Page 137 of Echoes of the Banshee

The memory from last night resurfaces. I’m pretty sure she killed me and this is just heaven. The moment she stepped out in that towel, I knew I was done for. Healing her took every ounce of willpower I had. Being that close was torture. And it was amazing.

I try everything to forget. But only one thing gives me even a moment’s relief. Just touching her leg lights me up like nothing else has in months. The sight of her squeezed between Benson and me. I can still smell them on my bed. I force myself to think about someone else. My stomach clenches in disgust. There goes my rhythm.

Guess I have to start over.

The day moves slowly after that. I grab two coffees and head to the library. I find her in her nook, slouched over the table, hair still damp from a shower, eyes half-lidded, buried in an ancient tome.

She doesn’t look surprised to see me. She lifts her head slightly and accepts the coffee I offer.

We don’t say much. Don’t have to.

We sit like we’ve done this a hundred times before. Her knee pressed lightly against mine. Pages turning. My thumb brushing absently along the spine of my book. My eyes stray to her more than the text. The quiet between us isn’t awkward. It never has been. It’s just… steady. Like we’re plugged into the same current.

Sunday blooms bright and full of energy. I eat a hearty breakfast at our usual table, joined by Dylan, Benson, and Thea. Dylan is already hyped, talking strategy between bites. Benson’s trying to get into the zone.

People keep stopping by to wish us luck, more than I expected. Even a few professors nod their support. It’s the conference finals. We haven’t made it this far since I started at this school. It should feel bigger.

Thea leaves us and heads to the stands as we go in to get ready for the game. My ma wanted to fly in, but it was too far. My dad came, though. I’m not going to talk to him. We both know why. But he’s here, and maybe I can make him proud anyway.

Even if he hates what I am.

When Ma called to wish me luck she told me she hasn’t found out anything about the scream and I told her to drop it. It’s been gone for weeks now. She found a few rituals for harvesting soulenium, though. Just reading about them made me want to punch something. The thought of someone doing that to Thea makes my blood boil.

I’ll burn the world down first.

“Head in the game, Brennan,” I remind myself. No distractions.

I step onto the field, and my eyes instinctively scan the crowd, searching for her.

“If you don’t marry that girl, I just might,” Dylan says, slapping me on the back as he runs past. He points to a sign in the front row. ‘Watch out! Mr. COC’s about to penetrate the defense!’

“Well shite,” I choke, barely holding it together. My laugh slips out anyway.

I notice the security guard she’s friends with and Mavrik standing beside her, looking more out of place than normal, his all-black attire contrasting sharply with the silver and gold of the crowd. But he offers me a big smile and holds up his own sign: ‘Coming in fast and hard for the win!’ with a crude sperm drawing.

Laughter erupts beside me, and I turn to see Benson and Dylan doubled over. I try to wave her off but then she points at Benson and Dylan. Her grin’s mischievous as she flips her sign.

‘Bulldozer’s going deep to clear the way,’ complete with a crude sketch of a front loader slamming into… yeah. That’s definitely not a hill.

Before I can process it, Mavrik flips his sign over. ‘Human Sandwich: Getting in between you and victory!’ With a very suggestive sandwich.

“Looks like you two got signs too,” I say, turning back to Benson and Dylan, who are practically rolling in fits of laughter, barely able to catch their breath. I’m pretty sure they won’t recover in time for kickoff.

Coach calls us to attention, his voice sharp as he points at us. “Focus, men!”

The referee motions for me, and I step forward for the coin flip. I shake the grin off my face and roll my shoulders out. Enough messing around. Thea got me loose. Now it’s time to lock in. The tension shifts, hanging thick in the air as we line up. The whistle blows, and the game begins.

During extra time in the first half, the ball comes to me in the center circle. My cleats dig into the turf as I take it, the noise of the crowd suddenly muffling, fading into the background. My focus sharpens: just the ball, the defense, and me. My body moves on instinct, weaving past their players and cutting inside, letting the game take over.

The shot is clean, a precise strike, lower left corner. 1-0, us. The roar of the crowd crashes in, a wave of noise that surges through my chest. But amidst the celebration, all I can see is her face in the stands and I can’t help it. I brush two fingers over my heart before sending them her way with a grin.

That was for you.

The second half starts quickly. The tempo picks up, and with every pass, every sprint, I can feel us settling into a rhythm. We’re in sync now, the defense tightening, the midfield controlling the tempo. Dylan’s sharp tackles and quick thinking drive us forward. We’re pushing them back, forcing them to chase us.

Then, just as it looks like the other team might break through, their striker takes a powerful shot toward goal. Benson’s there. He dives, his body twisting in mid-air to reach it, and with a clean, calculated save, he bats the ball wide. His agility is incredible, and the crowd reacts with a roar of admiration.

The game continues, and when it looks like the other team might have a second chance, their striker steps toward goal again, ready to tie it up. But Dylan is there, reading the play. The attacker tries to cut inside as Dylan steps in with a perfectly timed soccer tackle, knocking the ball free and sending the opponent sprawling. The ball flies into open space, and Dylan’s on it in a flash, already weaving through their defenders. With a sharp, calculated shot, he puts it in the right corner of the net.