“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.
