Here’s the thing no one tells you about occasionally cohabitating with three overly protective, supernatural women: it’s exhausting. I get it, they feel like they need to protect someone like me, who’s by all rights a normal guy, except for this whole supernatural meltdown ability I have. Being a null means that I cancel out supernatural abilities, and I can even turn vampires, werewolves, and the like back to normal people temporarily, with nothing more than a little spit-swapping.

  Yeah, I said it. If I make out with people, I temporarily turn off their abilities. It’d be way cooler if I could steal powers, but no, I’m a paranormal off switch. Potentially, other body fluids work, too, but we’re not going there just yet, and it’s not because I have too much pride.

  Ellyllon—Elly to me, menace incarnate to anyone else—is chaos given pixie-cut form. Short, sharp, all edges and smirks, with pupils shaped like stars that appear and vanish like bad signal on Wi-Fi. She can hack your thermostat with a giggle, and still somehow make you believe she just wants to share popcorn and a dumb meme.

  Euryale is the opposite—composed, sharp, a serpent goddess in a hoodie. Her eyes don’t glow unless she wants them to, but you always feel them, like she’s measuring whether you’re worth keeping or crushing. People whisper “gorgon,” but mostly she’s a lawyer with teeth. Literal and metaphorical.

  And then there’s Lily. Succubus, technically. She’s the kind who walks into a room and every predator looks suddenly underdressed. Gorgeous redhead with an easy smile, but her gaze is heavy. Hungry. Except—she doesn’t hunt the weak. She feeds only from the willing, or the ones who deserve to lose something. Her personal code. She once told me I wasn’t on the menu, and I believed her. Mostly.

  Together? They orbit me like satellites that sometimes collide just to watch me squirm. And yeah, okay. Quadrangle. Sort of. If you can even call it that. I’d only slept with Lily—to save her life. Yes, I know how that sounds. Guys have said that before. But I mean it. It was medicine, not romance. Try telling that to my dreams, though. Or to Elly, who still hasn’t stopped snarking about it.

  Which is why the last thing I needed… was the spider. It was on the coffee table again.

  Correction: the spider and my box of Pop-Tarts were on the coffee table again, like they’d come as a set. Its legs folded in neat little triangles, a dozen eyes glimmering like wet beads in the lamplight. Frosted crumbs clung to its carapace.

  “FEEDER,” it said. The word was wet, strained, as though dragged over gravel.

  “That’s me,” I muttered, tugging the Pop-Tarts box back. “Don’t get used to it.”

  The girls didn’t answer right away. They were watching the thing, but not in the same way. Elly leaned forward, fascinated, like a kid staring at a sparkler. Lily tilted her head, wary but intrigued, a cat sizing up a fellow predator. And Euryale… Euryale just looked disgusted. Like she’d stepped in gum.

  “FEEDER,” the spider repeated. Then its mouthparts twitched, and it clicked: “BREAKER.” Its foreleg gestured toward Lily.

  Her expression flickered, caught somewhere between pride and annoyance. “That’s new,” she said, not particularly enjoying her label.

  The spider rotated, “WATCHER.” This time toward Euryale.

  Her lips thinned. “Burn it.”

  And then—its eyes dilated, twin glittering saucers reflecting Elly. “SPARK.”

  Elly sat back, smiling thinly. “Cute. It’s learning words.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Fantastic. My pantry goblin is making a Pokédex.”

  “Careful,” Elly said, voice sing-song. “If it names you ‘Prey,’ we’ll have to put it down.”

  “FEEDER,” the spider insisted again, and for some reason that made the hair on my arms prickle.

  The conversation drifted—because no one wanted to admit we’d all just accepted there was a shadow-spy living in my apartment now. Lily sprawled on the arm of the couch, scrolling through her phone with practiced detachment. “There’ve been more disappearances.”

  “More than usual?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Elfnet has reported three in the last week. Not just wanderers, either. Old bloodlines. These are not just transients; these are from families where people don’t normally vanish.”

  Euryale’s tone was clipped. “Two were mine. Clients, Daniel. They came to me for counsel after your little… saliva experiment, and now they’re gone.”

  I stiffened. “You think that’s on me?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Her eyes sharpened. “I think you painted a target on them. Whoever’s collecting wants to know what you are.”

  “Null magnet,” Elly muttered, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “He’s basically supernatural catnip.”

  “Do not put that on a T-shirt.”

  “Too late. Already designed it in my head.” She waggled her fingers on either side of her temples. “Neon lettering. Cartoon you, legs shaped like a horseshoe magnet.”

  “So.” Lily broke the silence first, lips curving with faux innocence. “Should we ask how the road trip went? Or should we just skip straight to the congratulations on finally knocking boots?”

  I nearly choked on my soda. “What?!”

  Euryale’s laugh was dry, serpentine. “Daniel. The two of you sneak off, vanish for hours, return smelling of earthy secrets… what are we meant to think?”

  “I still have all my powers,” Elly shot back, cheeks pink but chin lifted. “So, no. No boots were knocked.”

  “BOOTS,” the spider clicked faintly, like it was filing the word away for future use.

  “Oh my god,” I muttered. “Not you, too!”

  Elly jabbed a finger at Lily. “And anyway, you’re the one who—”

  “Mm,” Lily hummed, cutting her off with a sly grin. “Yes. I am. And he still blushes when he thinks about it.”

  My ears burned, but this sort of teasing at least meant that we weren’t talking about Jade or why Elly and I had gone out. “I’m right here.”

  “Yes, Danny,” Lily said sweetly. “That’s the fun part.”

  “BLUSH,” the spider repeated.

  I aimed a swat at the critter, but it skittered out of reach and made for the pantry in an unconcerned way, making me look ridiculous. More ridiculous. I thought I might dissolve into the couch. But the banter couldn’t hide the tension forever.

  Outside the window, I saw the faintest shift—something too still under the streetlight. When I blinked, it was gone.

  I thought about the empty seed packet in my pocket. About the receipt still folded on the counter. About the way Jade had smiled with teeth too sharp…

  We were pretending everything was fine, but the shadows were watching.

  And the shadows were keeping score.

  The spider was gone. I checked the pantry twice to make sure.

  No web, no crumbs, no eldritch eight-legged roommate. Just a faint smell like ozone and expired sugar.

  “Good riddance,” Lily said, stretching like a cat. “That thing gives me the heebies.”

  “Everything gives you the heebies,” Elly shot back.

  "Are you allowed to get the heebies?” I asked.

  Three sets of eyes turned toward me, demanding explanation. “What is that supposed to mean?” Lily demanded.

  “You know… you guys are like supernatural predators and hunters. Are you… you know… allowed to get heebies from something innocuous like the spider?”

  All three of them glared at me. Shit.

  Then they bust out laughing, and Elly continued razzing Lily. “You flinched when the toaster popped this morning.”

  “That toaster bit me last week, Elly. It’s possessed.”

  “It’s crumb buildup.” Elly insisted.

  I tuned them out long enough to finish sweeping up the last of the spider crumbs. I wasn’t sure if they were actually crumbs or something more symbolic, like the shed pieces of my sanity. Same difference.

  Eury stood by the window, arms crossed, hood up. “We need to take these disappearances seriously.”

  Lily groaned. “Says the woman who wanted to burn the spider before it finished breakfast.”

  “Because that was a spy,” Eury said evenly. “And these aren’t just random vanishings. They’re organized.”

  “Organized?” Elly repeated, eyebrow arching. “Like… field trips?”

  “More like abductions,” Eury said. “Targeted ones.”

  “Okay,” I said, setting the broom aside. “So, who’s doing it? We’ve ruled out the usual suspects—hunters, exorcists, HOA presidents…”

  Lily plopped onto the couch and waved her hand dramatically. “Could be vampires.”

  Elly snorted. “Of course you’d say that. Everything’s a vampire with you.”

  “They’ve got the infrastructure,” Lily said. “They’re organized, subtle, and they love playing puppet-master. Besides—” she smiled faintly, sharp and knowing—“they collect people.”

  Eury frowned. “They collect blood, not people.”

  “Semantics,” Lily said.

  I leaned against the counter. “Could be werewolves. They love a good pack abduction.”

  “Werewolves?” Elly said. “What would they want with fae and dryads? Bark isn’t part of their diet.”

  “Depends on the seasoning,” I said.

  Elly threw a pretzel at me.

  Eury sighed. “Neither of you are being helpful.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “We’re brainstorming, not solving crimes. But humor me—what about… Bigfoot?”

  Lily blinked. “What about him?”

  “Maybe he’s tired of hiding. Maybe he’s collecting Alterkind to build a commune.”

  There was a long pause.

  Elly pinched the bridge of her nose. “You think Bigfoot is running a supernatural kidnapping ring.”

  “I didn’t say ring. More like… an outreach program.”

  Eury deadpanned, “For missing cryptids.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lily laughed, low and musical. “Oh my god, Daniel. You think there’s a Bigfoot halfway house somewhere in the country, serving tea to goblins and banshees.”

  “Could be nice,” I said. “Bet they’d have s’mores.”

  Elly kicked my shin under the table. “You’re impossible.”

  “Yet somehow lovable,” I said, limping.

  Eury’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Whatever it is, joke or not, something is taking our kind. I can feel the absence. The magic shifts when they vanish—like pieces being deleted.”

  “Deleted?” Elly repeated. “Not killed?”

  “No remains. No echoes. Just… blanks.”

  That silenced the room.

  Outside, the city buzzed, cars passing, streetlights flickering. Normalcy at its loudest. And still, there was that strange undercurrent, like the air itself was waiting for a punchline it didn’t get.

  Elly broke the tension first. “Well, whoever’s behind it, they’re not gonna get us. Right?”

  She smiled, cocky and bright, but I saw the flicker in her eyes—the same one I felt deep in my gut. A quiet, unspoken yet.

  Lily lifted her soda in mock toast. “To us: too weird to live, too stubborn to vanish.”

  Eury raised an eyebrow. “That’s not comforting.”

  “Didn’t say it was.”

  I clinked my can against hers anyway. “Cheers to bad plans and worse odds.”

  Elly grinned, reaching for her own can. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  For a few moments, it felt normal again—banter, laughter, the smell of burnt popcorn from Elly’s latest microwave misfire. But when the lights flickered—just once, barely noticeable—Eury’s snakes stirred under her hood.

  She didn’t say anything. None of us did. But we all noticed.

  And somewhere outside, under that same streetlight, something clicked softly—like a lock sliding into place.