Page 33 of Echoes of the Banshee

“Be careful, I haven’t learned how to reattach fingers yet.”

Benson’s laugh echoes in the room. “I might look hot with nine fingers.”

“Maybe, but you’d be a terrible goalie,” I point out.

“Damn.”

A shriek tugs at me. Now? I continue my work, ignoring the soul. Most find their way. The cries follow me through the rest of class.

By the middle of soccer practice, they’re impossible to ignore. An incessant weeping screech that forces me to fake an injury so I can leave early.

It’s been three hours. This soul is officially stuck. I follow the cries. They’re coming from a wooded area by the pitch. No wonder I couldn’t play. I brace myself for the body and walk into the clearing.

It’s leaning against a tree, strange burns circling their forehead. This close, I can hear them.

“Please, help me.” Over and over.

My banshee form takes over as I bring the cry to the front of my throat, prepared to free it when his chest moves.

What?

I close the distance, kneeling in front of the man to scan him with my healing magic. The body is alive, but the soul is desperate for escape. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s wrong. The body is fine, but the soul is half disconnected, gone.

“So much pain,” the soul pleads. “I want my mom.”

Is this like what happened to Thea?

No, her soul is damaged. This soul is fine.

No matter what it is, there is no recovery.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Letting loose a keening to free them, to guide them to the quiet shore.

I shift back into my human costume and go to Thea’s nook. She must see the mood I’m in because she doesn’t say a word. It is the best thing she could say. Letting me stay silent the entire night while keeping me company.

My dorm feels wrong when I get home. I call Ma, tell her what I did.

When my clock says four forty I give up trying to sleep. Normally combat would chase away the self-hate, but it’s Saturday.

Climbing out of bed, I get dressed and head across the hall to knock on Benson’s door.

“What?”

“Want to go for a run?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

He grumbles but I can hear him moving around inside. I stretch until he steps out, his green hair sticking up in all directions. I offer him a big smile.

“You do know it’s five,” he grumbles as we take the steps and out into the dark morning. “Why didn’t you wake up Dylan.”

“He doesn’t live across the hall from me.” We set off at a jog. The rhythmic sound of our feet hitting the path the only sound. The lake comes into view as we veer onto the loop.

We’re immediately passed by the shadow witch Mavrik. He’ll wear himself out soon. Still, I pick up the pace.

After the fourth lap Benson grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop.