A Boat, a Banshee, and a Breakdown Read online

  My phone binged. “Paul is stuck. Brody wanted to talk.”

  “Shrinks,” Frankie muttered with a smirk.

  “Yep, better Paul than me. I don’t want to take sides but she’s been my friend for so long. I just need to protect her. Help her.”

  “Girl bond.” Darla put her hand to her heart. “So sweet.”

  “Angel meeting?” Gunner asked.

  I filled my plate. “I have a few extra angels around. When I hadn’t heard from Greg or Ivy, I sent one each an angel. They’re so moody.”

  “The angels?” Frankie asked.

  “Yep, well, sort of. They were annoyed at me.” I scoffed.

  “You annoyed angels?” Matt asked.

  “Don’t give me that look. You don’t believe in angels?” I pressed.

  Matt wiped his mouth. “I believe. But I haven’t had actual chats with them.”

  “They don’t really chat. They don’t care about names or details. They just follow orders.” I stabbed a piece of chicken then ate it.

  “Your orders?” Darla asked.

  “Not readily. They take their orders from God. But God sent them to help me, look after things here. I told them I needed a little extra protection on my friends. That’s all.” I shrugged.

  “What if you needed them but you don’t know it yet?” Gunner asked.

  I frowned. “I think I’d know it.”

  “But you might tomorrow.” Frankie took Gunner’s side. They probably wanted me surrounded by angels like an angel airbag protection suit.

  “Then they’ll come back. It’s not like they need to book a flight. If they refused to leave and told me to take it up with their boss, then I’d say my orders got overridden. But they didn’t. It’s not a big deal,” I said.

  “Best not to override God.” Matt nodded.

  It sounded crazy, yep. Suddenly my parents’ reactions made so much more sense. That day had arrived when my parents made sense. I could see both sides. It was disturbing and sad.

  I needed to change the subject. “Ivy texted something weird. But at least she texted me back.”

  I handed my phone around.

  “Hopefully she’s headed back,” Gunner said. “The drag bar needs her touch.”

  “I hope so, too. I just don’t get the second half of that,” I said.

  Darla giggled. “She’s sweet. Sadie, Sadie married lady. It’s one of those old sayings.”

  “Sweet.” I knew Ivy was mocking me but that was good. My friend was still there and teasing me.

  “Sixpence?” Frankie asked.

  “Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue,” Darla said.

  I shrugged. “I’m married. Got it.”

  “No, the rest of that saying has been lost to time. Or to England, I supposed. A silver sixpence in her shoe.”

  “Wedding is over,” Matt replied.

  “It’s a nice gesture and De should be touched,” Darla said.

  They handed my phone back and I set it aside. “I am. I’m glad she’s teasing me and thinking about others. Those are good signs but she up and left her wedding, her man, and her job. Eli might be with her. I don’t know. I don’t think she’s in danger but I’m not going to be sure it’s all fine until she’s back here being Ivy.”

  “Any word from Greg?” Matt asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ll text him again. You’re a witness. If we don’t hear something in the timeframe, I’m filing a police report.”

  “Why don’t you just track him down with your powers?” Frankie asked.

  “The guy is an adult, he wants a religious retreat, leave it,” Gunner said.

  I sat back from my dinner. “You know something.”

  “He’s fine,” Gunner said.

  “Need more info,” I shot back.

  Gunner sighed. “I can’t give it. I promised. Now let’s talk about this case. What do you know about banshees?”

  “A banshee sounds like an excuse to blame female spirits for deaths that are going to happen anyway,” I said.

  Gunner smiled. “They don’t cause the deaths, they are mourning or warning the family about them. But there are many variations and interpretations. Most of it is traced back to Irish mythology.”

  “But if the death is natural or not a murder, how do you stop it?” Matt asked.

  I nodded. “Good point. If the person is on the list for Death, you’ll have a hard time blaming a dead woman.”

  “The banshee comes regularly to a local family and it’s always at least one dead family member, if not more. The kids are scared. They all claimed that they heard it,” Gunner explained.

  I flipped through the notes he’d assembled. “Anyone dead yet?”

  “No,” Gunner said.

  “Sounds like attention seekers,” I replied.

  Matt cleared his throat.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “If you can prevent a death, why not?” Matt asked.

  “Maybe it’s their time?” I countered.

  Gunner shook his head. “Most of the people taken are younger. And witnesses report an eerie white cloud nearby at the death. Banshees are warnings not normally present at the death. This banshee might cause them.”

  I found a weird note. “What’s this YouTube channel?”

  “A lot of people have those now. I do,” Darla said.

  “Home staging tips helps your business,” Frankie added.

  I pulled up the site on my phone. “Gator Slayers?”

  “A lot of people on the bayou hunt gator. There’s a whole reality show about it,” Matt said.

  I nodded. “They have a lot of subscribers. Is that what they’re after? Publicity?”

  “The YouTube is done by the three brothers and their dad. The rest of the family is in danger, too,” Gunner said.

  “Gator hunting is pretty good money most years. I checked them out. Two of the boys work on an oil rig when it’s not gator hunting season. They’re not broke, no matter how they live or want to appear.” Matt cleared the table with Darla’s help.

  “Fame isn’t always about money,” Frankie said.

  “I agree.” I bookmarked the site. “I’ll watch some of the videos and see how I feel.”

  The front door opened and Paul walked in, looking worn.

  “Hey, long day?” I hugged him.

  “Very. Tomorrow should be better. How was yours?” he asked.

  “Not bad. Talking about this case. Want some dinner?” I offered.

  “No, brought dessert.” He set down some containers of gelato.

  “Great, we’ll get bowls and spoons.” Darla nudged Frankie until he followed her.

  “Thanks.” Paul looked at the file. “MacLand family.”

  “Banshee. I just don’t think it’s a case. A harbinger of death isn’t a crime. If the death is natural, accidental, or otherwise fate—is it my place to meddle?” I asked.

  “You wouldn’t stop an accidental death? What if the family is plagued by demons?” Gunner asked.

  “They could be, but the banshee thing feels like hype,” I said.

  “Who cares if it is? If they need help, they need it,” Paul said.

  “I don’t want to be on YouTube.” I started one of their videos.

  Paul watched, keeping his professional expression very neutral. “I need closed captions on for that.”

  “That is a thick Cajun accent for a family with the name MacLand.” Matt helped dish out the gelato.

  “I want to watch some of these videos and see how I feel about the family,” I replied.

  Alone and in our room, I watched a few videos on my tablet.

  “Put that away. You’ll have gator death nightmares,” Paul teased.

  I could tell he was trying to be romantic but I was plagued with doubt. Were they looking for attention or genuinely afraid? It felt like both.

  “Death!” I said.

  My angel Amy appeared.

  “Death, show up or I’ll just keep bugging
you. Death. Grim Reaper. Don’t make me annoy every angel in the world to find you,” I said firmly.

  Summoning Death was somehow a gift of mine that didn’t require being loud or tracking them down. Death had a list so he didn’t like being interrupted—yet couldn’t ignore me for long.

  An old Indian woman in a sari appeared in my bedroom.

  “Who is that?” Paul asked.

  I smiled. “You can see her? That’s Death. Well, how she/ he looks right now. Death always wears the body of the last human it claimed. No big black cloak.”

  Paul stared. “Death as in the Angel of Death?”

  “Who are you?” Death asked in a sweet little accent.

  “He’s my husband. He’s got more powers than he thought. Don’t worry, I’m just looking to find out if anyone with the last name of MacLand is on your list for the next month or so. From southern Louisiana,” I said.

  Death’s eyes narrowed as she adjusted the shoulder piece of her green dress. “You have no right to demand information of me.”

  “I know, we go through this every time but you know I’m trying to help people. Free them from demons and so on. Makes your job easier when they die,” I pointed out.

  Death snapped her fingers and a book appeared. Squinting at the pages in the book, she searched.

  I hopped up and tried to read it but I couldn’t understand whatever language it was.

  “Mine isn’t in there yet, right?” I teased.

  “Funny.” Death shook her head. “No, no MacLand scheduled.”

  “One more question. Banshees—real or fake?” I asked.

  “Real but a choice. A spirit returning to warn her loved ones of an impending death...not unheard of. But there’s not an army of them like guardian angels or anything,” Death replied.

  “Good to know. Thanks,” I said.

  “That’s it? No souls to offer?” Death looked around.

  “Not today. I know you like souls but I just needed info. Thanks. Sorry to disturb you,” I said with a slight teasing in my voice.

  Death looked at my angel. Amy remained expressionless.

  They both vanished from my view.

  “What the crap?” Paul said.

  “Sorry, no summoning Death in the bedroom? Is that weird?” I grinned.

  “You’re weird. Do you know when you’re going to die?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t want to know. Do you want to know? You or me?” I asked.

  He sighed. “No, neither.”

  “Good, we’re not supposed to know or ask. But now we know the MacLands aren’t scheduled for a loss soon. Banshees don’t work for the Angel of Death, which is good and bad.” I climbed into bed. I thought I heard a bump on the wall but ignored it. Probably a construction tool left leaned on the other side.

  “Why good or bad?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Bad because I can’t summon them like Death or make Death bring the banshee here for me to talk to. Good because it means they are probably just a deceased family member who wants to help—so the banshee will probably talk to me willingly. She just wants to warn and help her family.”

  “Sounds like you have a case. Can we get some sleep, unless you’re not tired?” He kissed my shoulder.

  I heard another knock then a creaking sound. “I’m tired but I want to get a feel for the family with these videos. Maybe tomorrow. You had a long day.” I could feel how tired he was. Newlyweds didn’t mean we had to act like teenagers.

  As Paul reached for the light, I heard another creak. “What is that?”

  A piece of drywall fell over on us.

  “Frankie!” I shouted.

  “Sorry, guys.” Frankie helped us move some basics into Greg’s old room. “I don’t know how that piece came loose.”

  “It might be the ghosts in the attic. You need to be careful. Changing stuff, the noises and new people are probably going to make them antsy,” I warned.

  “We’re being respectful but we’ve got to upgrade stuff as we go. If we change things and don’t bring it up to code, it’s a violation and could be dangerous. I want to check the insulation in the attic but I’m afraid to let a guy go up there,” Frankie admitted.

  I climbed into the bed that was Greg’s feeling like I was invading his privacy, even though we’d changed out the sheets to know they were fresh.

  “You might want Greg to go with you,” I advised.

  “Good luck with that,” Paul said.

  “Sorry again. We’re doing our best but with the supernatural pieces, it’s probably best if you guys sleep here until it’s done. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Night.” Frankie closed the door behind him.

  “Good night,” Paul and I called.

  “There are a lot of crosses and candles in here,” Paul said softly.

  I nodded. “And a lot of Bibles.” I slipped out of bed and studied the bookcase.

  “A lot of religious texts, I’m sure. Catechism. Book of Exorcism.” Paul yawned.

  “How many versions of the Bible are there?” I asked rhetorically.

  “A few. Why?” Paul walked up behind me.

  “I thought King James was standard issue. It’s so spartan in here. No pictures. No fiction.” I opened a cigar box and found a bunch of saint medallions.

  Paul went over to the small desk and poked around. “Now we are invading his personal space.”

  “He left it here. My house, Nancy Drew,” I teased.

  “Your house?” he mocked. Something thudded on the floor. “Damn.”

  “What?” I flipped on the big overhead light.

  There was a kneeler on the side of the small desk.

  “That is one custom piece of priestly furniture.” I shook my head.

  Paul folded the kneeler back up. “I thought he went somewhere to be more holy. I don’t see any rosaries.”

  “Exactly. He had a well-worn prayer book, too. This is what he left. I can only imagine what he took.” I opened a drawer and found a pot of oil and a few bottles of Holy Water. “I feel like he was prepping for the Antichrist and didn’t tell me.”

  “De,” Paul said.

  “Yeah.” I turned walked over to the nightstand. Paul had opened the top drawer. There was a small stack of the white collars priests wore. “That’s nothing. They’re disposable.”

  “He kept them. He had them. I’m guessing we’ll find vespers in his closet,” Paul said.

  I dug through the drawer more. “He never really let go.” I opened a book that looked like a journal.

  It was, but there were odd scrawled passages in there, not a properly kept journal with dates and reflections of the day. Some of the passages were prayers. Some sounded like dreams.

  “He’s here. Full Armor of God,” I read aloud.

  “What does that mean?” Paul asked.

  “Greg was getting messages or warnings from somewhere. Maybe dreams? Maybe Eli?” I suggested.

  Paul took the book. “I’ll read over this and see if I can sort it out. You need to touch base with Greg.”

  I went back to the drawer in the dresser and took out the blessed oil. I traced a cross on my forehead and one on Paul’s.

  “I didn’t burst into flames.” He grinned.

  “You’re only part Jewish. Same God. Same protections needed in this house. We’re not being influenced right now. This is all real. All Greg.”

  Paul closed the drawers and ushered me toward the bed. “You need rest. Greg’s our friend, we’ll check on him. All this doesn’t mean he’s fighting anything, either. He might just need a religious life.”

  I nodded. “Maybe. Hell or high water, and Louisiana can serve up both, I’m going to track him down. Running back to the priesthood might be the answer but it also might be just what Eli wants him to do.”

  Chapter Four

  That weird feeling when you’ve slept but aren’t really rested? That was how I felt at breakfast. Paul looked fine. He had Greg’s journal with him. It felt like we were violating Greg’s pr
ivacy but it was out of concern. Greg left it behind, which was a worry in itself.

  “Bet you two didn’t continue the honeymoon in the holy shrine of Greg’s room,” Matt teased.

  “That’s what he left behind to get deeper into religion? It’s weird. Why would he leave the church? I don’t get what drove him back either. I’m sort of shocked that he never swapped the queen bed for a twin to feel more austere.” I poured my second cup of coffee.

  “Austerity won’t help the fight. You said there are endless demons attacking humans all the time. I don’t see why Greg’s being so dark about things but maybe it got to him,” Paul said.

  “Is it darkness or does he just need some alone time?” Gunner asked.

  “Pulling away from people he loves and knows? We’re not on the wrong side of this. Eli is the weird wingnut that shook things up. Ivy is hard to rattle and he threw her off. I’m not saying it’s all Eli but it’s no coincidence. Greg is secluding himself for a reason. I’ll find out why that is.” I downed my coffee then put the mug in the sink.

  “Hang on,” Matt said, waving a tablet at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You need to eat something,” Paul tossed in.

  I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

  Paul took a Greek yogurt from the fridge and slid it along the long wooden table at me.

  “Fine.” I grabbed a spoon from the drawer and gave in to a yogurt for breakfast.

  “MacLand has a new video on their channel. They found footage where one of the family members was recording while they heard the banshee.” Matt pushed play.

  We gathered around and watched the family together on a boat called the Katrina Marie. It looked like they were having fun. A nice family outing in the bayou with a fog around them. Nothing supernatural.

  Then an eerie wail made the group turn. There was plenty of insect and background noise from the bayou but that noise was loud and clear.

  “What the—” one of the boys said.

  “It’s the banshee, no! No, LeeAnn!” cried a preteen girl.

  “LeeAnn?” Gunner went into the dining room and returned with the file. “There is no living member of the family listed by that name.”

  “They know the name of the banshee? I guess it makes sense if they’re related to her. But it didn’t sound like a scream,” I said.