Page 63 of Echoes of the Banshee

“I see,” she says, like she doesn’t.

“It was real. That kiss — it was real.” I take a breath, ready to try again. Screw my pride. I need her to know what this is to me. She makes me want to toss all my rules out the window. No. I’ve already tossed them. Every last one. I’d proudly walk through campus holding her hand, eating my words every time someone reminds me I don’t date witches. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“I—I didn’t realize you felt that way,” she says, her confusion evident. What the hell happened to this girl that she can’t recognize when someone’s falling for her? I’m not exactly being subtle. “I’m sorry. I have someone.”

Well shit, I just laid it all out there.

“Yeah,” I say, voice a little hoarse. “No hard feelings. I get it.”

She looks at me for a second, something flickering in her expression guilt, maybe? It passes quickly.

“I really thought—” she starts, but I can’t bear to hear it.

“I get it. We’re good, Thea.”

She nods slowly, “Goodbye, Zair,” she says with depressing finality.

“No — Thea,” I try to call after her, but she’s already gone. She can’t honestly think I wouldn’t want to be her friend because she rejected me. Yeah, it stings, and my pride’s going to need some time to recover, but I don’t remember ever feeling this way about a girl. I’m not just pulled into her orbit. I’m caught. Willingly.

Does she genuinely not see that?

None of this has been real to her. She probably thought I was just moving her hair, just a casual touch, like I don’t think about kissing her every time we’re this close. She said she has someone, but doesn’t she know what it looks like when someone’s about to kiss you? Witches aren’t exactly known for their purity, and judging by her takedowns, I doubt she is either.

And who the hell is this guy she’s with? The one she talked about at the diner? He’s the one who ‘taught her about love,’ but she can’t even tell when someone wants her for nothing but her?

I walk to my dorm room, still trying to figure out how to fix this.

The only answer I can come up with is to be her friend. Just her friend. Show her I’m not going anywhere. Because if I can’t be the one, I still want to be someone.

Thea

Love in the Time of Shackles

The door shuts with a click and I lean against it for a moment.

Zair nearly kissed me.

Zair.

It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t date witches. I’m a witch. A witch. That’s not something he’s ever broken before. This was supposed to be safe territory for me, a friendship with someone who, well, who I thought I could trust. But not like that. We connect, we have fun. He’s funny, easy, just, comfortable. And when he smiles at me, it’s like — oh, shit.

I almost let him kiss me. But no, it’s definitely for the best that I didn’t. He tried to play it off, saying he wanted to date me. He was definitely giving me a line.

It’s fine. Zair’s gone. He wanted a distraction, wanted to release some tension. I liked him. He was a good friend. I liked his friends. But it’s over now.

I didn’t realize how much I was relying on his friendship.

But it’s okay.

Slowly, I change into my pajamas. The dream memory potion sits out on my nightstand. I’d been waiting, but I need to see him tonight. I follow the instructions from class; concentrate hard on the memory I want, drawing it toward me, remembering every detail I can. The magic takes hold gently, blurring the edges of my mind. Drowsiness settles in like a heavy blanket, and the world begins to fade.

The cuff bites into my wrist, sharp and sudden, snapping the world into focus. The cell around me feels suffocating. The walls are solid, cold stone, enclosing me in the small space. My left arm is attached to the wall, and I can barely stretch it out to reach the far side. The small bed is positioned in such a way that I can’t lie down properly; leaving me in a constant, painful half-position. A disgusting toilet-sink combo stands in the corner.

Home. Or something close to it.

I hear the voice that made it so.

Lazlo.