Excerpt: Cry of the Banshee - Vilma Iris | Lifestyle Blogger

Strange things are happening at Castle Darien, the legendary home of Angela Hawkins Crow’s family just outside of Dublin, Ireland.

People are dying in the most unusual ways: drowning where there’s no water, falling from heights that don’t exist…

But before every death, the banshee lets out a cry, warning that loved ones are in danger. The Irish death ghost’s haunting shrieks and sobs echo within the ancient stone walls and travel up and down the hillsides.

Terrified and broken after the death of a friend, Moira Hawkins, Angela’s second cousin, turns to her family for help, convinced that evil is at work and sure the Krewe of Hunters can determine what is happening and put an end to the strange and deadly haunting.

Angela is mystified and stricken, but she and Jackson travel to the Emerald Isle to investigate, certain that someone very much alive is behind whatever is going on.

But she and the Krewe just might need the dead to uncover the truth.

Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.

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Excerpt: Cry of the Banshee
By Heather Graham

Excerpt: Cry of the Banshee

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Heather Graham comes a new story in her Krewe of Hunters series. CRY OF THE BANSHEE is out this week and you can read an excerpt below!

Jackson Crow, Supervising Field Agent for the subtitled Krewe of Hunters unit of the FBI, looked up as his wife and second-in-command, Angela Hawkins-Crow, pushed open his office door.

He peered at her expectantly. They generally used their phones when they needed to communicate about a case. Not that he wasn’t happy to see her. It was pretty amazing that they worked together, but then the Krewe was a pretty amazing thing in and of itself.

“Angela? Come on in.”

The look on her face showed concern and disconcertment. At first, he’d been afraid that something had happened to one of their children, teenage Corby or little Victoria, but he knew Angela wouldn’t be so calm if that were the case.

“What is it?” he asked her, concerned and disconcerted himself.

She walked the rest of the way in and sat in front of his desk. For a minute, he remembered their first case in New Orleans and how he had admired her for her work ethic and ability. That had quickly turned to love. Angela was professional, and even all these years later, she was still one of the most stunning women he had ever met with her swath of long hair and bright, always-caring eyes.

She leaned forward. “How do you feel about a trip to Ireland?”

He sat back, curious. “Angela, we have a European division now—”

“But this is personal.”

“In Ireland?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. So…you know I have a cousin—second cousin or cousin once removed, whatever—from my mom’s side. Anyway, to make a long story short—”

“Too late.” Jackson grinned.

“Right. My mom’s mom was a Darien. And while we weren’t in line to inherit, though I wouldn’t have wanted to be in the running, there is a Castle Darien about an hour from Dublin.”

“Wait. I remember. Pretty girl, pretty name. Moira. We went to lunch with her when she was back in the States to tie up some loose ends here. An actress, right? She came to redo a few shots for a commercial or something.”

Angela nodded. “Yes. Moira. She was in tears and begged me to come. Me. Not a stranger, Jackson.”

“Why? What happened?”

Angela let out a long sigh. “Okay, so, she inherited Castle Darien from her beloved grandmother, the direct heiress. And she—”

“Is she a lady? A princess? Or—?”

“I believe she is addressed as lady, but the real titles were lost long ago. The point is, she’s afraid she’s losing her mind. She heard a banshee crying, and then her grandmother died. She heard it again when some accidents happened at the castle. And then—”


“An elderly man drowned in the river, and then a would-be thief fell off the wall.”

“Sad, but—”

“Now, they found one of their tourists dead in the ladies’ room.”

“Okay…” he said slowly.

“Jackson, she thinks the woman was murdered this time. She was a perfectly healthy American tourist when she walked into the castle, a woman of only thirty-eight. And Moira found her dead of an apparent heart attack.”

“Not common, but it can happen—”

“She had no history of heart problems.”

“But still—”

“Jackson, please. It’s fairly quiet right now, and when we need to be away, the McFadden brothers handle the office just fine in our absence. It’s nice to think we’re indispensable, but that isn’t true of anyone anywhere.”

He lowered his head for a minute and then nodded, grinning.

He looked up at her. “Hey, what’s not to like about Ireland?”

She smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. Of course, we’ll have to reach some officials here to get clearance for a more in-depth autopsy, talk to Amelia Robertson’s family, and—”

“You think she was murdered? Why? Why would someone murder an American tourist outside of Dublin?”

“Moira believes the banshee warned her, but she didn’t listen fast enough. She can’t tell anyone, but she’s sure that’s what happened, and something evil is in her ancestral home. Jackson, we can help her.”

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