It was a woman. A woman screaming. I was sure for a single awful second that Serris had fallen, or jumped. But the sound of it rose up and up and grew in volume until it rang like a Church bell through the attic.
It came from outside, from inside, from far away, from a lover’s place right by your ear. And it sounded loud and high when it should have died and it went on long after human lungs should have been emptied of air and it sounded louder than thunder, louder than any blast of magic, louder than Other Albert’s most desperate agonized cry.
Gertriss was pale. Pale and shaking and saying something urgent, though her words were lost. She put the free end of the rope in my hands and, when I just stood there gaping, she slapped me hard across my wounded face and she wrapped the rope around my waist.
I came out of it enough to take the rope and brace myself, and then Gertriss kicked off her shoes and darted through the open panel and out into the night.
The rope jerked and dragged and went taut. I had just enough time to grab it hard with both hands when Gertriss came flying back inside and I was yanked off my feet and we wound up in a tangle on the floor, being dragged by the rope, which suddenly bore a young artist’s worth of weight bolstered by a short fall’s determined momentum.
Hands fell on me, as Marlo and Lady Werewilk yanked and pulled and cussed.
The scream died, cut off as suddenly as it began.
My ears rang. Gertriss and Marlo and Lady Werewilk all spoke, but I could hear nothing, and from their expressions I could tell they were experiencing the same sudden deafness.
Still, we managed to all take hold of the rope and pull, which brought the limp Miss Eaves finally up to and then through the open roof access panel.
The rope was looped under her arms. We scratched her up a bit dragging her back inside, and she lost a lock of golden hair in the corner of the opening, but she was breathing. I let Gertriss and Lady Werewilk adjust her flimsy nightgown while Marlo and I averted our eyes and collapsed against the wall.
“And that there is what we call a banshee,” were the first words I was able to hear, spoken by Marlo.
If Lady Werewilk heard she pretended not to.
Serris began to stir.
“She all right?” I shouted.
Gertriss nodded, spoke words I still couldn’t quite hear.
I shouted. “That was damned brave of you.”
“Grave for who?”
“Never mind,” I yelled. I rose, forgot to duck, banged my head on the low ceiling.
“I’m going outside,” I said.
“You’re a damn fool,” opined Marlo, who then surprised me. “I’ll go too.”
Serris came to her senses and erupted into shrieks and cries. I still wasn’t catching every word, but I gathered she’d seen something out there, and I had a good idea what it was.
Gertriss held Serris close and began to rock her. Before I’d managed to turn away she went quiet.
“Don’t waste your time, Mr. Markhat,” said Gertriss. “It’s gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She murmured something to Serris. “We both saw it leave.”
The girl started shaking again.
“We can talk downstairs,” I said. “Lady Werewilk? Can you arrange for someone to stay with Serris tonight?”
“She won’t be left alone, I assure you,” said Lady Werewilk. She moved to stand by Serris and Gertriss, leaned down, and laid a hand awkwardly on Serris’ shoulder.
“There, there,” she said. I gathered Lady Werewilk’s stock of comforting truisms designed for hysterical teenage mothers-to-be was nearly as limited as my own. “Everything will be all right. There’s no reason you can’t be an artist and a mother.”
Which nearly resulted in a fresh round of renewed bawling, an event avoided only by fervent whispering from Gertriss and her insistence that we leave the attic at once.
The banshee’s howl had scattered the artists and staff. They were beginning to creep back up the stairs, though. Most were brandishing walking sticks or chunks of firewood, so I called out before we descended lest some nervous pre-War abstract impressionist decide to wax heroic.
Serris and Gertriss were quickly mobbed by artists, who cooed and wooed at the same time and generally embarrassed the poor girl to death.
“All right,” I shouted over the din. “The young lady is fine. The sound you heard came from outside. No, I don’t know what made it. No, we didn’t see anything. You, you, and you-” I pointed at random, picking out the three largest male painters who weren’t wobbling. “-get downstairs. See that the doors are locked. All the doors. Right now, son.”
I said the last in an Army bark perfected during my eight years in the War. Earnest young men darted for the stairs.
Gertriss chuckled despite herself.
“You’d make a fine pig-herder,” she said.
“Great. Let’s get out of here and buy a herd of swine.”
“Be a might safer.” Gertriss let Serris go into the hands of a trio of female artists, who covered Serris in a blanket and made what I assumed were the appropriate noises of commiseration and encouragement.
Marlo appeared at my side. His face was grim. “Need to get a few things. Meet you at the front door.”
And he lumbered away, bowling over artists as he went.
Lady Werewilk and Gertriss raised eyebrows. I suppose Lady Werewilk hadn’t heard Marlo and I plan our expedition.
Both began to question the wisdom of proceeding outdoors. I raised my own eyebrow at Lady Werewilk, who had not very long ago cast scorn on the very idea that banshees walked her woods.
“You’ve got the whole estate cooped up in here. Unless you want start assigning them bedrooms, we’ve got to make sure it’s safe for them to go home,” I said, resorting to practicality. “Marlo and I are going door-to-door before anyone leaves. Lock your doors behind us. We’ll need torches.”
Inspiration struck.
“I’ll be right back. Have the torches ready.”
I hit the stairs, huffing and puffing. Gertriss caught up to me easily, her face set in the same expression of unshakable pig-headedness Mama wore when she got her dander up.
“Don’t even bother, Mr. Markhat,” she said. “I promised Mama I’d keep an eye on you.”
“I promised Mama the same thing.” I couldn’t get all the words out in one breath. “Last thing I need out there is another body to watch.”
“And what you need most is somebody who can use Sight to see in the dark.”
“We’ll have torches.”
We finally reached the landing. I hustled into my room, Gertriss still on my heels, and yanked Toadsticker from his wrapping of old shirts.
“Torches won’t show what you need to be a seein’.”
“You slip back into country talk when you’re agitated, Miss.”
“And you change the subject when you know you’re wrong, mister.”
I shrugged. Gertriss went still, and I swear the room got cold.
She closed her eyes.
The hairs on the back of my neck tried to fall in formation and march.
“What are you doing?”
“Having a look,” she said, slurring her words.
She tensed.
“It’s back. Not close, but thinking about it.”
“Which direction?”
Gertriss lifted her right arm, pointed, then turned. I figured she was facing the barn we’d set as out last- resort meeting place.
