Of Breakable Things (26 page)

“Banshee,” Darby began, “in the physical world is derived from Irish myth as an omen of death. The Irish weren’t far off. They just had it backwards. A banshee does not
warn
someone of their imminent death; it can often be the cause.”

Alex’s stomach tightened. She attempted to take notes, but her hand trembled too much.

“A banshee’s shriek can cause heart attacks in the bodied, but only to those who have an uncharacteristically vast sense of hearing. Most humans cannot hear the scream at all, even if the beast is hovering right next to them.”

Alex shivered again.

“Celtic Christians had an even more accurate description for banshees. They called them ‘fallen angels,’ which in a sense is correct. The scariest aspect about a banshee is that you or I could all too easily become one of these decrepitly hollow creatures. A banshee is simply a spirit like us whose mind has been shattered. It still exists but in pieces. Now I’m not saying we’re angels, per se, but we could be mistaken for them.”

It was hard for Alex to believe that this vile being had been born from a normal spirit. The image zoomed in on the banshee’s face. She couldn’t bear to look at it. Her whole being zinged with discomfort.

“Folklore mistakes banshees to be only female, probably due to their frail frames and, sorry to say it, ladies, but female spirits have a higher tendency to lose control of their minds. Don’t shoot the messenger,” Darby said defensively. “I’m just citing statistics. A banshee remains in this world because he or she still has somewhat of a mind, though it doesn’t function. If you notice the features of its face—” Dr. Darby gestured with such vigor that the momentum caused the image to ripple.

The image billowed like an enemy flag, floating towards her. Alex felt heavy, clammy, distressed. She hunched forward and cradled her throbbing head in her hands, and appropriately on cue, a rumble of thunder resonated outside.

“The purple rings under its eyes are something to be thankful for. Banshees have no reason, no thought processes besides the will to survive. They’ve gone back to their primal instincts, like wild animals. They barely function enough to realize that they need sleep, so eventually they just fall to the ground in a heap. The more tired they appear the less strength they have, and thus the better chance of your survival.”

Alex raised a trembling hand.

Darby didn’t seem surprised. “Do you need some air?”

Alex shook her head. If she left class now, there would be nothing else to fill her mind besides the low wail echoing in her ears. “Why are they so strong if they have little brainpower?”

His face brightened in surprise. “Very good question. Just because a banshee can’t control its mind doesn’t mean the power is gone. A banshee has nothing else besides force. It isn’t thinking about what it is doing, nor does it care, since the mind is broken.”

“And by broken, you mean … what?”

“Without repair. A completely maniacal being without a thread of sanity. Unfortunately, we all have demons stitched into the patchwork of our souls. We cannot allow them to become strong enough to rip us apart.”

“Does it happen in life? Or just in the afterlife?”

“Both. Strength of soul has nothing to do with the condition of the mind. A body without mental sanity can still transition into the afterlife.”

“There’s no treatment?”

“There are theories. Research. No cure thus far, however.”

Alex thought of the way the creature thrashed and convulsed in a rain of sparks. “Why the frenzy of electricity?”

Lightning flashed outside and the projection of the banshee flickered.

Darby shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight dress pants. “Fury. They can’t control anything, let alone their feelings.” He took a step closer to Alex. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about the one you encountered? What did you do to anger it?”

Jack guffawed beside her. “I heard she sent it flying across town.”

Reuben scooted his chair even further away from Alex.

“What does it sound like?” Joey Rellingsworth asked.

Alex glanced at Dr. Darby, who gave her the go-ahead by waving his hand.

“It’s hard to describe.” Her peers leaned toward her, listening with morbid fascination. Even Tess widened her bored, hooded eyelids. “The worst part wasn’t so much the sound of the scream, but the pain like arrows being shot into my brain.” Alex cupped her skull with her hands. “I can still feel it if I think about it.”

Darby flinched. “Unfortunately, that never goes away.”

“You’ve heard it too?”

“Only once.” He pulled his sleeves back to reveal a maze of scars. A girl next to him gasped. In some places, circular gray contusions marked his thin arms like rocks had skipped across a lazy lake and left permanent imprints. In others, it looked like a whip had cracked against his skin, indenting his arms without altering the pigmentation, like the skin had simply been scooped out.

“It attacked me even though I didn’t provoke it. It was so close I had to use my bare hands. This is from the electricity.”

Newburies stood up to get a better look at his battle wounds. “How did you survive?” Linton asked.

“I ran at it. I threw my entire body at the creature. I’d been fighting it so long I figured doing so would either kill me much faster or it would save me. Thank goodness it was the latter. It wounded both of us enough to end the fight. When I awoke, all I had left were the scars.” He gently replaced his sleeves. “Such a lengthy exposure should have been detrimental to your mind, Alex. The fact that you sit here with us now is nothing short of a miracle. You must be pretty durable.”

Of half-crazy herself.

“What could’ve happened?” Linton asked.

“If she had been exposed to the scream long enough, it would have driven her to the point of insanity. Within minutes she would have lost everything that makes her who she is, and she would have become one of them.”

Alex could have heard a pin drop in the classroom. No wonder the Patrol had behaved so oddly after they’d found her. They thought her mind had surrendered to the scream.

Joey gasped. “It can’t kill us?”

“Not by wailing.” Dr. Darby shook his head. “Remember, you exist because your mind exists. A banshee’s scream causes the mind to crack into pieces. Those pieces are still alive, but broken apart, they cannot function. It’s a fate worse than death. Your mind no longer belongs to you.” He flicked his hand and the image changed to a drawing of a banshee hovering over a lifeless human form.

“How come Alex still has her mind, then?”

Darby shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. She was lucky, I suppose. Alex, don’t scream though, just in case.”

She regarded him with trepidation. “Are you saying that a scream can shatter someone’s thoughts? Ruin their mind?”

“A voice is a powerful thing.”

“How are they hunted?” Reuben called out louder than Alex had ever heard him speak.

Finally, a topic he enjoyed.

“The Patrol contain them if they are able to. Most banshees are destroyed in their attempts to fight back, however.”

“How do they fight them?”

“Training. They know their habits, their weaknesses, and how to keep them from screaming. Plus, they rarely battle alone.”

Darby waved his hand again and the next image appeared on the screen. It resembled a Louisiana bayou with its drooping dull green branches and muddy gray water. “Banshees do not wander into our area, which is why the sightings have raised questions. Banshees are prone to warmer climates because they are attracted to energy. They flock to the swamps for the seclusion. Now whether their attraction to swamp plants is a result of this habitat or if it is simply a part of their survival strategy, we don’t know, but they have been known to appear in areas that grow bladderwort and sundew.”

“What the heck are those?” Linton yelled.

“Here is where we get into your science lesson. Be sure to take notes,” Darby recommended. Another image appeared. “Drosera!” Darby’s voice rang from the rafters. “Typically referred to as sundew!” It looked like an alien slug. Dozens of purplish-red antennae sprouted from its green peapod body. “If you notice the ends of the tentacles, there are bulbs composed of an oozing substance called mucilage, which lures insects to their deaths. The insects are attracted to the syrupy scent, and once they venture near enough to touch it, they adhere to the liquid and the sundew envelops them.”

Ironically, Alex thought the vicious plant was rather pretty. It was more like something that would live at the bottom of the Caribbean, not in a disgusting bog somewhere.

“The second plant, Utricularia, or bladderwort, is also carnivorous. A teardrop-shaped pouch opens at the sharp point to swallow its prey, much like a beak. These traps protrude from the stem-like tree branches.”

“Is there a picture of the bladderwort?” Madison asked curiously.

“You were supposed to see them up close and personal. I thought there were plenty in stock here to show you, but it seems the number has depreciated.” He squinted into Duvall’s tank. “We’ll have to live without a visual for the time being.”

At the end of class, everyone visited Duvall’s aquarium, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Darby described to be “banshee catchers.”

Duvall scoffed. “Bladderworts in November? Any idiot knows that they won’t bloom again until May!”

Chase walked toward Alex, who stood with her back to him in the Brigitta vestibule, watching the rain pelt the pavement. He didn’t need for her to turn around to know it was her. He could probably wander the world with his eyes closed and somehow eventually find her. That was how he’d felt the past year without her. Blind. Did it make him a horrible person that he wanted her to die just so he could have her back again? He’d always been drawn to her. It seemed the strings of his life were attached to hers. If she tugged in one direction, they both had to move. In two separate worlds, the pain of the pull was too much to live with but also too much to live without. Marionettes don’t do well without their strings.

Most of the spirits venturing across the square had given up on the idea of umbrellas. Vicious raindrops fell like stones, and they stung like paintballs. The other day, he'd overhead a newbury asking Westfall how pain could exist when spirits existed only as energy. Westfall had replied by saying the reflection of the sun on the ocean stings the eyes nearly equally to the pain of staring at the sun itself. Like most of the veteran spirits, Westfall liked to speak in rhymes and metaphors.

Chase came up behind Alex, and her body relaxed as the pull of the strings slackened.

“Hey,” she murmured without turning around. The colors flickering around her changed from lavender to bright pink. He’d grown accustomed to seeing the rainbows of emotions around people. Usually he saw lavender during workshops when someone was staring into space or out the window, daydreaming. He usually saw pinks and reds around Alex.

Chase wrapped his arms around her waist. He would never tire of the way her touch sent shockwaves throughout him.

“This isn’t going to be fun,” Alex said, gesturing out the window. “Thank goodness I don’t bruise so easily anymore.”

Chase sighed. There was something about Alex that was still very fragile, but he couldn’t say that to her now. It wasn’t a bad thing. The most beautiful things in the world were also the most breakable.

Alex turned to look over her shoulder, and he couldn’t help himself. He grazed his nose against her cheek. The feeling was better than skin-on-skin contact in life. Here touch had a current, a life of its own. Although, his mind clung to its old sensations, too, like when his stomach dipped because his lips hovered so close to hers.

It took all his strength to take a step back. He still didn’t know how much was allowed. In life, the only thing he ever cared about was keeping her safe, and that included her heart. He had watched her body slowly deteriorate, and it tortured him to witness it. How could he be selfish enough to fall for her if that would only make her death more painful? He’d never imagined they’d get an opportunity like this one. They couldn’t have dreamed of a better place. His feelings were so strong now, but what would happen to him—what would happen to
her
—if he gave in for just one moment and decided to kiss her? Half of him worried the force of it might devour the slice of life they still had. The other half of him feared it wouldn’t be perfect, that it might not live up to the years of desire they’d both endured only dreaming about it.

That was the thing about them. The intensity between them was not born from their death. When they were alive, sometimes he couldn’t breathe because she was just too much. It would always be all or nothing with them. And he’d rather have this uncertainty between them than broken expectations.

He tugged at her hand. “Come on.”

She followed reluctantly when he led her to the door. The force of the rain would feel like stepping through sheets of glass, but Chase would choose to brave this hurricane with Alex tucked beside him rather than choose to walk in the sunlight alone for the rest of his existence.