers took turns sitting with her, speaking fondly of her life.

Her son. “She cared so much for us. We were everything to her.”

Her daughter. “She taught me how to stand up for myself. And her herblore was a great gift to us all.”

Her husband. “She turned a wreck of a man into a decent person.”

There were several nods from friends confirming his statement. She had loved her man deeply. It would have warmed her if she had flesh remaining to be warmed.

All had been prepared for her to leave, nothing hindered her.

A friend. “But oh, how she loved to sing and pierce our ears with her off-key caterwauling!” Everyone laughed, fondly so… but laughter all the same.

Feckers!

She should have left right then but, with spite encircling her heart, she chose to remain instead.

Saoirse took up residence with the Fae among the trees but visited her family daily.

A month after her passing, her daughter glowed with a black aura. The baby was close, but something was terribly wrong. It was like it was dragging her soul from her body, and the baby’s along with it.

The compulsion to sing came over her and she allowed herself to succumb. A wail of despair left her lips; like wind pushing through splintered shutters angled over open bottles. Her daughter clutched her heart, staring with wide and terrified eyes at the wall behind Saoirse.

Gods that is worse than when I was alive! But she heard it. I can warn her!

As the hours passed, the black aura grew ever denser and Saoirse’s cries grew more desperate.

That night, her beloved daughter died in labor, taking her grandson with her.

Stunned, she grew still. Her daughter’s spirit had risen, cradling her son’s soul close to her. She locked eyes with her mother and smiled softly with warmth. She showed her bundle to her mother with pride, then departed and disappeared in the air without any further hesitation.

Saoirse wanted to go with her daughter but realized she no longer knew how.

She fled to the forest, grief tearing her soul. She wanted to cry, but that release was a privilege enjoyed by the living alone. Instead, she keened into the night sky. A mighty sound that shook the forest into stillness and cascaded evergreen needles from the canopy around her.   

“Incredible!” A familiar voice spoke from the darkness. Two faint pinpricks of red light were the only thing to give away his position. He stepped into a small beam of moonlight so she could see him.

“You!” She stared at him aghast. He hadn’t aged a day since they last spoke.

She had a dozen things she wanted to say but settled on. “You lied to me!”

“Did I?” He raised an eyebrow. “As I said, I knew you would sing one day. As promised, I have come.”

“That’s a cruel bit of trickery!” She objected, anger raising her voice into an ethereal shout that bounced from the trees back at them. “I’m dead!”

“That you are.” He stepped closer and took a seat on a downed tree trunk. “I’m too you know.”

“Is that why you’ve not aged?”

He nodded. “You had the most powerful green aura surrounding you the day we met. You love deeply… perhaps a little too much. However, you were well loved in return.”

“You said I would sing!” she wailed at him. “I’m a Banshee! We shriek and we terrify! We don’t sing!”

“It really is a matter of perspective.” He shrugged. His tone remained infuriatingly calm. “The living are easily terrified. To me … you sound amazing.”

“Oh, Feck Off!” She swirled away from him, the compulsion to rush his stupid placid face and rip it off was too much to bear.

“I will soon. I need to hunt before sunup.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” She yelled over her shoulder.

“I was waiting for you. I wanted to make you an offer. Not one for you to take today, but for when you are ready.”

“Then make it! Make it and begone!”

“You will no doubt wish to stay with your family for a while. It is only small, and you’ll likely be able to track them all for years. However, when the time is right, I will come to find you.”

“That’s very enigmatic, but I don’t hear an offer amongst all that shite.”

“A new family, one you can serenade without scaring them.”

“What if I don’t want to be found?”

“Then you won’t.” She could hear the shrug in his voice.

“Grand! Now go before I make you!” She couldn’t explain her anger to herself. So, she didn’t try to. Instead, she relished it.

As he left, she howled once more. Her power flowed like a force into the sky, this time sending resting birds into flight.

By morning, she returned to her former home. She wanted to attend her daughter's wake and hear all the beautiful things they had to say about her.

1922

The centuries had melded into one long cyclical event of birth and death for a small family that never grew too large. Something about their line being haunted by a Banshee made potential suitors reluctant to join the fold.

The rumors followed them no matter where they went.

“You don’t want to marry into a cursed line!”

“They’re all half mad!”

Despite this, there were many things to be grateful for as well. She had many fond memories of her descendants; they were remarkable. Some of those memories even included her.

In her eyes, Saoirse had tried to warn them of their impending deaths. However, she had never once been able to stop one. It seemed almost pointless to try, but she had to do something.

One fateful day, she tried for a final time. The dreaded black aura of death had enfolded her entire family all at once. She sang so loud and clear that they covered their ears in terror and hid away from her.

That night soldiers dressed in uniforms of black and tan descended on their village and their home. Dozens died; the entirety of her family included.

Something inside seemed to rip as the last of her line perished before her eyes. She screamed into the wind as the blows fell. A high-pitched and icy lament that scored the souls of all around her. Several soldiers descended into madness, but it provided no real comfort.

Once it was done, their bodies burning; she had nothing left to do but leave. 

She retreated to the forest she had secluded herself in all those years ago. Anyone stupid enough to come too close to her or the Fae that took her in would ultimately leave in total terror, clutching their ears and hearts alike.

1929

She had been waiting for him.

“Go away!” She yelled. It was odd to her as she had looked forward to seeing him, but now that she laid eyes on him, still just as young as the day they had met, she didn’t want him.

“I’m sorry about your family.” He said quietly.

“Are you?” She scoffed. “For all I know it was your doing!”

“I don’t blame you for feeling this way. I said I would return to take you to a new family… but I never wanted you to lose the one you already had.”

“What took you so long?” Her tone needed to be reproachful. “I’ve been alone for years!” All she managed was sadness.

“I visit Ireland once every decade.” He closed his eyes, inhaling the night air. “The Fae are always very welcoming, and the hunting is good. I’ve made it a habit of checking in on you.”

She refused to blink, hoping to see the truth stumbling on his face; wishing for a source to vent her anger upon.

“You were fascinating to behold.” He chortled melodically. “There was this one time I could have sworn you were having a conversation with a woman who looked just like you. Was she able to see you?”

The memory softened Saoirse’s attitude towards him. “Yes. That was Cara. Most children can see me, and they’re not frightened at all. However, they lose the knack as they grow older. Only Cara understood my nature and kept me close to her heart. The family did well with her, and for several generations after.”

“The last time I was here, a small boy stood on tiptoes to give you his comb. He laughed, saying that you couldn’t be a real Banshee without a comb and that you needed to brush your hair anyway.”

“Cathal.” The boy's name left her lips in a sad whisper. “He didn’t deserve to go the way he did.” The memory choked her. He had yelled at his parents, saying that the Banshee had told them to leave. They had instead tried to hide their terror and feigned that they could not hear her.

“Agreed. The Fae gave me the details before I came to speak with you. I truly am sorry for all you have lost. And not just on that day.”

Her resolve to completely hate him softened. They sat in the moonlight for a while, the silence of their company gave voice to the forest creatures. She had always loved the mating calls of the various frogs, toads, and insects.

Eventually, she asked. “Who are you?”

“I’m Evo.” He bowed. “It is a pleasure to meet you properly Saoirse.”

“That’s an odd name. Is it short for something?” She cocked her head.

“It is. But it’s a mouthful and my friends just call me Evo.”

“You wish for us to be friends then?” She mocked him. “Fat chance of that happening boyo! I think the cats will serenade you first!”

“Weren’t you once likened to a wailing cat? Now you sing!”

“I think we can both agree, even though you sometimes call it singing, what I do is not that at all.”

“Would you like to?” His voice never shifted from that infuriating, dull tone of total calm.

“You know I would!” Saoirse felt angry with him all over again. “Why must you mock me so?”

He didn’t answer, just stood and looked toward the sky, then back at her, beckoning for her to follow him with a small nod of his chin. He turned and walked deeper into the forest. She followed, dragging her vexation with her.

“What are you?” She asked as she gained his side.

“A Vampire.” He replied.

“A bloodsucker?” She gasped. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“Most people think the same about Banshees.”

“Fair.” Curiosity reined her tempter a bit. “So... when you say the hunting is good here?”

“I meant animals.” He gave her a brief but sincere look. “I have hunted humans in my time, but I gave that up a long time ago.”

“So you didn’t want to bite me? Back when we met in the pub?” She knew something had been off about his eyes.

“Oh I did, I almost always want to bite the living.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I just don’t anymore.”

“What changed you?”

“Vlad.”

“I don’t understand.” She hated his mysterious ways.

“A story for another day.” He replied. His voice was tinged with regret. “We are close.”

She refrained from asking any more questions and just followed.

A small clearing appeared; it was one she had visited many times during her haunt of the forest but it was different this time. A simple stone archway stood in the center, bathed in the final hours of moonlight. It stood alone, with no building or walls giving it purpose. A plain wooden door with a latch was affixed to it. She had not seen anything quite as ridiculous for a long time.

“Before you enter.” He began, his tone was serious. “Some get trapped inside. I don’t suspect that will be a problem for you, but it is something to be mindful of before you enter.”

“What do you mean by, trapped?” She moved backward.

“Some consider Banshees evil, monstrous even.” He stated. “From your time being one, would you agree with that statement?”

She pondered her response. “It depends on the woman. I’ve known other Banshees.” She nodded as she spoke. “Some are wicked. I once met one who happily drives people into madness for the fun of it. It is like she enjoys their suffering... I never found that to be the case for myself.”

“I didn’t think so. The likes of her would be trapped... You should be fine though.” He reached to open the door.

“Wait!” She felt nervous. “What if I just believe that of myself? What if I am a monster? I’ve scared so many in my time!”

“A mortal’s misunderstanding of your true beauty and purpose can hardly be laid at your feet.” He pushed the door open. Music and light spilled from it; soft and warm like the night at the pub. “Besides, the fact that you had to ask speaks volumes of your character.”

“And if I do get stuck?” She stared at him.

“Then you can haunt whoever you want in there.” His laughter complimented the music. “There’s plenty of us.”

“Fine, just one more question.” She moved around the back of the archway, and both music and light disappeared as she did. He didn’t reply, just waited for her to absorb the moment.

“What is it?” she touched the archway, returning to its front. Another world waited for her through that threshold.

“We call it the Fantastical Circus. Sometimes it’s a lively party, especially when we invite the humans. Other times it acts as a sort of prison. Those that get stuck are dangerous... but they’re less of a problem when they’re in there.”

Her eyes widened at the word ‘prison’.

“Most of the time it is just a place we all like to call home; one where we feel almost human again. It is hard to explain, so we leave most of that to experience.”

She nodded. She desperately wanted to trust him and found that she did.

If he was lying then she had very little left to lose anyway.

She stepped through.

Peace, calm, and a satisfying sense of solidity overcame her. She breathed, feeling the air flow effortlessly into her. She wanted to cry, to feel the tears running down her cheeks.

“Not yet” A voice whispered in her mind. “There’s time for that later. I’ve heard so much about you... please sing for me.” She turned to find a man, vibrant green and skeletal with ribs poking through frayed clothing, standing on a stage. He was playing the music of her childhood.

“You can hear him?” Evo asked, and she nodded. He had lost her primary focus, all she heard as she left his side was, “Impressive.”

She knew the music the Minstrel was playing. She walked over to the stage and waited for the perfect moment to join in.

Her voice soared. An ethereal beauty she never managed to achieve in life left her lips. It was in perfect harmony with his every note. The Minstrel glowed an even brighter shade of green, jumping between all her favorite tunes. She followed along and gave voice to them all effortlessly.

As she turned, Evo had been surrounded by all manners of creatures. He held a hand to his heart. They all stared at her, mouths open with tears flowing down their faces.