A Banshee's Wail (The Banshee Curse #1)

Eleven Years Earlier...

     A small, indignant noise left Jemma's throat. “That's not what I mean,” she snapped, glaring at her mother.

     “Excuse me? I don't think I like your tone, young lady.” Denise frowned at her daughter, wary. Jemma had never acted like this before.

     Jemma screamed in frustration. “No,” she shouted, shaking her head wildly. “No, you aren't understanding.” Big crocodile tears slid down her cheeks. “You forgot about finding me!”

     Denise sighed, she could hear her husband coming down the hall. “What are you talking about?” she asked, desperate to find the answer before Ben got to the kitchen and lost his temper. “Jemma, you're right, I don't understand. Explain it to me, yeah?”

     Jemma sniffled, her tears slowing as she stared at her mother. Before she could say something else, though, her father came into the room.

     “What's going on?” Ben asked, staring at his two girls in the doorway to the kitchen.

     “Shh,” Denise muttered curtly, rubbing her hands up and down Jemma's arms. “What, Jemma?”

     “We were playing hide-and-seek,” Jemma said pathetically, staring down at her feet. Her tears had stopped and now she just felt tired.

     Denise pressed her lips together and stared at the top of her daughter's head. “We were?” she asked. Even though she was getting too big for it, Denise grabbed Jemma underneath her arms and hoisted her onto her hip. Jemma nodded. “Are you sure we knew that?”

     Jemma shook her head. “Daddy wasn't playing,” she muttered, messing with the ends of her hair. It was a nervous habit of hers. “He was working. But you were playing with me, you knew.”

     Denise glanced over at Ben and their eyes connected. Ben sighed and ran a hand over the top of Jemma's head before taking her from his wife. “C'mere, kiddo,” he said, smiling crookedly. “Let's let your mother finish dinner, okay? We can go play a game or something.”

     Jemma stared at her father blankly and nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. Ben looked at his wife again and shook his head slightly, disappearing back down the hall.

     Fifteen minutes later, all three of them were situated around the big people's table. Jemma sat facing the window-wall, both of her parents on either side of her. Sat wasn't the right word for what Jemma was doing, though. Since she was still so small, she had to sit on her knees to be able to eat properly. Her fork clacked against her plate as she scooped up some of her food.

     “Hey, everything all right, kiddo?” her daddy asked after a few minutes of silence had gone by.

     “Yeth,” Jemma said around a mouthful of food.

     “Jemma, don't speak with your mouth full,” Denise reprimanded, smiling slightly. She sighed and set down her silverware. “I'm sorry about forgetting about our game, Jemma.”

     Jemma shrugged and scooped more food into her mouth. She didn't feel like talking about it. As she munched away on her dinner, she glanced up at her reflection in the window. It was too dark to see outside, but she could see herself from the mid of her stomach up. Her long red hair was almost in her food. She pushed it behind her shoulders as lightning flashed outside.

     The lightning revealed a figure standing outside and her fork clattered onto her plate. Jemma's eyes widened and she gasped, her hands slamming down on the table as she screamed.

     “Jemma?” Denise exclaimed, reaching for her daughter's hand. “Jemma, what's wrong? Talk to me, baby.”

     The lightning had disappeared, but the figure was burned into her mind. Tears pricked her eyes as she struggled to breathe, to erase the image from her mind. She didn't want to see how white the figure had been, or how there were pits where his eyes should've been. He was also missing a nose and his expression was stuck in a perpetual grin, like he found everything funny. But he didn't, even without eyes to convey that, Jemma knew. He didn't find anything funny.

     Jemma hiccuped. “M-mommy,” she stuttered, clutching at Denise's hand. “Mommy, someone's out there.”

     “What?” Denise exclaimed, glancing out the window. She couldn't see anything, of course, except for her family's reflection. “Jemma, are you sure?”

     Jemma opened her mouth to confirm what she'd said, but something splattered onto her face. She flinched and looked over at her father, but he was laying face-down in his food. Even though she could see the hole in the back of his head, Jemma couldn't help thinking how odd of a time he had picked to take a nap.

     “Ben?” Denise exclaimed. There was something in her voice that Jemma didn't recognize. “Ben!”

     Jemma was still staring at her father. Her young mind wasn't comprehending what she was seeing, just telling her that her father had decided to take a nap in his food. Her mouth was still open and her face was starting to feel sticky.

     Suddenly, her hand that was gripping her mother's was being pulled. “Jemma, get under the table,” Denise demanded, her voice too high and too breathy.

     Hearing the panicked tone in her mother's voice, Jemma's heart finally began to speed up. “Mommy, what's going on?” she asked, climbing down from her chair and ducking under the table. “Why is Daddy sleeping in his food?”

     “Shh, baby,” Denise murmured. Tears were streaking down her cheeks. “Just stay down and be quiet.” She pulled Jemma in for a tight hug. “Just be quiet, baby.”

     Tears were streaming down Jemma's cheeks now, but she couldn't understand why. What was going on? She opened her mouth to ask again, but her mother shook her head. Denise put a finger to her lips and then moved out from under the table. Jemma watched her mother's legs in confusion, watching her hurry to the stove. Before she even got there, though, she fell to the ground.

     Five, bloody welts were blooming on her back.

     It clicked suddenly, what was happening. Jemma gasped and pushed her hands against her mouth, muffling the scream that still managed to escape. Mommy had said to stay quiet, but it was so hard. Crying quietly, she moved her hands to her ears and pressed hard, trying to block out all sounds. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth underneath the table.

     Just playing hide-and-seek, she thought. Stars were dancing in her vision now. Just playing hide-and-seek, and you're the champion, Jemma. You're the champion...

     The man in the window flashed in her mind again.