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“Also, fuck y’all for not saying anything to me. You might not have started these rumors, but you fucking participated and let it go on. Just because I’m weird doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of basic human decency,you cunts. And yeah, I quit.”
This time, Gwen dropped the intercom, and it barely missed the scratched linoleum floor. When the music came back on, it sounded incredibly loud in the wake of Gwen’s impromptu message. The bass rumbled in her ears as she rolled from the register toward the front door.
Her hands were inflamed, fingers hot as she brought them together to rub over her knuckles. Gwen had just passed the window of her now old job when someone called her name.
Walking from the double doors of Master Basting was Dr. Monday. He looked different out of his dentist uniform. Dressed in simple cutoff jeans and a henley shirt. His sneakers were very clean, new most likely.
Still handsome.
“Hey,” he said, looking almost sheepish, with his hands in his front pockets. “Are you okay?”
The realization that Dr. Monday had been in the store when she had lost her shit should have left Gwen mortified. But the anger was still there, making her skin flushed and the ache for sour worms worse.
“I will be,” Gwen replied. “I just need to buy some junk food and go home.”
“Of course,” Dr. Monday said. “I…”
He still smelled like apple pie, but Gwen couldn’t sense anything negative from him. Just a burst of confusion that Gwen couldn’t blame him for.
“Good luck,” he said, sounding sincere. “I hope whatever you do next is the thing you really wanna do.”
She stared at him.
“Me too.”
That evening, Gwen ate sour worms.
She left her backpack stuffed beneath her work desk.
31
Submissive
Ambrosius
It had been ill-conceived to have revealed so much to her.
Ambrosius wasn’t one to linger in regret. He found the entire emotion useless, like many emotions that didn’t serve a purpose. But at the first crack in the foundation, the demon had so easily buckled and given in. He shared what he deemed necessary, and yet it still felt like too much. Felt too …raw.
Even as he had made idle chit-chat with the two humans who had the misfortune of wandering into his antique shop, Ambrosius felt the strange stirring in his gut. Beingvulnerablewasn’t in his nature—wasn’t inanydemon’s nature. Vulnerability meant weakness, it meantdeath.And while not all demons were the same, they all had the instinct to survive above all else.
The Antiquarium was fracturing. Ambrosius was familiar enough with the process by now. Its desire to beseen and unseen constantly put the antique store in a state of distress. There were only so many souls Ambrosius could pass onto humans before they started talking. The last thing the Antiquarium or Ambrosius wanted was more exposure. The work was done in the dark for a reason.
But that didn’t make thefeelinggo away.
The truth was, Ambrosius needed Gwen more than she needed him. Even if she were to refuse the Soul Covenant, Ambrosius would still be tied to her, but their bond would never fully form. His power would be inconsistent when she yielded it, making his little warlock vulnerable to other influences, to other dangers.
Other monsters,Ambrosius thought as he stared up at the ceiling of his tiny room.
He hadn’t meant to manifest here, but his mind couldn’t stop thinking. Another fun part about being a demon were all the idiosyncratic vices. Apparently, Ambrosius’ consisted of waking a quarter after two in the morning and thinking about her. Always thinking abouther.
It had been a day since he had seen her last. A blip in the eyes of a demon, but the time felt frustratingly slow, and his mind was already obsessive. Gwen hadn’t touched the scroll since she read it the day before. Ambrosius could tell as his flesh forged in paper was still intact.
Which means she’s still deciding or…
There was always a possibility that she would say no. Gwen had fought and fussed enough about their arrangement. It would be fitting for her to wait until he had made himself vulnerable to her before rejecting him. She had wanted to make him regret choosing her. If Ambrosius hadn’t liked her so much, he imagined he would easily do the same. But that was what this all depended on, wasn’t it? How much she liked him, and based onher keening moans the day before, she had clearly liked the carnal aspects of him.
Ambrosius wondered if she ached the way he did. Wondered if her thoughts were as haunted as his own. Did she lie awake at night, bothered by the absence of him? Did she look for him in the shadows of her apartment or the bathroom mirror? Did she cry out in frustration when she would awaken without him?