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The other lay quiet in his own blood.

The victim’s chest inflated coarsely with each inhale. Shaky. Erratic. Fuck. He wasn’t going to make it much longer.

The banshee’s mouth opened, a scream readying in her throat, preparing to immobilize him with audible pain.

Nope, not today. Vann wasn’t in the mood for ruptured eardrums.

She didn’t run.

She didn’t scream.

She froze.

What the hell? Was she working up to making her move?

With a dying human in the mix, he didn’t have time to hesitate.

The resistance of her ribcage slowed his drive. His sword sharp, his strength incomparable, he impaled.

A quiver in her lips, her brow fell, and her mournful innocence slackened her rage.

Deep, burgundy blood pooled in her mouth and trickled down her chin. Voice little more than a whisper, she choked, “I… I can’t… the fury… make it stop—”

Doubt tightened his jaw. “Make what stop?”

Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the floor in a blood-soaked heap.

Vann moved to check the victim. Fingers to the man’s neck, he felt for a pulse.

Pasty, unconscious.

Vann looked to the woman and locked eyes.

She met, but with a trembling blink.

“Call 911. Don’t mention me.”

She nodded weakly, but did as he said.

While she called, he searched the kitchen drawers. He grabbed a handful of clean towels, and a knife from the block. He dropped the knife in the banshee’s pooled blood and held pressure on the victim’s gaping leg wound.

Fucking banshee. A nick in the femoral artery. She could have stabbed the man in the chest or snapped his neck, but she’d wanted to draw it out.

“Hold pressure,” he told the woman as she hung up. As soon as she seemed collected enough, he said with a comforting cadence, “No one can know I was here, or I won’t be able to continue to do what I do.”

He looked around the kitchen. Bowls, spoons, and an open ice cream carton. A midnight snack turned bloody.

“What’s your name?”

“Miranda.”

“Great. Miranda. You keep holding pressure. Talk to him. Remind him to fight to stay alive.”

Color returned to her cheeks, but her voice was distant. “Thank you.”

Sirens echoed in the hills. He took off.

What the fuck was that all about? A banshee who didn’t fight to survive?