Chapter 7
Letting Him In
I’m making pasta. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti with jarred sauce, but it’s something to do with my hands. Something normal and mundane after a day that felt anything but.
The kitchen is small and cramped, barely big enough for one person. The ancient gas hob flickers alarmingly, and the extractor fan sounds like a dying helicopter. But it’s mine. For now, anyway.
I stir the sauce and think about today. About standing up to that customer. About the way it felt to say no and mean it. About the applause and Felix’s delighted cackling and the look on that man’s face.
I felt powerful. In control.
And I’m going to hold on to that feeling. I’m going to keep the wards up and keep Hex at a distance and keep my life from spiralling into complete chaos.
The temperature drops.
I freeze, wooden spoon halfway to my mouth. My breath mists in the air. The lights flicker once, twice.
Oh no.
Shadows pool in the corner of my kitchen, gathering and twisting. They’re sluggish, struggling to form properly. The edges keep dissipating like smoke caught in a breeze.
There is only a tiny gap between the salt line running along the floorboards and the wall, barely an inch of space.
Hex is trying to squeeze himself into it, compressing his shadowy form into that narrow sliver.
It looks desperate. Pathetic, even. Nothing like the powerful creature who lounged on my sofa with such arrogant confidence.
Hex materialises slowly. Too slowly. He’s even less solid than last night, his form flickering violently. I can see straight through him to the faded wallpaper behind. His red eyes are dimmer, like dying embers rather than burning coals.
But when he speaks, his voice still has that gravelly purr. “Hello, My Love.”
I turn back to my pasta, determinedly stirring. “Go away.”
“Now, is that any way to greet someone?” He moves closer, or tries to. His movements are jerky, uncoordinated. “I came all this way to see you.”
“I didn’t invite you.” I keep my eyes on the saucepan, watching the bubbles rise and pop.
Hex laughs, but it sounds strained. Tired. “Still pretending you don’t want this? After today? After you discovered how good it feels to use those claws?”
Heat floods my face. “That was different.”
“Was it?” He’s closer now, it feels as if he is looming right behind me. I can feel the chill radiating from him even through the heat of the stove. “You stood up for yourself. Felt powerful. Imagine how much better you could feel if you let me in.”
“I’m not letting you in.” I say it firmly, trying to convince myself as much as him.
“Liar.” The word is somehow whispered right by my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Even though he is trapped on the other side of the room.
I whirl around to face him, wooden spoon raised like a weapon. “I said no!”
Hex cocks his head to the side. He stares pointedly at the spoon. A deep, hilariously amused chuckle rumbles around the tiny kitchen.
I don’t think. Don’t plan it. My hand simply grabs the salt shaker that’s right next to me because I added salt to my pasta water. And I flick it at the smug and annoying son of a bitch.
The salt hits Hex, and he screams.
It’s not a shout or a yell. It’s a genuine scream of agony that rips through the air and makes my blood run cold. He staggers backwards, his form splintering like shattered glass. The shadows that make up his body convulse and writhe. Smoke rises from where the salt touched him, acrid and bitter.
“Oh my god!” I drop the salt shaker. It clatters on the counter but I barely notice. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I didn’t mean to!”
Oh what the fuck have I done? I had no idea it would do this!
I thought it would be like flicking water at a cat, insulting and enraging, but ultimately harmless.
I didn’t mean to hurt him. Panic claws at my throat.
I’ve never hurt anyone before. Never raised my hand in violence, not even in self-defence.
And now I’ve just tortured someone because I was annoyed.
Because I wanted him to leave me alone. What kind of person does that make me?
Hex collapses in the corner, curling in on himself. His form is barely holding together now, wisps of shadow constantly breaking away and dissipating. He’s shaking. Actually shaking.
I’ve never seen anything like this. Never seen any sentient being suffer like this. Never seen him be anything other than cocky and powerful and in control.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, helplessly. My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding. “I didn’t know it would do that. I just thought it would annoy you or make you leave or…”
“It’s fine.” His voice is barely a whisper now, all the gravel and honey stripped away. “My fault for getting too close to someone protected by salt.”
“You’re not fine!” I want to go to him but I’m terrified of making it worse. “What can I do? How do I fix this?”
“You can’t.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a wheeze. “The damage is done.”
I sink down onto the floor, a safe distance away, staring at him in horror. This is my fault. I did this. I hurt him. I’ve never hurt anyone before and I hate it.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the sound of my pasta boiling over. I don’t move to turn it off.
After what feels like an eternity, Hex’s form stabilises slightly. Still weak, still flickering, but no longer actively disintegrating. He’s huddled in the corner like a wounded animal, his red eyes fixed on me with an expression I can’t read.
“Farewell, Adam,” he says quietly.
“You’re leaving? Are you okay to go?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
“Not really.” He tries for a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And I won’t have the strength to appear again, so this is a final goodbye, Adam.”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean you won’t have the strength?”
“I mean I’ve gone too long without feeding. And your wards are draining me. Your little salt attack was the final nail in the coffin.” He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, little human with claws.”
“You’re going to die?” The words come out strangled. Panicked.
“Something like that.”
“Don’t do that!” I scramble forward without thinking, stopping just short of the salt line by the corner. “Don’t die! Find someone else! Find some goth who’s into freaky shit! There have to be other options!”
Hex actually laughs at that. A real laugh, weak but genuine. “I was not lying when I said you are the only one.”
“But why?” I demand, frustration mixing with fear. “Why me specifically? That doesn’t make sense!”
Hex sighs, long and weary. The sound of someone who’s carried a weight for far too long. “Because I pissed someone dangerous off and they cursed me.”
I blink. Process. “I’m your curse?”
The words taste bitter in my mouth. Of course I am. That sounds about right. I’m hardly going to be anyone’s blessing.
“No.” Hex’s voice is soft, almost gentle. “The curse is to be unable to feed. You and our bond are a workaround. A loophole. When you were a child, your fear sustained me long before the curse took hold. The bond formed then. Now you’re the only one I can feed from.”
I stare at him, trying to wrap my mind around this. “So if I don’t feed you, you’ll what? Die?”
That smirk returns, sharp and self-deprecating. “There are plenty who say I deserve no less.”
“What did you do?” I ask quietly.
“Does it matter?” He’s starting to fade now, his form growing more transparent. “Be safe, little human with claws. It was a pleasure knowing you. And you are right to stay free of wars that do not concern you.”
There’s something in his voice. Something sad and defeated and weary, and so very alone. Like he’s carried the weight of the world and finally, finally is allowed to put it down.
My heart is racing. My mind is screaming at me to let him go, to protect myself, to keep the wards up.
But I can’t.
I can’t let someone die when I have the power to help them. I can’t carry that weight. I can’t be that person.
“Wait!” The word bursts out of me, desperate and loud as I jump to my feet.
Hex pauses, what’s left of him hovering in the corner. Barely there. Almost gone.
I take a shaky breath. Then I reach down and drag my foot through the salt line, breaking the circle. The protection shatters like glass, and I feel it in my chest, a sharp snap of something that must be severed magic.
My hand is shaking as I hold it out to him.
“I want to help,” I say.
Hex stares at my outstretched hand like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.
“You are sure?” His voice is barely audible now. “Once I feed, the bond will strengthen. It will be harder to break. You’ll be tied to me.”
“I’m sure.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “I can’t just let you die. That’s not who I am.”
Something shifts in Hex’s expression. The cocky smirk is gone. The playful seduction is gone. What’s left is raw and honest and vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You’re extraordinary,” he whispers.
Then he reaches up and takes my hand.