The Other Problem
I’ve decided to take the day off work. This is unprecedented.
I never take days off. I’m the kind of person who shows up with a fever and three hours of sleep and still makes perfect cappuccinos while quietly dying inside.
But today, I cannot go downstairs and pretend to be normal while there is a shadow king in my flat who has shifted from violent escape attempts to ominous patience.
I don’t trust it. I don’t trust him. Dis is up to something and I need to figure out what before it becomes a problem.
So I’m staying home. Watching him. Making sure he doesn’t find some loophole in the bindings that I missed.
Brian arrives at six in the morning with a canvas bag that clinks ominously.
“I brought supplies!” he announces, bursting through the door with the kind of enthusiasm that should be illegal before nine. “Protective crystals, purifying herbs, and some blessed water that Brian Five made during the last full moon. He’s really into moon water now. It’s his whole thing.”
He dumps the bag on my kitchen counter and starts pulling out items. Black tourmaline. Sage bundles. Small vials of water that shimmer slightly in the light.
“I also brought some incense that High Priestess Magdalene used for banishing rituals. It smells terrible, but apparently it’s very effective.
She used it when Brian Six’s girlfriend showed up trying to get him back.
The girlfriend left crying and also possibly cursed, but that might have been unrelated. ”
I stare at the collection of magical supplies spread across my counter. It’s actually impressive. More than half of it is genuinely useful.
“Thank you,” I say, and mean it.
Brian beams. “No problem! So, how’s the shadow king? Still brooding mysteriously?”
“Something like that.”
“Can I meet him properly? I only got a glimpse yesterday, and it was mostly just scary eyes. Which were very impressive, don’t get me wrong, but I’m curious about the whole package.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s dangerous and I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
Brian tilts his head. “You’re worried about me.”
“I’m worried about having to explain to the police why there’s a law student sized hole in my living room floor.”
“That’s basically the same thing.” His grin gets impossibly wider. “You care about me, Felix. Admit it.”
“I tolerate you.”
“You care about me and you’re bad at showing emotions so you’re pretending it’s tolerance. High Priestess Magdalene did the same thing. She said she ‘tolerated’ us but then she cried when Brian One left to become an accountant.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Brian.”
“Yes?”
“Go downstairs. There are customers who need caffeine. That is important work.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help up here?”
“Positive.”
He looks like he wants to argue. But then he glances at his watch and winces. “Okay, fine. But if you need anything, just shout. I’ll hear you. These buildings have very thin floors.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be!” He grabs an apron from the hook by the door. “I’ll hold down the fort. You deal with your brooding shadow king. We’ve got this!”
He bounds out with the same energy he arrived with. The door closes behind him, and blessed silence falls.
I take the crystals and herbs into the living room. Dis is exactly where he was last night. Sitting cross-legged. Back against the invisible wall. Looking like a dark prince who has decided to slum it in the human realm.
He watches me set up the protective items around the circle. His expression is unreadable.
“More defences?” he asks.
“Reinforcements.”
“How thorough of you.”
I place a piece of black tourmaline at each cardinal point. The crystals hum slightly with protective energy. It won’t stop him if he really pushes against the bindings, but it might buy me time.
“Your little blond friend is very enthusiastic,” Dis observes.
“He’s annoying.”
“He seems fond of you.”
“He’s delusional.”
“Is he?” There’s something almost amused in Dis’s voice. “He brought you supplies. He offered to help. He clearly believes you are worth protecting.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I focus on arranging the sage instead.
“When are you going to feed me?” Dis asks.
The question is so casual, so unexpected, that I nearly drop the sage bundle.
I turn to stare at him. “What?”
“Feed me.” He says it like he’s asking about the weather. “I am growing hungry.”
My brain stutters. “Shadow beings don’t eat food.”
“Not physical food, no.” His blue eyes are steady on mine. Calm. Reasonable. “But you know perfectly well what sustenance shadow beings need. You are friends with Hex and his human.”
Oh.
Oh no.
I did know this. Of course I knew this. Shadow beings feed on energy. Specifically, the kind of energy that comes from physical intimacy. It’s why Hex started haunting Adam, he needed to feed.
I just assumed that trapping Dis in a circle and not technically binding his magic would mean he could still draw power from the ether. The Shadow Realm. From ambient energy. From whatever mystical source shadow beings normally use when they’re not actively feeding.
But apparently not.
Apparently I’ve trapped him in a way that cuts him off from everything.
I swallow hard. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Clearly.”
“You could have mentioned it before.”
“I was busy being angry about my imprisonment.” He shifts slightly. The shadows around him ripple. “But I have had time to reflect on my situation. And I find myself in need of sustenance.”
Silence falls. Heavy and uncomfortable.
My mind is racing. Shadow beings need to feed regularly. Not constantly, but often enough that going without will weaken them. Eventually, if they’re completely cut off from all sources of energy, they fade.
They don’t die exactly. But they fade into something that’s barely conscious. Barely there.
I search my soul to see if I’m ruthless enough to do that to him. To starve him slowly until he’s nothing but whispers and mist.
He burned my flat. He tried to use me as bait. He was willing to kill me.
But this feels different. This feels like torture.
“I do not believe you are dishonourable enough to starve me until I fade, Little Witch,” Dis says quietly.
He’s right. I hate that he’s right, but he is. I’m angry. I want revenge. I want him to understand what he took from me.
But I’m not a monster.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll figure something out.”
Dis tilts his head slightly. “Will you?”
“Yes, Disney, I will.”
His eyes narrow and he grimaces. “How?” he says, ignoring my barb.
Good question. Excellent question. I have no idea.
The obvious solution would be to push someone into the circle with him. Let him feed properly. Let him do whatever shadow beings do when they’re drawing sustenance from a willing participant.
But who?
Dis is watching me with those impossible blue eyes. Reading my expression with the ease of someone who has spent millennia learning how humans work.
“Are you going to give me that little blond one?” he asks.
“Hell no!” The words come out sharp. Furious. “Brian is off limits. Completely and utterly off limits. You don’t touch him. You don’t look at him. You don’t even think about him.”
Not Brian. Absolutely not Brian. The very idea makes something hot and furious rise in my chest. I am not feeding him to a shadow king.
Oh my god. I care about Brian. This is ridiculous. I’ve known him for three whole days. Urgh, personal growth. How annoying. At this rate, I’m going to turn into a nice person. That’s a hideous thought.
One elegant eyebrow rises. “How protective.”
“He’s a good person. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this.”
“And yet you have dragged him into this.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
I glare at him. He gazes back with infuriating calm.
Then his eyes run over me. Slowly. Deliberately. Taking in every detail with an attention that makes my skin prickle.
“Are you going to feed me yourself, Little Witch?” he asks.
His voice is low. Gravelly. The kind of voice that does things to my nervous system that I absolutely do not have time to process right now.
My mouth goes dry. My brain goes blank. All my carefully constructed defences crumble in the face of those blue eyes and that voice and the very clear implication in his words.
Feed him myself.
Which would mean getting close to him. Touching him. Letting him draw energy from me in ways that are definitely not platonic and definitely not safe and definitely going to complicate everything beyond repair.
I open my mouth to respond. Nothing comes out.
Dis tilts his head. The movement is cat-like. Predatory. “No answer, Little Witch?”
I still can’t speak. The hot guy effect has struck again and rendered me completely useless.
This is humiliating. I’m a witch. I trapped a shadow king. I’m emo. I should be able to handle a simple question.
But no. One appraising look from someone with good bone structure and I’m reduced to standing here like an idiot while my brain screams static.
“I,” I start. Stop. Try again. “You can’t just.”
The words dissolve. I give up.
I turn on my heel and storm out of the living room. Back to the kitchen. Away from those eyes and that voice and the impossible situation I’ve created for myself.
Behind me, I hear nothing. No laughter. No comment. Just silence.
Somehow that’s worse.
I grip the edge of the kitchen counter and stare at the wall.
What the hell am I going to do?
I can’t starve him. That’s off the table. I’m not that person. I can’t give him Brian. Also off the table. I’d rather die.
Which leaves one option. The option Dis very calmly laid out for me with those appraising eyes.
I could feed him myself.
The thought makes my heart do something complicated. Fear and attraction and absolute panic mixing together into a feeling I don’t have a name for.
Feeding a shadow being isn’t simple. It’s not just physically going there. It requires genuine emotion. Genuine energy. The kind that comes from wanting or needing or feeling something real.
Which means if I’m going to do this, I can’t fake it. I can’t just go through the motions and hope he gets enough to survive.
I’d have to mean it.
And given that Dis is devastatingly attractive and I have a documented history of losing all sense around hot guys, meaning it might not be the problem.
Not wanting to mean it might be the problem.
I pour myself a glass of wine even though it’s barely seven in the morning. The situation calls for it.
From the living room, there’s still silence. Dis is waiting. Patient. Knowing that eventually I’ll have to come back and give him an answer.
He has all the time in the world.
I have a choice to make.
Release him, and face his wrath. Watch him starve to death and fade. Or… get frisky with him.
Oh hells. How do I get myself into these messes?