With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (14 page)

“I told you I don’t trust your cat.”

“I don’t care!” I said. “I can’t take the sound. Hobs, could you just sing or something and drown them out? We’ll sing at the top of our lungs! Then we won’t hear them.”

“How about we die with some dignity instead?”

Daphne moved the tablecloth to squeeze under the table with us. I jumped and she just smiled brightly at me, as if it was perfectly normal to camp under the table. “Well, you can’t carry a tune, so it might sound pretty bad,” she said, catching onto the tail end of our conversation. She spread out the red-and-white skirts of her Omak High cheerleading outfit over her knees, unknowingly shoving Hobs back.

With a teasing look, she sang as she stuffed Babs’ legs into the baby jeans. She had inherited the same singing ailment I did, and Hobs winced. The Banshees’ sobbing hesitated. She was throwing off their rhythm. I wasn’t one to lose a perfectly good opportunity, and I quickly joined in with her. The Banshees screamed out angrily, and I had to agree with them. It
was
pretty bad—maybe even scary. Daphne was completely oblivious to our clashing voices as she pulled a little pink shirt with a flower over Babs’ rounded belly.

More legs approached us and a whole army of blond heads popped beneath the table. My twin sisters and my dad. Just like Daphne, none of them were surprised to see us under the table. This was normal behavior in the Starr family, just not for me.

“Hi, girls.” My dad smiled at us, especially when he saw my tiara. “You’re really getting into this faery queen thing,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t you ever take that off?”

“Yeah, the . . . uh . . . kid likes it, so . . .”

His eyes found her, and he turned serious. “Who are you babysitting now?”

“Dad,” I whined, because I knew that was how to get what I wanted. I ignored Hobs’ arched brow. “You should see this poor family. They’re a mess. One emergency after another. Anyway, I had to take this one in because they couldn’t find anyone else.”

“We have the baby too?”

“No, they took her back. And look at her. Isn’t she adorable?”

“Huh. Well, that’s nice of you.” And surprising, his voice clearly indicated. I had never been one for charity work before. He hesitated while he made his decision, and I tried to look like a saint and that I was really changing into a good kid because of my new responsibilities. I saw him give in again, and I relaxed.

Kesley and Leslie pushed their way in next. Their blonde hair was plaited into twin braids, still wet from swimming practice. They wore the same pajamas. One had the bottoms and the other had the top—with the appropriate articles of clothing to finish off the ensembles, of course. Dad was still in his work clothes, though he looked to have parked his shoes and tie in the living room like always. “Want to watch a movie?” he asked. “It’s an exciting one.”

I glanced down at Babs’ horned head. “I don’t know if she can handle it.” At the same time, I really didn’t want them to leave me alone in the kitchen and I tried to think of any excuse to make them stay. Nothing came out.

“What do you think she’d want to watch?” my dad asked.

“Snow White!” one of the twins said. She was already braiding Babs’ hair. “I still have it!”

“No . . .” I said weakly.

“She’ll love it,” my dad promised. “And we’re going to have ice cream and brownies.”

“Hey, that sounds like fun.” Hobs nudged me mockingly towards my family—as if I could actually go, but there was no way. Already the Banshees were back to their incessant crying since Daphne had stopped offending their sensibilities with her singing.

“I think I need to get this little one to bed.” I tried to sing it as off key as I could, but it was a little embarrassing. “Sing with me everybody—a goodnight song.”

My sisters giggled.

“Oh my, she’s a strict mother, isn’t she?” My dad looked oddly proud. “Don’t worry, little girl,” he told Babs. “Around here, bedtime is a treat. We’ll tell her our favorite family bedtime stories. I’m sure she hasn’t heard the one about the Starrs and the golden hen!”

I gasped, but not because of that—Hobs had pinched me, like I was going to give in! “No!” I said after a swift elbow jab back. “She needs to go right to bed.”

My dad winked and stole Babs from me. I had no choice but to follow him out from under the table. The Banshees’ cries grew louder at the sight of us. Their long white arms scratched across the windows. I refused to look directly at them. With voices like that, I didn’t want to see what they looked like.

Hobs reluctantly crawled out after me, giving me a reproachful look. We froze at the rapping on the door. “Lovely,” he muttered. “Now they’re knocking.”

“Do you hear that?” Daphne asked. Before I could stop her, she headed for the door.

Hobs’ hand was on my back. “Run!”

“What about Daphne?”

“They’re not after her.”

I stole Babs from my dad’s grasp. Her big hazel eyes were wide and dark with fear. Oh, yeah, she could hear them! She was scared. “Goodnight!” I shouted to the room in general. We hurtled through the living room and I could hear my family calling goodnight behind us. The door opened in the kitchen and a green mist oozed into the room. Daphne coughed on it, but Hobs was right. It wasn’t after her. It sped after us. “How do we stop them?” I cried.

“Are you kidding? They’re immortal! They’re cursed never to die!”

How did you fight something that couldn’t die, whose very touch was death? I chanced a look behind us to see flaming red eyes stare at us through the dark mist filling the air. The grandfather clock began its first strike to nine. Hobs dragged us behind it just as we spied five
not-quite
women searching us out with jerky movements. At this close range, I could see they couldn’t stop crying. That’s why their eyes were so red. If they were so sad about taking us, then they should go back to where they came from.

Their maws gaped open at an unnatural angle, and they chanted through it—their tongues slithering around their teeth. I couldn’t make the words out, but I could definitely hear them. It sounded like a death rattle. They ducked around the living room furniture, their bodies cutting in and out of the air, howling as they went.

“Get as much distance between us as possible,” Hobs shouted. One of them reached out for me. I shrieked, feeling the cold emanating from the gray, decaying finger. Before it could get to me, Hobs knocked a candlestick against it. The silver warped at the Banshee’s touch and bent to the ground like melted wax.

“Lost, lost, lost,”
it sobbed. At such close proximity, I could hear the words, but they didn’t make sense.

“Our treasures, our queen, the child.

 All lost!”

Hobs picked up a picture of me from the mantle and got ready to smash the Banshee’s face with it. The creature stilled to stare at it. “You like this?” Hobs held up a staying hand at me to keep me back, then advanced on it, holding the picture up like a shield. “Does she look familiar?”

 “Honey? What are you doing?” My lovely mother sat in front of the TV in her workout clothes, calmly eating popcorn. I scrambled further back before she could see me hiding behind her grandfather clock. I didn’t want to be thrown into a mental institution. Actually, I might prefer that than to this being real.

“
Honey?”
a Banshee breathed, mocking my mom’s voice from behind the couch where she sat. I saw the rusting crown resting over hair that once was beautiful; she was their leader.
“Stay . . . stay still. Don’t be scared . . . honey.”
Her voice deepened into a vicious growl.

“Thief. Thief. Thief.

The rule of Ratis defiled.

For a thief.”

The others chanted the words in a drumming rhythm as the Banshee queen floated over my mother’s head and past the fireplace. Her fingers scraped past the walls in dead silence—like they weren’t really there. The grandfather clock stopped ringing. The face on it cracked as she passed. Tears streamed down her mottled face. My heart lurched—the Banshee queen had killed my mom’s favorite clock. I was dead in more ways than one.

My hands tightened over Babs and I ducked, throwing three heavy knickknacks at the queen at once. They hit her hard, and the two approaching creatures behind her as well—as if I had a lot more strength than I had.

“Halley Victoria Starr!” my mom shouted from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, they’re just falling! I’ve got them. Don’t worry!” The star on my tiara glowed brighter. I swiveled away from the Banshees, breathing hard. Nothing about this felt natural.

“Mourn, mourn, mourn.

Star shall rule the sun and moon

 ‘ere morn.”

What were they saying? Their words and crackling voices messed with my ears. “Don’t listen to that.” Hobs backed into me. The creature watching my framed picture in Hobs’ hand twisted its head around with a startled jerk. Seeing my face brought it out of its trance. It let out a piercing scream.

I shoved past Hobs, my fingers joining his over the picture frame. I planted it into the Banshee’s face and put a temporary end to its tears. The Banshee fell back, clawing at the frame wrapped around its head. My sudden strength scared me. “Why do I know how to fight?”

Hobs swiveled to stare at me. “It’s just a side effect of the curse. It’s a good thing.” He wrapped an arm around me, sandwiching Babs safely between us. A sobbing scream above us alerted us to the Banshee queen crawling over my family’s ceiling. Our gaze shot up, seeing her detach herself from the molding, her ragged hair growing longer. Her tears dripped over us as she descended on us like a spider.

“Pain, pain, pain

Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

Shatter our pain.”

We both went tripping over my mother’s famed fern. Hobs knocked it between us and the Banshees. It wilted in front of us. My mom’s head tilted at the sight, and for a brief moment she looked confused and then a little . . . angry.

“Um, sorry.”

We crawled backwards away from the narrowed eyes of three more Banshees. They snaked forward, their straggly hair dragging against the floor. The wood splintered beneath them. Vases and portraits from the mantle flew around me, crashing against the living room floor. I tried to cover Babs from it, and the knickknacks hit me hard in the back.

“Lost, lost, lost

Our treasures, our queen, the child

All lost.

Thief. Thief. Thief.

The rule of Ratis defiled.

For a thief.”

“Halley?” My mom had set her popcorn aside. “What is going on?” One of her gaudy crafts pitched off the wall and tossed through the air. I ducked as it came crashing down on me. “How are you doing that?” There was a note of worry in her voice.

“I’m not!” I cried.

“Are we having an earthquake?” She stood up and put her hand on the wall—inches from a Banshee who was plastered against it. The whole house shook now. My mom turned to my dad the moment he rushed into the room, which was alive with paranormal power. The windows cracked. “Everyone stand under a doorway.” My dad beckoned to the twins and they stood on either side of him.

Hobs’ hands went under my armpits and he dragged me to my feet. Babs was still wrapped around my neck like a monkey. I held tightly to her. We ran past the staircase and down the hall where he shoved us into my room. He slammed the door behind us, muffling the chanting from the Banshees. I could hear their hateful words out in the hall as they came closer.

“Mourn, mourn, mourn.

Star shall rule the sun and moon

 ‘ere morn.

Pain, pain, pain

Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

Shatter our pain.”

The clatter woke my shadow from her catnap and she sat up on my bed, her formerly perfect hair askew. Oh sure,
she
could sleep!

“Get away from the door!” Hobs warned. I turned to see it ripping from its hinges. Misty fingers traveled through the cracks. “Start singing!” His voice cracked. “Keep it bad!” I ran for my radio, singing at the top of my lungs. Maybe I could give the Banshees something better than my insubstantial voice. I clicked the radio onto our only rock station. “Yes, good, good,” Hobs said. “Find the worst song you can!”

“We don’t have that many stations here!” I argued.

“Find one about a truck or a dog or something! Something country. Faster!”

I traveled furiously through the channels, found a song about a star crossed-lover, and turned it up loud. The Banshees tried to out-wail it with their chants and I pumped the volume up all the way, trying not to snap the knob off in my panic. The Banshees pounded against the door, but I could tell they were losing their strength in the face of the competition. Babs’ lower lip jutted out. I stroked her soft bangs away from her face, trying to comfort her. I covered her ears. “Is this why faeries love music?” I shouted. “It keeps the Banshees away?”