By C.L. Collar
The Banshee's Bargain
He turned and slowly
made his way back to the fire. Her timing was horrible. He wasn’t ready to meet
his maker. He had so many things left to do, but most importantly, he needed to
get his novel published so he could leave his family debt-free. The bank had
given him one more week. She wouldn’t.
As he entered the
parlor, he was greeted by a beautiful woman dressed to the nines in the latest
fashion. She had already poured herself
a brandy from the decanter that always sat on the sidebar. In fact, she had made
herself right at home. She took a dainty sip of the sweet liquor and sat back
in her chair, smiling.
Thomas had heard
that the Banshee could take this guise, but he really hadn't believed it was
true. Apparently, he was wrong. He poured himself a whiskey and sat down in the
chair facing hers.
“I’m glad to see someone will get enjoyment from my death,” he said, nonchalantly twirling his drink.
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