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Gwendolyn screamed, hands twisted into angry fists at her side. Heat traveled up her neck, into her cheeks, as a wave of pure frustration tore through her. She didn’t care if her neighbors heard her as she snatched the scroll case.The parchment—free from its weight now—snaked back into the case, smarting Gwendolyn’s hand as the chain whipped back. Another frustrated sound escaped her as she stalked toward her balcony, fully intending to toss the case as well.
However, when she reached the other side of her shelf, Gwendolyn stopped in her tracks. Every doll that Gwendolyn had ever made and kept for herself was laying in a heap at the bottom of the shelf. When they had fallen, Gwendolyn couldn’t be certain. She hadn’t heard them fall, but they definitely had still been on the shelf when Gwendolyn had thrown the cursed doll away. The same doll that was sitting at the center of the shelf, as if Gwendolyn hadn’t thrown her out earlier that day.
“Fuck this,” Gwendolyn swore, snatching the doll. “Fuck you and fuck Ambrosius, too.”
Desperation made people do wild things, and Gwendolyn was no different. She shoved the doll and scroll case in a plastic bag she found under her kitchen sink. Gwendolyn hurriedly shoved her shoes on, grabbed her keys, and jetted to the elevator.
Gwendolyn’s apartment was absurdly overpriced, and the only thing that really paid for her rent was her dolls. However, that didn’t mean the apartments didn’t come with any amenities. There was a twenty-four-hour gym, and a community room that residents could rent out for large events. But the thing that Gwendolyn liked most about the amenities was the outdoor courtyard just past the fitness center.
The sun was nearly gone, and there were fireworks in the sky as Gwendolyn crept into the courtyard. She eyed the area, past trees and simple plants. Their concrete flower beds doubled as outdoor seating. The grass was an open space that most of the residents used for their dogs.
Silently, Gwendolyn tiptoed toward one of the plants and sat on the lip of the concrete. Once the coast was clear, Gwendolyn dug a small hole beneath the base of one of the plants. The dirt was always soft, thanks to the weather and the apartment complex’s rigid irrigation system. Once there was a hole deep enough, Gwendolyn dropped the plastic bag.
She had no doubt that the doll would show up again—it was only a matter of time. But there was a catharsis in burying the source of Gwendolyn’s own personal hell. It wouldn’t solve her problem, but there was clarity as Gwendolyn swept dirt onto the plastic bag.
Ambrosius’ scroll said the only job requirement Gwendolyn had as his warlock was to finish the doll…
So, I won’t finish it,Gwendolyn thought.
And if any consequences were to come from that, Gwendolyn would deal with it later. If she was going to be miserable, she was going to take Ambrosius with her.
Her stomach growled.
15
Rejected
Ambrosius
Ambrosius wasn’t a patient demon.
Not many demons were, given their impulsive nature. Patience was for other creatures. Vampires awaiting for the sun rise, or werewolves begging for the moon. Demons weren’t like the other monsters, and rarely associated with them. They tended to be too dependent on one another while demons were solitary, for the most part. Demons didn’t trust one another anymore than they could trust other monsters.
No, Ambrosius had grown resentful of patience, the same way he had grown resentful of all the humans that came to his Antiquarium, day in and day out. So, to say that he was out of patience for Gwendolyn was an understatement.
While he could pretend to understand her disdain for beingtrickedinto a deal with him,Ambrosius was more offended at her denial of the contract. It was apparent that Gwendolyn did not understand what it truly meant to be a warlock. Not just any warlock, but one forhim.Yes, there were some unappealing aspects to the work, Ambrosius could admit to that. However, there was so much she wasn’t aware of—all of which he had listed in that scroll.
Ambrosius had felt her fingers on the old metal when he had given it to her. Felt her fingers gingerly touch the parchment long after she had vanished and was no longer within his sight. Ambrosius had labored many nights to create that scroll case, infusing it with his essence. He had sliced layers of his skin away to weave that parchment, enduring the pain of each wound with awful delight. He had painstakingly written every detail she needed to know with an inkwell filled with his own blood … only for her torejectit.
That tiny, branching web tethering her to him was thin. Weak enough that Ambrosius doubted it would ever crystallize into something more solid. It would continue to wither if Gwendolyn didn’t start cooperating. But no, she had to behave like abrat. She had to take all of his wonderful gifts and bury them far from her, like a child leaving their toys at the playground.
At least Ambrosius thought Gwendolyn had buried them. He couldn’t see her, but he had distinctly smelled the scent of musk and dirt in his nostrils. A tiny thing that alerted him to her activity. Ambrosius was surprised she hadn’t tried to cast the items into flame. Gwendolyn seemed the type to burn things, given her temper. Though, perhaps that had been something else Ambrosius had underestimated.
It had been insulting enough that Gwendolyn had tried to leave the doll behind, but the fact that she had tried to return the doll at all had been a blow. Ambrosius was not human, despite his human-like body. He didn’t think or even feel the way humans did, but he could not deny that his ego had been impacted by her refusal.
Both insulting and horrendously delicious.
In some ways, Ambrosius was proud of her. Not many humans faced demons and kept their sanity. Most of them fell to the despair of seeing his true face, becoming broken shells after he took a bite. Honestly, Ambrosius had been gracious in ensnaring Gwendolyn to his cause. He had chosen to ease her into it—something he hadn’t needed to do—versus displaying his full power to her outright. Another miscalculation on his part, as Gwendolyn had essentially declared war on him. If Gwendolyn was going to behave poorly, then perhaps he ought to take on a more hands-on approach.
But in order to be hands on, I need her to finish that doll.
He hadn’t lied when he told her the strange phenomenon she had been experiencing was not entirely of his making. Yes, he had given her a push, but it was exactly as he said, just a push. Whatever supernatural or demonic experiences that lay before Gwendolyn were entirely of her own making. Ambrosius doubted that Gwendolyn thought that way. In her mind, he was truly an enemy. Ambrosius didn’t necessarily disagree with that way of thinking. Demons were not friendly with humans any more than a human was friendly with any demon.
Ambrosius also detested most humans on any given day.Every single useless soul that walked into his Antiquarium was yet another reminder as to why Ambrosius was there in the first place. All self-involved in the acquisition of an object, and oblivious to the real nature of his Antiquarium. Even now, as a familiar man burst into his antique store, Ambrosius felt disgust.
He hadn’t bothered to wipe his feet on the welcome mat, the only reason Ambrosius had one was for that single purpose.
“You have to take this back!” the man said, slamming a golden, digital wristwatch onto his register counter.