Page 76 of Echoes of the Banshee

I give him a sour look then point to my table. “I’ll be there in a minute. I needed to ask Benson a question.”

“Benson can sit with us,” Zair says offhand. Benson gives Zair a look that says he’d rather not.

“Don’t be rude, he’s sitting with Reuben and Percy, and I’ve already taken up their time. Thank you guys.” I grab Zair’s arm and pull him away. We pass a table of witches and I hear the whispers.

“See, she’s touching his skin, she must’ve cursed him.”

“Maybe a love potion.”

“I hear it’s—”

I drop his arm as we keep walking. Honestly, I’m surprised it took the rumor mill this long. Mavrik is sitting in my usual seat and I slide in next to him, shoving him against the corner and digging in.

“Someone tried to put something in your food. You shouldn’t leave it alone,” Mavrik says offhand.

“Who?” Zair asks concerned.

“A shifter. The shadows chased them off and I came over to sit here. I can leave.”

“Why would we want you to leave?” I ask him.

“Er — Never mind.” When lunch is done, Zair reminds me I promised to go to his soccer game and then goes to warm up.

Mavrik and I head to the library and work on our calculus homework. When it’s time for the game, I say goodbye.

The stands are packed. Fans cluster together in tight groups, their excitement palpable. I scan the stadium for Lazlo, heart sinking as I remember I have no idea what I’m looking for. How can I not know him?

We talked about everything, our deepest fears, our wildest dreams. He told me about the places he wanted to see, the things he wanted to do. He confided in me that he doesn’t want to be a healer, didn’t want to shepherd souls to the other side as a banshee is supposed to.

He’d told me all about his love of soccer, about matches he went to in Ireland, about how it felt when he played. But I don’t know if he played for the school team, or if he even liked playing with other people. I’d been too scared to ask. Too scared that if I pieced together who he truly was, I might realize he was someone who already knew me and didn’t like me. I pretended it was because I didn’t want to give him away, but the truth is, I was terrified.

The chances are high that we’ve crossed paths before. I admit I’m tempted to take the coward’s route and not find him. Because he could be anyone, and I don’t think I’m ready for that. What if he turned out to be someone who’d sneered at me in the hallway or ignored me in class? Or worse, one of the guys Anita played with. I find myself thinking Lazlo is better as a memory, but I have to find him, I have to save him.

I’d only seen him that once, when I was tied to the stake. He was in banshee form, grey skin, sunken features. Not exactly helpful. He was tall, and skinny, but that could’ve been because we had been starved. No, I have no idea what he looks like. And I haven’t found any Irish witches.

As the game starts, my gaze drifts from player to player. Benson looks chaotic as he twists midair to make what is likely a difficult save. He passes the ball to Zair, who moves with such precision. Every pass is a calculated decision, every shot perfectly executed. It’s hypnotic, but it isn’t Lazlo. Lazlo had always been chaos, wild and unpredictable, like the storm he was. Zair, on the other hand, is all control, all confidence. Nothing about his movements feels spontaneous.

Still, I can’t help but hope. Maybe I just want it to be him. I’m not afraid to admit that Zair is attractive, easy to talk to, and more than a little magnetic. But in the pit of my stomach, I know he isn’t the one I’m looking for, even if the disappointment is palpable.

Someone sits down beside me as I study the opposing side of the field. Everyone is wearing the light blue. A black hoodie looks out of place. It seems to move.

Mavrik.

Why didn’t he come with me? I told him I was going to the match and… I didn’t invite him. Does this mean he likes soccer?

I wish I’d brought my notebook. I’ll have to add it to his pros list tonight.

I glance at Zair, still focused on his effortless play. Zair is a distraction, a tempting one, but nothing more. He darts down the field, then fakes a pass so smoothly the defender stumbles. The ball flies into the back of the net. The crowd roars. My heart does something stupid.

“You know you’re supposed to cheer when someone scores,” the slightly accented voice next to me comments. A handsome man in a security uniform sits beside me and it takes a moment for recognition to hit.

“Officer Ollin?” He nods.

“It’s Thea, right? Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Why’s that?” I tease. “You think destruction of property is how I like to spend my evenings?”

He smirks. “If it is, just don’t do it on my watch.”