The Case of the Old Time Rock and Roll

Dearest Aurelia. I have done this deed in your golden name. 

A voice alone can sound beautiful, but it is empty of potential. Unite it with another voice, and a harmony begins. Unite it with a variety of instruments– pianos, guitars, drums, even the triangle– and something entirely new is created– pleasantly unexpected and unique.

Have I ever told you the story of how Kai and I first met? I am sure I have mentioned it occurred due to a once in multiple lifetimes event– a Hell resident affecting the natural order of Time. Barely a century into my Hell residence, and I was privileged enough to be in the room for the trial. Myself, my Lord, Augustus– better known as the head of Soul dealing, and Time– Past, Present (Kai), and Future. We met in secret– a conference room hidden in the back left leg of my Lord’s proud golden throne.

I sat beside Augustus, whose chair stood far taller than mine, with room for them to stretch their legs improperly across the armrests whilst I crammed to bend my knees to bring my journal to my chest in my short wooden seat. Of course, the highest chair belongs to my Lord, a throne within the throne, this one decorated with rubies and a reddish metal. Across from us stood the three princes of time, refusing the seats offered to them.

Fueled by a cowardice I’m ashamed of now, I held my journal close to my nose, peering over just slightly to write brief descriptions for the log. There are many theories about the birth order of the brothers. Hopefuls say Future came first, a peer ahead into what could be before time even properly began. Those guided by a logical belief say Past came first, a typical paradigm structure. A third, unclassifiable group says Present came first, a simple deduction that the very first second of time was the present for someone somewhere– if at the very least, present alone.

I had tried to come to my own uncategorized conclusions– studying the three before me. Past appeared, at the very least, young and sunny at heart– their bright blue eyes framed by their thin rimmed glasses and their hair a messy cascade of blonde curls. On the contrary, Future seemed eager to age up their appearance, standing tall and proud in their black three-piece suit, whilst they balanced on a silver cane.

But ultimately, my eyes found their way returning to Kai. Kai stood in the middle between their two brothers, though three steps backward, leaning their weight on their right leg as they aggressively tapped their left. Opposed to an endearing mess of curls, their hair was seemingly improperly done with hideous intention– a spiked mess of dirty black hair. Their attire, ripped and ragged, suggested they had not even bothered to dress for the occasion. Fascinated by this demeanor, my eyes remained on Kai, then known as Present, settling on my hypothesis: the prince of the present was impatient.

Something so oxymoronic forced a laugh from my throat, too late to silence. A laugh that thankfully did not catch the attention of the heated debate about souls and exchange happening around me, but rather Kai alone, who responded with a black lipped smile and a wink– it made me grind my teeth, bowing my head back down to return to my work.

Kai has always been ironically impatient, fleeting from one moment to the next. Their left leg in the past, their right in the future. You’d think those chunky boots covered in all that metal would have some sort of gravitational pull.

I digress. Very rarely does a memory come to me these days. Being alive for centuries and cursed with the memory of every moment of all time leaves very little room for anything to slide through unless I offer it some guidance with my index. But, on a unpleasantly sunny morning, jammed in the back of a thrift store crowded with clothing and collections of trinkets, art and dust, my back aching as I sat on the uncomfortable, uneven wooden floor and listening to Kai practice with their band– I suppose that loud, pounding and certainly sharp music had cut its own way to send that memory of our first meeting free.

Thankfully, with the conclusion of that song and Briar’s return from the bakery next door with coffee and muffins, the music ceased. Venturing outside to get some fresh air, we traded the uncomfortable wood for yellowed and overgrown grass. Sammy mimicked Amanda and Seward, who clapped and cheered for the band enthusiastically, then just when I took in the silence of the day, Sammy traded in clapping for drumming her hands in the dirt, insisting she would be a drummer one day. Thankfully, Amanda informed me that children should wear earplugs to musical events. I knew things could have been a lot worse if Sammy had heard more than the vibration of the music.

The band’s drummer, Ember, offered to give Sammy lessons, explaining to me that they teach kids on the weekends right here outside the thrift shop. I politely declined the offer (though not without a terrible battle between myself and Sammy’s big eyes and pouty lip). Despite this suggestion that made me not in Sammy’s favor, I quite like Ember. Their short, buzzed hair turns their face into a canvas for their bright makeup, erupting their dark brown eyes with bursts of pinks, whites, and lots of glitter from their eyelids to their cheeks, down to their neck. Their vibrant makeup fits perfectly with their rather explicit motif– with dangling pink, chandelier-inspired earrings and their black biker outfit accented with pink spikes and pink cut-out gloves. I had to appreciate their organization, their dedication to color and design– unlike their third bandmate, Kyle. Kyle, somehow so bland, so boring with his pale skin, shaggy brown hair, and drawn-out voice, but simultaneously so obnoxiously aggravating with his distasteful jokes and striped green shirt that clashes with his purple plaid pants.

The band, titled ’Fluid Static,’ held the practice in anticipation of a Battle of the Bands being hosted right in the park of Arlington River. Apparently, the event drew in a lot of revenue and people into the otherwise antisocial streets of this town. Briar had even been tasked with writing an article about it for her freelance gig. Here, Aurelia, I will leave a copy in this case file– it may help you get to know the bands/purpose a little more.

The night before the actual event, Kai had gone to perform a sound check at the park. I had invited Seward over for dinner as she had the night off, but her wife was also at the sound check, getting interviews in preparation for trying to ‘get a jump’ on a follow-up article. Before I could even turn on the oven, Seward laughed, pulling out two Tupperware containers from her purse, “I talked to Kai, they say never to eat your cooking, but always trust your taste in wine.”

With Amanda out with her friends and Sammy asleep, Seward and I enjoyed a pleasant conversation about nostalgia marketing in the media– until the phone rang. At first, neither of us had heard it, deep in laughter and discussion. But in a moment of silence after a completed meal, Seward checked her phone, which lit up the panicked look on her face.

“It’s work,” she mouthed, trying to contort her face in a way that did not look like she had just been hysterically laughing.

After she finished a phone call of brief hellos and aggressive nodding, she concluded, “I’ll be right there.”

Seward explained that they are entering a bunch of new patients, and they needed her help to make sure they were all properly logged due to the chaos. After she splashed some water on her face, she raced out, leaving me alone as my mind peeled away in indecision at what magic entity could possibly be at play.

My answers came in the form of the house phone ringing (a massive contraption I am still trying to get the hang of, but still a better compromise than me finally getting one of those cell phones). I raced to the block in the wall, picking up the phone and hitting the button as Amanda instructed me. On the other end, Kai yelled for me to get over to the center now. Their voice dropped to a whisper, “I think there’s a Banshee in our midst.”

After taking an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to dial a new number, I called Amanda, telling her she’d have to come home right away to watch Sammy. Not at Charlie’s Aunt’s (two long bus rides away), thankfully, Amanda had lied to Kai. Only one street over, at a very loud house party, Amanda arrived back at the house only a few minutes later.

Leaving her and a surprisingly well-adjusted Charlie with Sammy, I raced up the street. Kai met me at the door, warning me we had to be careful now, due to Seward’s arrival at the desk. In the disorder of people– some assumed patients being held down by nurses, some people demanding to see admitted people, some crying, some stunned in disbelief, slumped against the wall– Kai led me down a hallway on the first floor, scanning a keycard when we approached a secondary door.

“Swiped it from the nurse,” Kai explained.

“You’ll have to return that,” I reminded them.

“Yeah, I’ll get on that Boy Scout.”

“I don’t like that name.”

Ignoring me, Kai stopped before a door, their hand curled on the handle. Peering through the small glass frame, they took a heavy sigh, then pushed the door open, motioning with their hand for me to hurry inside. Barely through the threshold, Kai slammed the door shut. The loud sound pinched my lips and caused me to shush Kai in mortification.

“That patient is asleep.” I insisted, gesturing to the body on the bed, their body curled around their arms and their head shoved between their pillow.

“Not sleeping,” said Kai, shaking their head. They walked over to the bed and gently rubbed their arm on the sleeping person’s shoulder, coaxing them to roll over. When they did, I saw their face better now, though I’ll admit it took a moment without their makeup on.

“Ember,” I said, taking a step forward to better inspect them. Tears streamed down their trembling lips, biting away any remnants of their bright lipstick. Her ears, despite my gentle taps beside them, were not reactive to sound– but to my confusion, seemed otherwise clean.

“Kyle and a bunch of people from the other bands are acting the same way,” Kai said, gently moving over so I could get closer to the body. “We were listening to the band that was on, but when the song finished, suddenly people backstage started dropping like flies. They kept demanding that someone stop the screaming, but the rest of us couldn’t hear it, let alone source it.”

“Hence the Banshee theory,” I said, giving Ember’s ears one more better inspection before standing up, “Kai,” I said, my voice dropped to a low whisper, “If you’re right, and this is a Banshee, then someone is going to die. I need you to think very hard. Is there anything, anyone, all of the people who heard the scream have in common?”

Kai thought for a moment, then shook their head, “Man, bands come from all over the state for this. I doubt there is any singular connection.”

I walked out of the room, giving Kai one more moment to stare at Ember. They whispered something too silent for me to hear, then walked out behind me, closing the door as quietly as possible. Headed out the way we came, Kai randomly dropped the key card, then we headed home, trying to make better sense of the case.

When we came back up, Amanda already had coffee brewing, and water on the kettle for myself. She told us that Charlie had headed home a little while before that, and Sammy had never even stirred. After we filled her in on the details of the case, she poured out our drinks, then slumped into her chair.

“Weird,” she said, buttoning her blouse, “I always thought Banshees were like corrupted Irish women who screamed at entitled men,” she laughed, “Like me,” she added.

I shook my head. There’s a lot of lore on them, but I’ve met my fair share of Hell residents who felt relieved they didn’t leave a maddened family behind, nor themselves mad because everyone heard a scream they couldn’t.”

“So who’s going to die?”

“Not a clue,” Kai interrupted my hesitation, their hands curled into fists and their lips pursed, “But I do know that that Banshee is going to get an express path to Hell.”

“Kai,” I said delicately, shrugging off my coat and putting it on the chair. “I have my doubts that this is a Banshee.”

Kai stopped pouring sugar into their cup, staring intensely at me. It reminded me of the look of their brothers, cold, precise, certain, “Quinn, they heard screaming, not everyone could hear, that’s…”

“Not necessarily a Banshee,” no longer comfortable meeting those cold eyes, I turned away, watching my muddled reflection in my teacup. “You said it yourself, there is no connection for it to be a death omen. Besides, even if Amanda’s theory is correct, there is one clear tell of a Banshee attack: blood in the ears. There was not a drop in Ember’s ears.”

“So, the hospital cleaned them,” Kai shrugged, picking up the sugar and continuing to nourish their disgusting sweet tooth.

I shook my head, “No, Kai, a Banshee’s scream doesn’t stop until the prophesied death happens. Their ears bleed and bleed. Ember was still clearly hearing the scream, the way their fingers held their ears, the way they weren’t receptive to any other sound, but no blood.”

Kai kicked my seat, “Look at me, Que.”

I barely moved my body when Kai grabbed my chair, turning me around, “Que, I am telling you this is a Banshee. You want a case, here’s a case. Something to hunt, something to kill.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” I turned my body fully now, gently holding the back of their chair. “I am saying we need to do more research.”

Kai groaned, “I really thought you changed.” Kai jumped up, smacking my arm away. “You always think you’re smarter than me. You are not as wise as you think. I’ve got smarts you couldn’t dream of.”

I know this is true. Kai is very wise regarding things of humanity– polite/casual conversations, pop culture references, cooking, using a telephone, I’m certain more– but too upset for rationality, I rose from my seat as well, giving into their rage, “Fine. You’re so smart, you go run off blindly to your Banshee. I’ll actually work this case like a mature adult and figure out what’s going on.”

Kai stormed out of the room, whilst I dropped back into my seat, my breath heavy and my vision blurred. I heard Amanda meekly say, “I’m just going to sit this one out. Gonna get started on my homework and go to bed early.” She grabbed her coffee and raced off to her bedroom, paying no mind to the coffee that slid out of the sides.

____

The next morning, I awoke early, getting Sammy ready for the day, who complained insistently about it being a Saturday. I reminded her that for six years of her life, she awoke to the screams of the damned and she threw a small tantrum (I fear even her short life on Earth has made her rather soft), but with the promise of considering drum lessons, I managed to get her out of the house at a reasonable hour, her hand in mine as we descended the stairs, leaving Kai’s snoring to seek another atrocious sound.

I wanted to start with a visit to the center. I knew what I needed from the victims, but not the depth of information I felt I could pull from the bystanders. With Seward not working until the mid-shift, I utilized the perfect window to arrive. With flowers in hand from the local florist, I told the woman currently working the desk that I wanted to give these flowers to Ember’s room. Insisting I could not go back there myself, she hurried off to bring them to Ember. Already planning for this answer, I used the nurse’s leave to go talk to a group of people dressed in bright yellows and sunflower patterns.

They added an interesting detail to Kai’s story. Their lead singer, a small girl with two red braids in her hair named Lucy, told me that two of their bandmates had gone out for a smoke break right before their episode happened, and they recalled Ember and Kyle joining them. When they returned, right before the conclusion of the song, that’s when things got ‘hella trippy’ (their description of the scene, not mine).

I asked what band had been performing, and she pointed to a young woman. She had thin, white hair, curled in spirals so small I could barely make out where one began and one ended. Her pale face was covered in freckles, and her soft pink lips muttered quietly as she leaned over in a stance of prayer.

Asking where her other bandmates were, Lucy informed me that this girl, named Morgan, performed solo. The band Briar had reported on. The pianist who left that other band: Le Fay’s. Apparently, she decided to go solo, merely singing a song accompanied by nothing when others had left for their smoke break– a lot of people apparently used the excuse of a smoke break to not have to listen to her ‘totally unharmonious’ sound.

When I walked over to Morgan, she jumped slightly, as if she recognized me. Before I could say a word, she whispered, “I know the business you are in, Quinn. Please believe me. I don’t know how this happened. Please,” she repeated as if begging for her life, “Please, believe me.”

Two thoughts conflicted in my brain: I had my Banshee, but Kai was right.

I mean, Hell, by this logic, Amanda was more right than I. This Banshee, not a death omen at all, instead a pissed off Irish spirit, seeking the scorn of people who showed her disgust and cruelty– although the lack of preference for men still didn’t add up.

With self-control and not wanting to draw a weapon in a place of rehabilitation, I left the center, the plan of how to lure and kill this Banshee and make amends with Kai forming in my head.

Amid my distraction, I bumped directly into Kai. We grasped each other’s shoulders, fighting to regain balance first, just to push the other away. For a moment, lost in a daze, I grounded myself with Sammy’s cheerful greeting to Kai. She hugged them, whilst Kai knelt to play with her hair, telling her Amanda was just behind them. Sure enough, Amanda poorly hid herself behind a street light, tilted large green sunglasses forward to reveal the tops of her eyes. When she saw I locked eyes with her, she dropped them down, then took a heavy breath, slowly sauntering over.

“I didn’t want to choose sides,” she sulked, “But Kai pays me, in…you know… a place to live and food and making sure I don’t die…”

I smiled softly, appreciating Amanda’s even slight hesitation to be on Kai’s side, “Could you take Sammy home?” I asked, “I think Kai and I have lots to talk about.”

Amanda, with a look of soul-searching in her wide eyes, looked at Kai, who nodded, “Geez, Amanda, it’s not a divorce, go on, take the kid home.”

Amanda smiled brighter than I’d ever seen, doing a small dance as she put her sunglasses atop her head, her short blonde hair creasing behind her ears, “I felt like such a prick wearing sunglasses on a foggy day.”

She took Sammy’s hand in hers, and the two walked off, leaving Kai and I the perfect, though horrific opportunity to have a mature, adult conversation.

But before I could even begin to tell Kai about how right they were, Kai blurted, “You were right, it’s not a Banshee.”

Kai and I walked over to a bench for a little more privacy, and I gathered the following information:

Kai had attended a meeting with a few of the other bands who were protesting still having the battle of the bands today at the office of the Arlington River event committee. During their meeting, Kai noticed that one band seemed adamant that the concert continue: Le Fay’s. Whilst everyone screamed over them, Kai went and asked the lead singer, who seemingly spearheaded this plea, to come outside. They had a less than civil discussion where she insisted how much people loved her, and needed to hear her sing. Kai recalled that this was the band and more specifically, the singer, the pianist, known to us as our Banshee, Morgan, left due to, as Briar quoted, ‘continuous diva behavior,’ from the ‘siren witch.’

“I knew that look in her eye,” Kai said, “The look of having nothing left to lose but your pride.”

After telling Kai what I learned, I added, “I knew the look in the Banshee’s eye, the look of just wanting to be seen.”

Our devious way of saying we understood each other, and are sorry.

“So, Siren versus Banshee,” Kai said, taking a deep breath of air, “You think that the Siren was so upset that the Banshee didn’t admire her anymore that she sang her song to a bunch of nicotine addicted band members just to frame the Banshee for murder so you’d go after her?”

“Excellent detective work, Kai,” I said, getting up from the bench and extending my hand to them, “Shall we?”

They linked their hand in mine, saying nothing but smiling like an idiot as we ventured back home.

As soon as the door opened to the house, Amanda greeted us in a state of distress, “Someone left you this letter,” she said, her face ghostly pale. “If anyone asks, I did not illegally open your mail… but I did… I illegally opened your mail.”

Dear Quinn Montgomery,

The Garden Hotel room 241 at 7 p.m.

Come alone,

The Banshee.

Ripping the letter from my hands, Kai read it aggressively, “Well, you obviously aren’t going. It’s a trap.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “But the Banshee will be alone and vulnerable. Perhaps the Siren will want to watch as well. I can get the two at once.”

“Wait,” Kai said, their brows furrowing and their head shaking, “No. You aren’t killing the Banshee, as far as we know, she’s done nothing but have her Justin Timberlake moment.”

“But she’s still evil.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why is she still evil? Because she holds power? Because she holds a power that has potential for evil? Someone could say that about me or Amanda. Hell! They could say that about you or Sammy.”

“Don’t say anything about Sammy.”

“Don’t think you have some moral high ground, Quinn.”

Kai and I then erupted into an embarrassingly cruel debate about the matter, sending Amanda and Sammy back to their rooms. The heat acted as our common ground, yelling nonsensical nonsense at each other, including such language that sent our rather civil apology mere moments ago back on our heels.

____

Arriving at the hotel precisely on time, I arrived at the room a few moments later, wanting to make the creature squirm. In my jacket, a blade of pure iron, my certain way of expelling the impure. When I arrived in the room, the Banshee sat upon her bed, still crying.

When she saw me, she did not even move her head, merely steadied her trembling lips, “Please, monster hunter, I accept my fate. Years of controlling all those signs, of keeping my voice together. Of learning new ways to sing through my piano. I wanted to see if I could sing without doing… without harming… I suppose I cannot.”

Uncurling her body, she exposed her chest, planting her hands firmly on the sides of the bed, “Go on. Please, make it quick.”

With one step forward, I raised the iron in my hand, “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I have promises far bigger to keep.”

With one swift movement, I thrusted the dagger at the far wall, right where the Siren had been hiding, her green scales popping out from the green paint of the wall, leaning to see the Banshee’s demise.

In her rage at me not completing this task, she stepped forward, revealing her full self– her body a culmination of green and grey scales, and a series of beady black eyes that blinked wet tears all down her body.

“Ah,” I said, watching as she touched the tiny drop of blood that had spilled from my less-than-ideal throw, “There you are.”

Picking up the iron from the carpet, she gripped it tightly in her webbed hands, “You’re going to need to aim better than that, Scribe,” she hissed, “I’ll make sure you do.”

When she opened her mouth, her slim-filled mouth revealed her long, frog-like tongue. I blurted, “Why not just make me kill her from the start? Why set up this game?”

“Because I was trying to teach her a lesson. There are rumors about you, Quinn Montgomery. Stories that you hunt your own kind. Revolting. When I discovered you lived here, I wanted to end my years of adapting to this Earth. End my purposeless singing and Morgan’s pointless piano. But Morgan vouched for you, insisting you’d see our goodness, and we’d see yours. I had a better lesson to teach; hunters hunt,” she sneered as if that summarized everything. It had not. But before I had another clever retort in me, she began to sing her sweet Siren’s song to instruct me to kill both the Banshee, then myself. As I reached out my hand to take my iron dagger back and complete her task, I watched it get snatched away from her– by Kai.

“Hello, doll,” Kai said cheerfully, “I’ll be taking that.”

“Kai,” I seethed, “I told you not to come here!”

“Well, good thing I did because clearly you did not have this under control, in fact, you are under control by a freaking sea witch!”

“You don’t know anything!”

“See, I knew it, you think I’m stupid!”

Kai and I erupted back into our childish ways of arguing, tackled on top of each other as we fought for both the dagger and the power of voice in the situation.

Between our chaos, the Siren yelled, instructing us to do something, but neither of us could hear the words, merely the vibration of her screeching song. Furious now, the Siren grabbed on to us both, singing closely in our faces. I saw her lips moving in a repeated motion, the same words, each with more anger, “Love me!”

Kai and I continued our brawl, calculating our movements of punches and throws like a dance, carefully ensuring that in our knot of hands, arms, and legs, we allowed the dagger to roll away, heading promptly at the Banshee’s feet.

Then, finally, when we saw the Siren with the dagger through her torso, and the Banshee behind her with a horrified look on her face, we separated, bathing the room in battered breaths, but otherwise peaceful silence.

The Siren, dropping to her knees, tried to sing one last time, but Kai grabbed the dagger from the other end, twisting it. “I’m sorry,” Kai said in a thick New Jersey accent. “It’s going to be a no from me, dawg.”

The Siren’s face turned livid, her scales darkening to a deeper green and her eyes blinking more rapidly as she sang louder now, her voice sharper and more intense.

Kai continued to shake their head, ignoring her. “I did my mature adult proper research. You Sirens hate nothing more than being ignored and worse,” Kai gasped dramatically, “Not liked. In fact, it weakens not only your ego, but also you.”

Thick, black blood spurted from her body as Kai continued.

“Living with Quinn made me invest in earplugs,” they shrugged, popping one of Sammy’s small pieces of rubber from their ears. I did the same. “Oh, and also made me a planner. After Quinn and I had a little debacle about moral high ground, we realized we at least agreed on one thing: we needed to kill you.”

Kai tapped their foot as they relayed the plan, “See, Quinn and I, we don’t always communicate well, and when all that lack of talking builds up, it consumes us. I knew if you thought you controlled the situation, which you seem to love so, it was the best way to draw you out, get you in the mood to carry a tune, think Quinn’s passion was for you, when in reality he preferred a different kind of heat.” Kai winked at me-- to which I ground my teeth, bowing my head down in embarrassment.

I continued, “Your Banshee friend, under the promise we’d get you to admit you set this all up, handed me my earplugs at the perfect time. I must admit, Siren, you’ve miscalculated the power of your friend. Morgan is very valiant, willing to hunt. We utilized her to plunge the final throw. A team up if you will.”

Kai smiled at me as he continued, “We figured, the bigger the ego, the harder they fall.”

We watched as the Siren took one final gasp of breath, then closed her eyes one by one.

After I raced over to the body to say my prayer to you, Aurelia, we disposed of the body. An old legend assures that when Sirens die, they will dissipate to their resting ground with just a touch of water. So we put her in the bathtub, filled it with water, and watched her funnel down the drain scale by scale.

Now, Aurelia, please believe I have not abandoned our plan. I simply suspect the Banshee got away in the chaos of the situation. But I have killed the Siren in your name. One step closer– we must hold on to that.

_____

If any consultation, the next evening the battle of the bands carried on according to schedule and plan– everyone ‘miraculously’ healed. After Kai’s band went, I watched Ember and Kyle offer Kai cigarettes, to which they declined, walking over to me. After complimenting their performance, I asked Kai a question that had been bothering me.

“Why didn’t you go on that smoke break with your band?”

Kai laughed, “I guess trying to cut back really saved me, huh?”

“You’re trying to cut back?” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Kai, you’ve been smoking longer than I’ve existed, and that is truly saying something.”

“Hey, I’m only older by a few centuries. Besides, you’ve never liked the smell, and now we’ve got a kid in the house.”

So I suppose, Aurelia, people can change.