One Night At The Banshee

By Ronin Romero

The PennyRoyal Banshee is a supernatural brothel, run by a human named the Hag. When a Maggopod called Muck seeks to mate with another of its species, the only option is to enter the Banshee in hopes of finding a fellow Maggopod under the Hag's employ. With the disreputable O'Grady's Enchantments swiping all of the Maggopods off the streets, Muck has to tread carefully, and be wary about who can and cannot be trusted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronin Romero
• Release date: Feb 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393567882

Book preview

One Night At

The Banshee

By

Ronin

Romero

Copyright © 2020 Ronin Romero-Magnussen

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this story or cover may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s express written permission.

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Dew from the wet night dripped down the side of Muck’s bald head. The hairless, genderless Maggopod stood at the end of an alley, staring up at the lit sign three levels above the entrance to the building. A strand of pink neon spelled out The PennyRoyal in cursive, and just beneath that, Banshee glinted in yellow light bulbs. All of it a spectacle meant to draw the eye.

It used to be the Town Hall building – the dreaded Courthouse of Empyreal Street. Now, the beige columns and white stones were plastered with posters for local bands, and fliers for nearby flophouses. Above the thirty foot archway that framed the entrance were blacked out rooms with hints of different colored lights flashing from within. Enchantments ran rampant in these types of places, most of them illegal, from the bottom floor to the twentieth. All of the surrounding high-rises had gone dark for the night.

Muck, having stood in the humid street for nearly an hour, reminded itself that it would go in once the opening lines died down. That was some minutes ago, and the lines had finished, yet Muck kept to the end of the alley. It hated humidity. Moist weather always made the wrinkles in Muck’s excess skin itch and irritate all over. The Maggopod pulled its woolen sweater tight at the back, and dragged the