The warmth dies immediately, replaced by something between outrage and horrified laughter. Of course. Of course that’s why he’s asking. Not because he cares about my wellbeing, but because I’m useful to him.
I open my mouth, close it, open it again. The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity of this shadow king. But there’s something else underneath the outrage, something I don’t want to examine too closely. The idea of feeding him again doesn’t fill me with horror the way it should. It doesn’t make me want to flee to my bedroom and hide. And that’s almost worse than if it did.
Dis is staring at me with those burning blue eyes, searching my face for something I’m not sure I want him to find. I relent, because I’m hungry, and because arguing seems pointless, and because some traitorous part of me actually wants to do what he’s asking.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll make pasta.”
Dis nods, the gesture regal and satisfied. “Good. This pleases me.”
My stomach swoops like I’ve just gone over a hill too fast. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I don’t want to please Dis. Pleasing Dis should not make my stomach do that thing, should not make warmth spread through my chest like I’ve just accomplished something worthwhile. This is bad. This is very bad.
“Hurry,” Dis adds, turning back to the TV like he hasn’t just completely destroyed my emotional equilibrium. “Before EastEnders properly starts. You’ve already missed the beginning, and I don’t want you asking me questions about who everyone is.”
I walk towards the kitchen in a daze, my feet moving on autopilot while my brain tries to catch up with what just happened. What has happened to my life?
Chapter 12
The Bake Off Alibi
I’mhalfwaytothekitchen when someone knocks on my door.
I freeze. My heart lurches into my throat. Nobody knocks on my door. Nobody ever knocks on my door. I don’t have friends who drop by. I don’t have family who visit. The only person who might knock is Adam, and Adam always texts first.
The knock comes again. Louder this time. More insistent.
“Felix?” Adam’s voice carries through the door, muffled but unmistakable. “Felix, I know you’re in there. I can hear you moving around.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
I glance back at the living room. Dis is still sitting in his circle, those blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that suggests he’s very interested in how I’m going to handle this.
The knock comes a third time. “Felix, I’m sorry, but I’m coming in. I’m worried about you.”
Oh god. He has a key. Of course he has a key. He’s the landlord. Why did I rent from my best friend? Why did I make such catastrophically poor life choices?
I hear the key slide into the lock.
“Wait!” I shout, my voice coming out higher than intended. “Wait, just give me a second!”
But it’s too late. The door swings open and Adam is standing there, his face creased with concern.
“Felix, what’s going on?” Adam steps inside without waiting for an invitation. “You haven’t been answering my calls. You haven’t been answering my texts. I’ve been trying to reach you for two days.”
Two days? Has it been two days? I’ve completely lost track of time.
“I’m fine,” I say, moving to block his path to the living room. “Totally fine. Just been busy.”
“Busy with what?” Adam’s eyes narrow. He knows me too well. He can tell when I’m lying.
“Just... stuff. Witch stuff. You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t know how it is.” Adam takes another step forward. I take a step back. We’re doing some kind of horrible dance in my hallway. “You always answer your phone. Even when you’re busy. Even when you’re in the middle of a spell. Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong!”
“Then why won’t you let me in?”
“You are in. You’re standing in my hallway.”
