“Right. So, the sound of the banshee’s wail became an omen of death. Consigned to their role, over the years, banshees grew still more sensitive. These fairy women gained a precognition, sensing the very approach of death. Rather than keening for the deceased’s surviving relatives, the banshees began to sing their terrible dirge directly to the doomed.

“They are still closely tied to their families, but as their power developed, it extended to all those in their presence. Any poor soul whose time drew near might hear the ominous cry, particularly those doomed to a violent and untimely end. Now, if you were an ill-fated traveler and you heard the wail, you knew death was on your heels. This makes them dreaded creatures, feared and hated by any who hear them, a treatment far disparate from the honor and appreciation they used to receive for their mourning services. Banshees themselves are not dangerous, though, just burdened with the task of expressing pain and loss.”

I thought of Mrs. Morrigan’s face, and was suddenly ashamed of my rash accusation. I was glad that Jackaby had shown her some tenderness, and I realized he had given her what little he could: his thanks.

“It is a kindness that you and I cannot hear the banshee’s wail,” he continued. “It is not meant for us. Henderson hears it because it is his lament, and his alone. Our victim in room 301 heard it also, I’d wager, before his untimely demise. Mrs. Morrigan has scarcely been given a moment’s rest from her dutiful dirges.”

We were rounding the last flight of stairs, and the brightness of the lobby spilled into the stairwell.

“Should we do something for him?” asked Charlie, suddenly. “If a murderer is coming for Mr. Henderson, we can’t in good conscience just wait and let him be taken! Could we move him—hide him? Post guards around his room?”

Jackaby stepped into the lobby. By now the sun was high in the late-morning sky. Clouds blanketed a snow-dusted world, and the soft whiteness of it was blinding. “If it eases your conscience to try, then go right ahead. It will make little difference, though. If he hears the banshee’s cry, then Mr. Henderson’s fate is sealed.”

Chapter Eight