The Banshee's Desire: The Banshee's Embrace, #2

By Victoria Richards

This is Book 2 in The Banshee's Embrace trilogy. A Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy.

An ancient and powerful wizard wants to use Jacqueline her for his own evil purposes, and will stop at nothing to get her. Including kidnapping and torturing Toby, the love of her life.

In The Banshee's Desire, Jacqueline must come to grips with her enormous powers--the ability to reap any soul, a temptation she must avoid at all costs. Power like hers comes at a price. But when Death comes to visit Jacqueline, even Death is in for a surprise. As Jacqueline's powers grow not even Death cannot stop her.

Will Jacqueline be able to control her immense powers, or will she use them and risk losing everything in order to save the one she loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Richards
• Release date: Feb 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781497743878

Victoria Richards

Victoria Richards is a journalist, writer and poet. She has worked for BBC News, The Times and The Independent, has appeared on Newsnight, BBC World and ITV News and she is the Voices editor at The Independent. In 2017/18 she was shortlisted in the Lucy Cavendish College Fiction Prize 2018, was highly commended in the Bridport Prize, came third in The London Magazine short story competition and second in the TSS flash fiction competition. She was also longlisted in the Bath Short Story Award 2017 and the National Poetry Competition. She lives in London where she is working variously on a novel, a short story collection, poetry, flash fiction and books for children. She is also a co-founder of The Second Source, a group of female journalists tackling sexual harassment in the media.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A COLD WIND HOWLED outside Antrim Castle as if the Devil himself rode it.

The shrieking wail ripped through the enchantments safeguarding the old Irish ruins from mortal eyes, fanning the flames of an argument between the thirteen wizards gathered deep in the recesses of the dungeon. The sound was a reminder. Their opinions divided between what should become of the woman. An anomaly and considered an abomination against the purity of their supernatural bloodlines. Half-banshees were not supposed to exist.

Yet right under their noses a wizard had created one.

How could a woman like Jacqueline Huston wield so much power? It wasn't right and certainly wasn't a part of the laws of nature. And the fact that she could reap souls and still retain her human form—unacceptable.

And what would happen if she turned her attention to one of them?

Worried didn't begin to describe the Brotherhood of Merlyn's feelings on the subject.

She's unnatural, one of the wizards proclaimed to his brethren in a loud voice. She cheated death, and now there will be a price to pay. For all of us. We've seen it before.

Settle down, Foster.

The wizard who issued the command stood to meet Foster's gaze. As leader of the council, he'd listened without comment to the mutterings and accusations hurled about, only an occasional nod or a twitch of his nose to show his feelings on the matter.

You are making wild accusations that we have yet to explore, the wizard said, his tone challenging. His old eyes stared into Foster's until it was clear who was dominant.

Foster sat.

The elder wizard smiled at this show of respect, but there was no mirth crinkling his face.

We'll agree the woman is unnatural and something should be done about her. However, if experience has taught us anything, it's that we must tread carefully. The wizard surveyed the room until his gaze settled on another council member. Spark, what say you to all the noise this woman is causing? After all, she has had a direct effect on your family.

Everyone turned their attention to Spark, the tall, thin wizard with coal black hair at the end of the table. Of the thirteen wizards gathered, Spark's sixty-five years of life made him one of the younger ones there. He stared at the tabletop, his dark eyes reflective. A long moment passed before he spoke.

She should be destroyed.

Around the table came murmurs of agreement.

Destroyed? A hint of doubt peppered the old wizard's deep voice, and the others to fell silent. Though your son was acting under his own directive, Spark, his idea was not a bad one. Capturing the half-banshee and bringing her to the Brotherhood would help make us more powerful. We have enemies who still wish us harm even after all these centuries have passed.

Then have Toby Williams bring her to us, Spark answered, still not meeting the old wizard's eye. If you can reach him, that is. I hear he’s smitten with her. Murmurs rose as his palm slapped the table. "And wasn't he the one we asked to watch her, so we could be alerted if she displayed any of her powers in the first place? Odd how we haven't heard a word from him, yet we know she has been reaping souls."

Spark eyed the old wizard, his gaze cold and severe.

"Or are you going to protect Toby and his spawn? The spawn that killed my son, Derek, by the way. You've always had a soft spot for Josiah Williams' kid. That's why his family's council seat continues to sit empty rather than be filled by someone who is worthy of being a part of our group."

A little ripple of discord ran through the room; the old wizard silenced it by holding up one hand.

Spark, your son was killed because he made a miscalculation.

A miscalculation? Spark stood, his fist pounding the table hard enough it buckled but didn’t break. How do you figure that?

Sit down. He frowned but slowly eased into his seat. Derek Spark and Josiah Williams were supposed to have killed that child when it was a baby. The offspring of rival wizard families taints the purity of the bloodline and has the potential to create a completely new sort of... creature. The council’s eyes followed him as the old wizard continued, Obviously, Derek had the opportunity to take care of matters on his own when Josiah failed in the task. But he didn't. He decided to play the odds. And look what happened to him. Smote by the hand of his own nephew—your grandchild, Spark—because he didn't follow orders. Yes, he miscalculated badly, the old wizard said. It's a shame, really. Derek had potential. It could have been nurtured if you hadn't kicked him out of your family.

You have no right to lecture me about sons. Spark's voice was ice, and his eyes narrowed. At least my son wasn't responsible for creating a half-banshee that destroyed half of Europe. Or have you forgotten about that?

Be careful, Spark. Be very careful, the wizard warned. You don't want to upset me.

The walls of the castle quaked, and Jonathan Spark suddenly grabbed at his throat. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath. Some unseen force choked him, though there was little doubt where the force came from.

Listen to me carefully. Circumstance may be different, but the end result is still the same. If Derek hadn't played a hand in Eric Huston's death, the half-banshee wouldn't have been born. Your son did that, but you have a chance to right that wrong. The old wizard released his spell, and Jonathan Spark gasped for air. Bring me the half-banshee. I'd hate to destroy such an unusual creature. Not without thoroughly knowing what she can do for the Brotherhood.

Spark stared at the other wizard, a silent war of wills stretching between them. But in the end, Spark acquiesced to the old wizard. With a nod, he sat down, rubbing at his neck and said, As you wish.

And, Jonathan, try not to piss her off. If there is one thing I've learned from my centuries on this planet, it's that women are more manageable when they're in a good mood.

Spark nodded.

I also want your grandson, Spark. This mixed-blood creature, we must put him down quickly. He has powers that we can't comprehend. Bring him to me, so that I can kill him.

Spark tapped his fingers along the tabletop. And if his father is... resistant? Fabric shifted as the wizard council shifted seemingly in unison as if Spark would say more.

The old wizard fell silent, staring at the only empty seat on the council and shook his head regretfully. The time to play favorites is past. The creature is too great a threat. Do what you must.

Jonathan Spark smiled.

Consider it done.

AS JACQUELINE SCANNED the back room of Merlyn's Bar, she couldn't help but search for the telltale hint of darkness that showed her who would die soon. A perk of her new banshee power was the ability to see death’s mark—or so she assumed. Part of her shivered with anticipation even as she tried to stay focused in the here and now of playing pool with her best friend Angela.

The pool balls made a solid clink as Jacqueline's break ball bowled into them.

Yes, she whispered, watching the balls disperse in all directions.

Not bad. Angela frowned. But I hate being stripes. It's bad luck or something. I never win when I'm stripes.

Boo-hoo. Jacqueline mocked her sulking, aiming at a solid red ball. I'd feel sorry for you, but I don't.

Sassy. Angela smacked Jacqueline's butt as she walked by. Don't make me angry. I would hate to throw down my wine and teach you a lesson.

That would be alcohol abuse, Jacqueline said. Toby wouldn't like it if you poured wine on his floor. He'd probably make you clean it up with your tongue or something.

They both looked over at Toby Williams, owner of Merlyn's Bar. Tall, sandy haired, and well built, he managed to own the space with his sheer presence. He chatted casually with one of the regulars, throwing his head back to laugh at something. As if he knew the two ladies were watching him, Toby glanced to them and winked a deep blue eye at Jacqueline.

Damn, that man is smitten with you. Angela sighed but Jacqueline saw it more than heard the noise over the bar’s jukebox.

I know. Jacqueline couldn't hide her grin. I'm pretty smitten with him, too.

Angela curved an auburn brow as she fiddled with her pool stick. Really? I hadn't noticed.

Both women laughed.

Seriously, Jackie, Angela said. I'm really happy for you. You deserve someone nice like Toby.

Angela turned back to the pool table, but Jacqueline pondered her words.

Do I? Do I really deserve someone like Toby?

She asked herself the question at least once a week.

She never could come up with a satisfactory answer. Odd thoughts brewed in her lately, thoughts about death and chaos that had not been there before. The anniversary of her husband's death, four months ago, had awoken more than just her latent banshee abilities.

The need to create death had awoken too.

Several times in the last few months, she'd caught herself watching the flicker of the soul in an innocent person, something only she could see, and wondered if she could yank the light out and have a little taste.

But that would mean death for the soul's owner.

How could Toby love her when she had strange thoughts like that?

Trying to push away the morbid thoughts, they clung to her, and she shuddered. Jacqueline found herself looking around the bar again, reflecting on who might die soon. Who had the potential to let go of the mortal coil so she could swoop in and claim it? What rush would it bring if she sipped on a soul before sending it on its merry way?

Jacqueline pursed her lips as her gaze wandered among the bar’s patrons. Whose shoulder was the hand of death tapping on next?

That guy.

A tall man sat at the bar, munching on stale peanuts. His back faced her, but Jacqueline saw a dark shadow around him—the pall of death. It wavered like a flag, still thin, which meant death was coming, but wasn't quite there yet.

Jacqueline? You okay? Angela's voice brought her back to reality.

Sure. She forced a smile.

You have a weird look on your face.

Sorry. I was just thinking about something.

You've been preoccupied lately. Angela took another shot, adding a fist pump when she sank the two balls in the pocket. I've been worried.

I'm fine. Jacqueline waved her off.

Ever since this place was robbed by that freak Derek, you've been different.

The words were quiet, but Jacqueline didn't miss the pain in Angela's voice as she said Derek's name. Derek Spark had been a rogue wizard with an agenda, including the seducing and tricking of Angela. In the end, he'd resorted to threatening to kill her and Toby's mother, Matilda. There had been a vicious battle in the bar, but Derek had been defeated.

Toby's son Gabe had killed him.

Gabe walked into the bar carrying a heavy beer box. The disgruntled look on his young, handsome face said it all. Gabe thought he was above such heavy labor.

What are you looking at? he asked Jacqueline as he walked past.

She didn't reply, knowing that doing so would only be an invitation to a battle of words.

I see Gabe still has a stick up his ass, Angela commented, staring after him. Jacqueline didn't like the wistfulness on her face as she said the words. She had seen the look before and knew what it meant. Angela was crushing on Toby's son. Too bad it's such a fine ass.

Down, girl, Jacqueline said shaking her head. "You don't want any of that. Gabe is just a twenty-year-old kid who doesn't understand the ways