deathwish

Sloane felt as though she’d been hollowed out. Leaving was for the best and she knew that, but she hadn’t even been able to tell her dad what had happened yet, nor would she get to until she could find a way home. Would he think that she fell to fate alongside her mom? Would somebody show up and explain what happened? Sloane wanted to show her appreciation for Leah and the way that she had come to their aid without much of a thought, even if it’d been for somebody else initially. That confusion had saved both Sloane and Cass’s lives in more ways than one, and maybe when Sloane didn’t feel like a carved out version of herself, she could show it. 

The library’s basement was far more spacious than the banshee could have imagined, filled to the ceiling with books both ancient and beyond that, and Sloane couldn’t even find it in herself to be interested in them. Sloane’s gaze was trained on the floor, fingers twitching around the blanket that Leah had provided. She couldn’t feel how cold she was now, but she remembered the way her mother’s touch felt and how she’d become used to it. Would Cass? Would anyone? The question of how Cass hadn’t been affected by her or her mom’s screams stayed tucked beneath her tongue. Did she really deserve to know anything more about Cass after putting her in that position? After nearly getting her killed just because she was worried that her mom would die due to the consequences? 

The banshee cleared her throat, sparing a glance to Cass who sat next to her on the couch. “I’m…” She didn’t know what to say. Sorry? That was cheap, all things considered. Sloane wanted to do more than that. She wanted to get on her knees and beg for Cass’s forgiveness, wanted to rip all of the ugly things out of herself that had gotten them here and put them on display, explaining each and every one. She wanted to tell Cass that she didn’t blame her for her mom, because really, she didn’t. Fate had played its part, and it was never meant to be Cass. For that, she was thankful, but Sloane wasn’t sure she was okay with the alternative either. “I was trying to protect you, and I thought I was, but– I ended up getting you hurt anyways.” Sloane looked from Cass’s now bandaged throat to her eyes. “I should have told you. I should have told you everything from the start and maybe–” Sloane motioned towards Cass’s throat, thumb tucked into the blanket, “maybe you wouldn’t have…” She shook her head, clenching her jaw tightly as she looked down at her shoes again. “I never meant any of the bullshit I said, and I– if those had been my last words to you, I don’t…” 

Everything felt so quiet now. It was a stark contrast to the way things had been in that moment Cass couldn’t stop reliving, where Shannon screamed the world to pieces and Sloane followed suit. It was a stifling kind of a quiet, a heavy one. It seemed to hang over them in the library basement, like a chandelier waiting for the perfect opportunity to fall and recreate that nightmare all over again. Sloane was wrapped in a blanket, looking small and sad and guilty, and Cass sat beside her feeling much the same. She wasn’t sure what to say to make any of this better. She wasn’t sure there was anything to be said. 

So… she just sat. Sat beside Sloane, afraid both to reach out and not to, stuck in some strange form of limbo where she was both traumatized and desperate to comfort a friend who had suffered something far, far worse. Afraid of rejection and knowing she probably deserved it. She glanced to the door where Leah had disappeared to, wondering if Sloane would want her to leave when the librarian returned. Wondering if she’d be able to bring herself to comply.

She glanced back to the banshee when she spoke, the words just as unexpected as they’d been in the damaged shop. She’d chalked it up to stress then, sure that Sloane was just lost because of what had happened, but… Sloane was still worried about her. As if Cass was the one who needed concern right now. The siren shook her head quickly. “No, you — You don’t have to apologize.” She’d be lying if she said she fully understood what had happened in that shop, even now, but she was sure it wasn’t Sloane’s fault. Not even a little. “I should have listened to you. And I’m sorry I didn’t, Sloane, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I never wanted anything to turn out like this.”

Everything that Sloane had learned from her mom as well as through books and stories passed down from other family members— most of them being banshees, had told her that at the end of the day, it was fate that made the necessary pathways. There was no rule about not mourning the life one could have led, but what was most important was the recognition that fate held its own against tragedy. Because what happened was tragic, and Sloane felt guilt stretch through her body like a new set of bones, but it wasn’t the end of her. It couldn’t be. 

It was confusing, to say the least, but that confusion would be a lesson, and as long as Sloane looked at it that way, she could navigate this. With Cass, or without. She still wasn’t sure which direction the other girl would take in their friendship given everything that happened. “I didn’t either, and I could have just told you and maybe it wouldn’t have.” Sloane knew she had to keep herself in check. If she didn’t, it was possible she might bring this whole library down on top of them just like she had the last building. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I wasn’t honest with you and you just… acted the way you did without the information I should have given you.” Her words came out robotic and slightly disconnected, so she tried again. “I was worried about my mom getting hurt by me telling you what was happening, and that happened anyways, and if anything, it’s my fault, not yours, so…” She shrugged, expression void of any real grief. It was so wound in her chest that she wasn’t sure how to start digging it out.

Sloane sounded so empty. Like something had been drained from her, like something was missing. Cass ached with the absence of something she didn’t understand, feeling her own kind of emptiness in response. All she wanted was to fix this, and she couldn’t. She couldn’t put that shop back together, couldn’t push the blood back into Shannon’s body, couldn’t force a heart to beat when it was finished. She wondered what good any of her ‘superpowers’ were when there wasn’t a single one of them that could be used to make the girl she liked feel okay. 

“Hey, no,” she said quickly, finally closing that canyon between them to take Sloane’s hands into hers. They were small and cold and she couldn’t tell if they were trembling or if hers still were or both. She wasn’t sure how much of a difference knowing would have made. “It’s not your fault, Sloane. None of this is your fault. You were scared. You were worried about how I’d react if I knew. I get it. I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t totally honest with you about some things, either.” If Sloane had known she was a siren, would that have changed things? Shannon had seemed pretty disgusted with the idea of Sloane having a crush on a human. Maybe if Cass had told her what she was… But it didn’t do her any more good focusing on ‘what ifs’ than it did Sloane. What had happened had happened. There was no going back now. Cass knew that. 

Sloane half-expected Cass to recoil after making a grab for her hands, but she didn’t. They were two entirely different people than she had first considered and maybe that would drive the wedge between them, not what happened at her mom’s store. But Cass spoke with the same sincerity she always did, only this time with shaking hands. Part of her wanted Leah to come back so that she could slip out from beneath this conversation, but another part of her wanted to be alone with Cass for as long as it took to get back to normal, if they could even achieve that. 

As Cass spoke, Sloane listened intently, expression unchanging, even at her declaration that she had something she hadn’t been honest about. Communication was not their strong suit, so it seemed. “You weren’t hurt by the scream…” Sloane wracked her brain for the meaning, knowing well enough that her immunity to the banshees’ scream was not because she was a warden. Even they did not get off so lucky. “Is that what it’s about?” Sloane turned Cass’s hand over in her own, looking down at the way her fingers trembled. Clasping the other girl’s hand in her own, she looked back up to meet Cass’s gaze, waiting for her to explain. 

You weren’t hurt by the scream. It wasn’t something Cass had put much thought into. It was clear that the banshee screams she’d encountered tonight had been powerful — Shannon’s had knocked that lighting fixture loose, and Sloane’s had torn the building apart — but she hadn’t considered that it might have been strange that she wasn’t affected. She remembered Regan messaging her after that encounter in the woods, seemingly surprised that Cass wasn’t hurt when she’d screamed. Cass had assumed it just meant Regan had more control than she thought and hadn’t thought much beyond it, but… Maybe there was a little something more to it.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, “yeah I guess that could be part of it. I don’t really… I’m still kind of new. To all of it. I, um… I’m a siren. I didn’t know it until recently, but that’s what I am. I guess maybe that makes me… not get hurt when a banshee screams. I don’t know. I haven’t really had another siren around to explain it to me. And I — I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m still kind of… coming to terms with it, I guess.”

Sloane didn’t want to push Cass into explaining. She wanted it to happen organically. Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure she actually deserved any kind of explanation given everything that had happened, but Cass supplied her with one anyways. “A siren…” Sloane tasted the word and it felt like metal against the roof of her mouth. All of this time, they thought of each other as only human. Fate was truly fucked out of its head. “That…. okay.” 

She wasn’t upset with Cass for not telling her, not at all. How could she be, especially when she hadn’t even been honest about who she was. “You didn’t need to, I mean, I didn’t exactly jump at telling you who I was, you know?” Though it hurt, Sloane attempted a smile. She squeezed Cass’s hand tightly, smoothing her thumb over the back of it. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” That seemed to be the theme of the night. At the back of her mind, she still worked against the image of her mom falling to her demise, and of her father cluelessly going about his day. Would he have found out by now? “We can ask Leah, see if… you being a siren has anything to do with it?” 

Sloane repeated the words and, foolishly, there was some part of Cass that expected a rejection to follow. As if Sloane had ever been the kind of person whose opinion of her would change based on what she was, as if she’d ever given Cass a reason to think that she was someone who would decide to hate her because she wasn’t human. But instead, Sloane said okay. She rubbed her thumb along the back of Cass’s hand. She assured her that there was nothing to forgive. And Cass believed her. Cass would have believed anything Sloane asked her to, in that moment. She was just full of so much relief that the other girl was okay. Physically, at least. She knew emotionally was going to be something of a different story.

“Yeah,” she nodded, offering Sloane a small smile that was genuine even if it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Yeah, Leah will definitely know. She’s been answering a lot of my questions. Not just about this.” She thought of those bugs in the library — the bookwyrms. She thought of the chalice they’d come together to find to stop the tree, thought of the pile of books she’d carried to the library counter just because they had siren in the title. Leah had been a huge help. Cass had no doubt that the pattern would continue. “So, um… A banshee, right?” She knew it was true, but she thought it might do both of them some good, somehow, to have Sloane confirm it.

Even if Sloane felt like she was falling apart, she couldn’t physically represent it. To do that in front of Cass, especially when Sloane knew the risks— to put Leah in that position in her library, it wouldn’t be fair. Even though an enormous part of Sloane wanted to lash out at fate and beg for an answer, now wasn’t the time. She wanted to cry, wanted the grief to tear through her and shred her to bits. She wanted to fall apart, but if she did that, a lot more would be at stake. It was why she had undergone so much training. She was supposed to be prepared for this, even if it hurt, and even if her guiding force was no longer standing. 

“Leah knows a lot… is really smart.” Sloane chewed on the inside of her cheek as her gaze strayed from Cass’s face to the stacks of books behind her. “Didn’t know she had this much knowledge, but it makes a lot of sense considering…” Leah seemed to know everything under the sun. “I’ve been coming to this library for years and I never even knew this was here.” She let out a soft laugh, straining against the pain as it buried itself into the set of her shoulders. “I hope she can help you figure it out.” I want to help you figure it out, Sloane almost said. At Cass’s declaration— because that’s what it was, Sloane simply nodded, gaze still ahead, traveling over the nooks and crannies of the basement. “A banshee, yeah.” Finally, she looked back at Cass with a sad smile. “I’ll answer everything, I will, about— my…” Sloane cleared her throat, brows furrowed, “about it, all of it, I just… I know you deserve answers, and I want to give them to you, but right now—“ 

The sound of footsteps sounded and Sloane looked up to see Leah as she descended the stairs with two glasses of water. “You’ve been hiding this place under here all this time?” Sloane asked with a careful laugh as the older woman approached the couch.

“She really does.” There had never been a question Cass brought to the library that went unanswered, and she was appreciative for that. Leah didn’t have to do any of it, of course. No one was making her, no one insisting. She did it out of the kindness of her heart, because she felt it needed doing. Because she thought the people in this town deserved to know what they were, deserved to understand the world they lived in. Cass liked to call herself a superhero, but she thought Leah might be a little closer to the true definition than she was. 

She squeezed Sloane’s hand for a moment, torn between her desire to understand what had happened and her hesitance to ask Sloane to talk about any of it. “You don’t have to,” she said, the latter winning out. There had never been any question that it would — when Cass cared about someone, she put them first. Every time, no matter what. And she definitely cared about Sloane. “I mean, if it’s too hard, if it hurts… You don’t have to tell me about it. You’re okay. That’s all I really care about, anyway. I just wish…”

Trailing off, she shrugged her shoulders. It didn’t matter, she guessed, what she wished. Especially not when she herself wasn’t sure how that sentence was meant to end. She glanced up as footsteps approached, offering Leah a small smile. “Thank you for all your help,” she said. “And for letting us stay here. This place is pretty cool, you know?”

Leah was hyper-focused on the waters, being extra careful that they didn’t spill over onto her hands, when Sloane and Cass shot her gentle comments.   She smiled, but didn’t look up at the two of them until she handed the glasses to them.  She felt a little guilty knowing all of their secrets but still keeping one of her own from them, but their spirits were definitely a bit brighter than they had been in the car, so her smile only grew.  “It’s sort of a family secret”, she said to Sloane and Cass, gesturing around.  “I guess we like to hide in plain sight”, she teased.  Not many people knew about the basement, and even less had actually been down there to witness it themselves, but Leah knew that desperate times called for desperate measures.  

She pulled the chair from her desk over in front of the couch they were sitting on, sitting in front of them with her hands folded.  Her eyes traveled over the two girls, checking for any other injuries any of them might have missed.  “Do you two uh… have any questions about what happened today?”, she asked, looking between their eyes.  “I’m assuming that was… was it your first time?”, she asked Sloane.  The thought hadn’t crossed her mind yet, but it would definitely better explain the shock both of them were clearly going through.  Who had Sloane lost to force her to become herself? 

Sloane took the water from Leah, a grateful smile pulling at the corners of her lips. The thanks hung in the air, at least, until Cass said it. Sloane shot her a look before busying herself with taking a sip of the water. Her throat still felt like it was on fire, even though she hadn’t tried to suppress the scream. “It’s a cool family secret.” She supposed hers would be out in the open, at least unless somebody were able to cover what had happened up. She figured enough tragedies struck White Crest that it’d be easy enough to blame the building falling apart on something else entirely, but the screams and those who had witnessed it, they’d be harder to convince. 

At Leah’s question, Sloane nearly snorted, but held the laughter till it came out as a cough. With a shake of her head, she looked Leah in the eye, silently grateful for her help. Maybe she thought that Sloane was like Cass in that she didn’t know what she was, or who she was. “It was, but I— was raised with it, trained, all of that stuff. You don’t… have to dig into your books and stuff, it’s okay.” Sloane gave Leah an apologetic smile before she took another sip of her water, her other hand still holding onto Cass’s tightly. “Has anything been reported yet?” Have they found her? 

The water felt like a godsend, if only because it gave Cass something to focus on. It was hard for your hands to tremble when they were gripping something with more strength than she could bring herself to use to hold Sloane’s hands, after all, and her throat felt so dry that having something to wet it was a good idea, too. She smiled, silently agreeing with Sloane’s statement that it was a cool secret even if she couldn’t bring herself to speak. 

She glanced over to the banshee when Leah asked if they knew what had happened, because while Cass didn’t, she got the idea that Sloane definitely did. It was only confirmed when Sloane acknowledged that, unlike Cass, she’d been raised in this. She knew what she was from the start and, in a terrible way, Cass was jealous. It was shitty, being jealous of someone who’d just watched their own life fall apart. She knew it was. But the feeling was there all the same, clinging and holding on. Cass felt a little sick, and she drank the water to compensate. Her heart thudded against her chest as Sloane asked the big question — had what happened in that shop made it to the authorities? If so, what version of the story had they gotten? How did the police handle a thing like this? Would they call it an earthquake, a freak accident, something else? Cass took Sloane’s hand back into hers absently, stroking her thumb along the back of it as she waited for Leah to answer.

Leah looked at her phone, criss-crossing her legs underneath her.  “Screaming Moose reported in the area… building collapse under investigation… natural causes…”, she read the post on social media before looking back up at them. White Crest had a way of dismissing anything that felt serious and deadly.  “Nothing concerning yet.”  Yet being the operative word.  With Sloane’s confirmation that this had been her activation scream, Leah knew there must have been a body under all that rubble.  It was the elephant in the room, but either the press was trying to cover the story so as to not cause alarm, or they were keeping it under wraps until they were desperate to know who to blame.  “White Crest seems to be doing what White Crest does best, throwing caution to the wind and sweeping the problem under the rug.  The fact that we seemed to get the two of you away without anyone by really noticing is a big help, I think.  Because without anyone to blame, any… collateral someone might find in the rubble is going to look like a freak accident.”

It was a comfort to know that Sloane had at least been expecting this, at least in some capacity.  Leah tried to make it a point to respect other Supernatural cultures, but some things were just hard to wrap her mind around.  Banshee training and activation seemed harsh and terrifying, and for years she’d wanted to create some sort of… banshee support group, as ridiculous as the idea sounded.  Her eyes caught the interaction between the two, and she wondered if her initial judgment of their relationship was too mild.  She looked back up, trying to shoot comfort and calm to Cass.  “It’s very likely that nothing will come of this.  A few months ago we had plants attacking people here and no one even talks about it anymore.  But you two should lay low for a while.  Stay away from the area and act surprised if you receive any news about anyone that would be surprising had you not been involved.  Does that make sense?”

Sloane nodded slowly at Leah’s confirmation. While she knew there were other banshees in the area, her dad did not. Would he put two and two together? Had he already been contacted? Her phone was left back at the shop. Would they find that, too? Think she was under the rubble? Leah was right, though, and Sloane knew it. It was a good thing that the town hadn’t yet pointed fingers. It meant they had nothing to go off of. Any cameras in the area might have also been destroyed due to the scream, their lenses shattering— at least she had that going for her. 

At Leah’s suggestion they lay low, Sloane’s gaze flickered up to meet the librarian’s. “It was my mom.” The words tasted like copper and she took another sip of her water, finishing the rest of it off. She set it on the table in front of them and cleared her throat. “She was impaled.” They came out matter-of-fact, but not half as robotic as earlier. “They might still think that it was the building falling apart, nothing else.” Sloane looked over to Cass, but couldn’t really see her— couldn’t really focus. “My dad didn’t know anything about any of this, so you don’t need to worry about him.” She looked back over to Leah, brows furrowed. “But yeah, um— yeah. Yeah, it.. makes sense.” She would need to focus and strengthen the use of her glamour so that she didn’t let it drop in front of the wrong person, she realized. Even if she knew everything about her activation and what led up to that moment in the years before, it was a gutting realization that her mom wouldn’t be there to stand alongside her to teach her the true ins and outs. 

Screaming moose. White Crest certainly had strange explanations for the goings on around town; somehow, blaming the damage on a moose was the only thing Cass could imagine that sounded weirder than the truth. She closed her eyes for a moment as Leah spoke, trying not to fall apart at words like natural causes and collateral damage. She opened her eyes to sneak a glance at Sloane, desperate to see how her friend was holding up. She seemed to be doing all right, all things considered. Better than Cass would have been, had their roles been reversed. Cass would probably still be denying it, at this point, if something like this happened to her. 

She swallowed as Sloane finally answered the question Leah had clearly been avoiding. She couldn’t look at her friend as she said it. She wasn’t sure if it was shame crawling up her throat or anxiety, but either way it encouraged her to look at the wall, at the shelf, at the couch, at anything but her friend putting words to the terrible thing that had just happened. She glanced back over when Sloane addressed her, shaking her head slightly at the mention of her dad. Didn’t know anything about what? She wanted to ask, because she still wasn’t sure what had happened, still couldn’t comprehend why it had happened. But the question stuck in her throat, and she looked away again. “It makes sense,” she acknowledged, throat dry. People were going to ask her about it. She knew that. Just like she knew, with some guilt, that she’d be able to feign surprise far easier than she ought to be. The pros of being a con artist, she figured. Glancing back to Sloane, she squeezed the banshee’s hand tightly. “Are you… Will you go home tonight?”

Leah nodded at the information she had already assumed, trying to maintain composure despite the pang of sadness and sorrow the confirmation sent to her heart.  It was usually the fathers, ceremonially, and she wondered what went wrong here to change that. Regardless, the loss of a parent was the loss of a parent, and the ache of such a loss was going to feel insurmountable to Sloane.  She wanted to reach out and hold her, to shield her from everything she must be feeling, but nothing could replace a mother’s warmth.  “It’s the most logical conclusion to a normie”, she said, nodding.  Despite herself, she reached out and touched Sloane’s cool hand, a deep contrast to her heat.  “What happened to her is not your fault.  And loving and accepting what came out of what happened to her isn’t shameful or wrong.  I know this must feel complicated and scary and new, even if you’ve been trained.  But you should know that who you are is so incredible, regardless of how it came to be.”

She looked over toward Cass, deep confusion painting the other girl’s features.  Her face proved that although Sloane had known what was going on, Cass had no idea.  It wasn’t Leah’s place to explain, but she’d support Sloane when she was ready to.  

How she’d have the conversation with her family back in Ireland was another question. They would want to know why she had decidedly recoiled from the ritual, and even though Sloane knew she could pin it on her mom’s selfishness, it felt wrong to do now that she was no longer here to defend herself. Sloane looked at Cass, the heavy weighted question hanging between all three of them. “I have to, don’t I?” To leave her dad out to dry, especially when it would become common knowledge soon enough that it had been his wife who had died in the building collapse? It would be selfish and cruel to hide away. 

As Leah took her hand, Sloane noticed the intensity of the temperature differences, but made no move to address it. It would have been easy to pass it off as something new to get used to, but Cass didn’t feel nearly as warm as Leah. “It was fate, any way you look at it.” Those were her mother’s words, frail and subjective to the world she lived in— the one she’d been submerged beneath for all of her life. “Regardless of what… I would have differently, this would have happened anyways.” Because it was the truth. Because no matter the precautions Sloane took for either her mom’s or Cass’s benefit, this would have happened the same way. To think of ways to cheat fate just to live comfortably was perverse and Sloane knew that, and it seemed like Leah understood it to a degree, too. 

Shannon sat with her back to the front entrance, fingers tapping delicately and melodically against the vinyl countertop. It would only be a matter of time before Cassidy arrived. There was a part of her that felt guilty for leading the girl astray, but all would be understood in due time. Her own daughter would learn to forgive her once she could feel the pull of fate, she just knew it. Sloane’s phone sat in front of her, the text message sent to Cassidy being as simple as meet me at Beyond The Grave. There had been no lying involved, and therefore no deep, unsettling feeling stirring about in her chest. 

It was about twenty minutes later that Cassidy walked through that Shannon turned around, smile broadened. It was a pity they would have to do this downtown of all places, and though it would be dangerous, there was a backroom that could accommodate them well. Once Sloane arrived, the door would need to be locked. “Cass, welcome.” Shannon moved from behind the counter and gestured for the young girl to follow her towards the back. “I believe Sloane stepped out for just a moment. Why don’t you help me back here until she gets back?” 

Her heart skipped a beat when Sloane texted her. Ever since that day in the other girl’s bedroom, when she’d told Cass she didn’t want to see her anymore, the siren had been plagued by a sense of grief. She missed the way Sloane’s voice made her heart skip a beat, missed the way she laughed in the kind of way that made all the bad things fall away, missed how she felt around her. More than any of it, though, she missed her friend. Sloane’s text felt like a life preserver thrown into the middle of the ocean after days of treading water. It didn’t solve everything at once, but it gave her some semblance of hope to hold onto. And she could use it to stay afloat for however long it took for a ship to come in.

Still, she was nervous as she made her way to Beyond the Grave, heart pounding in her chest. Sloane wasn’t the type to call her here just to throw salt in her wounds, but the terrified part of Cass that was so used to being left behind insisted that she might be planning on doing just that. Her hand trembled as she pushed the door open, and she faltered in the doorway as she stepped inside. There was no sign of Sloane anywhere; instead, it was Shannon who greeted her. “Uh. Hi.” It was unexpected, to be sure. Maybe Sloane had changed her mind about wanting Cass to talk to her mother? But then why not say that? Why the vague text? Hesitantly, the siren followed Sloane’s mother towards the back. “Okay. Yeah. Um, did she… tell you I was coming?”

Cassidy looked confused. It seemed as though Sloane had cut the other girl off after finding her at their home. Why her daughter was being so difficult, Shannon would never know. “She didn’t, no, but I assume you’re here for her?” With a tilt of her head, the banshee skirted around the answer to Cassidy’s question in half-truths. Technically Sloane hadn’t been the one to tell her that Cassidy would be coming. “Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise. Follow me, please.” 

Shannon didn’t give Cassidy time to decide to hang back, and instead headed into the back room where her office was. On the walls were plaques, photos, as well as a taxidermy bobcat. “You’re more than welcome to take a seat and wait.” Shannon gestured towards the plush velvet chair in the corner of the room. It was by far one of the most expensive things the Kennedy family owned, and it was only because Shannon felt it important to fit the part in their nature of business. “Would you like anything? Water?” 

“Yeah. She texted me.” Cass pulled out her phone again, opening the text as if to reassure herself that it was real. If she’d misunderstood somehow, if Sloane hadn’t wanted her to come here, her being here was only going to widen the rift that had been opened between them. Making the same mistake after Sloane had made it painfully clear how she felt about it would be the kind of move there was no hope of coming back from. But the text stared up at her, just as vague and heart-stopping as it had been when it had first lit up her screen. Cass tapped her phone screen absently, finding some relief in the message. Maybe Shannon was right — maybe Sloane had wanted this to be a surprise, somehow. 

Nodding, she followed Shannon back to her office, glancing around as she settled into the cushioned chair in the corner. It was comfortable enough to make her relax just a little, even as the nerves continued to cause her stomach to flutter. The offer of water was one that elicited another nod; she wasn’t really thirsty, but it would give her something to do with her hands besides cradling her phone, offer something to focus on that wasn’t the pounding of her heart. “Water would be great.” She almost added a thank you as a nervous habit, biting the words off at the last moment despite the fact that this was Sloane’s mother. Marina and Correy and their fae lessons were the kind of thing that stuck, after all. “Um, did Sloane say when she’d be here?” She wasn’t sure how much Sloane would want her talking to Shannon, despite the fact that she’d only come at the other girl’s invitation. After the way their last face-to-face had ended, it was easy to second-guess everything she did, easy to wonder if each move she made was right or wrong. Cass was nervous in a way she’d never been nervous with Sloane before. And that hurt a little, too.

Shannon offered Cassidy a gracious smile before she turned to the mini fridge that sat in the other corner of the room. She opened it and grabbed a water bottle, twisting the cap preemptively for the young girl before handing it over. “Oh, I’m not certain… she comes and goes, as you know.” Shannon waved a hand in the air before taking a seat at her desk, swiveling the chair around to face the younger girl. She seemed uneasy. What kind of fight she and Sloane could have had, Shannon was uncertain. It wasn’t like her daughter to quarrel. Then again, her daughter begging her to consider somebody else for their ritual was enough to convince Shannon that perhaps she did not know her daughter as well as she thought she did. 

“My daughter tends to do what she pleases, though I suppose that’s not all bad considering I believe in having agency over one’s will.” Shannon kept the smile intact as she turned towards her computer, moving her mouse around absentmindedly, clicking into her e-mail and then out, trying to find something to busy herself. It shouldn’t be this difficult, finding the words to say to somebody on the younger side. Though, she supposed the conversations she had with her daughter were far different than those she had with others who did not understand the way in which fae lived and existed. 

After a moment, the sound of the front door opening alerted Shannon to Sloane’s arrival. “Ah, here she is.” A smile, brighter than the last, pulled at her lips as she moved towards the desk drawer. Inside was the dagger that her daughter carried on her person for the last several years, and it was only fit that this be the blade to do the job. “We’re in here, darling.” 

Sloane had forgotten her phone and really, it took her way too long to realize it. It wasn’t until she was halfway to campus that she felt its absence and had to make the trip back to her mom’s shop. The pain from her run-in with Nicole was still present, making it hard to open the front door of the shop. Once inside, she took careful note of her mom’s absence, but saw her phone on the front desk. It didn’t take long for her mom to call for her, and thinking that the we meant her father, Sloane headed towards the back.

To her surprise, it wasn’t her dad who sat across from her mom. “Cass.” Sloane felt her heart drop into her stomach and she looked over to see her mom brandishing her dagger. “Cass, come on.” Sloane grabbed Cass’s hand, dragging her back towards the front entrance. 

“Sloane’s her own person,” Cass agreed, tone fond even in spite of the tension that existed between her and her friend now. It was her own fault things with Sloane had become what they had. None of it made her care about the other girl any less. It might have been easier if it had, simpler, but… Cass wasn’t built that way. She cared too much, sometimes. But she didn’t regret it, either. Not with Sloane. Regardless of how angry Sloane might be with her now, her friend deserved to have people care about her. Cass had never doubted that for a moment.

The bell above the door sounded, and Cass was ashamed to admit that she felt a flood of relief at the sound. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if Sloane hadn’t anticipated her mother being here when she’d asked Cass to meet her, thought it was a strange thought. Why wouldn’t Shannon be at her place of work in the middle of a work day? But why wouldn’t Sloane tell Shannon Cass was meeting her? The pieces didn’t fit together quite right. 

Preoccupied by Sloane’s arrival and her own flood of unspoken questions, Cass didn’t pay much attention to Shannon’s movements. Her eyes were glued to the door, and she offered Sloane a small, uncertain smile as she entered. Something was off, though. Sloane looked surprised to see her, like she hadn’t been expecting it. Uncertainly, Cass stood.

“Yeah, we can go,” she agreed, some confusion furrowing her brow. “But I don’t — Why did you ask me to meet you here if you don’t want me here? And why wouldn’t you tell…” She turned back to Shannon, trailing off when she saw the glint of the dagger in the woman’s hand. A strange thing to fiddle with mid-conversation, but this was White Crest, wasn’t it? Plenty of people had knives. Ari had, like, a billion. So why was there a pit in Cass’s stomach now? Turning back to Sloane, she let the confusion on her face ask all the questions she was afraid to put to words.

“I can explain later, but we have to go.” Sloane’s hands were clammy as she dug her fingers into Cass’s wrist. Her friend was still alive, and it would stay that way. Cass would grow old and she would die old. She wouldn’t fall apart for Sloane’s activation, Sloane refused to let that happen. She couldn’t. Not only did Sloane care about her, but there were other people who cared about her, too, and Sloane wouldn’t let those people lose her to an untimely death. This was different than those who had fallen to fate before, because this wasn’t Cass’s fate. This was a cop out by her own mom who refused to follow the nature of their rituals, and while Sloane couldn’t blame her— she didn’t want to lose her dad, it was unfair that Cass was being used as some kind of crutch. 

Sloane managed to get Cass through the door of the office out into the main room. Before she could push the other girl in front of her, the sound of heels clicking against the tile sounded, and in a flash, Cass was being ripped from her grip. “Mom, please!” Sloane turned around frantically, chest heaving as she noticed the blade at Cass’s throat. 

Shannon would not allow her daughter to throw this away. After the years of training and explanations— of the stories and promises built between them without the actual bind, she refused to allow her daughter to make a mockery of not only fate, but of her. As soon as Sloane approached, guiding Cassidy through the doorway, Shannon leapt into action. She crossed the distance easily, manicured nails digging into Cassidy’s arm as she tore the girl away from her daughter. 

The dagger was at the brunette’s throat now, and Shannon knew what she had to do. There was no other choice, and this was the only way. “I’m disappointed in you, mo leanbh.” She applied the dagger’s pressure against Cassidy’s neck, her opposite hand on the young girl’s shoulder digging into the clavicle. “You knew the cost, and I’ve waited so long for you to join me, I will not allow you to destroy everything for some crush, especially on a human, no less.” 

It was clear that Sloane was desperate, and while Cass might not understand the situation fully, she could empathize with her friend’s clear fear. She allowed Sloane to lead her out of the office, glancing nervously down to where her arm was secured in Sloane’s grip. “I’m sorry,” she said uncertainly. “I just — You texted. I thought…” That was her problem, wasn’t it? She always thought wrong. She always made the wrong choice. “I didn’t even know your mom would be here. I — I would have… Waited outside if I knew. I swear.” 

She might have said more; in fact, she probably would have. Cass had a habit of rambling when she was nervous, and she was certainly nervous now. But before she could launch into a myriad of apologies and desperate pleas, a firm grip on her shoulder was yanking her backwards. “Whoa, what —” Cool metal settled against her throat, and Cass froze. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was the same dagger Shannon had been holding before. The one that had looked sharp and deadly. And she wondered, with her heart pounding in her chest, just what she’d stumbled into here.

Her first thought was that Shannon was a hunter. It fit well enough with her perception of them, with the experiences she’d had with them in the past. They could sense her, Metzli had said once, could tell what she was just by being around her. Could kill her for it. But if Shannon were a hunter, it would mean Sloane was one, too, and Sloane had never given Cass any reason to think that of her. 

The more Shannon spoke, the more obvious it became that the hunter theory was out the window. This was something else, something strange and new. Cass might have an easier time focusing on it if not for the blade cutting into her throat, the thin line of blood running down as she swallowed nervously against the metal. She found herself caught on two words — human and crush. The former was utterly untrue, though neither Sloane nor Shannon was aware of it. And the latter… 

Cass’s eyes flickered up to meet Sloane’s. This wasn’t really how she’d wanted to confirm that her crush was a mutual thing. There was no warmth to the realization the way there would have been without the knife against her throat, and any pleasant fluttering she felt was outweighed entirely by the icy fear that seemed to have taken over. “I don’t — I don’t understand what’s happening, but this isn’t… Sloane wasn’t going to mess anything up. We’re just friends. That’s all. You don’t have to do whatever you’re doing, please.”

Sloane didn’t know what to do. Her phone was too far away to call anyone, and even if she did manage to get ahold of Correy, Marina, or even Metzli, they’d be too late. Her mom would carry on with the plan, and though Sloane hadn’t promised that Cass wouldn’t lose her life, she might as well have had done so. She stood frozen across from them, the blood dribbling down Cass’s neck stark against her tanned skin. As much as Sloane had wanted to fall into step alongside fate, this was not how she wanted it to happen. Sloane swallowed thickly, glancing over her shoulder through the windows to see if anyone might see them. Sloane didn’t want her mom to get hurt in this, either. It was more than a difficult situation— it was terrorizing Sloane. 

“Please, mom.” Sloane’s voice left her, thick and distorted. This was unlike the stories she had heard of others’ activations. Her own mother’s hadn’t been this perverse, despite the loss of her own father. “I’m begging you. Please. Not her, I’ll— I’ll find you somebody else. Just not her.” Sloane itched to reach forward, to tear Cass out of her mom’s grip, but that could end up with the dagger lodged further into her throat. 

“I told you I refused to allow you to make a mockery of us. Of this family, of yourself. You will not stand in the way of your own purpose, Sloane.” Shannon spoke low and quick, smile spreading as she gripped Cassidy’s shoulder tighter, dagger pressed firmly against her throat with about as equal pressure of her fingers digging into her clavicle so that she couldn’t easily move from beneath her grip. 

Shannon looked from Sloane to behind her, taking note of a man across the way. Something stirred in her chest; the beginnings of a scream. What a wonderful opportunity to incapacitate Cassidy so that she wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be. Of course, Shannon could keep hold and allow the scream to fill the young girl’s chest, but that would only further instill her daughter’s hatred towards this decision. Quick and clean, that was how it needed to be. Shannon let go of Cassidy before the scream made its way through her chest and out of her throat. The man across the way would die with a knife to his abdomen, and it would be painful. She could see it so clearly, and soon, Sloane would join her.

The scream shook the store’s foundation. Shannon had taken precautions, hopeful to protect herself, but she hadn’t thought of the way that the building might buckle beneath the pressure of her scream. The ceiling began to groan, its decades old structure unable to withstand the pressure. The light fixture directly over herself and Cassidy started to unhinge from its bolt— a forgotten project, and one that would lead to Shannon’s untimely demise. 

Sloane knew the telltale signs of a scream— had been raised staring into her mother’s darkened eyes as her skin became crackled with a midnight black. Was this scream for Cass? It couldn’t be, she thought. Sloane surged forward as soon as her mom let go of Cass, grabbing onto her hand, pulling her backwards. In the rush, she hadn’t taken notice to how unaffected Cass was by her mom’s scream. All she could think of was keeping her out of harm’s way, of getting her out the door before her mom came to. 

Instead, Sloane watched as the lighting fixture just above her mother became unhinged, its sharp edge driving itself directly into the woman’s chest, coming out through the other end. Frozen, Sloane stared at her mom as she tried to piece together what had just happened. Sloane let go of Cass’s hand, throat constricting— something stirred in her chest, her skin crawled. Everything felt hot— everything felt— no. The struggle to control the scream, to keep quiet as she’d been taught failed miserably as the scream tore its way through Sloane’s chest, splitting from her in a way that she’d been taught it would. The ceiling groaned once more, tested by the second scream— only this one lasted longer than it should have. Grief struck Sloane, and she felt herself spinning out. 

Sloane didn’t have time to move before the ceiling collapsed, rotten wooden beams falling from overhead. The opposite end of the lighting fixture snapped loose sending her mom to the ground, now covered in the rubble as the building shook beneath the aftereffects of the two screams. 

None of it made any kind of sense to Cass. Not the knife against her throat, not Sloane offering to find ‘someone else’ to fill the shoes the siren was in now, not Shannon’s frustration. Why did it have to be anyone at all? Why did Shannon — and evidently, Sloane — think that someone needed to die here? What did any of it have to do with Sloane’s purpose, as Shannon had put it? Cass had a thousand questions, and it didn’t seem as though any of them would be answered. And it felt supremely unfair to die without knowing why. It felt so cruel.

Suddenly, Shannon froze behind her and, for a moment, Cass thought that this was it. She was going to put that promised pressure on the knife in her hand, was going to spill Cass’s blood all over the pristine floor for reasons no one thought to tell her. And of all the ways Cass had thought she might die — because she had thought of it, thanks to both the nature of White Crest and the uncertainty she’d lived with all her life — this had never been one of them. She could have never seen this coming.

But that knife didn’t find a home in her throat — at least, not yet. Shannon shoved her forward, letting out a piercing scream that… oh. A piercing scream that Cass recognized. She’d heard Regan do the same thing, after all, in the woods the day they’d met Bigfoot. A banshee. Sloane’s mother was a banshee. Which must mean that Sloane was a banshee. Which filled in some gaps, maybe, but not everything. Not why it was happening. 

Sloane grabbed Cass and pulled her to safety, and the light fixture that was above them rumbled. Cass didn’t have time to call out a warning, but she wasn’t sure it would have mattered. The light fell, sharp and deadly not unlike the woman it landed on. And then… 

Another scream, from Sloane this time. Loud and mournful and powerful enough to tear the whole world apart. The ceiling began to fall, and Cass threw herself on top of Sloane, curled up with her and tried to make them both targets too small to be hit by the falling debris. It seemed an impossible task. She felt like the chicken in that old story, screaming out for anyone who would listen. The sky was falling. The sky was falling. And all Cass could do, superpowers be damned, was try to protect Sloane from the damage.

A simple walk was never just a walk in White Crest.  At least it wasn’t for Leah Ramirez.  The Autumn air was turning brisk and chilled, and normally, she loved the contrast it held against her warm skin.  People seemed jovial, for some reason, a stark contrast to the usual dim mood that White Crest’s citizens boasted.  So it made sense, then, why she was so surprised and taken off guard when she heard the tell-tale sign of a banshee scream a few blocks away.  “Regan…”, she whispered, and then took off down the street toward where the noise came from.

For some reason, the banshee screams in town were typically explained away as moose, which made even less sense than the explanations everyone tried to offer for the fish rain.  But as funny as the explanation could be, banshee screams around town always tended to place a turn in her stomach she just couldn’t solve until she knew Regan was okay.  Activation was never easy, but Regan had gone through enough in the last few years to make all her screams concerning, especially when you consider all the trauma she had associated with her species.  She had the displeasure of being in person for one of them only once, and she was feeling the effects of it, even all these weeks later.  Her chest pinched and stabbed with every inch of her run, but she didn’t care.

Leah only stopped dead in her tracks when she heard another scream, this one much louder.   Was it because she was much closer to it, now?  What kind of mess was happening in the middle of downtown that a Regan was screaming twice in the middle of the day?  She took off running again, this time at double speed.

The sight she eventually found left no doubt in her mind where the screams had taken place.  She stood staring, breathless and confused, at the collapsed building.  Surrounding buildings were void of windows, their glass littering the ground and the surrounding dented cars.  People were looking at the sight confused, and she saw some approaching to help.  Others took out their phones, but she didn’t waste time to see whether it was to document what was going on or to call for help.  She didn’t bother waiting, and instead ran right to the debris, trying to move what she could and see if she could find Regan underneath.  “Regan!”, she called, struggling under the weight of some wood.  “Where are you?!”

Sloane choked on the dust that settled overtop of her. The rotten beams had splintered overtop of the three that had succumbed to the weight of the ceiling falling through on top of them, and though she was too disoriented to tell the true damage apart from the grief that laid overtop of her like a blanket, she knew something wasn’t right. It took her longer than it should have to come to, mind moving against the reality of her situation, of their situation. 

Cass. Sloane felt somebody on top of her— she thought it was her mom until she remembered. The sharp edge of the light fixture branded in her mind as it pierced through her mom’s chest, the way she crumpled like the stuffed bear Sloane pushed in between her pillows all of those years. It spun and it spun, mocking Sloane. Fate had a funny way of playing itself out, but right now wasn’t the time to grieve. She had to get out and then she could address the feeling that stirred in her chest– the anger, the fear, the way that it felt like she was being split a thousand different ways.

“Cass,” Sloane coughed, chest heaving. She half-expected to see her with blood coming out of her ears and nose, but instead she was met with the scraped girl who hadn’t left her side despite Sloane’s urgency. “Are you—“

The voice from just inside cut off Sloane mid sentence. Regan’s name echoed across the rubble causing the banshee only confusion. At least, until it clicked. Somebody thought Regan had done this. She could hardly move, one of the larger, less deteriorated banisters hanging over herself and Cass across one of the less sturdy beams. “Over here,” Sloane managed to get out, voice hoarse. Too afraid to raise it too loud, she tried to push her hand through to the other side. She’d let whoever it was discover for herself that it wasn’t Regan. She couldn’t chance them not helping her just because she wasn’t who they were looking for. Her mind was still spinning from the chaos of it all to piece together that it was somebody she might know.

“I’m okay,” Cass said quickly, recognizing Sloane’s concern. And… she was okay, for the most part. Her chest was heaving, her throat stung where Shannon’s knife had nicked her, and she was certain she’d have some pretty wild bruises when all was said and done, but she was fine. Sure her ears were ringing a little, and there was blood on the floor where Sloane’s mother had spilled it, and her heart was pounding in her chest, but it was nothing Cass couldn’t handle. She was more worried about Sloane. 

Sloane, who had just watched her mother die, who had screamed the world to pieces with the grief of it. Cass couldn’t imagine how it must have felt. One of the few benefits, she thought, of never knowing your mother was never knowing what it would be like to lose her. And considering the closest thing she had to one now was a nymph who was sure to live another hundred years or so, it was likely that Cass would never be where Sloane was now. 

And what that meant, in this moment, was that Cass had no idea how to comfort her friend. She had no idea what to do, what to say. Nothing would be enough. Words failed, actions fell short. All Cass could do was keep her arms around Sloane and shield her from the only thing left to fall — dust.

A voice cut through the stifling quiet that came after the collapse, familiar and bringing with it a swell of relief. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Leah. Leah always knew what to do. Sloane called out, though she made no move to correct the mistaken identity. Cass wondered if all banshee screams sounded the same or if Leah just loved Regan enough to hear her voice in all of them. “Leah, we need some help!” She added her voice to the fray, hoping to help give Leah a better idea of where they were. 

Close up, the damage was even worse than Leah first surmised.  She looked at the rubble, trying to find any trace of Regan beneath, wondering if she had enough tears this time.  A voice called back, and then another, and though she recognized both of them, they were decidedly not Regan.  It gave her paused.  She had been so convinced it was Regan’s scream she heard (after all, time after time that theory had proven true), that she hadn’t even thought to consider it might be another banshee in town.  She wasn’t aware of any banshee families in the area, and least not on a first name basis.  Not since Deirdre.  

Her pause only lasted a moment, because before long she was climbing over the rubble, heading toward the direction of the voices and hoping to provide them some sort of respite.  Though she recognized them, she couldn’t quite place them, not with the adrenaline and the rubble and the worry.  She lifted up a large piece of wood, spotting the outline of a person underneath.  “Cass?”, she asked, squinting, then working in double time to remove the rubble from above her.  It was a relief, in some way, that Cass was the other voice she’d heard.  The scream wouldn’t have hurt her, not really, and so the only other being that was with them was the screamer themself.  Or, at least, she hoped that was the case.

“Who’s with you?”, she asked with desperation.  “Who… was it?  Is everyone okay?”  She couldn’t see the other figure; couldn’t make out who it was.  There was a small crowd gathering, most likely of people who had been in the area, and Leah was worried about the potential backlash of people trying to investigate what happened.  “We need to get out of here, fast.”

What had once been pain only in her shoulder and chest had begun to blossom throughout her entire body. Her throat and chest were on fire, grief and anger struggling to one up another over what had happened. Sloane was too afraid that if she managed to be dug out from beneath the rubble that she might see her mom, even if only a hand, and that it’d set her off once more. The sound of Leah’s voice was clear as day now. Leah. Sloane could trust Leah. 

The sound of something moving, and then, after what felt like eons, light. It came in small streams at first, and honestly, Sloane was too afraid to look, to even address Leah. The older woman’s questions cut like a knife through the groaning of what was left of the building. At any moment, the rest of it could come crashing down on them. “It’s— Sloane, it’s Sloane.” Sloane moved out from beneath Cass, a shaking hand positioned on the girl’s shoulder. Her hair and clothes were covered in dust and pieces of rotten wood. 

There was a pain at her back now, too, and Sloane swallowed the urge to cry out as she tried to move upwards. She was stuck underneath something, even with Cass laying over top of her. Sloane awkwardly splayed her hand backwards trying to find what it was, wincing as her hand came away wet with blood. “I’m stuck.” It hadn’t occurred to her yet that what was beneath a broken gravestone was one of her newly acquired wings. “I can’t move.“ She tried to get out from beneath it again, a sharp whine leaving her as another groan from the building echoed overhead of them. 

“It’s…” Cass glanced hesitantly down at Sloane beneath her, chest aching for reasons that had nothing at all to do with the rubble on top of her and everything to do with blood on the floor that was not her own and grief cutting the air in a way she would never understand. “It’s my friend. Sloane.” She wasn’t sure if the description was accurate anymore. Would Sloane want to be her friend, after all of this? Cass still didn’t entirely understand what had happened, but she thought it was at least partially her fault. She thought Sloane’s mother wouldn’t be dead beneath this rubble if she’d listened to Sloane from the beginning and stayed away when she was meant to.

But that wasn’t important right now. No matter how Sloane felt about her when all of this was over, Cass was going to make sure that she was okay to feel it. She shifted off Sloane when Leah lifted the rubble, moving back to crouch beside her instead. When she caught a full glimpse of her for the first time since that scream had pierced the air, her breath caught in her throat. Wings stretched out beneath Sloane, coming from her back. Thin and moth-like and beautiful unlike anything Cass had ever seen. Taking note of the way one was trapped beneath a slab of granite that didn’t yet bear a name, the siren scrambled forward and shoved the broken gravestone to the side with all her mite, just barely possessing the strength to properly move it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said quietly, cupping Sloane’s face in her hand briefly. “It’s all right.” She glanced back to Leah, adrenaline still pumping through her. She told herself adamantly that that was what was making her hands tremble, that that was what made her breath come in quick, shuddering gasps. Not even the best con artists could fully con themselves, but Cass could sure as hell try it. “We definitely need to get out of here,” she agreed, eyes darting across the room to land, briefly, on the pile of rubble she knew Shannon lay beneath. Sloane didn’t need to see whatever state her mother’s body must be in now. Sloane didn’t need to see any of this, really.

The building gave another groan, offering another reason in favor of a quick getaway. “I — We need to get her someplace safe. Please, Leah, please, I need your help. I need her to be okay, and — and safe. And not here.” 

And maybe she needed more than that, too, but she didn’t know how to say it. She didn’t know how to explain that tightness in her chest, didn’t know how to justify the way her eyes burned and her cheeks felt wet. Cass hadn’t lost anything. She hadn’t. There was no reason why it should be this hard to breathe, no reason why she should feel this strange sense of emptiness in her chest. She was fine. The thin line on her throat probably wouldn’t even leave a scar, the worst of the bruising would be gone in a week or two. She was fine. She was. 

“Is there somewhere we can go? It should be — We need to get away from here. She needs to get away from here.”

Leah noticed Sloane, small and scared and buried underneath much more than just rubble, before she heard her verify who she was.  So Cass and Sloane were friends.  It surprised her more than it should have, but she didn’t have much time to think about it.  Not now.  Not when there was so much at risk.  And then, there wasn’t much time for Leah to question if it were Sloane who screamed, or someone else who had fled before she arrived.  Cass had shoved aside the slab of stone, and there, clear as day, was a set of beautiful, ornate, yellow and black wings.  “Sloane…”, she breathed out, although her gaze was traveling between the two girls.  She nodded at Cass, trying to be reassuring despite the terror at their situation growing in her stomach, and got back to work removing the rest of the rubble from around them as quickly as she could.

“We’ll go to the library”, she said beneath groans as she pulled the last bits of granite away.  “We have a huge basement that only my sister and I have the key to-... no one will be able to find you there.”  She stood up, reaching her hand out to Cass to help her up first, hoping they’d both be able to pull Sloane up together.  “My car is around the corner, there’s a vial of phoenix tears in the glove compartment.  Should be enough to…”  She looked to Cass’ throat, biting her lip.  Her words had been sort of a stream of consciousness until then, but the sight stopped her in her tracks.  It seemed the more she learned about whatever had gone on here, the less she knew.  Leah couldn’t let herself get caught up in the emotion of it all, not yet.  “Books, too, that might help explain what’s going on…”

Maybe it was a little ironic, having been worried that Cass might accidentally let what was happening slip if Sloane would have filled her in, especially considering the fact that half of downtown was in front of their storefront now. As much as she wanted to shrink beneath the debris, she knew she had to get up and leave. If she was found here alongside her mom, what would they think? She had a better shot coming out of this unscathed if she wasn’t on the property by the time emergency services showed up and she knew it. 

Sloane looked into Cass’s eyes as the other girl cupped her face. Her skin was warm, and maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that Sloane was deathly cool now, she wasn’t certain. Sloane’s gaze lazily swept up to meet Leah’s who seemed frantic enough for all three of them. Everything felt like it was in a haze, and there was a constant vibration beneath her skin now. She wondered if this was what it would always feel like. Cass was panicking and Sloane wanted to reach out, to tell her that it would be okay, but would it? Would any of this be okay? Would they be okay after this? 

As both Leah and Cass discussed their erratically laid out plan, Sloane was left to lay beneath the rubble, feeling more helpless than she had been even prior to her activation with only a canister of bear spray in her hand. The more that slabs of stone and rotten wood were moved away, the more Sloane felt like she could breathe. Finally, she was able to move out from beneath the rubble. As Leah spoke, Sloane tried to listen, but the constant stir in her mind, as well as her chest made it almost impossible to focus. She felt dazed, like there was some kind of cloak pulled over her, but she saw all of it that much clearer, too. It was confusing. Even though Leah had mentioned phoenix tears, Sloane felt something else trigger her. 

“Wait—“ Sloane choked on the word, grabbing Cass’s hand. She felt herself stumbling even though she hadn’t yet gotten to her feet. “You’re— your ears, you—“ Sloane glanced between Cass and Leah, dark gaze searching from the injury at Cass’s throat to the way that she seemed fine, save for the trauma that Sloane couldn’t see, and maybe the couple hundred cuts that matched her own. Cass wasn’t hurt. Cass wasn’t hurt. Not by her at least. Sloane swallowed thickly and held onto Cass’s arm, her refusal to let go evident in the set of her jaw as she tried to maneuver herself up from the pile of rubble. The pain in her leg and shoulder was enough to send her back down to her knees as she tried to get up without help and she let out a low enough whine to not disturb the falling building anymore than she already had. “I’m sorry,” Sloane muttered as she grit her teeth, willing the pain to subside so that she could make it out of here— so they could make it out of here. 

The library. It had always been something of a safe space, even before Cass knew Leah as well as she did now. She nodded quickly at the suggestion, feeling some relief that they had some semblance of a plan in place. If Leah hadn’t happened along, what would she have done? What would have happened? Cass was utterly useless to Sloane like this, all trembling hands and pounding pulse. She didn’t know enough about banshees to be any kind of help, didn’t know anything more than what she’d learned from Regan and what Marina had told her. 

But Leah did. That much was obvious, given her lack of surprise at Sloane’s new wings or the way she’d come running expecting a different banshee, but a banshee all the same. Leah knew enough to have something of a plan in place and they were so lucky that she’d been here. They were so lucky that it hadn’t been left to Cass. Because when things we left to Cass…

Her eyes drifted again to the pile of rubble where, somewhere underneath, Sloane’s mother lay dead. She thought of that motel room with the dead hunter, of Jackrabbit in the woods. This was what happened, wasn’t it, when Cass tried to help people? This was what happened when she tried to solve problems. People got hurt. People got killed. And Cass was left in the aftermath, never knowing how to rebuild in any kind of way that mattered.

A cold hand grabbed hers, shocking her from her thoughts for a moment. A quick glance down showed that it was Sloane’s, and Cass wondered if she was freezing. Was this a circulation thing? God, she was so out of her depth that it hurt. She swallowed at Sloane’s question, chest constricting for a moment. It felt like she was underwater, like she was at the bottom of the ocean without Levi or any diving equipment to make it survivable. 

Sloane was apologizing to her. With her mother dead just a few feet away, with her world laying in the rubble around them. Cass tried to make sense of it and couldn’t. She shook her head quickly, kneeling down next to the injured banshee and putting Sloane’s arm over her shoulder in a silent offer to carry the physical weight for her. The physical weight wasn’t going to be the heavy part, Cass knew, but it was the only thing she could help with now. “Hey, no. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, okay? This isn’t your fault. This never would have happened if…” If Cass had listened to Sloane from the beginning. If she hadn’t decided to try to make Shannon love her, even when Sloane told her to stay away. If she were the sort of person who could just exist in a world where not everyone wanted her around all of the time. If she weren’t so stupid, so needy, so reckless. If she were someone else, Shannon would be alive and Sloane wouldn’t be hurt. Cass knew that. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sloane. I should have listened to you.” She swallowed, turning back to Leah. “Can — Will you help me? She’s hurt, I don’t… Can you help us to the car?”

Leah watched the interaction between Cass and Sloane with piqued interest as she cleared more debris.  From their closeness and the way they looked at each other, Leah had assumed they were very close, great friends or even something more, but Sloane’s fascination at Cass’ lack of physical reaction to the scream proved that they were still learning each other’s ins and outs.  Relationships in White Crest were funny that way.  With some people so desperate to keep themselves safe, you could have a friend of a lifetime and never know that they weren’t human.  

Shannon waited patiently for her daughter to return to the kitchen after Cassidy left. The girl’s earlier bright smile had been washed away, perhaps due to the conversation the two young women had had upstairs. It wasn’t any of her business, of course, but she was sure Sloane would explain as soon as they were alone. Sloane’s featherlight steps could be heard despite the attempts to keep quiet, and the older banshee watched as her daughter crossed into the kitchen towards the third mug that’d been for Cassidy. “She was a nice girl. Why did you send her off so quickly?” Shannon picked up her own mug, the tea warm against the flat of her tongue as she looked over the steel at her daughter. It was apparent that the younger banshee was troubled, and for what reason, Shannon was unsure. This should have been a triumphant moment, the calm before the storm, if one could equate activation to such a thing. 

“Though, I do believe I prefer Teagan a tad more.” The same toothy grin that she wore in Cassidy’s presence pulled at her lips before she crossed her ankles beneath the table, leaning back in her chair. Shannon watched as her daughter dumped the tea into the sink, interest piqued at her silence. 

“She was here for a book,” Sloane lied, fingers trembling around the steel mug she held. She dropped it into the sink, the noise loud against the silence that had filled the room. Even with her back turned, Sloane knew that her mom hadn’t taken that for an actual answer. That she could see right through it. “So I gave it to her. People have jobs they have to get back to, mom.” She kept her back to the older banshee, too afraid that her expression would give her away. The discomfort that came with lying was not overwhelming as described by other fae, but her skin felt warm and her throat felt tight. 

She moved to the mug that had obviously been put out for her and dumped that, too. Sloane inhaled sharply as she began to put the sachets away back into their assigned cabinet. Finally, the young banshee turned around, eager to head back upstairs. The look on her mother’s face however, stopped her in her tracks. 

Shannon’s expression had molded into something vicious. Anger was not present upon her features, but there was something else– something akin to knowing. “You think just because it does not hurt as much, you can lie to me? Sloane, I am your mother, I can see right through you.” The older banshee uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward, head tilted to the side. “You hold death in your hands each and every time you venture into those woods and the prospect of a human dying is what bothers you? Perhaps I did not teach you well enough.” 

Sloane bit the inside of her cheek as she watched her mom, throat still tight. She could leave, could get out until her dad was around, and could use him as a shield. But was that fair? She looked down to her feet, the pink socks she wore bright against the stained linoleum. “You taught me fine, mom.” She felt small, smaller than she ever had. Smaller than the times her mother had left her in those very woods, a blindfold covering her eyes, a knife in her hand. She’d been trained in the art of death, to respect it, to uphold the way fate closed its jaws on such matters, and yet, her mother was right. The thought of a mere human dying had disturbed Sloane in ways that it never had, even if she struggled with the idea of her own father dying for her purpose, that at least made sense considering her mother also refused to let go. 

Shannon slid out of her chair, movements like air. As she crossed the distance, fingers upon Sloane’s jaw, she looked down at her daughter, a small scowl pulling over her features. “It’s but a crush, and it is something you will get over eventually. Her life was worthless before this, and at least now, she will be contributing to something in that short span of time.” Shannon hadn’t expected this from her daughter. Since the age of six, she had gone through rigorous training, and she had only ever seen understanding upon her daughter’s features. Now, there was doubt. She had been corrupted by a mere crush. It was pathetic. “A crush is not worth defying fate, Sloane. This is something you told me you understood.” 

Sloane felt as though her chest was concaving. The moment her mother’s cold fingers reached her jaw, she could feel herself being transported to those moments in the darkness, to the feeling of the steel against skin, the smell of death curling her nose. She had been prepared, she thought she was ready, but Cass was important, and the thought of losing her– of being the cause, of watching her die just so that she could fall into step with fate, was now a nightmare. “There could be somebody else,” Sloane said, voice small. She tried to take a step back from her mother’s grip, but it was too tight. “There’s somebody else.” It was a lie, and she knew her mom would see through it. 

The older banshee shook her head, disappointment burrowing into her very being. “There is nobody else, a stór.” Shannon tucked Sloane’s hair behind her ear with her opposite hand, grip still tight on her jaw. Redirecting the younger banshee’s line of sight so that she could no longer look away, she stared down at her daughter, searching for what went wrong. The training that Sloane had endured was not unlike any other banshee’s methods, though she knew that her activation was far later than others. “I half expected you to learn from my mistakes. The act of falling for a human, it’s fragile, and they will leave either way. Wouldn’t you prefer her to provide you with something everlasting than a goodbye in a hospital bed? She could leave you with this gift, Sloane.” To make her daughter see through her feelings, that would be her best bet. To do this by force would only create a divide, but the moment Shannon had heard just how special Sloane was to Cassidy, she had made her decision. 

“There is, there has to be.” Sloane felt the tears come before she could stop them. Her mom, though gentle in most ways, made no move to wipe them away. They would become a reminder of her weakness. “She doesn’t have to give me anything. I don’t want anything from her. Mom, please, it can be somebody else. Not her, not Cass.” Even saying her name hurt, like a match lit, tilted to the tip of her tongue. That had been her mistake, proving just how much Cass meant to her. It had been no use, pushing Cass out of her window, or explaining that she’d been there for a measly book. Her mom had seen right through her, and it was all for nothing. The pain she had caused Cass, it was for nothing. 

“Your activation is most important, a pheata. I refuse to allow a human to control your feelings.” Shannon dropped the hold she had on Sloane’s jaw and turned towards the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap to begin cleaning the unused mugs. “This is for the best. You have worked up to this moment… all of those years, Sloane, you just want them to go to waste?” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she turned the faucet on. “I will not allow my daughter to follow after some ludicrous crush instead of fate.” Shannon’s voice rose in volume so that she could be heard over the running water. “Though it is selfish, I would prefer you not understand what real love is before it’s too late. To part with Cassidy now is a gift in itself. You will understand once you’ve seen fate for what it is. You may not understand now, but you will.” 

Sloane felt her mother’s fingers against her jaw even after she dropped her hold. She stayed planted in the middle of the kitchen as her mom turned to tend to chores. This was just another day for her, and she knew that. To Sloane, it felt as though the world was crashing down around her. To her mother, it was a triumph. Even though she knew that her mom was being selfish, Sloane couldn’t outright ask why it had to be Cass and not her dad, because she didn’t want to lose him either. To lose him would also mean her mother’s heartbreak, but Sloane couldn’t quite understand why it was her who had to lose and not her mother, too. If fate had the final say, wouldn't that make the most sense? It had been like that for generations, across banshee bloodlines. The father, a relative, but now Sloane had to lose Cass? Had to lose somebody who liked her for her, had to lose what it meant to find friendship in a place where her self-worth was often questioned? It was stupid. Sloane swallowed her argument as she turned on her heel. Sloane had friends in high places, and though she knew it would become cross with her, she would defy fate for Cass’s sake. 

The plan was one that had been festering in Cass’s head for a while now. Since before the almost-kiss at the froyo shop, though that had solidified it a little more. She knew now, for certain, that Sloane liked her back. She was sure of it. And if something was holding the other girl back, making her hesitate… Wouldn’t Cass be doing her a favor by removing it? It was clear that the cause of her uncertainty was somehow tied to her parents, and while Cass might not have any real experience when it came to parents, she knew how to charm people. She could make Sloane’s mother like her if she tried, and then the complications would all fall away. She knew they would.

So… She used the skills she’d built up as a con artist to her advantage. She made her way over to Sloane’s house when she knew the other girl would be in class, and she knocked on the door. The woman who answered had features Cass definitely recognized from spending way too much time staring at Sloane’s face, enough that she knew this must be her friend’s mother, so she put on her most charming smile. “Oh, hi! Sorry, I was looking for Sloane, but… I just remembered her classes started back, so she’s probably there, huh?” She made a show of taking out her phone to check the time, wrinkling her nose. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I, um… If it’s okay, could I wait here for her to get home? If not, I can just have her meet me at the coffee shop around the corner. It’s definitely no big deal!”

Mrs. Kennedy heard the knock on the door from the kitchen, and while Steve made no move to alert to the sudden guest, confusion still settled upon her, as she hadn’t been expecting anyone’s company, at least until Sloane and her father came back from their respective duties. As she pulled open the door, Mrs. Kennedy was surprised to see a girl not much older than Sloane standing before her, though she was unrecognizable. “You were looking for Sloane?” With a tilt of her head, she looked past the young girl, immediate suspicion being this girl had bullied her daughter in some way. Even though Sloane never let on, she wasn’t stupid— she knew her daughter. 

At the young girl’s insistence that she could instead leave, Mrs. Kennedy shook her head. “No, no. Of course you can wait inside.” The banshee’s mind started to work around what this girl could possibly want. “Please.” She took a step to the side, a gracious smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “How did you say you knew my daughter again?” After the girl was inside, she let the door close behind her before leading the way to the kitchen. Steve looked up lazily from the couch before going back to his nap. Strange that he seemed unbothered by the new company. 

“Would you like me to put some tea on?” Mrs. Kennedy asked, hand on the steel kettle that sat atop the stove.

She was invited inside, which was really the hardest hurtle to climb here. If Sloane’s mom had told her to leave, Cass would have been pretty much out of luck. Finished before she began, with no hope of making a second first impression. So she took the invitation as a victory, flashing a bright smile as she came into the familiar entryway. “Hi Steve,” she whispered to the dog, giving him a little wave before looking back to Sloane’s mother.

“Oh, we’re friends! We, um, went to the zoo together not long ago. Got matching keychains!” She flashed the sloth keychain with another grin. “Sloane’s broke, but I’m going to have my friend teach me how to make her something way better. Maybe, like, a little sloth figurine.” The first step of any good con was to make yourself likable, and the first step to making yourself likable was to show that you had something in common with your mark. Cass didn’t know much about Mrs. Kennedy. Sloane didn’t talk about her parents often, and she did it even less after the Window Incident that had occurred the last time Cass had been in this house. But… Cass knew that Mrs. Kennedy cared about Sloane. And that wasn’t something she had to pretend to have in common with her — it was something she already did. 

She followed Mrs. Kennedy into the kitchen, trying not to make it too obvious that she’d been there before. She didn’t know if Sloane was allowed to have company over when her parents weren’t home, and the last thing she wanted was to get her friend into trouble. “I’d love some tea, sure! Do you want any help making it?” This was something she’d picked up in foster care; adults preferred kids who made themselves useful. Cass was pretty good at it. “I can get some mugs down if you tell me where they are. Maybe one for Sloane, too? For when she gets here.”

Mrs. Kennedy raised a thoughtful brow, head tilted to the side. She, of course, hadn’t heard of Sloane making trips to the zoo. It wasn’t as if her daughter needed to tell her everything, but she at least expected to hear about new friends, especially considering how few she actually had. “That’s darling.” It wasn’t hard, keeping her smile intact. The young woman was polite enough, and it was clear that Sloane would only keep company that suited her. Smart girl, Mrs. Kennedy thought to herself. As she continued on, explaining that Sloane’s keychain broke and she’d be taking the time to make an entirely new one, Mrs. Kennedy nodded thoughtfully. So they were close, then. 

The girl was not fae, that much she could tell. Nor was she undead. Not that her daughter would keep such company, but the concern still riddled the back of her mind. Mrs. Kennedy let out a soft sigh. “That’s very thoughtful of you. You know, she’s never had quite so many friends…” It occurred to her then that she hadn’t asked the young woman’s name. With no intention to take it, Mrs. Kennedy flexed her hands against the kettle before turning around to address her. “What may I call you? I would hate to continue to think of you just as Sloane’s friend.” The blonde smiled, pearly whites visible, before she turned around towards the cabinets. 

The camping-grade mugs sat inside, upside down. “Oh, don’t you worry yourself. Just relax, I’d love to hear about your trip to the zoo. You know, Sloane doesn’t tell me much these days. It’s nice to hear she’s able to enjoy herself outside of that sketchbook of hers.” Mrs. Kennedy took out two mugs, hesitating for a third, before grabbing it eventually. She knew Sloane would be home soon enough, so it wouldn’t hurt to offer her daughter some tea, too. “We have quite a few different types. They’re in the cabinet just over there.” Mrs. Kennedy jutted her chin in the direction, before moving to fill the kettle with some water. It occurred to her then, that out of everyone in Sloane’s life, this may be their best bet. Sloane’s activation had been put on hold for long enough, and she herself had been activated since the age of fifteen. Even her own mother felt it crude to keep Sloane from her purpose for this long, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself, at least, not until now. 

It seemed to be going well enough. Sloane’s mom seemed a little surprised to see Cass, but… There was a pleasantness to it. Like she hadn’t been expecting for Sloane to have a friend stop by, but she was glad for it. Relieved, even. Cass didn’t often tap into the empathetic abilities her siren heritage awarded her intentionally, but she knew enough to recognize them when they were there. She knew enough to know that Sloane’s mother wasn’t angry she was here, wasn’t upset. And if Sloane’s mom ended up liking her… That would be one problem solved, wouldn’t it? She could point it out to her friend, say look, we’re going to be okay and offer some proof to the claim. She could kiss her in a froyo shop and not feel like it needed to be a secret, guarded thing. 

“Really?” It felt a little surprising, the thought that Sloane had never had a lot of friends. Cass couldn’t imagine anyone meeting her and not adoring her right away. “People are definitely missing out, then. She’s kind of, like, one of my favorite people.” She blushed a little as the words tumbled out, definitively true but maybe not something to say to your crush’s mom while you waited for said crush to come home. Clearing her throat, she smiled a little. “Cass,” she introduced herself. “Do you, um, prefer to be called Mrs. Kennedy?” 

She watched as Mrs. Kennedy navigated the kitchen, continuing to pretend that she hadn’t been here before. She glanced briefly over to the counter where she and Sloane had made their PB&Js just before Mrs. Kennedy and Sloane’s father came home and the moment was shattered, thought about how nice it would be if nothing like that had to happen again. Wouldn’t it be better? Wouldn’t it be so much more enjoyable if she could hang out in Sloane’s house without a ticking clock over her head? “Oh, but her sketches are so good! She’s really talented, you know? My older sibling is an artist, and I swear one day I’m gonna get them to hang Sloane’s stuff up in their gallery. It would fit in, I mean, with how great she is.” It was clear from Cass’s tone that she believed what she was saying, clearer still that she genuinely cared about Sloane, and she thought that would be good here. She thought it might make Sloane’s mother like her more, accept her more. That was all she really wanted.

“Oh, is she?” Mrs. Kennedy watched Cass for a moment before nodding. “She is quite special isn’t she?” There was no mistaking it. This was a crush. She had had plenty of them to know the signs. The young girl looked as though she’d do anything for Sloane, and Mrs. Kennedy would make sure of that. Even if Cass had not yet professed it, she would get her wish— to uplift Sloane in the way that she, herself had been trying to do so. “That’s a wonderful name. Is it short for anything?” Mrs. Kennedy hummed under her breath as she moved back to the stove, turning the dial until flames danced along the bottom of the steel. 

“You can call me Shannon, if you wish. Most of my friends do.” Though she and Cass would never get to that point, the young girl could pretend that was the case if she wanted. It wouldn’t be until she understood Sloane’s relationship with Cass that she would move towards the end goal: her daughter’s activation. To simply end the young girl’s life once Sloane waltzed through the door would be too delicate. If Sloane did not feel the same, then it would be a loss. Fate would surely be disappointed in her haste. “She didn’t want to draw at first, I don’t know if she told you this or not.” Mrs. Kennedy watched the kettle for a moment longer before she turned her attention to Cass. “It was about patience that drove her towards learning. It’s a funny thing, determination.” Mrs. Kennedy sighed and waved a hand in the air. “But yes, you’re correct, she is quite good. She has a certain eye for things that others don’t.” Things that people like you wouldn’t understand, Shannon concluded in her head. “Did you find the tea you wanted?” She asked, taking note of the way that Cass seemed rooted to the cheap linoleum. 

“Definitely,” Cass agreed with an enthusiastic nod. She was probably being obvious, but… It was okay if Sloane’s mom knew that Cass had a crush on her daughter, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean anything one way or another. Even if Cass’s crush was requited — which Cass did suspect it was — this wouldn’t reveal it. If Sloane and Cass did end up as more than friends and she didn’t want her mom to know about it, this wouldn’t jeopardize that. But if Sloane was hesitant because she was afraid her mom wouldn’t like Cass… This could solve things completely. It was a no-lose kind of situation. Those were Cass’s favorite kind. “It’s short for Cassidy,” she replied, with a nod, “but, like, nobody really calls me Cassidy.” Not that she didn’t like the name; she had picked it out herself, after all. 

Getting on first name basis with Mrs. Kennedy — with Shannon felt like something of a win, and Cass beamed like she’d just won the lottery. “Shannon,” she repeated. “That’s a pretty name, too.” It felt like she was making real headway here, like she was accomplishing something, and she was suddenly filled with a rush of excitement for Sloane to come home. It would be something tangible she could show her, something real. A way of saying it’s okay, I can be good, I can be enough, please just let me be enough. With the near kiss proving that Sloane really might share her feelings and this interaction totally ending the notion that Sloane’s mom simply wouldn’t like her, there shouldn’t be much of anything holding them back. “Really? I never would have guessed that. She seems so into art now, I guess I assumed she always was.” She smiled faintly, warmed by the idea of learning something new about someone she cared for so deeply. She was pulled from the fond thought by Shannon’s question. “Oh!” She’d forgotten about the tea altogether, so focused on her ‘mission’ to make Sloane’s mother like her that everything else had fallen by the wayside. She picked a teabag from a box at random. “This one looks good!”

“Cassidy.” Mrs. Kennedy sounded it out. It was simple, but strong to a fault. It was a name that suited the young woman. Her sacrifice would not be in vain. Shannon had dreamt of this moment— of finding somebody who could bare the weight of her daughter’s activation, and that very person had walked right into her home. Sloane, of course, would understand, as she had understood everything about her purpose. It did, however, confuse Shannon that her daughter hadn’t brought Cass to her sooner. Perhaps she was trying to gauge their closeness, too, to ensure that fate would feel satisfied with the offering. Her husband, of course, would have worked, but love had won Shannon over, and she refused to take the step, even if it meant fulfilling fate. “I’ll call you Cass, then.” Shannon decided after a moment of silence, smile still pulled at the corners of her lips. 

“Mmm.” The girl was polite, and Mrs. Kennedy felt only a small part of her guilt for the future that she would face. Sloane, of course, would get over it in time. The loss would sting, but just as she had lost her father for her own activation, Sloane would at least not have to lose hers. “She was a child when she learned, so I suppose you could say she has always been into art.” The banshee pulled the sugar from the cabinet just next to the stove as Cassidy began to thumb through the tea. “Irish breakfast, I see you have good taste, Cass.” Shannon winked at the girl before setting the bag into one of the mugs. “Would you mind taking out two from the jar? It’s green tea with hibiscus, Sloane’s favorite.” 

It was going better than Cass had dared to hope it might, really. After all, Sloane’s concerns must have been in place for a reason. If she’d worried that her mother might take some offense to Cass, that had to come from somewhere, didn’t it? Especially if that concern had been so intense that she’d felt the best course of action was for Cass to leave through a window rather than risk meeting Shannon. Maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy that was the concern at all, then. Maybe it was Sloane’s father that she had to really worry about winning over. Cass resolved herself to repeat this process over again sometime in the future with the man, even as she offered Shannon a small smile. It wouldn’t be that hard, she was sure. And it would be worth it either way. If it gave her a real shot with Sloane, it would be totally worth it.

“Now that makes sense.” The idea of Sloane being a little kid with a big sketchbook was definitely one Cass could imagine easily, especially given her friend’s talent. Something that impressive had to have been honed from a young age. Nodding, Cass took two bags of green tea from the jar as instructed, making a note of the brand. Maybe she could buy some for Sloane sometime. She heard keys in the lock at the door, and her smile widened a little. “Wow, sounds like we’re finishing up the tea right in time, huh?”

Mrs. Kennedy’s attention dragged upwards from the slightly steaming kettle to the door down the hall. The footsteps were quick and light. Not her husband’s, but Sloane’s. As her daughter turned the corner, she half-expected there to be an expression of understanding. Instead, what she saw was shock, as well as hurt. Something stirred in Shannon’s chest as she looked at her daughter, head tilted to the side as she tried to piece together what it could be that Sloane was so worried about. “Your friend here dropped by, we were just making tea. Should we take a seat at the table?” 

Sloane felt her stomach drop the moment she saw Cass’s car in the driveway, but seeing Cass in her kitchen with her mom made her head spin. She could spin this, could pretend that she and Cass were just study buddies. She could do it. She had to do it. But as her mother spoke, Sloane realized that the damage had already been done. They must have discussed something to create the knowing look in her mom’s eyes. A quick glance towards Cass, and Sloane felt her heart drop into her stomach. She looked so elated. 

“Not in the mood for tea. Hey Cass, I have that thing for you upstairs. Help me?” Sloane’s tone was short, clipped. She felt her pulse in her fingertips. Before either her mom or Cass could get another word in, Sloane turned, taking the stairs two at a time to her bedroom. Once she was sure Cass had followed her, Sloane closed the door firmly, resting her forehead against it. Taking a moment, she inhaled sharply and turned back to Cass. “Why are you here?” 

Cass grinned as she heard Sloane’s footsteps, ecstatic to prove herself here. But when Sloane entered the kitchen, she didn’t look happy or excited or relieved. She looked… upset. Maybe a little angry. Cass resisted the urge to tap into those handy siren abilities, kept herself from cheating to figure out what Sloane was feeling as best she could. Apparently, she’d already overstepped once. Doing it more probably wasn’t going to help things. 

An expression of pained confusion flickered across her face at Sloane’s tone when she spoke — short, clipped, clearly unhappy. She glanced to Shannon briefly, wondering what she’d done wrong here. She thought it was going well. She thought this was going to fix things. But… Maybe she’d been wrong about that.

Without saying anything, Cass followed Sloane up to her room, swallowing as her friend shut the door. Her brow was furrowed, expression still stuck on that pained confusion. “I just… I thought if I could make your mom like me, it’d make things easier. No more sneaking out windows. Right?” 

Sloane didn’t want to be upset with Cass, she really didn’t. She didn’t want to have to have this conversation, but if everything hadn’t been ruined before, it sure was now. The banshee reached up to cup her own face, fingers working into her temples as she began to pace around her room. Finally, Sloane stopped and leaned against the wall opposite the door. “It’s—“ Why did Cass have to come here? Now her mom knew. Her mom knew, and there was no turning back, and now, Sloane might lose Cass. 

The look on her mom’s face told Sloane all she needed to know. Hers and Cass’s conversation had been long enough to determine that they were close, and now Cass would lose her life because of it. A couple of months ago, she would have been fine with the thought of losing a friend, but now? Even if it had been Ari in her kitchen, or even Crow, Sloane would have the same doubts. It wasn’t because she liked Cass, that had nothing to do with it. It was the fact of the matter being that Sloane didn’t want to lose her, or anyone for that matter. 

“I told you that we couldn’t run into her, I told you, and you came over anyways. Cass, I’m being honest when I tell you there’s a lot more to it. You shouldn’t have come here.” Sloane’s voice cracked as she pushed away from the wall, moving towards her bookcase. She had to make a clean cut. Had to convince her mom that they were nothing, that Cass meant nothing. It would be hard, but she could do it. She could still lie, even if there’d be the ever present pin pricks. She grabbed the broken keychain and turned it over in her hand before looking back to Cass. 

It was clear that Sloane was upset, and Cass wondered how she’d messed things up this badly. The plan had seemed foolproof, but the way Sloane was looking at her now… Something had gotten crossed. If the almost-kiss had felt like a step forward, this felt like a thousand steps back. And Cass didn’t know what she was supposed to say to make it better. 

“I didn’t tell her anything about…” She trailed off, thinking back to that almost-kiss. Maybe it was like Metzli thought, and Sloane didn’t want her mother to know she was interested in a girl. That would sting a lot less than the idea that Cass specifically was the problem, at least. “I just… It’s not a big deal if she knows we’re friends, is it? She was okay with it. She seemed happy, even. I don’t understand, Sloane. She wasn’t mad.” Cass would have been able to tell if she was, even without the siren empathy. As a foster kid, you learned pretty quickly how to tell when an adult was angry with you. It was a necessary part of survival in the system. And Sloane’s mother wasn’t. She wasn’t angry at Cass, wasn’t angry when Sloane walked through the door. She wasn’t. 

Cass watched as Sloane walked over to the bookshelf, chest tight as she grabbed the broken keychain that matched the one hanging from her own pocket. “I — I’m sorry,” she said, eyes darting up to meet the other girl’s. “I didn’t mean to upset you, okay? I just… I thought… I don’t want it to feel like we can’t… hang out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to pretend not to know me if I run into you when you’re out with your mom or something. I’d never tell her anything… private. Just that we’re friends. That’s all I said, Sloane, I swear.”

Of course her mother was happy that Sloane had made a friend. The poor girl with the dirt under her fingernails, digging graves for birds who fell from the sky at six years old— of course her mother was happy she made friends. Because now, her father would not have to die. Because now, they would not have to uproot their lives and go to Ireland to sacrifice a relative Sloane knew from birth. Because now, her mother could live selfishly, even if she’d been taught that their purpose was of the utmost importance. Sloane didn’t speak, she just continued to stare from across the room at Cass. She could tell that the other girl’s heart was breaking, and hers was too. 

Teagan’s voice rang through her head again. Be honest. But Sloane couldn’t, not right now. She wasn’t sure that Cass would understand, and she couldn’t take the chance that her mom might get reported for this, too. Sloane could fix it on her own time, could convince her that somebody terrible at school was a better friend to her than Cass ever was. “I told you, Cass.” Sloane squeezed the keychain in her hand tightly, throat constricting. “There was a reason I had you go through the window, and I know it was shitty to do that to you, but there was a reason, and I thought— I thought it was pretty clear.” She could have told Cass. Could have explained that if her mom saw how close they were, she might end her life. 

The truth stayed tucked beneath her tongue which now felt too big for her mouth. Sloane tossed the keychain onto the ground, just next to Cass’s feet. “Take it. I don’t want it. You— you crossed a boundary by coming here without asking me, and I don’t… I can’t… Cass, I’m sorry, but you can’t just do what you want because you think it’s the right fucking move.” Because now Cass would die if Sloane didn’t figure out how to steer her mom in the opposite direction. “I care about you, I really do— I do, and I just— I told you to go through the window for a reason, and you fucked it up. You fucked it up, and now I need you to leave.” 

Sloane wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t saying anything, and it took everything Cass had not to fill that silence with everything she could think of, took all her willpower not to make desperate excuses and plead for forgiveness because she wasn’t good at silence. Silence was the prologue to abandonment, she knew that. And she’d probably earned that abandonment here. She’d gone behind Sloane’s back in a way she thought was a grand gesture, in a way she thought would be like something out of a stupid romcom with a happy ending, and it wasn’t. Sloane was right — she’d asked Cass to do something, and Cass hadn’t. She couldn’t blame anyone but herself for that.

And there was, of course, a terrifying implication with that, because if Cass deserved to be left behind now, maybe it meant she’d deserved it every time it happened before, too. Maybe some people weren’t meant to have stupid romcoms with happy endings, and maybe she was one of them. She thought of the stupid motel room that she couldn’t get out of her head, thought of the dead hunter, of Jackrabbit in the woods. Had she been fooling herself this whole time? Had Sloane known it all along? Maybe there was a good reason Sloane didn’t want Cass meeting her mom. Maybe Cass should have understood that.

“I just… I thought…” You thought what? The voice in her head was cruel and mocking and her own. You thought it was a misunderstanding? You thought she wasn’t embarrassed of you? How could she not be? How could anyone? Cass’s eyes shone with tears, and she flinched as the broken keychain landed at her feet. “No, Sloane, please, I don’t — I won’t do it again. Okay? I won’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I…” You fucked it up. The words seemed to echo, playing on repeat like a broken record. You fucked it up, you fucked it up, youfuckeditupyoufuckeditupyoufuckeditupyou — “Please, just — I can make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want to make it better. Whatever you need me to do. Please. I’m sorry.” 

Sloane wished that Cass had never come over to her house that day. That she hadn’t had to push the pretty girl through the window with the unspoken promise that it wasn’t her fault. Sloane wanted to go back in time, back to the 80’s, even, to the time where she could hold onto Cass without fear. Because that would be better than this. Anything would be better than this. She was watching Cass’s heart break in real time, and even though Sloane felt more than friendship, she knew that there was something rooted between them now. Betrayal, maybe, on Sloane’s behalf. 

There was still time to turn this around. To pull Cass out of the window after her, to run to the woods and explain. To tell the other girl that her purpose was set in stone, and that they had to be careful. They could mend it, and Sloane could still have her. But that would be straight out of a fairytale, and this was real life. Her mother had already sunk into the idea, Sloane could tell by the smile on her face when she had first walked in. Cass’s life was in the balance now, and it was all Sloane’s fault. She swallowed thickly and ran a shaky hand through her hair, fingers catching at her curls’ ends. 

“Cass, listen to me.” Sloane’s voice came out cold and somewhat broken, like there were marionettes pulling at strings tied to her ribcage so she’d break her own heart. “You can’t. You did enough, you did this, and now—“ Now I have to let you go. It was dramatic, maybe. Maybe Sloane was blowing it out of proportion. Maybe her mom would allow this, Maybe Sloane could still have Cass in her life without the worry that she’d fall to the knees for fate. No, Sloane reminded herself, humans are of no importance to a fae, nevertheless a banshee. Cass was as good as dead and Sloane knew it. 

“I need you to go. You have to go.” The keychain looked mangled at Cass’s feet and Sloane didn’t want to let it go, but it felt right, parting with it in this way, even if it caused Sloane’s skin to grow cold. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Before the other girl could protest, Sloane gently guided her towards the door, ripping it open with the opposite hand. Clearing her throat, she spoke aloud so that her mother could hear, “I’ll get those books back to you later, okay? Our test won’t be too hard, being that we’re like, the greatest study buddies.” She gave Cass a look, the pin pricks of her lies burrowing deep into her skin. 

You did enough. You did this. Every word felt like a physical blow, like a reminder of just how badly she’d messed things up. Was this why nothing ever lasted for her? Had she been fooling herself by ever allowing herself to believe that it wasn’t her fault? She thought back to every time she’d ever been ushered to the backseat of a case worker’s car, away from whatever foster home was kicking her out this time. She’s too much work. She has too many problems. I didn’t think she had this much baggage when I took her on. She’s more than we can handle. It’s hard. It’s not worth it. In that moment, Cass felt like a kid again — too much and not enough all at once, and the only one to blame for it was herself. Sloane was right — she did this. Not some faceless system, not some imagined villain, not some unfortunate accident. Her. 

“Sloane,” she choked on the name, hated the way it tasted sour on her tongue. It used to taste so sweet, like everything she’d ever wanted all rolled up into one syllable. She leaned down, picking up the keychain and grasping it like a lifeline, holding it as if she wasn’t sure whether to cradle it to her chest or thrust it back towards Sloane and try to convince her to take it back, to take it all back. The result left her arm hovering uncertainly a few inches from her body, hesitant and unsure. “Please, can we just — Can we talk about this? I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, okay? I’m sorry. I don’t want to…” I don’t want to lose you. But she wasn’t, was she? Sloane had never been hers to lose in the first place. 

(So why did it hurt like this?)

She swallowed at the finality of the command to get the fuck out, at the harshness of the words. Part of her wanted to dig her heels in like some stubborn child, wanted to go limp and refuse to leave until Sloane just talked to her. But that wouldn’t work, would it? You couldn’t make someone stay when all they wanted to do was leave. You couldn’t make a thing be worth something when it never would be. The plastic keychain dug into her palms where she gripped it tightly, cheap and unwanted, and Cass thought maybe she could relate to the stupid, broken hunk of plastic far more than she’d ever want to. Sloane’s tone changed as they reached the door, saying words that didn’t make sense, and Cass had run enough cons to recognize one when she saw it. That feigned kindness wasn’t for her benefit. It probably never would be again, because she’d ruined it. She’d ruined everything. “Okay.” The word was barely a whisper, and it was a struggle to get it out at all. After everything, she figured, she could at least give Sloane one last lie. It wouldn’t fix anything she’d broken, because nothing would. But she owed it to her, anyway. “Yeah. Okay.” 

The door closed between them, and it might as well have been made of steel and welded shut. Cass knew it wouldn’t open again. Not for her. 

After Cass was gone, Sloane hung in the doorway of her room for a moment, heart in her throat. She knew that this was the end, but it was a better end than the one that ended with Cass buried six feet deep. She would die soon enough, but if Sloane had any say, it would not be due to her hand, or her purpose. It was a strange thing, fighting against something she had wanted for so long. To long for something in the way that she longed for her activation being cut with the very knife she sported for the sake of a girl she fell to her knees for. If this were anyone, Sloane was certain she would find it in her heart to fight against losing them, but Cass was different.