Page 13 of Echoes of the Banshee

A pungent wave of perfume announces Sloane and Lillian’s arrival before I even look up. They stand over us, every detail of their posture curated for maximum attention.

“Zair,” Lillian purrs, leaning in a little too close. “Didn’t know you were slumming it with Adora. I thought someone like you had better sense than to get stuck with this… loser.” She lets the word linger, savoring it like candy on her tongue.

Sloane’s smile is razor-sharp. “Honestly, Zair. If I’d known you were looking for a lab partner, I’d have volunteered. I’m far more… experienced than she is. And who wouldn’t want someone who knows how to handle a potion properly?”

Lillian leans in further over the desk, pushing her breasts together so they nearly pop out of her shirt. She’s so close now that her overpowering scent fills the space. Thea lets out a small snort. They round on her instantly.

“If it isn’t Adora. Did you get lost? This is Advanced Potions, not remedial,” Sloane sneers.

Thea’s gaze sharpens to a blade. “The name is Thea, and if you’re done embarrassing yourself…” A glimmer of a smile touching her lips. “We need to add our Violet Essence of the Moonflower.”

We added that twenty minutes ago.

Lillian’s hand trails dangerously close to my chair, and I instinctively jerk away from her reach.

“Don’t touch me.”

Lillian lurches, knocking over the vial of Violet Essence of the Moonflower. The bottle hits the desk with a crack, the lid popping off and spilling the liquid in a slow arc across Thea’s meticulously organized notes.

Thea’s eyes flick to the ruined pages, then back up to Lillian, her expression completely unbothered.

“Well, that was a lovely touch, Lillian,” she says dryly.

“Professor Sinclair,” Lillian calls with way too much sugar. “Adora is wasting the… the… the purple moon essence. She spilled it all over!” They share a look of victory.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see how Thea gets out of this.

“Adora!” he yells, even though he’s only two feet away. I can feel every eye in the class turn to watch. Prick. “Did you not hear me expressly tell the class that it’s expensive, or were you too busy making googly eyes at Mr. Brennan?”

“I go by Thea.” Her tone is scary polite. “And there’s no way I could have spilled it. There’s a potion between me and the moonflower. It would be impossible without also knocking over my cauldron.”

The professor’s frown deepens. “You’re disrupting the class, making a mess, wasting valuable ingredients,” he mutters, like he’s going down a list of possible infractions. His gaze sharpens, and his lips curl into a smug smirk. “And let’s not forget your lab partner, Zair, is doing all the work, isn’t he? You’re just sitting there, watching him handle everything. Were you too busy staring at Zair to actually participate?”

The whole class watches with rapt attention.

“With how hard you’ve been staring at us all of lab, I figured you would’ve noticed me working,” Thea replies coolly. “Or were you too busy making googly eyes at him to notice?”

Ew. Please tell me that’s a joke. The blush that creeps up Sinclair’s neck suggests it’s not.

“Don’t worry,” Thea adds, her tone sugar-slick and sharp as broken glass. “We all get distracted sometimes. Just try not to project your crush onto my work ethic.”

He’s tried making her a spectacle. Instead she lit the man on fire with words.

Sinclair straightens, his face now a furious red.

“Listen here, you little—” he snaps. Thea only glances behind him and points with one finger.

“You should’ve been paying attention elsewhere.”

The whole class turns to watch an unsettling green potion bubble over the sides of Lillian and Sloane’s cauldron. Panic ripples through the room. Sinclair’s voice cuts through the chaos as he starts barking orders. “Quick, try to stabilize it! Adjust the flame! Add more sage. No, not that much!”

Lillian’s hands fly around, trying to follow his instructions. Sinclair starts yelling for the cooling agent, but it’s clear we’re running out of time. The bubbling grows louder, more frantic, the green hue darkening to a sickly red. There’s nothing anyone can do.

“Move, move!” Sinclair’s voice cracks. Too late.

The explosion shakes the room, the blast of steamed potion hurtling through the air, spraying across desks and soaking us all in the aftermath. The force knocks me back, and I stumble slightly, stunned. When the fog of steam clears, I realize I’ve somehow grabbed onto Thea, pulling her close and putting myself between her and the blast. My hands are on her bare arms, fingers tight.

We share a look, the kind that says ‘I saw nothing if you saw nothing,’ and I quickly step away, pretending it never happened.