Page 149 of Echoes of the Banshee

It’s Friday night. Dylan drags Zair to a nightblind party and no one pretends I should go. Instead I text Benson to meet me at the library and test my theory on how to make the books readable to goblins. Feeling guilty that, between everything else, I forgot. The walk isn’t long. But as I step into the dimly lit path between buildings, the usual background noise of campus life fades into an eerie stillness. An uneasy shiver creeps through me.

I glance over my shoulder. Nothing but the empty sway of lampposts. But the sensation of being watched clings to me like a second shadow.

Quickening my pace, I reach the library and push through the heavy doors. The familiar scent of old books and wood polish wraps around me like a protective cloak. I exhale, telling myself I’m imagining things, but the tension in my chest doesn’t ease.

The second floor is quieter than usual, unsettlingly so. I pause, sensing movement at the edge of my vision. I turn sharply into a secluded aisle and press my back against the shelf, heart hammering.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Ethan’s voice cuts through the silence, and he steps into view with a lopsided grin.

“Ethan,” I exhale, irritation flaring. “What are you doing sneaking around like that?”

He shrugs, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I wasn’t sneaking. I saw you walking here and thought we could… talk.”

“Talk?” I fold my arms, unconvinced.

He steps closer, the dim light casting strange shadows across his face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to be around you,” I retort and attempt to brush past him. He moves to block my path.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” His tone is edgy. “I think we’ve been misunderstanding each other.”

“I don’t think so,” I reply indifferently, trying again to step around him. His hand darts out, seizing my arm.

“Just… hear me out,” he pleads, as his grip tightens. “You think you don’t need me, but that’s not true. Without me, you’re lost. We could be something unstoppable together.”

“I don’t need you, Ethan,” I reply tartly, failing to shake my arm free.

His expression shifts from casual to stern. “You’re always so quick to dismiss me. But I see you. Really see you. Not like those boys.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my patience fraying.

“They don’t care about you,” he says, voice rising. “You’ve been here two years, and they never even looked at you. What changed? What made them suddenly take notice? You think Zair woke up one day and decided to break his rules for you?”

His words hit harder than I expect. He steps closer, his gaze intense, almost pleading. “I’m telling you the truth because I care about you. Benson is sleeping his way across campus after you bragged about him. Zair only notices you now because you’ve gotten stronger. Mavrik will drag you down with his shadows. But me? I saw you when you were nothing. I stayed when everyone else turned away. You need me.”

“You don’t get to decide my worth, Ethan.”

“Anita told me you’d say that. Told me you’d try to push me away. That you’d never comprehend that we belong together. But I’m not giving up on you.”

My blood turns cold at her name, the realization settling like a lead weight in my chest.

“Anita?”

What kind of spell is she using on you, Ethan? A charm? He’s still talking, but I’ve stopped listening.

“Ethan, did Anita give you anything?” I hedge. He has a necklace and a watch. It could be either, or neither. Dammit, I need to start carrying a goblin blade. I should have realized it sooner. He’s been acting strange for weeks.

“No. I told you, I never slept with her. I wouldn’t do that. You’re the one I’ve wanted all along. You’re everything to me!”

Is he purposefully misunderstanding me?

He pulls a vial from his pocket and before I can react smashes it against the floor. The air thickens around me like tar. My limbs freeze mid-motion. It slams me against the bookshelf behind me. The impact rattles through my spine and pins my wrists at my sides. Panic flares in my chest.

“I didn’t want to do it like this,” he says, almost apologetic. “But you leave me no choice.” He brushes a hand down my arm. His fingers trail over my skin like he owns me. “You’ll see,” he whispers. “This is what we’re meant for.”

Suddenly his mouth is on mine: wet, demanding, cruel.

How dare he?