The Banshee's Embrace (9 page)

             
"It's always the same set of questions isn't it? Where am I? How do I get out?" Irritation caused the speaker's voice to grow louder. "The question should be this: why should you be allowed out? After all, your soul was collected, reaped. That only happens to the very bad ones. I should know."

             
"I don't belong here. Jacqueline put me in here by mistake."

             
"Oh, that's what they all say," the voice hissed, uncomfortably close.

             
"It's true."

             
But even to Toby the words sounded weak.

             
There was silence and Toby thought the voice had gone. But then it spoke again, "You say, Jacqueline put you in here? The special one?"

             
"Yes. She is definitely special," Toby couldn't quite keep the grumble out of his voice, causing the other entity to laugh. "How do you know about her? And what are you exactly?"

             
"I am…" the voice paused and then announced with flourish, "the Keeper of Souls!"

             
Toby let the silence grow, not sure what to say.

             
"Did you not hear me?" the voice hissed again. "I'm the Keeper of Souls!"

             
"Oh, yeah. I heard you. Good for you."

             
"You think it's clever to be blasé, don't you boy?" The voice pressed to his ear. "But you know what, I'm the only friend you'll find in this place. I'm the only one who knows what's what. You better be nice to me."

             
"I meant no offense." Toby made his voice more humble than he felt. "It's just that I'm a little on edge. I can't see anything, including you. I don't suppose you can do anything about that?"

             
"I could if wanted to," the voice laughed. "But why would I want to?"

             
"I like to see who I'm making deals with."

             
There was a soft, rustling sound, and then a green light glowed around Toby. It hurt his eyes at first, but after a moment he grew accustomed to it and was able to see the figure giving off the light.

             
It was a young man.

             
He blinked and gave Toby a wide smile. Dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, he had allowed his brown hair to grow shaggy and wild. But it was the eyes that captured Toby's interest. They sparkled with mischievousness.

             
"How do I look?" the man asked.

             
"A little younger than I expected," Toby admitted, narrowing his eyes. "Is this your true form?"

             
"No, but you can't handle that. No one can."

             
"Do you look the same way for everyone?"

             
"No. I take on the shape that would be most pleasing for the one I reveal myself too."

             
"Why this shape for me?"

             
"Because this how your own son would have looked had he lived."

             
Toby sucked in his breath. He hadn't ever told anyone about his son. Not even his own family--not that they would have cared. If Trevor had lived, he would have been about twenty now. He pushed the pain of that realization away and focused on the boy before him.

             
"So you're the Keeper of Souls." Toby crossed his arms. "And what is your job exactly?"

             
"Uh…I keep souls. I sort of think the answer to that question is in the job title." 

             
"How long have you been doing this?"

             
"Several centuries. I think the last time I saw the real world it was around 1616."

             
Toby gave a low whistle. "Wow. You've missed a lot."

             
"Not really. I have my ways of connecting with the outside world." The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "When I drain a soul, I get a glimpse of their life. It allows me to keep current with the times."

             
"Drain a soul?"

             
"Oh yeah. Whoever controls the box traps the souls in here, and then it's my job to punish them."

             
"I don't understand."

             
"You aren't exactly the brightest wizard around, are you?" The man shook his head. "Look, my family comes from a long Irish ancestry. That means we've got a lot of bad blood, a lot of enemies that need to be punished. The Keeper of the Box finds these enemies, sucks their soul into the void, and then it's my job to torture them."

             
"How did you get this job?"

             
"Every 500 years, there is one person in our family who is the lucky one destined to do the job. It was my turn."

             
"That sucks," Toby said.

             
"I know. The next soul keeper isn't due for another hundred years."

             
"How do souls get in the box?"

             
"The family banshee has to collect them. See, the good souls in the family go to the next realm. They are the lucky ones. The bad ones in the family all end up here." The young man stepped a little closer to Toby. "Your energy looks clean though. I don't even see the O'Grady mark on you."

             
"That's because I'm not from one of the Irish families."

             
"Where does your family originate then?"

             
"
Germany
."

             
"
Germany
? What a cesspool."

             
"So now that you know I'm not part your family, how do I get out?" Toby looked around, but darkness still lay everywhere. "Like I said, Jacqueline put me in here by mistake."

             
"She's an interesting one. Heard a bit of buzz about her."

             
"From who?"

             
"From the souls her predecessor dropped in here recently." The man nodded as Toby looked confused. "Even though the banshee had her powers split with Jacqueline, she has still been doing her job for the last year. She collects the bad souls that pass on in our family tree. But most of them have heard about this new hybrid thing that Jacqueline is. She's pretty popular, even if she doesn't know it."

             
"The wizards all want her for themselves," Toby said.

             
The man laughed. "Don't be naïve. It isn't just the wizards. All the supernaturals want her for the same reason. She can destroy an enemy just by singing to them! Even our family would like to take advantage of that."

             
"Some family."

             
"Poor girl won't ever be safe as long as she stays split--one foot in the living world, one foot in the grave." The man gave Toby a level look. "The only option for her is death. If she dies, she becomes a regular banshee, a reaper who just collects souls, but can't remove them."

             
Toby lowered his gaze. This was exactly what the hag had indicated to him. He'd known she'd have to die, had even told her so, but knowing didn't make it any easier. The thought of Jacqueline's death--it twisted his insides and made him want to find another way.

             
No. He couldn’t afford to think like that. It wasn't like he had feelings for her. About her, yes! But for her…no.

             
"You are a man at war with himself." The man watched Toby with interest. He tilted his head. "You want out?"

             
"Yes."

             
"Fine, I can grant that. But I'm coming with you."

             
"Is that a good idea?" Toby peered into the darkness. "What will happen to the souls in here if you leave? I heard them screaming and moaning a little while ago."

             
"Sorry. That was just sound effects for your benefit. I like to give the newcomers something to worry over when they first get here. Darkness, wind, shrieks, moans and groans--that's just standard protocol here in the box. The souls I drained last week are long gone." The man gave him another impish smile." Besides, I'm bored. I need stimulation."

             
Toby debated a moment, trying to figure out what the man's game plan could be. How much havoc could he create outside the box? In the end, he nodded his head. "Fine. What should I call you? Keeper of Souls doesn't exactly make for a good introduction."

             
"Just call me Gabe," the man said. "You ready?"

*****

             
"Wake up."

             
Jacqueline fluttered her eyes, blinded a little by the harsh fluorescent lights of her kitchen. She became aware of the cool tile beneath her and the splitting headache digging its way into the back of her head.

             
"Wake up!"

             
Someone slapped both sides of her cheek.

             
"Stop," she moaned and opened her eyes fully. "My head…"

             
"I bet it hurts like a son of a bitch! That was a real humdinger of a fall you took."

             
Jacqueline sat up and focused on the woman squatting down next to her.

             
"Matilda? From Merlyn's Bar?" Jacqueline stared. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

             
"I was looking for Toby." Matilda gave a deep, raspy cough. "I need him to open up shop."

             
"So you came here?"

             
"Well, yeah. I followed his smell."

             
Jacqueline rubbed her head, confused. Smell?

             
"What are you? A dog or something?" Jacqueline joked and managed to stand up with the help of the kitchen chair.
             

             
"Yeah."

             
Before Jacqueline could respond, she spotted Toby's body on the floor.

             
"Oh my god!" Jacqueline rushed to his side, disturbed by the lifeless blue eyes that stared up at her.

             
"Oh, he's dead," Matilda called out, unconcerned. "You killed him pretty good."

             
You killed him
.

             
The words ripped at Jacqueline's heart, and she tried to remember what had happened before she blacked out. Her gaze went to the silver box on the table.

             
"Don't open that," Matilda advised. "It's bad for your health."

             
"We should call 911."

             
"Wouldn't do a bit of good. He's dead."

             
"Don't say that!"

             
"Honey, I'm just telling it like it is. At my age, you have to." Matilda coughed again, the hacking noise of a long time smoker. "Besides, you didn't mean to do it. It was an accident, right? How are you supposed to know what the Box of Souls can do? It's not like it comes with instructions."

             
"How do you know about it?" Jacqueline touched Toby's face.

             
Cold. His cheek was cold. Her fingers trembled.

             
"You hang out at Merlyn's Bar long enough, you hear things. I've been a regular patron there since Toby's father owned the joint back in 1963."

             
Matilda's words barely registered. Jacqueline couldn't believe that Toby was dead or that she'd killed him. She had a memory though, a memory of on overwhelming power rushing through her. It had come from that silver box. How had it opened? 

             
"So like I was sayin' I came to get Toby because I need a drink." Matilda walked over to Toby's body. "You think he has the key to the bar on him? Sometimes when I get desperate I go to his house and he lets me open the bar up myself."

             
"Don't you touch him!" Jacqueline said, her voice full of warning as Matilda reached forward to search for the key. "He's dead and all you can think about is the damn key to the bar?"

             
"He ain't completely dead," Matilda told her with a small smile. "I can smell life in him and it's getting stronger."