Curiosity Killed the Cat
Istumble downstairs for my shift at six thirty in the morning, having slept approximately three hours total.
My eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed with sandpaper.
My brain is operating at about forty percent capacity.
I’m running on spite and caffeine and the desperate hope that nothing else will go catastrophically wrong today.
I nearly walk straight into Adam.
“What the hell are you doing here!” I exclaim, taking a step back so fast I almost trip over my own feet.
Adam looks genuinely ashamed. His shoulders hunch slightly, and he does that thing where he won’t quite meet my eyes.
“I do still work here,” he says quietly. “Sometimes. When Hex isn’t whisking me off to Paris or...” He trails off, going slightly pink. “Oh god, I’ve been a terrible coffee shop owner and friend! I’ll do better! I’ll be here more!”
Oh hells.
This is just what I need. Adam being here more often, being a responsible business owner, when I have a furious shadow king trapped in my flat directly above us.
Hex can’t stay away from Adam. I’ve seen how they are together.
The way Hex materialises out of shadows just to bring Adam snacks he didn’t ask for.
The way his red eyes track Adam’s every movement like he’s the most fascinating thing in any realm.
The casual touches, the protective hovering, the absolute inability to be separated for more than a few hours.
Which means Hex will come here. Probably today. Possibly within the hour.
And Hex will sense something. I’m sure of that. I’m not sure what his reaction will be.
Dis is Hex’s enemy. The weapon who carried out the coup. The being who sat on Hex’s throne and ruled in his place. Who made Hex’s life a living nightmare for months.
But Dis is also a fellow shadow being. One who is currently trapped and powerless and probably broadcasting distress signals across multiple dimensions.
I have no idea whose side Hex will take.
My mind races, trying to come up with an excuse. A reason Adam shouldn’t be here. Anything that would get him to leave and stay away until I’ve figured out how to hide Dis better.
But I can’t think of anything. My sleep-deprived brain is blank. Every excuse I try to formulate dissolves before it reaches my mouth.
“That’s great,” I hear myself say. “Really great. Good to have you back.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth.
Adam beams. He actually beams. Like I’ve just given him a gift instead of the world’s most unconvincing welcome.
“I’ve missed this,” he says, grabbing an apron. “The routine. The customers. Working with you.”
Something twists in my chest. Guilt, maybe. Or grief for the simpler time when my biggest problem was making sure the pastry order arrived on time.
I force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Missed you too.”
It’s not a lie. I have missed him. Missed the easy comfort of working alongside my best friend. Missed the version of my life where I wasn’t keeping devastating secrets.
We get to work. Adam handles the pastry delivery while I set up the espresso machine. Everything is perfectly normal. Perfectly fine. I’m absolutely not panicking about the fact that my best friend is standing three meters away from a trapped shadow king.
Or that his fiancé could appear at any moment.
I keep glancing at the shadows. Every dark corner feels like a potential Hex appearance. The temperature in the shop is completely normal, but I can’t stop checking, waiting for that telltale drop that means a shadow being is manifesting.
The morning passes in a blur of orders and small talk. Adam chatters about a trip to some gallery in London. Something about Pre-Raphaelite paintings and Hex having opinions about historical accuracy in depictions of medieval armour.
“He got quite worked up about the rivets,” Adam says, laughing. “Apparently they’re all wrong in Waterhouse’s paintings. He gave me a twenty-minute lecture on proper fourteenth century plate construction.”
I make appropriate noises. Nod in the right places. Try very hard not to think about what’s happening upstairs.
But I can’t help watching Adam. The way he lights up when he talks about Hex. The unconscious way he touches the ring on his finger. The softness in his expression when he mentions something Hex said or did.
He’s happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
And I’m lying to him.
The guilt tries to surface again. I shove it down with the same ruthless efficiency I’ve been using for days.
I didn’t ask for this situation. Dis created it when he burned my flat down. When he used me as bait. When he made it very clear that my life meant nothing to him.
If keeping secrets from Adam is the price of making Dis pay for that, then so be it.
“Felix?”
I blink. Adam is looking at me with concern.
“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.”
“Fine. Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t push. Just gives me that worried look that means he’s filing this away to bring up later when I’m more receptive.
Except there won’t be a later. Not if Hex shows up and discovers what I’ve done.
Adam’s looking at me now with that expression that means he knows something is wrong, but he’s trying to decide whether to call me on it or wait for me to volunteer information.
I busy myself with wiping down the espresso machine.
“Felix,” he says quietly. “If something’s going on...”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m an excellent liar. You’re just too perceptive.”
That makes him smile slightly. “Is it witch stuff? Because you know you can tell me if it’s witch stuff. I’m engaged to a shadow being. I’ve become very open-minded about supernatural things.”
The irony is almost painful. If only it were just witch stuff. If only I could tell him.
But I can’t. Because telling Adam means Hex finds out. And Hex finding out means everything gets complicated in ways I can’t predict or control.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “Just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”
This is true, at least. I haven’t slept properly since the summoning. Hard to sleep when there’s a furious shadow king in your living room radiating cold and rage.
Adam’s expression softens. “You should take better care of yourself. I worry about you.”
The words hit harder than they should. Has anyone ever worried about me? Actually cared whether I was sleeping or eating or taking care of myself?
My throat feels tight. I swallow hard and turn away, pretending to organise the cups.
“I’m fine,” I manage.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
It’s not true. We both know it’s not true. But Adam lets it go because he’s kind and he knows when to push and when to wait.
The morning continues. More customers. More coffee. More small talk that I half-listen to while my mind churns through everything that could go wrong.
Despite the imminent threat of Hex’s arrival, my thoughts keep drifting back to the feeding problem. One problem at a time, I guess.
Dis needs sustenance. Shadow beings don’t just fade quietly. They weaken. They suffer. And as much as I hate him, as angry as I am, I’m not cruel enough to let that happen.
Which means I need to do something.
The question that keeps circling in my brain is the same one that’s been there since yesterday. What exactly does feeding a shadow being involve?
I know the basics. Intense emotion. Physical intimacy. Energy exchange.
But what does it actually feel like? What happens? I’ve been curious about shadow beings ever since Adam got involved with Hex.
I remember the first time I saw them together. The way Hex looked at Adam. The intensity of it. Like Adam was air and water and everything necessary for existence.
I remember thinking it seemed overwhelming. Consuming. The kind of connection that would burn you alive if you let it.
And I remember being curious. Wondering what it would feel like to be the focus of that kind of attention. To be needed like that.
I hate that I’m curious now. Hate that my brain is fixating on this when I should be focused on keeping Dis trapped and figuring out my next move and how to stop Hex from finding out.
But I can’t help it.
“Adam,” I say, during a lull in customers.
He looks up from wiping down tables. “Yeah?”
“What was it like?” The question comes out before I can stop it. “The first time you fed Hex?”
Adam goes bright red. And I mean bright red. An impressive tomato impersonation. His ears are scarlet. His neck is flushed. He looks like he might actually combust from embarrassment.
It’s kind of sweet. My friend is such a prude.
Not like me. I’ve never had any moral objection to casual activities. Sex is just sex. Bodies doing what bodies do. Nothing to get worked up about.
So why is the idea of feeding Dis throwing me into such a tizzy?
“I, um,” Adam stammers. He’s focused very intently on the table he’s already cleaned. “It was. Very. I mean, it was really. Um.”
I wait. This is fascinating. I’ve never seen Adam this flustered.
“Mind blowing,” he finally manages. Then immediately looks like he regrets saying it. “But why are you asking?”
I shrug, aiming for casual. “Just nosy. And pervy.”
Adam laughs. The tension breaks and he shakes his head at me with that fond exasperation I know so well.
I love how lovely my friend is. How genuinely good. Even when he’s mortified, he still looks at me like I’m worth caring about.
Like I matter.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Adam asks, his tone shifting to something more careful. Concerned.
I sigh. “No.”
His expression does that thing where it gets all worried and protective. “Oh. Did you change your mind about downloading Grindr?”
I shake my head. Adam is so innocent sometimes. So genuinely naive about certain things despite being in a relationship with an ancient shadow being.
“Grindr isn’t for dating, my friend,” I say gently.
Adam blinks. “It’s not?”
“No.”
“But I thought it was an app for meeting people?”
“It is. Just not for dating.”
He still looks confused. I can see him trying to puzzle it out. Then his eyes widen slightly as understanding dawns.
“Oh,” he says. Then again, quieter, “Oh.”
Before he can ask any follow-up questions that I absolutely do not want to answer, the door chimes and a group of customers comes in.
We’re busy for the next hour. I make drinks on autopilot while my mind churns.
Grindr. The thought keeps circling back.
“Felix?”
I blink. Adam is looking at me with concern.
“Are you really sure you’re okay? You’ve been staring at that milk frother for like three minutes.”
I set it down quickly. “Fine. Just tired.”
“You should take a break. Go upstairs, get some rest.”
The last thing I need is more time alone with my thoughts. And Dis.
“I’m good,” I say.
But I’m not good. I’m so far from good it’s almost funny.
I have a shadow king trapped in my flat who needs to feed. I have my best friend working three meters away, completely oblivious. I have his fiancé who could appear at any moment and sense exactly what I’ve done. And I have an idea forming that’s either brilliant or completely insane.
Knowing my recent track record, it’s probably both.