Strewn about the grounds were food and beverage trucks, and to their far right was a bounce house and little gym for smaller children.
Angela looked at Jackson, arching a brow.
“Leprechauns or banshees?” she asked.
“Leprechauns first, maybe? A quick round of golf?”
“And you think—”
“We’ll get a look at a few of the leprechauns,” he said. Then he paused. “No.”
“No?” Angela asked curiously.
“Banshees. Skye saw the past. And if it was someone dressed as a leprechaun—”
“That could have been for effect. After all, it appears that Sean Donegal is the one they want to hurt.”
“And we didn’t come far at all. As the crow flies—or as the mole digs, I guess, in this instance—a tunnel from the Donegal home here wouldn’t be quite a mile. It makes sense. A little bit, anyway. If you were trying to do something with a passed-out woman and you were dressed as a leprechaun where there were all kinds of performers. I imagine, if I’ve judged Skye and Zach, they’ll be along at any minute now.”
“Okay. Let’s see what the banshees are doing, how they’re haunting folks,” Angela agreed. “Skye just might recognize a leprechaun!”
It turned out that the haunted house experience was a ride, and the two of them quickly slid into a seat.
Angela laughed when their little car pulled into the darkness once they were seated and the ride was underway. The first thing to happen was an aerial illusion of gray, mean-faced “banshee” coming straight at them.
“It’s really, um dumb, in a way,” Angela murmured.
“Well, most such attractions are a little . . . over the edge, I guess?” Jackson suggested.
“It’s banshee overkill,” Angela said. “And weird, but . . . I feel that something is . . . I don’t know. Getting ready for St. Patrick’s Day. I guess we feel the need to investigate fake banshees.”
“I agree. We had to come here,” Jackson said. But he made a face and winced as he looked at Angela. People in the cars around them were yelping, gasping, and screaming as their ride cars moved over the winding rails.
“Creepy but stupid. And yes, I guess, but . . . well, maybe if we can find our leprechaun, we can find out why a pile of cheap gravestones—really well done, I will say—and other stuff can be so weird.”
As the ride progressed, they passed dozens of well-done Styrofoam tombstones and graveyard art with more and more of the wispy creatures sweeping by. Then then their ride car drove over the tracks through pillars and into the “house” within the ride where, in the parlor, a funeral scene was staged with several coffins along with priests and family member mannequins looking over them. One coffin held an elderly man; another held a handsome young soldier holding his army cap in his hand. Yet another coffin held a cleric. And perhaps the most interesting mannequin in a coffin—because it appeared that the wispy aerial banshees had chosen to really pick on her—was that of a lovely young woman with a tremendous fall of black hair lay, handsfolded in prayer, dressed in nineteenth century apparel, a trail of gray gauze over her as if it was unreal, just a sweep of the misty gray banshee above her.
As the ride continued through more of a graveyard. A large gray, evil looking creature—banshee—appeared as the car was about to leave the attraction. And in large letters over that final archway where the evil looking banshee stretched out her arms was written the warning, “Next . . . I’m coming for you!”
Jackson helped Angela step out of the ride car. All around them people were screaming about both how “awesome” and “scary” the ride was, but definitely not for the little guys!
Well, those running the St. Paddy’s theme event at the park knew that—no one under eighteen was admitted, something Angela had noticed as they’d gotten into line for the ride. Probably a good thing, though she assumed there were plenty of sixteen-year-olds borrowing IDs from their friends. It was right up the alley for a teenager!
“So?” Jackson asked.
“Our poor Deidre would be appalled,” Angela said.
“As we learned before in Ireland!” he reminded her softly. “But . . . I guess it’s a hell of a scary ride for some. And theme parties everywhere like to go for the scare, especially when it’s around Halloween. Gotta admit, I haven’t seen a lot of horror rides planned for St. Patrick’s Day, but then who knows who does what where if you’re not in the area.”
“Too true . . . but . . .” Angela said thoughtfully.
“But?”
She smiled at him. “If I were planning a ride like this, I’d have the banshee greeting the young lady in the coffin gently, giving her love and comfort and telling her that she was going to be okay!”
Jackson laughed. “That’s because you know a few banshees!” he reminded her.
She groaned softly and looked toward the children’s playground. “Speaking of banshees, Deidre is here—with Zach and Skye! They must have found it, found the old tunnel and made their way here!”
