Page 70 of Echoes of the Banshee

Ethan snorts, trying to play it cool. “What’s this? Your new bodyguard?”

Bernard’s smile is terrifying. “You know, I’ve been told I’d make a great one.”

Ethan’s fingers twitch, his grip lightening as his gaze darts between us. For a second, I think he might double down. But he doesn’t. He mutters something bitter and lets go.

Bernard glances down at me. “You okay?”

I nod, my heart still racing but grateful. “Thanks. I didn’t need him getting all handsy.”

“Couldn’t have you going crazy on him on this side of the school,” he says, that familiar warmth returning to his smile.

I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the last of the tension. “I thought he’d leave me alone after last time.”

Bernard’s gaze lingers on Ethan’s retreating form for a second longer than necessary, not aggressive, just… assessing. “Some people only hear what they want. But you don’t have to handle him alone.”

He says it so simply, like it’s a fact.

“Thanks,” I say again, quieter this time.

He nods and steps back, already giving me space. “Alright. I’ll see you in class.”

And just like that, he walks away. No lingering looks, no dramatic exit. Just someone who saw something wrong and did the right thing. Why was I ever scared of these guys?

The more I learn about the world, the more I hate Adora. I know it’s not her fault I was weak. But I can’t help it. I wish I’d been this version of me since the beginning. After my meeting, I trek over to Otherfell for lunch, Potions and History.

After classes, Zair peels off and heads to soccer practice, and I go to the small Formularium. They used a potion in the ritual, so maybe I can find the answer in here.

Three hours later, I have nothing.

I’m about to give up and head to the nook when a specific entry catches my eye.

Fertility Potion, Twins.

I stare at it for a few moments. Why does that seem important?

Twins.

Only twins I know are Mavrik and Mavis.

Oh!

I leave the Formularium in a rush and call Zair. He doesn’t answer. I jog to the nightblind side of the school and then towards the soccer pitch when my phone rings.

“What’s up?” Zair asks.

“I need your help with something,” I explain.

“Okay, I just finished soccer—”

“I know. I’m on my way. I need you to take me to the store.”

“I haven’t showered yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. Please.”

He pauses. “Ok. Coming.”

He shows up a few minutes later, sweat glistening. I swallow hard. I should’ve let him shower. Too late now.