Shade of Pale (29 page)

The drum rolled away, making a hollow thumping sound as it bounced downhill. It splashed into the lake, sending crazy ripples radiating over the surface. The moonlight reflected off the hundreds of shimmering little humps of water, all moving outward in formation.

The Banshee, still attached to the drum, twisted and writhed as it rolled, struggling to free herself.

She stopped fading. The air pressure changed.

Jukes's hand had been numb until the collision with O'Connor. But the impact sent a shock wave of pain through his body that threatened to render him unconscious.

With superhuman determination, Jukes soldiered on—kept moving and stayed focused. He drove O'Connor downhill to the water's edge.

The painful hole Bobby had bored into Jukes's hand seemed to radiate energy now. He transcended the pain.

Jukes Wahler fought like a man with nothing to lose and the world to gain. He rammed his good fist into O'Connor's face, putting the full weight of his body behind it. O'Connor turned and deflected a portion of the blow, and Jukes couldn't swing his other hand.

Jukes's heart sank when he realized that his initial attack had done little but jar the drum loose. He hadn't hurt O'Connor at all.

Padraic recovered from the surprise quickly. He was, after all, a trained killer, a guerrilla commando with years of life-and-death experience, and Jukes, the good doctor, was no match.

O'Connor kicked Jukes in the stomach and, when he doubled over, chopped down hard on the back of his neck.

“You bastard!” O'Connor screamed. “Do you have any idea what you've done? I nearly had her! You fucking ruined everything!”

Jukes fell and rolled into the water. O'Connor was on him instantly, raining blows.

“I'll kill you for this!”

In water up to their waists, O'Connor held Jukes down.

Stars swirled before his eyes like tiny tropical fish and he couldn't breathe. Jukes faced death. Somewhere in his mind, the Banshee sang.

Fiona ran toward Jukes and O'Connor. It all happened too fast—Jukes came out of nowhere; then he and the Irishman were in the water struggling. Jukes was hurt.

Fiona charged toward them.

Her rage was channeled by a single thought; it focused on saving Jukes.

She watched as O'Connor held Jukes's head under. She reached the water's edge and splashed toward them desperately.

She was distantly aware of the Banshee, rising above them with her hair streaming, watching O'Connor. Her mouth came open to sing.

O'Connor heard the first notes of the Banshee's death song and cringed. His earplugs had been knocked out in the struggle, the goggles were gone, and the drum now rolled in the lapping waves twenty feet away.

Fiona punched O'Connor's face. Then again, and again. She tore at him with her fingernails, but O'Connor held Jukes down like a machine. He endured Fiona's blows, single-minded in his pursuit of drowning Jukes.

Fiona used every pound of courage in her body and hit O'Connor as hard as she could in the nose. She thought she felt something break.

Jukes had been under now for almost a minute. Fiona panicked and tried to pry O'Connor's hands loose, but they were like iron.

The Banshee sang high and clear, like an operatic declaration of vengeance. Her voice became excruciatingly loud in a matter of seconds.

In one soaring, unreal glissando, she peaked.

O'Connor's heart exploded. His chest blew open in a red eruption that rocked the water. Fiona, sprayed with blood, frantically dived for Jukes, who'd gone under and stayed there.

She found him immediately, bobbing just below the surface. Where O'Connor had been standing a moment ago now there were only parts of him, floating in the black water streaked with red.

The Banshee was gone.

George Jones and the local sheriff arrived just ahead of the ambulance. As they rounded the lake they saw a blinding light in the sky, hovering just above the lake. An unbelievable sound came from it, like a woman wailing as loud as a jet engine. As they drove closer it drowned out the sound of their own sirens.

Now George could see the image of a luminous woman, hovering above the water, casting a blinding light. Two figures were plainly visible: a woman struggling with a man.

“What the hell is that?” George said.

The sheriff shrugged. “I don't know, but it sure is loud.”

They stopped their vehicles and ran toward the lake, despite the sound and light.

George looked up just in time to see the man's chest explode as if it had been hit with a hollow-point .57 Magnum slug. The man's upper body disintegrated as the woman dived under the water.

By the time George was close enough, he could recognize Jukes Wahler, bobbing to the surface in the woman's arms.

Fiona pulled Jukes toward the shore and looked up to see George Jones coming toward her.

“Help me!” she cried. “He's not breathing!”

The paramedics from the ambulance were right behind George, and they carried Jukes to safety. Fiona followed them in a willful frenzy; George had to hold her back while the paramedics administered critical aid. Time stood still for her while Jukes struggled for life.

After several anxious moments they revived him. The sound of his coughing brought tears of joy to her face.

“Oh, God! Oh, my God,” she sobbed and fell into George's arms. He comforted her.

“Did you see Cathy?” she asked.

George nodded. “They found her back up the hill. They're taking care of her now. I don't think she's hurt too bad.”

“The Banshee saved Jukes's life She killed Bobby Sudden … and him.” Fiona pointed at the human debris floating in the water.

“What was that thing in the sky? Did I really see that?”

Fiona looked at George, her eyes glistening with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and she began to sob.

The sheriff's men gathered around Bobby Sudden; his steamy ruins had already begun attracting insects.

Flashing red and blue lights filled the night.

Jukes Wahler opened his eyes and looked down at himself surrounded by paramedics. He watched and wondered if he'd died. He was floating above the scene, out of his body, as light as air.

He saw Fiona crying.

I must be dead
, he thought.

The Banshee appeared next to him, a beautiful young girl again, the eternal tear glistening in her eye. She looked at Jukes and shook her head.

Jukes realized that he was alone with the Banshee in her own universe. He'd left his body behind and entered the spirit world.

She gazed into his eyes, past his heart, and into his soul. Jukes returned her gaze and saw himself clearly in the reflection, pitiful and helpless, and profoundly longing to be alive.

That's what she sees
, he thought.
She sees the real me, all of me. She sees the dark side. The hypocrite, the coward, the liar, the fool, everything
.

He panicked for a moment, realizing that everything about him was suddenly laid bare. His own fears and doubts were revealed to her as if they were nothing but an inconsequential passing cloud. To her, with the weight of centuries on her shoulders, that had to be what they seemed, as formless as clouds, drifting through one small corner of time. Insignificant. One microscopic frozen moment held against the infinity of her domain.

But she also sees
the
good. That's the saving grace
.

Jukes thought,
Why do you walk the earth? Why can't you be free?

The mighty Banshee, the eternal avenger of womankind, silenced him with her soundless command.

Self-realization flooded Jukes.

The time had come, he realized, and he'd faced his own failures and fears. For so long he had tried to help others; now he was finally able to help himself.

Physician, heal thyself
.

He realized the monstrous thing O'Connor had almost done. Destroying the Banshee would be destroying nature. She was the uncomplicated truth, unspoiled by logic, simple as fate.

She pointed down at his body, and he understood it was not time for him to die yet. He had to return.

Then she disappeared, a shadow exposed to light.

Come back!

But she was gone on a wisp of smoke, and there was nothing left but the hushed sigh of the wind across the water.

Come back!

Someone shouted, “He's comin' around! Looks like he's gonna make it!”

Jukes opened his eyes and saw Fiona elbowing her way through the paramedics.

“Is Cathy OK?” he asked.

Three people answered in unison, yes, she was.

Fiona threw her arms around Jukes and said, “I love you.”

Jukes managed a smile. “I love you, too. Can we go home now?”

EPILOGUE

After hours of surgery to repair his hand and an eternity in the recovery room, Jukes now had his chance to talk to Fiona and George.

Fiona stood next to his hospital bed and explained to George and Jukes what she could. “Cathy's already in detox,” she said.

“Detox?”

“Yeah. Bobby had addicted her to heroin. The medics found out when they treated her for her other injuries.”

Jukes said, “Jesus. No wonder he could control her so easily.”

“Well, it's over now. Thank God she's OK, and thank God you're still alive.”

“It must be our luck,” Jukes said.

Fiona shook her head. “Luck had nothing to do with it. It was fate. Fate and the Banshee.”

George raised an eyebrow. “You're losin' me. What does fate have to do with it?”

Fiona held Jukes's good hand. Her voice was warm and soothing.

“The Banshee is a creature of destiny; she follows the lines of fate. You've heard that old saying that a butterfly flapping its wings in China affects the weather in New York. Well, that's actually true in certain respects.

“Human beings live lives of interlocking destinies. One person touches another, who touches another, who affects the fate of still another. We're all wrapped up in it, the tangled web of fate, and none can escape.

“The Banshee isn't so much a master of fate, because I don't think she can change destiny, but she can manipulate it and place herself at crucial junctures, like waters flowing in a stream that forks, carrying some one way and some the other. She knows what will happen, and she appears at the precise moment that will affect destiny the most.”

Fiona pointed at George. “What were the odds of you stumbling onto the one clue to Bobby's whereabouts? Then equally improbable was the fact that Bobby would be in the theater when you went to look.”

“A series of unlikely coincidences,” Jukes said. “That's what O'Malley said.”

Fiona shook her head. “It was more than coincidence; it was fate—fate carefully manipulated by the Banshee, don't you see? Bobby would be in that theater at some point, and George would have gone in at some point, and at some point Panelli would have been shot, but only the Banshee knew when and how. She simply tipped the first domino over and caused events to fire off at intervals that best suited her plan.

“You could say the series of unlikely coincidences was nothing more than the Banshee's carefully choreographed dance of destinies.”

George smiled. “I think you guys are cracked.”

“But you saw it with your own eyes.”

George shrugged. “My eyes ain't that great.”

“George will never admit that anything supernatural exists; it's not his nature,” Jukes said.

“Damn right it's not. Everybody thinks I'm a psychic now; it's terrible. I do good police work, that's all. Nothing spooky about that. You'd think the newspapers never heard of a successful investigation. If I get hunches, I play 'em. Sometimes it pans out; sometimes it doesn't. You never hear from those jokers then.”

“Was Bobby the strangler?” Jukes asked.

George nodded. “We had some experts go over his computer, and they turned up some very grisly evidence. Bobby had an extensive business going on the Web, selling digital photos of murder victims. The FBI's got it now. The trail leads all over the world. There's no shortage of sickos these days.

“And the guy you thought was Charlie O'Malley was really a terrorist with an outlaw group called the Black Rain. His real name was Padraic O'Connor.

“I got this thing pretty much nailed down, except for everybody thinkin' I'm a damn soothsayer.”

Jukes said, “Well, George, that's your fate.”

George nodded. “Yeah, I guess so, but all this supernatural crap is outta my league. Speaking of fate, what does the future hold for you?”

Jukes looked at Fiona. “Fiona and I are getting married. Cathy's going to be in therapy for a long time. When she's finished, we'll take care of her until she's back on her feet.”

Jukes paused and smiled as if enjoying some private joke. “And then, I'm gonna take some time off and learn to play the drums.”

“The drums?”

“Well, George, you never know.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As usual, there are numerous individuals who aided me, comforted me, guided me, inspired me, taught me, and suckled me in the writing of this novel: Lori Perkins, Natalia Aponte, Peter Rubie, Joel Turtle, Kirk Iventosch, Jay Arafiles, Tananarive Due, Mike Marano, Tina Jens, Barbara Shelley, Ry Kihn, Steve Wright, Alexis Kihn, and the guys at KFOX. God bless 'em all.

About the Author

NBC called Greg Kihn “Rock's True Renaissance Man.” His career stretches from the dawn of punk and indie rock to the discos of the 1980s to the glory days of MTV. As a pioneer with the legendary Beserkley Records, he helped write the book on revolutionary West Coast rock 'n' roll.

In the 1990s Greg turned his attention to writing fiction. He published four novels and a handful of short stories in various anthologies, and edited a compilation of original fiction by famous musicians.
Horror Show
was nominated for the Bram Stoker Award for Best First Novel.