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“There was a legend I’d heard when I was younger, before the Battle of Beacon County, before…any of this had happened. That a banshee, if strong enough, could survive death.”
The aging Phoenix chuckled a dry chuckle, smiling a wry smile.
“What we didn’t know was the price that would be paid if she did.”
Parrish pressed a button to bring up a picture of a young woman wearing a scarlet red wrap around dress. The smile was wide, inviting, and showed a happiness that didn’t seem to exist in this world any more. Her hair was swept up off her shoulders, showing the long line of her neck, hand showing off a modest sized diamond, and a young man, looking like a much younger Parrish, grinning just as widely.
Looking down the dark hallway, past the assembled youths scratching down notes in old note books that had been washed clear of their ink for the next generation of recruits to use, Parrish heard the hymn start playing.
O' Death, O' Death, O' Death,
Won't you spare me over another year...
Sitting back in his chair, feeling the air take on a distinct chill, he felt his vision start to waver. Looking at his pupils, they didn’t notice anything amiss. Smiling a secret smile, he nodded his head, this dance, being an old one.
But what is this, that I can't see,
With ice cold hands taking hold of me.
“Do we have any banshees in the room?”
The collection of Otherworldly creatures looked between each other, a slow shaking of the head. There were wolves from the McCall and Hale clans. Seers from the Stilinski tribe. Even a few Augmented Hunters from the Argent compound on cultural exchange, but no banshees. They were one of the rarest breeds around on this side of the war, most having defected to the Other Side when the war broke out, and set a division between humans, and non-human.
“Good. This lesson doesn’t usually sit well with them. Who knows what a Banshee’s Wail is for?”
One of the students got to her feet, shifting a little uncomfortably as all eyes were on her.
“Harbinger of death, and it clears their minds to focus in on where the death is going to take place.”
Parrish nodded his head.
“And?”
The young Were looked confused.
“And what Sir?”
“What else is their scream used for?”
Looking at her squad mates for help, she was met with a collection of vacant stares and shrugged shoulders.
“Take your seat. It’s okay. I didn’t know it until it was too late.”
When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,
Who will have mercy on your soul?
Drawing in a breath, he smiled as he saw the figure walking down the hallway behind his class. Someone, somewhere else in the compound was going to scream very soon.
“It signals the presence of Death, and if the Banshee is strong enough, can let them survive a brush with Death.”
White hands rested on the burned out door frame of the classroom they’d taken over after liberating the high school from the Under Beings. Trailing through the dirt and grime, it remained undisturbed.
“But you said there was a price.”
O' Death, O' Death,
“Hmmm?”
(O' Death... O' Death...)
“Master Parrish…you said there was a price that you didn’t know about.
Looking to the door as the figure came out of shadow, pale flesh peeking through black lace, cinched together with an ebony pin, carved in the shape of the Tree of Life. Strawberry blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders, with blood red lips standing out against the grave pallor her skin now wore.
No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold,
Nothing satisfies me but your soul. (O' Death…)
Parrish sat back in his chair, mouth open, but no words came from him just yet. He was captivated by her beauty, simultaneously loving, and hating that he was seeing her. He always felt her presence though, never too far away, even when her job took her a world away.
“A Banshee’s scream…if it’s strong enough…can save them from Death, by destroying Death.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
Well I am Death, none can excel,
I'll open the door to heaven or hell.
Parrish didn’t even try to brush away the tear as it fell from his cheek.
“By destroying Death…She became Death.”
O' Death, (O' Death...)
Feeling Lydia move to him, he didn’t resist as he felt her hands caress his cheek. Tilting his jaw up, he felt the ice cold lips of the woman he loved press against his, in a dance that went back hundreds of years. Before the Battle of Beacon Country. Before the Opening of the Door. Before the Piercing of the Veil. Before the Fall of Humanity.
Before they had a care in the world.
Relaxing in his seat, he felt the burning heat rising in his chest. His mouth opened, but no scream came from him. Watching as the smoke rose from his body, the figure stepped back, and looked over the class.
Taking a breath, she whispered, “My name is Death…”
As the fire died down, and Parrish sat there, whole, and as young as he was in the picture, he took a shuddering breath in. Coughing out bits of smoke and ash, he ran his hand through his hair, knocking the soot loose. Looking around the room, Parrish felt a sad smile take a hold of his face. He only ever saw her close to the end.
and the end is here…