Banished (2 page)

We walk to the school gates, where he spots some of his mates and lifts a hand to them. He turns back to me as we near them. ‘You possibly made my day. I’ll see you later.’

I nod and turn away before the group of girls standing by the gates can see the look of triumph on my face. They immediately form a huddle and start whispering, slanting sly looks at me.

I touch the knife resting against my hip in its custom-made sheath and take courage from it. The trap has been laid, now all I have to do is spring it.

‘Kelley?’

I jerk with fright when Dave’s voice echoes through the room. It’s just after four and I’ve been here for a long time, waiting for him to show up. I know it looks as if
I’ve been sleeping because my hair is mussed and I look out of it, so I yawn widely and grin at him in an embarrassed way.

‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’

‘You look cute,’ he says.

I know what he sees, a girl with raggedly cut chin-length dark curls that refuse to stay out of her eyes, a slightly upturned nose and a smattering of freckles that no concealer can hide. Green
eyes, a wide mouth. All of it forms a pretty enough picture aimed at attracting his attention and keeping it. I’m the pretty girl next door whom boys are best friends with and never fall in
love with. His smile is big and open and friendly and it belies the hunger in his eyes. I see it only for a moment, peering out at me, before he’s Dave again: just a normal boy meeting a
pretty girl after school.

‘All soft and dreamy.’

‘Ha, wait till you see me bust some awesome ninja moves,’ I quip in an effort to hide my growing nervousness.

He walks further into the room, glancing around. Everything is exactly the way it’s always been. The couch, the jumble of random bits of furniture and odd bits of theatre props. His eye
falls on my sketchpad, lying open next to me. It shows a half-finished portrait of his face, a close-up full of shadows, his eyes dark and enigmatic.

He hesitates for a few seconds only, but it’s long enough for me to see that the portrait has really pleased him. His smile, when he turns to me, is slow and languorous and I can tell he
thinks he’s already won me over.

‘I can’t wait to see your moves.’ He sits down on the couch and I shift my legs so he can sit close to me. ‘You really are very pretty, did you know that?’

His hand reaches out to tuck a curl of hair behind my ear. The look I give him is all big eyes and a shy, flattered smile.

I focus on the small wooden pendant hanging around my neck, beneath my clothes, taking comfort from feeling its weight against my skin. It feels a little warmer than usual and I touch it through
my school shirt, only briefly, before I drop my hand. I call my magic up and let the tiniest sliver surface, just a little bit, below my skin. It enhances the way I look, the way I shine, making me
more appealing, softening my hard edges, making him believe the glamour I’m projecting of the shy, awkward, flattered girl. I will him to see me as the type of girl he wants to see and I hate
myself for it, just a bit, but then I know what he is and what he’s done and I don’t feel sorry any more.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘You’re not half bad yourself.’

He laughs softly. ‘I’m glad you decided to come and meet me. I think we have a lot in common.’

‘Oh, really?’ I try not to move my head away from his hand. He’s stroking my cheek and neck as if I’m a cat. I really hate being touched by strangers. ‘And what is
that?’

‘Well, I like you. I’m pretty sure you like me. You’re talented and pretty. I’m . . . well, me.’ His smile is cheeky, self-deprecating. ‘I’m glad we
spoke today. I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to get to know you better.’ His eyes are bottomless pits and his voice has thickened, his tongue slurring against his teeth. His
head is close to mine now and I hold my breath, waiting, suspecting, hoping for what’s coming next. ‘Also, you shine so brightly.’

Which is exactly the kind of thing I hoped he’d say.

The telescopic iron baton slides out from under my sleeve and into my palm and with a satisfying snick I whip it at his face, hard. It connects with his cheek, making a meaty
thwap
sound.
I’m off the couch and away from him in the space of a heartbeat but he’s even faster.

He runs at me and shoulders me in the stomach, driving me into the small table where countless aspiring Arlington student actors and actresses have put on their make-up. We land on the floor but
I’m already moving, doing my best to ignore the pain in my back and ribs. His hands reach for my throat and I punch him in the side of the head. He jerks back with surprise, and I follow it
up with another swipe of my baton across the face. As he grabs for his face, I buck him off and scrabble backwards. I suck in a breath when the movement sends flares of pain throughout my body.
I’m hurt but there is no blood and I can still breathe without sobbing, so it isn’t serious.

‘You know,’ he says, not bothering to hide his surprise or annoyance. ‘You played me.’

I shrug and smile, swinging the iron rod in front of me like a slender cricket bat. ‘You fell for it,’ I say, not bothering to hide the smugness in my voice. ‘You could have
chosen anyone else, but you chose me. Pretty stupid of you.’

He snarls at me and I grimace at the smell of his rancid breath in the confined space.

‘You know what else is stupid?’ I say, backing away from him, luring him further into the small room. ‘Hunting in the same school for over a year. You must have been desperate.
Desperate and stupid. Your clan must be so relieved I’m sending you back. Your antics in the Frontier have been a true embarrassment to them.’

It’s this final insult that makes David Gardner transform into a monster. In the space of a heartbeat I’ve come to share the room with a creature no human should face. Gone is the
teenager with the bright future. In his place is a monster from an ugly nightmare. Raw-boned and big, he easily tops seven feet. Sickly grey skin ripples across his narrow, hunched shoulders and
his long sinewy neck flexes as he swings his head to try and keep track of me. His face has a wide flat nose and curving thin mouth. His eyes, still impossibly human, blink at me before the pupil
dilates and narrows into a vertical stripe. The silver claws at the ends of his muscled arms are a good three inches long – being cut by them would mean a course of antibiotics and a few days
in the infirmary at the Manor.

The thing about banshees is that there are very few of them and they work hard to keep the equilibrium within their small matrilineal clans. There are even fewer male banshees, and once a
male’s appetite for human girls quickens there is no way that female banshees will stand being around him, even if it means losing a mate. It is about politics too, and the banshee clans
would rather lose one of their strong male partners than face the displeasure of the Unseelie ruler, the Queen of Air and Darkness, Suola.

The banshee in front of me has no reason to be here and no permission from his clan mother or the Unseelie Queen. He is a rogue and knows that I am here to send him back.

I keep my iron baton in my hand and focus on the creature. Long thin teeth slide from engorged gums and, as he lunges for me, I run past him, somersault over the couch and come up behind it.
There’s an audible
whump
on the other side of the couch as he runs fully into the magic circle it had taken me most of the day to set up.

I peer over the back of the couch and see him standing in the middle of a gently glowing circle, holding his head, making confused clicking noises in the back of his throat. The air is filled
with the sickening smell of singed skin and I swallow against the bile rising in my throat.

I cast an eye at the wooden floor covered by the threadbare carpet he’s standing on, noticing with relief how strongly the sigils I had so painstakingly crafted with phoenix-blood ink
shimmer all around him. Because I didn’t know how strong he would be, I had layered two magic circles, one within the other, hoping that if he got through the first one the second one would
stop him. It was extra work and time consuming, but because this is my first solo gig I do not want to screw up.

I stand up on shaky legs and walk around the couch to stand in front of him.

‘By the authority of the High King of Alba and by the trust placed in the Blackhart family, you are sentenced to return to the Unseelie Court, where you will face punishment in accordance
to the treaties signed by the Queen of Air and Darkness. You are guilty of unlawfully accessing a gateway, of killing a human boy and impersonating him for the duration of your unauthorized visit
to the human realm and by direct interference, causing the death of three young women. You will have no chance to plead your innocence as the Court found you guilty in your absence. Your sentence
will be carried out when you arrive at the Unseelie Court.’

I’m relieved that my voice quivers only slightly as I speak. I keep my eyes on the creature in the magical circle at all times. He’s raging, testing the strength of the walls by
hammering on them. Each time he does, bright sparks of energy singe his hands and forearms.

‘I see you now, girl.’ His voice thrums low in his throat. ‘There is so much darkness around you.’ He pauses, waiting for me to say something else, but I bite my lip and
give him my best Clint Eastwood glare. ‘I can taste your future, Blackhart. It’s filled with pain and anguish. The Dark Gods hunger and no one else will be there to help you. Do you
think you can survive what’s coming, all by yourself?’

I am standing in front of him now. And once more he looks like Dave Gardner but there is nothing in his eyes that looks even remotely human. I know he’s playing mind-games but I
can’t shake the feeling that there’s a grain of truth in what he’s saying. Banshees are weird at the best of times and the males are especially touched, more likely to go off the
rails in puberty because of their hormones, which is why so few of them outlast any of the females in their clans.

Their gift of foretelling usually manifests during times of great distress. And right now would definitely count as him being in distress. He knows I’m ready to send him back to
Suola’s Court, right into the waiting jaws of her Beast. I’ve heard stories about her famous executioner and the delight he takes in torturing all those who oppose the Dark Queen, and
it’s given me nightmares for a week, so, in a way, I don’t blame him for trying to rattle me.

‘Feel free to tell your queen all you see, monster. I’m interested to hear what she has to say about this mess you’ve left behind for us to clean up.’

‘Best to watch your back, Blackhart. Most of Alba would like to see you and your family burn.’

I’m unimpressed by his threat. ‘I’ve heard that before, monster. We all have. And as much as the Fae dislike us, we do what’s necessary to prevent monsters like you
killing humans.’

He gives a low rasping laugh and licks his lips with a disturbingly pink tongue. ‘Never go to the Otherwhere by yourself, Blackhart. I’ll find you. I’ll tell my friends about
you. Maybe we’ll even come back here and find you. Imagine the fun we’d have.’

‘Tell your friends “hi” from me when you see them. Before you die, that is. Or maybe you won’t even see them. I hear that Suola’s kept her Beast on a short leash
lately and he’s hungry.’

I’m lying through my teeth but he can’t know that. A distressed whine rises from him and I cover my nose with my shirt as the room is suddenly drenched in the smell of fear and
something else unpleasant I try not to identify.

I hold up the small carved wooden token that’s been hanging around my neck for the past two weeks. It takes a few moments for him to stop pacing so he can focus on what I’m holding.
When he does, he stands up straight and a look of alarm crosses his reptilian features.

‘No,’ he says. ‘Don’t . . .’

‘Shut up.’ I let the token dangle off its chain and I watch his eyes follow it as it swings. ‘You didn’t give Chloe or Sandra or Jo a chance. I don’t see why I
should give you the option of travelling back to the Otherwhere on an easy ride.’

I walk towards the door. Just as I reach it I turn around and snap the little piece of wood neatly in half between my fingers. The sound it makes is a subsonic boom that shakes your bones and
makes you feel a bit funny in the head.

I watch as the walls I had created so painstakingly with my own magic flash downwards, not unlike a laser scanning a document. The lower it gets, the faster it flashes, taking the banshee
– aka a boy called Dave – with it, basically slicing him to bits before my eyes. I stand there and watch it happen. I don’t really want to, but I make myself. I owe it to lovely
Chloe, who fell in love with the wrong guy and who paid for it with her life.

When the beam reaches the floor where the sigils are inscribed, it runs along the ground widdershins, in reverse, taking the ink with it. Within seconds there is nothing left in the room that
shouldn’t be there. Unless you count the stench of singed skin, fear and urine, none of which I can do anything about.

I close the door behind me with shaking hands and turn the lock, pocketing the key. Time to go and report to Principal Williams that Arlington Secondary School will now no longer be plagued by
supernaturally motivated suicides.

The graveyard at dusk is still. I jump over the fence a few metres away from the locked iron gate and make my way along the tumbled stones and ancient yew trees standing guard
among the graves. I ignore the long shadows snaking their way across the ground as night falls. I’ve been here so often that I could find my nan’s grave while wearing a blindfold.