Page 104 of Echoes of the Banshee

“Repugnant? Vexing? Exasperating?” I offer.

He gives me a look. “Remind me to never play Scrabble with you.”

I make a mental note to use one of those words if we ever do.

“The way she talks is just so slimy,” he goes on. “Like everything she says is engineered to hit your insecurities. How did you grow up with her? No wonder you have no idea how amazing you are.”

He says it so simply, like it’s a fact. Like it doesn’t make my heart do backflips. Only Lazlo has ever said something like that to me. But Zair keeps going, like it’s common knowledge.

“She hasn’t let up either. Keeps inviting me to every party. Even after I rejected her in front of everyone. I thought that would be the end of it.”

“You don’t have to turn down easy ass on my account,” I joke, because what else can I do.

“Please. The only ass I care about is the complete ass sitting across from me.” His tone is light, but his eyes meet mine with an intensity that isn’t friendly.

“Well, this complete ass needs to find a pair of jeans to stuff it into.” I laugh, standing and trying to brush it off. And with that, we head into a few stores.

I hadn’t noticed it before. But after the girl at lunch, I notice a lot of girls are in whatever store we’re in. We’re trying to shop and have a pleasant conversation and keep getting interrupted. We’re discussing why he chose Thornfell when another girl walks up.

“Seriously,” he says as soon as she starts flirting. “Do I need to put my hand on her ass or something to make it obvious that I’m on a date.”

“Oh, well.” The girl shrinks.

Zair reaches out and links our fingers together. “My girlfriend and I are trying to shop and have a conversation.” He pulls me from the store.

“Sorry,” he mumbles after we’re in a new store that’s still empty of followers. “You’re not getting that hand back.”

I shop one handed and I buy enough to bury the jewelry receipts in my credit card statement, hoping Vivien won’t look close enough to get suspicious.

As we walk out of the last store, I find myself glancing at Zair’s wrists. He hasn’t checked them once today. We’ve been holding hands for at least an hour. I could have cursed him with anything. He doesn’t let go till he opens the door for me.

He always checks. I watch as he walks around, waiting.

He didn’t check.

I told him I’m good at curses. I try not to think about what that means. About the kind of trust that takes.

Thea

Collateral Damage

Monday afternoon, I head to Magical Contracts early and sit against the wall reading.

“Thea, why are you here so early?” Professor Johan asks when she arrives.

“I had a question for you,” I tell her.

“Sure, let’s go inside.” I follow her into the class, drop my bag onto my chair and walk over to where she stands by the podium.

“How are spiritborne defined?” I ask.

She quirks her head a little. “Anyone with magical ability or sight.”

“No, I mean legally,” I explain. “Is there a document that declares who’s a spiritborne?”

“Oh!” she says and then looks towards the wall, thinking.

“The Fireborn Accords declared that descendants of any spiritborne are in fact spiritborne. That was because things like fairies or trolls that evolved separate were being discriminated against. This caused a large war that nearly destroyed Europe.”