Page 4 of Echoes of the Banshee

“You’re in the clearing, aren’t ya?” His voice stays steady, but I can feel the tremor underneath. “I’m nearly there. Hold on, love.”

“Don’t come. I don’t want you to see,” I tell him like he has any control.

“You have nothing to live for.” Vivien steps closer, her eyes cold as ice. “Give Anita your soul, and you’ll be forever remembered. Forever honored by our coven.”

“No.”

“Light the fire,” she commands. Miriam steps forward, calling on her magic. Flames dance across her hand and a small smile plays on her lips before she sets the pyre alight. She drove me home for Thanksgiving break. Made cookies with me at yule.

The fire surges, roaring to life, its heat blistering at my skin. The jeers of the crowd fill the clearing, their voices rising and falling like a chaotic symphony. Pain explodes through me, searing and all-consuming. I try to shove it into the nugget inside me. The place where I keep the pain. But it’s too much. It spills over. I scream, like it will save me.

“Bring the banshee forward!”

I freeze, the heat of the flames forgotten for a moment as the crowd splits. He’s jerked into the clearing by a guard, stumbling. His gaunt frame, the bruises shadowing his face, and the way his head barely lifts. And yet, it’s him.

“Lazlo,” my voice is a prayer, inaudible over the roar of the fire. The moment is suspended. It’s us, finally seeing one another. This, it’s all that matters, not the fire, not the searing metal shackles biting into my bones, not the crowd’s howling.

My mate.

Even battered, even broken, he is beautiful. He is mine.

“Thea, I’m here, I’m with ya, love.” The sound of his voice steadies me. I focus only on him, escaping the pain. The crackling of flames fading, though the lingering heat still claws at my skin. All I can feel is Lazlo, his presence tethered to mine: intense, unyielding, and desperate.

He lets loose a cry, but I don’t let go.

“Give it to me, love. Let me guard ya soul,” Lazlo pleads.

Vivien’s words slice through his, sharp and venomous, twining with his like a dark shadow.

“Give it up, Thea. You know you have no choice. What’s a soul to you? Nothing but a burden, a weight that will only drag you down. Let go. Let us take it.”

“No!” I cry aloud, my voice scraping my throat as I cling to the last threads of my soul. “I won’t let Anita have it.”

“She’ll not have it, I swear on me life.” Desperation taints his plea. “But ya gotta let go, love. Ya don’t deserve this.”

He tries again, his cry echoing into the night. I persist.

“I can’t,” I whisper, the tears drying faster than they fall down my face. “You already have my soul, Lazlo.” The flames lick at my skin, the heat searing my resolve into steel.

Through the roar of the fire, Anita’s voice rises.

“Fix this!” she spits. “Free her soul! Do something, or we’re all doomed!”

“I can’t. She’s too strong,” Lazlo tells them. Panic spreads through the clearing as Anita’s facade crumbles.

“Do it, or I’ll kill you!” she shrieks, clawing at him.

His no is defiant. I feel the whip as it hits his flesh.

“Why? They’ll kill you!”

“Thea…” His accent deepens with helplessness. “If ya goin’, I’m goin’ too. We’ll die t’gether, love. I’ll find ya again — that’s a promise.”

They’ve lost.

The fire surges, devouring me whole, tearing at my flesh and soul until I feel like nothing remains but a burning, endless ache. Their voices fade, drowned by the roar of the flames and the relentless thud of my heart. I’m dying. All I have to do is let go. Lazlo will catch me. He’ll shield my soul with his own.

And it’ll destroy him.