Page 69 of Echoes of the Banshee

“Does that mean he’s single?”

“Last I heard, but he doesn’t date witches,” I remind them.

“You went out with him. It’s just a hop skip and a hump from dinner to the bedroom,” Amelia says with a smile.

Gross. I really hate witches. Seriously, why is hooking up with male witches and climbing the ladder the only thing they can think about? I stop answering their questions and eventually they leave.

And another set takes their place.

Then another.

I spend the rest of dinner picking at my food, half-listening to the low buzz of flies hoping to land on something rotten.

Apparently, one dinner with Zair Brennan was enough to turn me into campus gossip.

The week passes in a similar fashion. Random witches stop me between classes. Strangers suddenly know my name. Everyone seems desperate to figure out whether Zair and I are together. On the positive, I’ve settled into a weird kind of routine with Dylan and Benson hanging around. They join me whenever they spot me at meals, between classes, even during walks. It’s like they’ve decided I’m part of their group now. Like the big brothers I never had. I don’t think it’s anything more. After the whole Zair thing, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve just been oblivious.

Because Zair… he definitely likes me.

He said it. I like you. A lot. He said I wasn’t a distraction. That it was real. That he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Anita always chose guys, convinced me I wanted them, then took them away. That was normal to me. That was the pattern. I think that’s why I couldn’t see what was growing with Zair.

I keep trying to tell myself he didn’t mean it, that it was heat-of-the-moment or some sweet lie to save face, but… he looked at me like he meant every word. He hasn’t changed, but now everything he does feels different. Carrying my bag. Always sitting beside me, close enough to touch. Bringing me snacks at the nook like he knew I’d forgotten to eat. I thought he was just being a good friend. Am I genuinely that dumb? I can’t figure out what angle he’s playing… and I’m scared he’s not playing one at all. He doesn’t bring up the almost-kiss and neither do I. Even though I can’t stop thinking about it.

Friday morning, my alarm blares as I’m showering and I listen to it ring as I finish my shower. When I finally get annoyed enough, I get out and grab it I have a message from Anita.

Sister:

It’s Mavis’ Birthday.

Club Slick, VIP.

I growl under my breath. Why did she send this to me? Is this the next in her attempts to manipulate me? What I remember of the parties that Anita dragged me to were drinks spilled in my lap and going home with questionable men. Good times.

After combat and breakfast, I head to a meeting with a teacher on the nightblind side of the school. Spending the time poring over the book on magical shackles I found last night. I’m settled into a quiet seat in the hallway, pages spread out in front of me, my attention drawn fully into the text.

Witch cuffs are distinct from other magical cuffs in that they remove all magic from the wearer. This causes excruciating pain. For magical creatures that cannot survive without their magic, such as elves, goblins, and vampires, the consequences are lethal. Other cuffs, such as those made by goblins, leave the wearer with only enough magic to stay alive, but not enough to use their gifts; no extra strength or speed.

So the bracelet that Anita gave me wasn’t a regular witch cuff. I still had access to some power. Were they goblin cuffs then? I can’t see the Ashgraves using a goblin for something like that. Gideon probably made it.

“Adora.”

I look up and see Ethan coming my way.

“Hi Ethan.” I try to keep my tone as boring as possible. Not raising my eyes from my book again. He sits down right next to me anyway and tries to touch my shoulder. I scoot away.

“Stop it.”

“But I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you look. Sitting here reading.” I close my book.

“Then admire from afar and leave me alone.” I put my book in my bag.

“That’s not nice. We used to be a cute couple. I helped you, you helped me. It worked for everyone.”

“It didn’t work for me.” I zip my bag with more force than I mean to and start to walk away. He grabs my arm, his grip bruising.

Before I can react, someone stands behind me. I glance up, relieved to see Bernard there, his usual easygoing expression is gone, replaced by something darker. He looks every inch the werehyena that he is.

“Hey, man. Back off,” Bernard says.