“So you can kill me the moment I drop the bindings? Absolutely not.”
“I give you my word I will not kill you until after we have duelled.”
“Oh, well, in that case.” I cross my arms. “Still no.”
His eyes narrow. “You would keep me trapped rather than face me fairly?”
“Yes. Obviously yes. I’m not an idiot.”
“Are you not?”
“I’m leaving now,” I say, because I can feel my composure starting to crack, and I refuse to give him thesatisfaction of seeing me lose it. “Enjoy your evening. Try not to destroy anything else.”
I turn and walk back toward the kitchen.
“Little witch,” Dis calls after me.
I don’t stop. I don’t turn around. I just keep walking until I’m back in my tiny kitchen with the pasta that’s probably overcooked by now and my hands that are definitely shaking.
I grip the edge of the counter and breathe.
Dis is hot. Dis is sitting in my living room being devastatingly attractive while making reasonable-sounding arguments that are absolutely designed to get me to release him so he can kill me.
This is a lot.
This is so much more than I was prepared for.
I pour myself a glass of wine. Then another. Then I plate up the pasta and eat it standing at the counter because I cannot go back into the living room right now.
From the other room, I can hear nothing. No sounds. No movement.
Just the weight of knowing he’s there. Waiting. Patient. Willing to sit in that circle for decades if necessary.
The pasta tastes like cardboard. I eat it anyway.
I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter 6
The Other Problem
I’vedecidedtotakethe 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.
