Page 189 of Echoes of the Banshee

She cocks her head in confusion. Time seems to freeze. I hold my breath, waiting for the fallout. She blinks a few times and pulls away from me, eyes wide.

“You’re Lazarus?” she whispers, her voice filled with doubt.

“That’s my banshee’s name,” I say, struggling with the confession. “Only my family knows it. Never told a soul.”

“You don’t sound like Lazarus.”

How does she know what I sound like? Well, this isn’t it. With unsteady hands, I reach up and remove my lip ring. I take the small, metallic piece and place it in her hand, curling her fingers around it.

“There, love, is that better now?” I say, my Irish brogue thick with disuse.

Her eyes widen.

“Lazlo,” she whispers in awe. Then she throws herself into my arms, kissing me with a desperation that splits me open. I hold her close as sobs begin to shake through her — raw, relentless. Each one feels like a blade. But they aren’t from pain. They’re from relief. So I hold her, and I let her fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I know the crying hurts you. I just… I can’t stop.”

That makes me still. How does she know that?

“Don’t worry ’bout it, love.”

That makes her cry harder. I hold her until her body finally relaxes against mine. She slowly pulls away, meeting my eyes. I can tell she has no idea where to start.

“Ye’ve got me puzzled, I’ll admit,” I say softly. “How did ya know me real name? Who I am? How did ya know to look for me?”

“God, I missed that accent,” she sighs, and I’m scared the tears will start again, but then she lets out a shaky laugh. “You know how your mom named you Lazarus after the myth that male banshees can bring people back from the dead?” she asks and I nod. Okay, she knows a lot about me.

“You can,” she says. “Over winter break we get captured and locked in a prison for months,” she wavers before continuing. “I was dying, and I offered you my soul, to protect, and I woke up back here.”

“Why didn’t ya know who I was?” I ask.

“They captured you in banshee form, and that’s how you stayed. They didn’t know who you were. They were trying to break you, get you to reveal your name so they could go after your family.” She pauses, her fingers brushing my face. “I never saw you in this form. And I only saw him once.”

A quiet moment passes.

“Can I see him? The real you?” she asks softly.

“Me banshee form?” I ask, appalled. She nods, unflinching.

I flinch. I’ve never shown anyone. Not anyone still breathing, anyway.

But she knows what I am. She’d seen the worst and still come looking for me. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let him out.

It rolls over me like a tide, unmaking what I was. My bones shift. My skin greys. My eyes sink. A harbinger of death. The real me.

She kisses me. Her lips are warm and real, grounding on a face no one was ever meant to touch.

My eyes fly open in shock.

“How can ya kiss a banshee?” I ask, still unable to wrap my head around it. I drop into my regular form, a little unsure.

“How could I not? You’re amazing, and you’re wonderful,” she tells me, her voice warm. “Hell, you made me fall in love with you, twice. While competing with yourself.”

“I take people’s souls,” I say simply, still questioning myself. Why am I fighting her on this?

“You help souls,” she says, no hesitation in her voice. “And I can take them too. Does that make you like me any less?”

“No,” I reply, offering a small smile. “Honestly, your soul magic? It’s pretty damn sexy.”