"Stopping that Banshee."
"Are you sure," Rusty asked.
Marcia nodded as the duo now made their way to the main hall. "After what Christibe said I have a feeling that the powers of the Banshee are linked to that legend."
"How so boss?"
"Well," Marcia stated. "Banshees drain people of their life force, they dont strengthen it."
"Strengthen it?!"
"Yes strengthen it," Marcia nodded, gesturing to herself. "Believe it or not by reducing me to adolescence my life force has gotten stronger. If I dont fix this I'll age like anyone else. That banshee gave me an extra 12 years of life."
"So what happens if the Banshee sucked the other 12 years away?"
Marcia shuddered at the thought, if her theory was correct it wouldnt be a pleasant outcome. "If that were to happen then well...I would exist solely as life energy. No physical body at all, and that's where I worry about the legend."
"Why is that?"
"Gideon's body isnt is dead as we think," Marcia whispered. "If he was a practitioner of the dark arts than his corpse is under a spell." Rusty now listened as Marcia explained the anatomy of a Banshee.
When Banshees usually feed they steal a person's life force for themselves. The afflicted usually die, reduced to a husk. Marcia explained that if this had been a run of the mill Banshee, she would feel drained, like if she had run a marathon. In this case she had her life force returned. "Well not exactly returned," Marcia stated. "More like renewed. The Banshee was trying to transform me into pure life force. Once that happens the Banshee would use that life force to revive Gideon."
Rusty nodded, that wasnt a good prospect. As they now made their way towards the front door, they were surprised to hear Christine call them. "What is it Christine?"
"Sorry," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I forgot, I have a map of the old crypt you might find helpful."
As Marcia now reached for Christine's map, the unmistakable sound of the Banshee now echoed throughout the halls. Glancing at the Womens wing the trio's eyes went wide as the apparition burst through the doors.
Marcia yelled, rolling out of the way. Despite her diminished stature her reflexes remained as she turned towards Christine and Rusty she now screamed.
The Banshee held both, the spectre now regressing both of them. Marcia could rapidly see the two of them losing maturity as they retreated in age. Reaching for her partners bag she now grabbed a smudge stick. "Not today demon," she bellowed.
Lighting the smudge stick and reciting a spell in Latin the Banshee now screamed in pain, fading from sight as Marcia cleansed the room.
"Is it gone?"
Marcia now turned to Christine and Rusty, wincing as she looked at the two of them. Rusty was now a skinny boy of 12, his clothes hanging on him like a scarecrow while his face appeared round and childish. Christine had fared no better, the girl having joined both Marcia and Rusty in the sixth grade. Gazing at the frightened girl Marcia could see barely flared hips, wide innocent eyes, small softball sized breasts swamped in adult clothing.
"Aw man," Rusty whined, his voice cracking.
Marcia sighed rubbing her eyes. "Great," she thought. "Preteen P.P.I. and friends. Solving crime before bedtime. We look like a rejected Disney show."
"What do we do now," Christine asked, her voice high and fearful. Marcia now tried to compose herself as they made their next move.