The Banshee by Henry P. Gravelle

widened and the wrinkled face shuddered. A tiny hand appeared, clutching the edge of the door. It looked almost transparent showing the blue veins running beneath the skin. The hand hesitated a moment then eased the door open.
    They entered and allowed their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit foyer. The elderly woman stood in the adjacent living room, the same room David had noticed her behind the curtain. She led them past the dusty furniture and clutter into an adjoining study.
    Volumes of books lined the wall, their covers dulled by layers of dust and neglect. A painting of a lighthouse on an angry coast hung from the far wall. French windows filtered sunlight through yellowed lace curtains and sooty glass, leading to what had been the garden. In front of the window stood a large desk with stacks of unread papers, pamphlets, maps, and catalogues hiding its once polished surface.
    â€œMy husband’s study.” Mrs. Toomey touched the desk with reverence, looking at the chair behind it as though he were there. She motioned for them to sit on the small settee across from the desk.
    â€œMy husband collected everything concerning the history of Wexford. Whatever you seek is here.”
    She watched Nancy carefully with a frown. “He collected documents and information on the original settlers and their ancestral histories. He even has the manifest from the
Emanon
, the ship that brought them here from Ireland.”
    She stood and slowly walked to the wall of books and carefully produced one from its resting place. It was thick with dust upon its cracked leather binding.
    â€œThis is the journal of Deacon Jonathan O’Connell. I am not sure how my husband obtained it but I assure you it is genuine. It contains his memoirs but what will interest you is the entry of Isabel’s trial and execution.”
    She handed it to David. Opening it, he saw the ink was faded and smudged. Many of the words were indistinguishable from lack of good writing implements.
    â€œHave you read this?” he asked.
    â€œYes, we examined many documents,” she answered.
    â€œWere you aware that a police officer and a little girl were murdered recently?”
    A glow appeared in her dulled eyes and she shuddered as David continued.
    â€œThey were torn apart by some kind of animal.”
    Mrs. Toomey staggered backwards and held onto the desk, then sat quickly on the leather chair, covering her face with her hands. After a moment, she raised her head, breathing heavily.
    David went to her side. “Are you all right?”
    â€œI never believed it could happen. I prayed it wouldn’t…you must open the grave.”
    â€œLet’s go, David,” Nancy said, standing. “This woman is insane. Open a grave?”
    â€œWait a minute,” David called out as she tried to leave.
    The old woman looked up and repeated her warning. “You must open the grave and assure yourself the remains within are Isabel’s. If not, then they have succeeded in raising her.”
    â€œI’m leaving,” Nancy announced rudely. “I’ll be in the car.”
    David knelt beside Mrs. Toomey after hearing the front door slam.
    â€œYou will know it is her,” Mrs. Toomey continued. “She was buried with the rope around her neck.”
    â€œWho raised her spirit?” David asked.
    â€œThose who worship the Prince of Darkness. You must be careful young man.”
    â€œThis is insane,” he said, standing, “I really didn’t think this was real. I just thought...Goddamn it, you’re telling me this freaking legend is real? I must be nuts. How the hell did they raise her spirit?”
    â€œThe body of a sacrificed woman has opened the portal to hell for Isabel’s spirit to return,” the aged woman said quietly.
    â€œLet me get this straight.” David scratched his head, pacing the study. “If I was to find this grave and if I dug it up and if the body in it has no