The Banshee's Desire - By Victoria Richards Page 0,2

when she had strange thoughts like that?

She gave an involuntary shudder, trying to push away the morbid thoughts, but they clung to her. Jacqueline found herself again looking around the bar, 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 a rush it would be to sip on a soul before sending it on its merry way.

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 was to her, but Jacqueline could see 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."

"You have a weird look on your face."

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"You've been preoccupied lately." Angela took a shot and did a fist pump when she sank the ball in the pocket. "I've been worried."

"I'm fine."

"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 when she said Derek's name. Derek Spark had been a rouge wizard with an agenda which included seducing and tricking Angela. In the end, he'd resorted to threatening to kill her and Toby's mother Matilda. There had been a vicious battle, but Derek had been defeated.

Toby's son, Gabe, had killed him.

Gabe walked into the bar right then, carrying a heavy beer box. The disgruntled look on his young, handsome face said it all. Gabe obviously 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, looking after him. There was a wistfulness on her face Jacqueline didn't like. She'd seen it 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. "You don't want any of that. Gabe is just a twenty year old kid who doesn't understand the ways of the world very well."

"How could he? I mean, if I was raised in a family of morticians who never let me experience any fun in life, I might be a little off kilter, too."

You have no idea, Jacqueline thought.

"Still, he's kind of young for you. I mean, you are almost forty," Jacqueline pointed out.

"No, I 'm not! That's still…years away."

"He's twenty, Angela. It would be like training a puppy or something."

"A cute puppy with a nice ass."

"Don't go there."

"Well what about you then? Toby is older than you by several years, right? He would have been about Gabe's age when he had him." Angela gave her a speculative look. "Right?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but Toby was around eighteen when he and Gabe's mother got together," Jacqueline said. "They were too young to know what they were doing."

That wasn't quite true. But it was a good enough explanation for Angela. She didn't need to know about the laws of wizards and how the family lines were not allowed to mix.

"You never let me have any fun," Angela teased. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to be content with looking at the puppy."

Jacqueline smiled, but she wasn't sure Angela would be able to keep the promise. She knew her friend too well. When Angela saw something she wanted, she went after it. Gabe had better watch out.

A commotion at the bar got their attention.

The man marked for death slumped forward, and as Jacqueline watched, the darkness surrounding him grew more solid. She felt drawn to him, the urge to sing welling inside as it always did now when a soul was lost. Unable to help herself, she moved towards the bar.

Toby and Gabe were both bending over the man who appeared to be choking. Toby glanced at Jacqueline, seeing something on her face that alarmed him.

It was her eyes. Had to be. They turned a deep, unnatural green when her banshee nature went into action.

Gabe glanced at her and then back at the man who was trying to cough up whatever he'd swallowed. Wrapping his arms around the choker, he administered the Heimlich maneuver. With a whoosh of air, a peanut sailed out of the man's mouth and onto the bar.

The black matter