"They do it at night, ya know? It's when the sun sets and the warm water rises on the lake . . . That's when they do it."

"What are you on about Sam? You make no sense when you get like this," Rachel said while casually flipping her hair from side to side. It was much like trying to shake her thoughts out of her head during meditation.  She couldn't will it, so she tried to physically force it. 

Nights on the lake were chilly at first and downright frigid just before the sun came up.  The pair sat on folding chairs and wrapped in blankets while a small fire crackled and danced before them.  Rachel had a small screw top carton of zinfandel and Sam was slowly sobering as chip after cookie, after cold bean and cheese burrito steadily disappeared.  He swallowed down gulps of orange soda between bites. Rachel could see the thoughts connecting in Sam's unfocused gaze.  She didn't like where this was heading. 

"The government.  When it's dark and late, they start recording you.  They watch what you do and . . . " at this point Sam started giggling until it broke into a sob.  

Rachel was used to this and preferred when Sam was high.  A high Sam didn't talk.  The mood was dark, but he didn't say much.  The time between being high and fading to sober were the most manic. In these times, Rachel normally just let Sam spew his nonsense. 

This night the wine warmed her and the soft moonlight seemed to empower her. Rachel was trying desperately to think of anything but Brandon.  Naturally, he was all she could think of and that put her in a bad mood. 

Sam was always company.  Sam wanted to hang out because he couldn't stand being alone.  He was always free whenever Rachel wanted to talk to someone.  This was a perfect arrangement for Rachel when he was always high and had nothing to add to the conversation. It made him a great listener. It made him perfect company for the family vacation she dreaded each year.  

Rachel loved her family.  Really, she did.  She just didn't love being around them.  She loved being anywhere near Liam.  Her younger brother always had a smile to give with his hugs. As for the rest of the family, they were a lot of work. Someone was always asking about her non-existent love life.  Someone wanted to know when she'd start dieting again.  Her mother always hoped she'd find a nice man to take care of her and her father always wanted her to make more than she was.  It was so much pressure and she already had a hard time controlling her temper. Her grandmother and her mom were fiery as well.  Women in her family all had tempers and it was easier to control when she was away from anyone she was related to. 

It was when Sam started on about his government conspiracy that Rachel was settling into the idea that she had to let go of what she wanted. 

Brandon was passionate about everything and formed opinions on anything.  He was intelligent and creative.  He had a gift for just enough snark to make you laugh, but not enough to hurt anyone. And he could rarely be pinned down for time alone because he was always creating adventure. She was imagining Brandon in her arms, and she was spreading them so he could step back.  She was allowing the transition from casual lovers to less intimate acquaintances. She was nearly hypnotized by the crackle and glow of the flames when Sam sparked her anger. 

She knew her rage was irrational but she couldn't reign it back in and she wasn't interested in playing nice. She was about to make Sam feel like shit on top of coming down from his high and she was going to enjoy it.  

In this moment she despised everything about Sam.  She hated the clothes he wore.  She hated his insecurities. She hated his conspiracies and blank stares when he was too high to respond. She hated the way he wanted to talk face to face for privacy, but couldn't suck on a mint after his bologna sandwich.  

Rachel swallowed back her wine.  She had gotten past the taste and was much further into the feeling than she planned.  She didn't realize she was holding so much rage until she sighed and that soft release began to build into something deeper and far more powerful. It felt like she was releasing all of her heartache and rage into the piercing sound that started in her throat, but landed in her chest.  The cry settled into her belly where the sound took on a timbre that was alien to her own ears.  She had only heard this cry once from her grandmother and the chill that dropped down her spine held her in place for seconds that felt like hours.  

Sam's response was immediate, however it wasn't until Rachel was softly moaning after the wails were replaced by sobs that she noticed him on the ground, in the fetal position with shaken hands over his ears. He had bloodied scratch marks down his cheeks as if the skin on his face was offending him and he needed it removed. She couldn't worry about him and threw her blanket over him as she ran along the lake to the cabin her family was calling home.  

The fear gripped her chest and tears began to fall silently as she hollowly made her way along the rocks and into the thicker trees.  She stumbled on moss covered rocks with moonlight the only glow to guide her steps.  Her vision began to clear as her fear became anger. It switched seamlessly from one emotion to the next and she wanted to breathe through it, but she couldn't.  She knew that in the next days, she would cycle through all of the phases of grief. 

Rachel's feet pounded up the stairs, flinging the door open.  She was met by her mother.  Becca had mascara strewn tears coursing down her cheeks when she met Rachel at the door with a slow shaking of her head.  Becca heard the cry in her heart because her ears wouldn't allow her to hear beyond her own keening.  Becca's cry was so feral and painful that it broke through Rachel's defenses.  Their loss was so strong that the curse was awakened and seared through Rachel as a direct line from Becca.  Becca had been feeling it for days but insisted on remaining hopeful.  She didn't want to cry because the guilt of her release was more than she could handle. She felt responsible for the loss they were feeling only because she knew it was coming. 

The curse Rachel had tried so hard to defend against was broken by the call that announced the passing of her brother, Liam.  Rachel felt it.  She knew it.  But in sleep and embracing all she is already, her mother, Becca saw it.  She witnessed her son's dying breath in a desert, fighting for his country.  No mother should ever see that, but things of the Other are never fair.  

In most books, becoming a banshee is something that happens after a woman dies.  Our reality is so much more painful when all of your human emotions are amplified by the ghosts that pass that knowledge through you.  You thought that conversation about starting your period was hard enough, wait until you can tell Uncle Niall things his doctor doesn't know.