Page 111 of Echoes of the Banshee

Even worse, how can I admit that this isn’t just friendship anymore? Or even a crush. I’m falling hard for her, and the weight of it is heavier than I ever expected. I want her to be able to love me, but if I can’t even make her fall for me as a charming witch, what hope does a wailing banshee have?

She says nothing, and somehow that says everything. She walks beside me without pressure, giving me space while still staying close. “Want to watch a movie?” she asks. I know it for what it is: a lifeline. A quiet way to say you don’t have to be alone.

“No Rom-coms,” I tell her as we change direction and head to my dorm. When it’s over I have no idea what it was about. But that was never the point. I walk her to her dorm.

“Thanks,” I tell her.

“Anytime.” And, I honestly believe it.

Thea

Home is Where the Torture Is

Zair had been lost in his head after the assignment. So was I. The project on banshees had stirred up more than just old knowledge; it had stirred up old feelings, too. Once I get to my room, I stare at the small vial of memory potion on my desk. I really should save it. Who knows how long till I find him.

But I need to hear his voice. I swear I heard it today, cursing away. But when I looked, I couldn’t find him.

Lazlo had helped me find myself when I didn’t know who I was. Zair… somehow makes it easier to be myself, without apology. I crossed his name off in my journal again today. I think I’ve added and crossed him out ten times. I think I just want him to be. If he was Lazlo, he’d have told me, I gave him more than enough hints.

Mavrik is still my top contender. I’d be more than okay with him being my mate. The only thing that’s stopped me is that I need to be positive it’s him.

But then I spend time with Benson, and think he could be my mate. Even though I know it’s impossible.

I pick up the vial, turning it over in my hands. I wouldn’t be who I am without Lazlo. Without his humor, his strength, his relentless belief that I could be more than what the world saw. I need to remind myself who I’m fighting for. That no matter what I might feel for these guys, I can’t lose sight of Lazlo.

I down the vial like a shot, a soft warmth spreads through me, the magic working quickly.

Drawing a deep breath, the memory lingers at the edges of my consciousness. Slowly, I coax it forward, like teasing a thread loose from a knot. The cold weight of chains. The familiar sensation told me I was close, and I braced myself, holding on with every ounce of willpower.

“No beginning, no end,” I whisper.

The feeling of dropping into the memory is jarring, worse than last time, when I hadn’t been hurt yet.

A sharp, phantom ache flares at my wrists, where the cuffs had gnawed their way deep into my skin. I’d forgotten how much they hurt, how the grinding pressure made even breathing feel like a battle. The healed bones in my legs radiate with the memory of agony. I’d grown soft in my safety. Forgotten what it was like to be tortured for so long the pain stopped feeling human. And worse — how the magic-dead sensation hollowed everything out. It was more unbearable now that I knew what it was like to feel again, to have my magic burn bright and full in my veins. Losing it, even in memory, was like being smothered alive.

“You okay?” Lazlo’s presence crosses the bond. Wrapping me in warmth.

“Yes,” I lie, biting down on the tears.

“Did I ever tell you the story of the Celtic love knot?” he asks. Probably thirty times. Each one different. “Once there was a sprite who fell in love with a giant.”

I find myself smiling despite the situation.

“And even though the giant could not see the sprite, his love for her had no beginning and no end.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I remind him.

“And ya love me for it,” he says lightly, then falters.

I swallow. “I—”

“—Thea, listen to me,” he interrupts. I’m tempted to make a sarcastic comment that I don’t have another choice.

“I want ya to know I love ya,” he says, his words deliberate and steady, even as his voice trembles. “Not because yer my mate, but because yer amazin’. Yer funny and sweet. Ya know how to keep me from losing meself, even in a place like this.”

I forget how to breathe, and for a moment, the pain, the cold, everything fades.

“Yer brilliant, Thea,” he continues. “And brave. And I don’t think I’d still be me if it weren’t for ya.”