Page 185 of Echoes of the Banshee

“What’s wrong, dear? Anita said you’ve been acting… strange.” Thea flinches at the words. This isn’t any version of Thea I know. I’ve seen her lost in thought, carefree, even furious enough to throw sparks.

But this? This isn’t that. I’ve never seen her scared. Benson said she never once showed an ounce of fear while they were kidnapped. So who the hell is this witch that has her retreating like this? Benson and Dylan exchange looks, stepping in closer, as they notice it too.

“Thea, why are you holding onto Zair like that?” Anita asks, her voice thick with mock curiosity. “I thought you were all about Benson. Varik told me how cute you two were, sleeping together in the closet. So, what’s going on here?”

A low growl escapes from Dylan. Anita dismisses it with a flip of her hair, unbothered.

“Mom says you’re not answering her calls, by the way,” Anita continues, her smile turning predatory. “She can’t wait to see you tomorrow when we get home.”

The threat is clear, though I don’t fully understand it. I can feel Thea’s body retreating against mine. I can’t let this go on.

“Anita, go away.” My voice rings out loud and firm, grabbing the attention of everyone nearby.

“Oh, Zair,” she purrs, leaning in slightly. “Always the knight in shining armor. Too bad Thea already has one.”

And just like that, the three of them disappear into the crowd.

“I should take her home,” I say.

“Wait,” Benson says, stepping in front of Thea. “Look at me,” he says, and slowly, her eyes shift to him. Still dazed. Still distant. “You need to tell him.”

She shakes her head no, barely moving.

Benson takes her hand, turns it over, and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist — right beside her bracelet. A strange gesture. Gentle. Intentional.

“Trust him,” he says.

She stares at him for a second longer, then turns to me. Her fingers find mine, cold and quivering. I don’t wait. I take her hand and lead her away, burying the slight jealousy under the weight of everything else.

When we reach my room, I sit her down on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t react. Her eyes are unfocused, staring through the floor. I decide to give her a few minutes of space.

“I’m going to shower,” I say quietly. “I’ve got sweat, kettle corn grease, and whatever mystery goo Dylan launched on me during the balloon toss all over me.”

She still doesn’t answer. Just sits there, clutching the tiny elephant.

I hesitate a second longer, then head into the bathroom.

By the time I emerge, a thin veil of steam still clinging to my skin, the room feels different. She hasn’t moved, but something has shifted. She’s sitting straighter. Her fingers no longer strangling the elephant’s neck. Her eyes slowly track my movement.

“You smell better,” she comments dryly, her voice a touch more like the Thea I know.

“We can’t all smell like death and destruction,” I joke, trying to keep the mood light. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see the panic flash across her face. It’s quick, but unmistakable.

“I smell like death?” she whimpers.

“No!” I blurt out, too loud. “No, I was just joking. You smell fine, honestly.” I immediately regret the words, scrambling to reassure her.

God, I’m such an idiot.

Thea

Lazlo’s Gone, Zair’s Here. Life Is Complicated

He didn’t show. Lazlo didn’t come and take that girl’s soul. I know it was her, the girl they used to trap him last time. But he didn’t show.

Have I spent all this time searching for him — and he’s not even here?

Did he die for good when I came back? Ripped from history and from me?