Page 14 of Echoes of the Banshee

Lillian stands frozen, her hair singeing at the edges, her eyebrows completely gone. Sloane’s clothes are charred as she scrambles to regain some kind of composure, but the damage is already done. The ceiling is scorched, blackened marks spreading from the epicenter of the explosion, the room itself bearing the brunt of their failure. The smell of burnt rosemary fills the room. I summon a fresh bubble of air around us, shielding us from the remnants of the disaster.

Thea ignores all of it as she cleans up the mess of her notes, tossing them without ceremony in the trash. All her hard work gone in an instant. She wipes down the table, an amused glint in her eyes as she sings Sweet Dreams under her breath.

I laugh as it dawns on me that today’s potion was for a dreamless sleep.

“You’re something else.”

“Sure you don’t want to join their group? I’m positive you’d double the IQ in it,” she asks.

I raise an eyebrow, giving her a sly smile. “I’m not sure who you just insulted more, them or me.”

Thea laughs quietly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Look at that you found an inch.”

A smile overtakes my face as I stand taller. There’s something about her that’s starting to make sense now.

“Yes! I got an inch!”

Thea snorts and gives me a look. “Most guys wouldn’t be proud of an inch. But hey, more power to you.”

I freeze for half a second, then throw on the dazzling smile. The one that usually melts resistance, turns annoyance into something else entirely. Two can play this game.

“I’d be happy to show you how I use it.”

She raises a brow, utterly unimpressed. “Is this the part where I swoon?” Then, like I didn’t just flirt with a witch, she turns to the cauldron.

“Can you grab some bottles? The potion’s ready to cool.”

I stand there, bottle-less and dazed. What the actual hell just happened? Did I get shot down? By a witch? And more importantly, why was I even flirting? No witches. That’s the rule. The one I don’t break. If I’d said that line to anyone else, they’d already have dragged me into a closet and blown up GhostChat with it. But Thea? She looked at me like I asked her to pass the salt.

I grab the bottles, still recovering. Either she’s playing hard-to-get or I broke my cardinal rule for someone who genuinely couldn’t care less. I don’t know which possibility is worse.

She’s not just a mystery. She’s a full-on opponent. And I’m already losing.

We bottle the potion, standing close enough to touch. But she doesn’t try to. I haven’t had to jerk away from her in the whole two hours we’ve been here.

I’m the one who touched her.

Does she not like touching witches either?

She’s moved on, scribbling in her notebook.

“Do you remember what happened after we added the mugwort? Did it bubble, or was that the one that shimmered? Or was it the lavender that shimmered?”

I hope she’s talking to herself, because I’ve got nothing. I scan the room, trying to figure out who might have the best notes. Because whatever game we’re playing, it’s clear: she’s already two moves ahead.

“Everyone, turn in your potions. Professor Smith will collect your lab reports next class,” Sinclair announces, his voice flat. I notice he’s missing half of his mustache, but hasn’t seemed to realize it. Thea and I walk up together to hand ours in. Only Mila and Anna’s potion is the same color as ours, and I’m starting to feel a spark of concern when Sinclair walks over to me. His swaggering movement makes my skin crawl.

“Good job on the timing, Zair,” he says it like he thinks it’ll give him a shot. I’m a witch. I’ve tried almost everything. But creepy teacher? That’s a hard no.

He looks down at Thea. “Adora, I’m going to have to tell Professor Smith that you caused an explosion and should be removed from this class.”

“I caused the explosion, at the end of the class?” Thea asks, her voice unnervingly calm.

“Yes. That’s what I just said,” he growls.

“The moonflower should have been added during the first five minutes. Guess it wasn’t me,” she says simply, turning to leave.

“How do you know it was the moonflower?” Sinclair accuses.