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Remorseful

Gwend o.

..l...y...

S he stared at him in a daze.

Gwendolyn heard the words—she knew he had spoken because she had seen his lips moving.

None of the words made any sense.

No more sense than her nightmares, and the odd occurrences in her apartment.

Some part of her—deep, deep inside—had anticipated that there was a small chance the doll was haunted.

But it never crossed her exhausted mind that it was haunted because she bought it from a demon.

Ambrosius wasn’t helping her process the information either.

He appeared entirely too calm, as if talking about demons was an entirely normal thing to do.

While she had been absorbing his confusing answers, Ambrosius had taken his cane and risen from his seat.

He walked toward a small, wooden cabinet before pivoting on his heel to look back at her.

If he was expecting commentary, Gwendolyn wasn’t ready yet.

Her brain felt like oatmeal as she tried to solidify any of the information he had given her.

But she didn’t want him to grow impatient with her, either.

She had seen the way he had grown irritated at her lack of response earlier.

Word vomit it is.

“When you say ‘demon’…” Gwendolyn licked her bottom lip, feeling foolish.

“Do you mean…”

Ambrosius’ eyebrows rose in amusement as she raised her two pointer fingers above her head in a poor display of horns.

“What do you mean when you do that?” he asked with a smirk.

Fuck, he wasn’t going to make this easy, was he?

“What I mean is you aren’t saying that as an expression. You mean it like…”

“ If you are asking whether or not I’m a demon in the sense of being the devil— ” he said it with a vicious disdain.

“—then, no. I have no association with any monotheistic devils, or theism, for that matter. That’s a common misconception. I’m a demon in the sense that I’m a malevolent spirit .”

Gwendolyn blinked.

She hadn’t even considered he could have been the devil.

While she had been baptized as a Catholic, she had never practiced any of it.

Anything related to the supernatural had been strictly from her culture.

She was much more frightened of Nightmarchers than she was of the small figure on the cross that hung in her childhood home.

If Ambrosius was like them, shouldn’t she be more frightened of him, too?

A part of her knew she was—to some extent—but not nearly as scared as Gwendolyn thought she ought to be.

Was it possible that growing up with tales of mythical creatures had better prepared her for the real thing?

Nah, it has to be from working retail.

“So…” Gwendolyn paused, waiting to be reprimanded.

When Ambrosius did nothing, she continued a bit more confidently.

“All the little things that started adding up—that kept happening, that was because of you?”

“A little. I’m not controlling anything you’ve experienced in the last two days, if that’s what you’re concerned with. I just … gave it a little push. ”

“By tricking me into being your—” Gwendolyn’s nose scrunched up.

“What did you call it? A warlock?”

Ambrosius shot her a look that Gwendolyn was frustrated to recognize as disapproval.

She wasn’t certain if it was for pushing her luck with her questions or something else.

“You say ‘trick’, I say finding the right candidate for a position that needed filling,” Ambrosius explained with a twirl of his cane.

“And you were right, warlock is the term.”

“And what exactly is a warlock? You said it was a position, but I don’t understand why you would need someone to work for you. I mean, you have…” Gwendolyn awkwardly gestured to her eye.

“And I don’t know anything about antiques outside of dolls.”

“Gwendolyn, bittersweet, just because I have a few extra eyes doesn’t mean I don’t need…” his jaw tightened.

He waved his hand around in a rather dramatic manner.

“ Assistance . And you needn’t worry about working here. I don’t have any room for you, anyway.”

Gwendolyn eyed the massive expanse of the antique store, eyes trailing toward the door frame, where she could see other rooms. When she looked back at him, he rolled his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said dismissively .

End of conversation.

That irked her a bit, even as Gwendolyn tried to stitch all the information together into something she could see.

Something held the bigger picture that Ambrosius wasn’t telling her.

A flare of frustration weaseled its way up her chest as Gwendolyn stood, running her hands through her short hair.

“Okay, whatever. What does the position of warlock entail?”

“Oh, good, straight to business. I do love that,” Ambrosius said as he knelt in front of the wooden cabinet.

Gwendolyn watched from over his shoulder as he unlocked the latch and pulled the cabinet door open.

He reached inside of a dark interior before producing something long and cylindrical.

Ambrosius stood with the help of his cane—something Gwendolyn filed away for later—and when he turned, Gwendolyn could see the object held in his hand.

It was small, no bigger than a spyglass, if she had to guess.

“Is that a scroll?” Gwendolyn asked, incredulously.

“Technically, this is a scroll case,” Ambrosius offered it to her.

“Everything you need to know about being a warlock is in here.”

Her hand extended, finger tips millimeters away when she wavered.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asked, not mad, but something else.

There were a million reasons.

The biggest one was staring at her face with two very deceptively human eyes.

A catalyst with a silver tongue and a head for fashion that Gwendolyn envied.

It seemed cruel to create something so uniquely tempting to her.

It was the only reason Gwendolyn could explain why she hadn’t stormed out of the antique store yet.

Why she thought it better to stay and ask questions than to cut and run like she had originally planned.

She might have initially denied the supernatural elements she had experienced the last few days, but Gwendolyn wasn’t a fool.

She knew that it was rare for anyone to cheat or outwit a devil.

This wasn’t the same playbook as losing a guy following her in a mall.

Frankly, Gwendolyn wasn’t sure what this even was.

She needed more information, all of which Ambrosius had.

But the thought of submitting to this fucker boiled something awful inside her belly.

No, if she wanted out of this, Gwendolyn needed to play it smart.

“Just worried that if I touch this thing, more weird stuff will happen to me,” she admitted.

A partial truth was easier to sell than a lie.

Gwendolyn really didn’t want any other part of her to become pink, if she could avoid it.

“Oh, that’s unavoidable,” Ambrosius replied.

“Once a human is exposed to the world of evil, it’s impossible to put it back.”

Don’t fucking try to Pandora’s Box this situation, you asshat!

“Give me the fucking scroll case,” Gwendolyn grumbled instead.

When her fingers closed around it, she was surprised at how much bigger it appeared in her hand.

It was smooth, brassy, with jagged filigree carved into it.

In some ways, it reminded Gwendolyn of a rocket, with its large, ornate top and wick-like bottom.

A chain connected each end together, delicate and thin.

I guess that’s how I open it?

Gwendolyn gently pulled on the chain and watched as the ends of a scroll appeared.

The parchment was old—so much, in fact, Gwendolyn worried it would tear as she continued to pull.

And as the words appeared, Gwendolyn’s confusion and worry only grew.

“‘Dear Gwendolyn A. Gooch’—” Gwendolyn glared at the parchment, then at Ambrosius.

“How do you know my name? I never gave it to you.”

“Oh, but you did,” Ambrosius replied with a grin.

“You offered it up when you kissed me.”

Fuck this guy.

“You can just tell someone’s name from kissing?” Gwendolyn questioned with a hint of skepticism.

“Yes,” he hummed.

“And you’re not going to explain why, naturally,” Gwendolyn sighed, before returning her attention to the scroll.

She skimmed the welcome paragraph, including the introduction of the letter.

“‘We are pleased to welcome you. Your title, moving forward is Warlock, and you will report to Ambrosius, Demon & Patron. This is a full-time position. As a Warlock, you will be responsible for the following—”

Gwendolyn pulled on the scroll, waiting to see the list in its entirety. She suspected it would be a lot of legal jargon that she was woefully uneducated on. Perhaps some arbitrary expectations, like dress code, as that felt very much like something the infuriating demon would do. What she hadn’t anticipated was that the list wasn’t ending. Gwendolyn proceeded to pull more, her eyes widening as the list continued further and further, no matter how much she pulled. Before she knew it, the scroll had unfurled onto the floor and Gwendolyn was still pulling.

“Wha—”

“I like to be very clear on what I expect out of an employee.” Ambrosius’ grin had turned wicked.

“You understand, don’t you? Being a warlock is not for the faint of heart! ”

“Being a warlock was never my choice!” Gwendolyn exclaimed as she let go of the parchment.

“You tricked me!”

It was with great dismay that she watched as the paper coiled back into the case like a paper yo-yo.

The chain snapping against her finger as if to scold her like she was an unruly student.

“Wasn’t it? You came to my Antiquarium looking for that—” Ambrosius pointed toward the paper bag.

“—doll. That same doll that you wanted more than anything. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was something along the lines of, ‘ It doesn’t matter, it’s a means to an end. I want that doll and I’m not leaving without her ’. Or something to that effect.”

Her blood went cold.

Without meaning to, Gwendolyn took a step back.

“You … you can read minds?” she whispered.

“I can do a lot of things, Gwendolyn. I can be clever. I can be charming. I can be cruel. ”

Gwendolyn jumped as Ambrosius was suddenly crowding her again.

He wasn’t the tallest man she’d met, but this close, he felt so much bigger than he appeared a moment ago.

She tried not to shiver as his finger traced the side of her cheek.

Gwendolyn couldn’t see it clearly, but it felt less like a hand, and more like something sharp.

Something that could slice her open with very little effort.

“I can also be generous to those who are good for me,” Ambrosius said as his fingers—no, claws—curled around a strand of her hair.

“Don’t you want to be good for me?”

The subtle tremor of her frame would have gone unnoticed if Gwendolyn hadn’t been trying to stay perfectly still.

She was scared—there was no denying it.

And yet there was something in his words that kept her attention, kept her wanting.

Gwendolyn wanted to hear more honeyed words, and that felt so ludicrously dangerous .

No, no, no!

Gwendolyn pulled away from his hold, pink hair slipping through his fingers like water.

She couldn’t tell if he was displeased at the distance.

Honestly, it was confusing, considering how he had claimed he wanted to keep a professional relationship with her two days prior.

If he had been a manager at her job, Gwendolyn imagined he would have been written up several times by now.

“I don’t know if I want to be anything for you,” she managed, even though her heart was pounding.

“Gwendolyn—”

“No,” she said firmly.

“I don’t want to be your warlock, and I don’t want that doll. I don’t care what I agreed to in the moment—No. I reject it.”

“You reject it…” Ambrosius inclined his head, eyes staring in a way that was truly unnerving.

This time, the room didn’t grow colder.

There was no flash of extending teeth or claw, no extra eyes to chill her.

Only his face.

And somehow, that was just as frightening.

“Oh, my bittersweet,” Ambrosius said with a painful amount of gentleness.

“You don’t have a choice. ”

Gwendolyn stood in the silence of his words.

A million thoughts raced, but not a single one could rise above the surface of emotions climbing higher and higher.

She might have been outsmarted, but Gwendolyn wasn’t going to be a doormat.

Something inside of her—something long overdue—had finally clicked into place.

With the scroll case in hand, Gwendolyn walked toward the door of the shop.

She could feel Ambrosius’ gaze watching her.

Foolish to turn her back on a predator, but Gwendolyn wasn’t ordinary prey.

As her hand settled onto the door handle, she looked over her shoulder at him.

He hadn’t moved, and his eyes were still upsetting.

“I’m going to make you regret ever choosing me.”