Chapter 2
The Morning After
Iwake up to my alarm screaming at me like it has a personal vendetta.
I groan and fumble for my phone. My head feels stuffed with cotton wool. My eyes are gritty and sore. Every muscle in my body aches as if I’ve run a marathon in my sleep.
I silence the alarm and flop back onto my pillow. Just five more minutes. That’s all I need. Five minutes to brace myself for life, existence and everything that comes with it…
My gaze drifts to the nightstand.
The ring is there.
Oh fuck.
I bolt upright. My heart hammers against my ribs. The ring sits there innocently, gleaming in the morning sunlight that’s streaming through the window. Mocking me with its existence.
This can’t be real. It can’t be.
I reach out with a shaking hand and pick it up. It’s warm. Solid. Definitely not imaginary. I turn it over in my fingers, looking for anything that might explain where it came from. An inscription. A hallmark. Literally anything.
But there is nothing. Just smooth gold.
What the actual fuck.
I drop it back on the nightstand and press my hands against my face. Okay. Okay. There has to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe I bought it online while drunk and forgot about it. Maybe it was left here by the previous tenant. Maybe I’m having a psychotic breakdown.
That last option is looking increasingly likely.
I check the time on my phone and swear loudly. I have exactly twenty-three minutes to get ready and get to work. There is no time for a proper freak out. The existential crisis is going to have to wait.
I scramble out of bed and head for the shower. The hot water helps. A little. At least it wakes me up enough to function.
I dry off quickly and pull on my work clothes. Black jeans. Black tee shirt. The apron is at the coffee shop. I look at myself in the mirror and wince. I look like death. There are dark circles under my eyes. My mousy hair is sticking up in every direction. I look like I’ve been possessed.
Which, given last night, might not be far from the truth.
I grab my phone and keys and take one last look at the ring. Should I take it with me? Throw it away? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Yeet it into the fires of Mount Doom?
In the end, I leave it where it is. Out of sight, out of mind. Or at least, that’s the plan.
I lock up the flat and jog down the stairs. The building is old and creaky. The walls are thin enough that I can hear my neighbour’s television blaring. The carpet on the stairs is threadbare and stained.
It’s not a terrible place. But it’s not home either.
This flat belongs to my uncle. Or rather it belongs to a Housing Association, and they gave him a tenancy last time he was discharged from a psychiatric hospital. He asked me to look after it while he spends the winter in Thailand.
Practically rent free. Which is the only reason I can afford to live in Bristol at all.
The problem is, he is coming back in April. Which gives me about five months to figure out where I’m going to live next. And on a barista’s salary, my options are limited. Very limited.
I push the thought away as I step out into the grey Bristol morning. The air is cold and damp. It smells like rain and exhaust fumes. Traffic is already building up on the main road.
I pull my jacket tighter and start walking. The coffee shop is only fifteen minutes away. If I walk fast, I might even make it on time.
My mind keeps drifting back to last night. To the shadow figure standing by my bed. To the ring. To the overwhelming certainty that I’m losing my grip on reality.
I need to talk to someone. A doctor. A therapist. Someone who can tell me what the hell is happening to me.
But I don’t have time for that today. Today, I have to make lattes and smile at customers and pretend everything is fine.
I can fall apart later.
The coffee shop is called Coffeelicious.
Which is a terrible name, but the owner thinks it’s an incredibly clever stroke of genius.
The shop is a small, independent place tucked between a charity shop and a vegan bakery.
The interior is all exposed brick and mismatched furniture.
There are fairy lights strung across the ceiling and indie music playing through the speakers.
It’s trying so very hard to be quirky and cool. And somehow, it works.
I push through the door, and the smell of coffee hits me immediately. Rich and dark, and comforting. For a moment, I feel my shoulders relax.
This is familiar. This is safe. This is something I can control.
“You’re late,” says Felix from behind the counter.
I glance at the clock. I’m three minutes late. Technically.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I grab my apron and tie it around my waist.
Felix is staring at me. Which is not unusual.
Felix stares at everyone. It’s part of his whole intense goth aesthetic.
He is about four-foot nothing with jet-black hair cut into a sharp bob.
His makeup is always immaculate. Today he is wearing dark purple lipstick and enough eyeliner to sink a ship.
He is also the most brutally honest person I have ever met. Which can be refreshing. Or terrifying. Depending on the day.
“You look like shit,” he says.
“Thanks. You look lovely too.”
He snorts and turns back to the espresso machine. I take my place beside him and start prepping for the morning rush. Grinding beans. Steaming milk. Wiping down the counter.
The routine is soothing. Mindless. I can do this in my sleep. Which is good, because my brain is still stuck on last night.
Customers start trickling in. The usual morning crowd. Creative types and hustlers grabbing coffee on their way to one of Bristol’s trendy coworking places. Students nursing hangovers. Regulars who come in at the same time every day and order the same thing.
I make cappuccinos and flat whites and oat milk lattes. I smile. I make small talk. I draw little hearts and leaves in the foam.
Sometimes I’m very tempted to draw something rude. A dick. A middle finger. A pair of boobs. Just to see if anyone would notice.
But I never do. Because I need this job. And because despite everything, I actually like working here.
The morning rush is busy enough to keep me distracted. For a while, I manage to forget about Hex and the ring and my rapidly deteriorating mental health.
But then the rush dies down. And Felix starts staring at me again.
I try to ignore him. I wipe down the counter. I restock the milk. I rearrange the pastries in the display case.
He keeps staring.
“What?” I finally snap.
Felix tilts his head. His dark eyes are narrowed. Assessing.
“Dude,” he says slowly. “What’s up with your aura?”
I blink. “My what?”
“Your aura. It’s all over the place. I’ve never seen anything so fucked up.”
Oh great. Just great. Now Felix thinks I have a messed up aura. Whatever that means.
I don’t know if Felix genuinely believes in all this spiritual stuff or if it’s part of his aesthetic. He talks about crystals and tarot cards and energy fields with the same casual tone most people use to discuss the weather.
Usually, I find it amusing. Today, it’s making my stomach twist into knots.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“You’re really not.” Felix crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Seriously, Adam. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
I open my mouth to tell him that nothing has happened. To brush it off and change the subject.
But the words get stuck in my throat.
Because something did happen. Something completely insane. And I have no idea how to process it.
“I think I’m going crazy,” I blurt out.
Felix raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Yeah? How crazy are we talking? Like, forgot to pay a bill crazy, or hearing voices crazy?”
“More like hallucinating shadow creatures crazy.”
The words are out before I can stop them. I immediately regret it. Felix is going to think I’m completely unhinged. He is going to report me to the manager. I’m going to lose my job.
But instead, Felix just nods thoughtfully.
“Shadow creatures,” he repeats. “Interesting. What did they look like?”
I stare at him. Is he seriously not freaking out right now?
“Tall. Made of shadows. Glowing red eyes.”
“Did it speak to you?”
“Yeah. It said its name was Hex and that it wanted me to invite it in.”
Felix hums. He taps one black fingernail against his purple lips.
“And you think you’re hallucinating?”
“Well, yeah. Obviously. Shadow creatures aren’t real.”
Felix gives me a look. The kind of look that suggests I’m being incredibly naive.
“Adam,” he says slowly. “You know I’m a witch, right?”
I blink. “You’re a what?”
“A witch. I’ve told you this. Multiple times.”
Oh. I thought that was a joke. Or part of the goth thing.
“I thought you were joking,” I say weakly.
Felix sighs. “Why does everyone think I’m joking? I’m literally wearing pentagram earrings right now.”
I glance at his ears. He is indeed wearing pentagram earrings. I thought they were just a fashion statement.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “So you’re a witch. What does that have to do with me hallucinating shadow creatures?”
“You’re not hallucinating,” Felix says matter-of-factly. “Shadow creatures are real. Well, shadow beings. They’re from the Shadow Realm. It’s a parallel dimension that overlaps with ours.”
I stare at him. My brain is struggling to process this information.
“The Shadow Realm,” I repeat.
“Yeah. It’s where all the creepy crawlies live. Shadows. Ghouls. Nightmares. That sort of thing.”
This is not helping. At all. If anything, I’m now more convinced that I’m having a psychotic breakdown.
“Right,” I say. “So you’re saying that the shadow creature in my bedroom last night was real.”
“Probably. Did it leave anything behind?”
The ring. Oh god, the ring.
“Yeah,” I admit. “A gold ring.”
Felix’s eyes widen. “A ring? Like, an actual physical object?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.” Felix looks genuinely concerned now. Which is making me even more anxious. “That’s not good.”
“What do you mean, that’s not good?”
“Shadow beings can’t usually interact with physical objects in our realm. Not unless they’re bonded to someone. Or unless they’re very, very powerful.”
My stomach drops. “Bonded?”
“Yeah. Like, magically connected. It’s rare. Usually happens in childhood. Did you ever make a deal with a shadow creature when you were a kid?”
I think back. Back to those terrifying nights when I was seven years old. Lying in bed. Too scared to move. Watching the shadows.
I never made a deal. I was too terrified to even speak.
But what if the creature thought I did? What if just acknowledging its existence was enough?
“I don’t think so,” I say.
Felix doesn’t look convinced. “Well, either way, you need to be careful. Shadow beings are tricky. They don’t follow the same rules we do. And if one of them is interested in you, it’s not going to just go away.”
Great. Just great. So not only am I not hallucinating, but I’m apparently bonded to a shadow creature who wants to get into my bed.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
“What do I do?” I ask.
Felix shrugs. “Honestly? I have no idea. Shadow magic isn’t my area. You’d need to talk to someone who specialises in that kind of thing.”
“Do you know anyone?”
“Not off the top of my head. But I can ask around.”
The bell above the door chimes. A customer walks in. Felix immediately switches back to professional mode. He smiles brightly and takes their order.
I stand there, frozen. My mind is racing. Shadow beings. The Shadow Realm. Magical bonds.
This can’t be real. It can’t.
But the ring was sitting on my nightstand. And Felix seems to think it’s all perfectly normal.
I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. I have four more hours of my shift. I can freak out later.
I can definitely freak out later.
Felix finishes with the customer and turns back to me. “You okay?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be. Probably.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “For what it’s worth, your aura looks a little better now. Still fucked up, but better.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Anytime, dude.”
He goes back to restocking the pastry case. I go back to making coffee. And I try very, very hard not to think about what tonight might bring.