Page 3 of Backwoods Banshee

On the stage, the man broke open. There was no other way to put it. Blood pooled. The scream didn’t stop as a thing crawled out of him.

It hovered and unfurled a halo of tentacles. They streamed from its head, curling and curving like impossibly long hair. Pointed, the strands darted out. Several drove into Cathedra, piercing her like knives in a gout of blood Adam doubted anyone could survive.

Other strands twisted their way toward the crowd as he raced for the stage.

“Hey!” he shouted.

The thing swung around, aiming the strands of its hair toward him. They dove for him. He grabbed the first to reach him and opened the warlock wound, the hole in his heart he’d carved to bind another spirit. Always hungry, always waiting, it lurked like a starved wolf in his chest. It lunged at the chance for a meal, bit through the strand, and consumed as much of the spirit as it could before the creature jerked free of his hold.

Shrieking, it flew at him. Adam scrambled backward, trying to retreat over the sleeping crowd.

This would be a really good time to have a sword.

The thing sang again, and Adam felt himself sway as the sound hammered at his defenses. He staggered back, tripping over one of the prone bodies to land on his back among them. His head swam. He tried to find his feet but between the ringing in his ears and the awkward limbs and shapes beneath him, he struggled.

Several of the tentacles dove toward him again. Adam crossed his arms, summoned all his protections, but knew it wouldn’t be enough to save him.

An arcing blade swept out, slicing the strands before they caught him. Severed, they dissolved as they struck the floor.

The creature threw back its head and wailed. Adam threw his hands to his ears. Wounded, it rushed upward and vanished through the ceiling.

2

Adam caught his breath as Vic stood tall in his Reaper’s robe. With the stage lights out and a sea of bodies sprawled at his feet, the sight was no comfort.

Time slowed as Vic stared at the scythe in his grip, his face concerned beneath the translucent skull laid atop his features.

He extended his empty hand and a wasp flew to it, landing on his open palm.

It was beautiful. Black and white with wings the color of a midnight sky.

Vic closed his fingers and time ran again.

The blade and creeping robe of shadows faded as he and Adam took in the room.

Adam bent over Jodi. “She’s breathing.”

He tried to wake her as Vic took Emily’s pulse.

“I think they’re just unconscious,” Vic said. “Heart rate’s normal.”

Jodi stirred and Adam reached for his phone.

The elves’ answering service picked up. The woman on the other end greeted him in a stiff, British voice.

“We need containment. The Ogden Theatre in Denver. You’ll want to hurry.”

“You are on probation, Mr. Binder.”

“We have several hundred unconscious people and a dead headliner. Get the Guardians here. Now.”

Adam hung up.

The silence in the theater was deafening, and he hated that he found it a relief.

Jodi was on her feet and taking in the scene.

“Oh no,” she said.