envisioned herself drifting to the tiled floor, her astral body followed.
"That's better." The woman sat on the edge of the bed. Behind her, Matilda moaned and moved restlessly. "Oops, I don't want to sit to close, but my feet are killing me. I hate wearing heels, but I think a good first impression is important. Don't you?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm Death, Irish Division."
The woman smiled and Jacqueline realized that her eyes were actually a deep, swirling black.
"Death? As in the big guy, Death? The one walking around with the big scary axe thingy?" Jacqueline took a small step back. "I always thought you'd be…taller."
"I appear how I want according to the situation. I made quite an impression in the Middle Ages with the whole Grim Reaper look." Death sighed. "I just hated wearing those long robes. So unflattering to my hips."
Jacqueline didn't know whether to laugh or run away screaming. The whole situation just felt so absurd, so surreal. She was talking to Death!
"Your robes are nice," Death said, looking at the soft material. "Your ancestors all had an excellent sense of fashion."
"Is this, like, my uniform or something?" Jacqueline held out her hands. "And what's up with the fingernails?"
"It's a shame that Mr. Williams had to destroy the banshee who came before you. I charge all of those in the business of death with training new recruits properly." Death shook her head. "However, these things can't be helped and I know that your wizard was only doing what was best. In many ways, I think destroying Enya was a blessing for her. After all, her will was not her own."
"Enya? That was her name? The hag?"
"Yes, she was an old spirit, been at the job since the 1700's. She was actually quite beautiful in her day."
"Wait a second. Are you telling me that Enya had been a banshee for over 300 years?"
"Give or a take a few centuries," Death said with a shrug. "I don't keep track of everything."
"Is that a normal length of time for a banshee?"
"Yes. You have to understand, a banshee isn't born every day. It's not like the gene is that common. True, it runs within a family bloodline, but it remains dormant until that one little fetus is created, the one that embraces the gene." Death smiled at Jacqueline. "That's just what you did, dear. Enya knew the moment another banshee had been conceived. She's hovered around you all these years, waiting and watching--though you never knew."
Jacqueline couldn't believe all that Death was revealing to her. She'd never imagined the process of becoming a banshee to be such a commitment. Three hundred years of service…would she be expected to maintain that, too?
"So now that Enya is gone and I'm not quite a full banshee, what happens next?" Jacqueline asked.
"That's a very good question." Death slanted her eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I haven't decided. My boss has charged me with figuring this one out on my own, but I have to admit that it's a difficult situation. You aren't the first of your kind, you know. We've had…abnormalities before, but we'd like to try and work this out with you. I don't think a repeat of the past is what we need."
"You have a boss?" Jacqueline figured that Death would be in charge of all things. "And when you say repeat of the past--what do you mean? What happened before?"
"I'm hardly the end all be all, no matter what the storybooks might say. I don't have a paper scroll that I carry around with the names of people on it about to die. Not anymore anyway. Now I just use my iPad. So much faster," Death laughed before her features grew serious. "Jacqueline, there's always someone above you in the chain of death."
"God? Is He your boss?" Jacqueline felt herself flush with excitement. To think that she might get an answer to a question everyone wanted to know about!
"She. Not He! And while there is a higher power, that's still not who I answer to," Death said. "I'm just the Irish Death. There's other Death's out there, all assigned to
"That's better." The woman sat on the edge of the bed. Behind her, Matilda moaned and moved restlessly. "Oops, I don't want to sit to close, but my feet are killing me. I hate wearing heels, but I think a good first impression is important. Don't you?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm Death, Irish Division."
The woman smiled and Jacqueline realized that her eyes were actually a deep, swirling black.
"Death? As in the big guy, Death? The one walking around with the big scary axe thingy?" Jacqueline took a small step back. "I always thought you'd be…taller."
"I appear how I want according to the situation. I made quite an impression in the Middle Ages with the whole Grim Reaper look." Death sighed. "I just hated wearing those long robes. So unflattering to my hips."
Jacqueline didn't know whether to laugh or run away screaming. The whole situation just felt so absurd, so surreal. She was talking to Death!
"Your robes are nice," Death said, looking at the soft material. "Your ancestors all had an excellent sense of fashion."
"Is this, like, my uniform or something?" Jacqueline held out her hands. "And what's up with the fingernails?"
"It's a shame that Mr. Williams had to destroy the banshee who came before you. I charge all of those in the business of death with training new recruits properly." Death shook her head. "However, these things can't be helped and I know that your wizard was only doing what was best. In many ways, I think destroying Enya was a blessing for her. After all, her will was not her own."
"Enya? That was her name? The hag?"
"Yes, she was an old spirit, been at the job since the 1700's. She was actually quite beautiful in her day."
"Wait a second. Are you telling me that Enya had been a banshee for over 300 years?"
"Give or a take a few centuries," Death said with a shrug. "I don't keep track of everything."
"Is that a normal length of time for a banshee?"
"Yes. You have to understand, a banshee isn't born every day. It's not like the gene is that common. True, it runs within a family bloodline, but it remains dormant until that one little fetus is created, the one that embraces the gene." Death smiled at Jacqueline. "That's just what you did, dear. Enya knew the moment another banshee had been conceived. She's hovered around you all these years, waiting and watching--though you never knew."
Jacqueline couldn't believe all that Death was revealing to her. She'd never imagined the process of becoming a banshee to be such a commitment. Three hundred years of service…would she be expected to maintain that, too?
"So now that Enya is gone and I'm not quite a full banshee, what happens next?" Jacqueline asked.
"That's a very good question." Death slanted her eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I haven't decided. My boss has charged me with figuring this one out on my own, but I have to admit that it's a difficult situation. You aren't the first of your kind, you know. We've had…abnormalities before, but we'd like to try and work this out with you. I don't think a repeat of the past is what we need."
"You have a boss?" Jacqueline figured that Death would be in charge of all things. "And when you say repeat of the past--what do you mean? What happened before?"
"I'm hardly the end all be all, no matter what the storybooks might say. I don't have a paper scroll that I carry around with the names of people on it about to die. Not anymore anyway. Now I just use my iPad. So much faster," Death laughed before her features grew serious. "Jacqueline, there's always someone above you in the chain of death."
"God? Is He your boss?" Jacqueline felt herself flush with excitement. To think that she might get an answer to a question everyone wanted to know about!
"She. Not He! And while there is a higher power, that's still not who I answer to," Death said. "I'm just the Irish Death. There's other Death's out there, all assigned to
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