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Jealous

Gwen

“ T his is a bad idea.”

Pressed against the exterior of Master Basting, Gwen peeked around the corner toward the entrance.

It was a little after one in the morning, and the parking lot was empty, save for Tom’s car.

A good sign that Gwen’s hunch was correct, however the plan was already falling apart.

“It is not,” Ambrosius replied from behind her.

The demon—who must have been the most stubborn demon on the planet—had insisted on coming with her.

Which seemed counterproductive, in Gwen’s humble opinion, given that he was literally dying.

But the more time they spent arguing, the more likely it was that the cult was going to kill Ambrosius.

“Yes, it is,” Gwen whispered.

“You should be conserving your energy.”

“Gwen, we talked—”

“I know we did, but—”

“Trust yourself and trust me. ”

Gwen whirled on her heel.

“I do trust you! I trust us! It’s them I don’t trust.”

“Which is why I’m staying near, but I won’t go in,” Ambrosius sighed.

He looked awful, despite his best efforts to show her otherwise.

Gwen could see it in the way he leaned his bad hip against the wall.

There was barely concealed pain in his features, and the grip on his cane was so tight, Gwen was surprised the handle hadn’t cracked under the pressure yet.

“If things go well, you won’t have to,” Gwen replied.

“Besides, I’ll feel better knowing you’re out here and not in there.”

“I wish I could say the same,” he said.

“Remember, their belief in me will make them highly emotional and unpredictable. There’s a chance your power to feed on those emotions won’t work, since it’s not an organic response.”

“I get it.” Gwen nodded.

“I’ll just have to trust the goodies you gave me.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I think it’s now or never.”

There hadn’t been time to change outside of redressing Ambrosius, but Gwen wasn’t worried about it.

She had already ruined the dress Ambrosius bought her with all her black tears.

Besides, Gwen was going for a very particular look when it came to crashing a cult ritual.

One she was hoping would work for her benefit.

But if it didn’t…

“Hey, Ro? ”

“Yes, my bittersweet?”

Gwen pressed back into her heels, steeling herself.

There really was no easy way to say what she wanted, so maybe it was better to just spit it out.

“If things go tits up, and they succeed, and you become something else…” Gwen took a deep breath, reaching for his hand.

“I want you to eat my body.”

Tired eyes stared back at her in confusion.

She supposed it was better than flat out rejection.

“I want to spend forever with you … so, if I die, I want you to eat all of me. That way a part of me can be with you, even if I’m not there … okay?”

Gwen wasn’t sure what kind of afterlife existed for monsters, but she knew she’d rather spend it with Ambrosius in some way than without him.

If nothing else, the thought of her becoming a part of him was comforting.

Morbid as fuck, but comforting.

Though weak, Ambrosius still found the strength to pull Gwen into a kiss.

It wasn’t hard or hot like their other kisses, but Gwen’s heart shuddered between them.

She still held on tightly with the knowledge that this could be the last time she’d be able to kiss him as he was.

After all, there was no guarantee that even if Gwen stopped the cult, that the damage would reverse.

Ambrosius could be an entirely new being if Gwen survived.

When they broke apart, Gwen held onto his face for a moment longer.

If he was going to change, she wanted to remember him exactly as he was.

“You gorgeous girl,” Ambrosius rumbled.

“I’ll eat you. I’ll eat all of you and it still wouldn’t be enough. There will never be a meal more delicious than you, never be a meal I would mourn being over more than you. ”

It wasn’t a love confession in the human sense, but Gwen wasn’t sure if Ambrosius was capable of giving one.

She didn’t know what love looked like for monsters—especially ones as old as he was—but she liked to think this declaration could be it.

For Gwen, it was enough.

Slowly, she pulled away from him, until only their hands touched.

Gwen could see the way Ambrosius swayed toward her.

The time to act was now.

“I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispered, bending to kiss his hand.

“Stay alive for me.”

“You, too.”

Gwen nodded, then darted around the corner.

Her pace was fast, purposeful as she approached the front door.

Her resolve rushed through her ears with every click of her heel.

Get in, take everyone out, stop the ritual.

Those words repeated in Gwen’s head as she reached for the double doors.

The single lock and key method had been used up until three years ago, when corporate had insisted on going keyless.

Easier way to change the locks with the high rate of turnover.

A boon for Gwen, as she knew George’s pin number from years of closing the store with him.

Once the doors opened, Gwen slipped inside, forcing the doors closed behind her.

The interior of Master Basting was dark, save for the few fire escape lights Gwen knew like the back of her hand.

The silence was unnerving, not at all what Gwen was expecting, considering what Sierra and a handful of unknowns were planning to do.

At the very least, she had expected to at least hear the murmuring of some bullshit chant.

Gwen crept past the checkout stands and was immediately hit by a wall of euphoria.

The intensity nearly knocked her on her ass.

Ambrosius had mentioned that the cult’s emotional state would be intense, but this was so different from navigating the crowds of the summer night market.

The singular emotion shared by so many people was as thick as smoke from a summer wildfire.

And it made it impossible for Gwen to tell how many cult members were in the store or their locations.

Of course, the one natural talent I have is useless right now.

Fuck, this is gonna be tricky …

okay, c’mon, Gwen, push through this.

Gathering her wits, Gwen pushed back on the emotions.

Her best path to the back of house was to go straight down the middle.

Past the kitschy dining displays, poorly made furniture, and stolen artwork printed on canvas.

However, Gwen needed to stop at one end aisle display first. All the while, her heart raced, urging her to hurry as fast as she could.

These people—whoever they were—were killing Ambrosius.

They were molding him and making him something for themselves.

Whether they understood they were doing it or not didn’t matter to Gwen.

Only that someone like Sierra was daring to take the small bit of happiness Gwen found from her.

Gwen had never considered herself to be the jealous type, but when it came to Ambrosius, she wouldn’t exactly call herself level headed.

And the idea of anyone taking him from her made the ugliest parts of her ravenous.

Hands aching, her veins pulsed with anger.

The hobby tools and knives were kept near scrapbooking.

With the baking utensils several aisles down.

Gwen would have preferred the serrated knife used for cutting cakes, but the small retractable cutting knife would have to do.

Gwen swiped it off the shelf, tearing the plastic from it and letting it fall to the floor as she rounded the corner and straight into a body.

The impact hit Gwen hard, but she managed to regain her balance.

In the dim light of the store, Gwen couldn’t see a face, but the figure was wearing a black hooded cloak.

The implication was good enough for Gwen, and she swung the cutting knife in the figure’s direction.

Her swing was wide, catching the figure's cloak, but not flesh. Something Gwen wasn’t going to do twice.

“What the shit!”

Gwen swung again, bringing the knife down, but she was halted when a hand caught her wrist. The pressure made her joint ache as Gwen fought to bring the cutting knife down. There was a burst of static, something familiar—

“Brother Aaron, we heard commotion. Are you all right? Over.”

Fuck, these assholes have coms?

There was no way Gwen could afford to let this person— Brother Aaron —alert the rest of the cult. Her battle to control the knife was failing as he twisted Gwen’s wrist. Brother Aaron was stronger than her, no doubt, as he pushed the sharp blade toward Gwen’s chest. Her heart beat wildly as Gwen braced her feet on the ground to gain leverage, but it was futile.

Gwen gasped when the sharp point of the cutting knife pierced her chest, blood beginning to gather in the shallow wound. She winced as the resistance made the knife shake, the sharp edge inflicting more shallow cuts. The pain hurt, but it was inconsequential when so much was on the line.

“Brother Aaron, can you confirm everything is all right—”

“The summoning ritual has already started, and we’re about to start the rite with the brides! Everything had better be all right!”

“… Over!”

The first voice was the same, but the new voice—

Sierra!

Jealousy boiled in Gwen’s heart at the realization. Sierra was about to initiate the part of the summoning that required the five brides. If the internet discourse was to be believed, it meant that they were in the middle of pulling Ambrosius into a human vessel. All so they could learn some fucking bullshit truth—

Trust yourself.

The beating of her heart grew loud, blood rushing toward her head. The face of Brother Aaron suddenly came into view, illuminated by the glowing cyan of Gwen’s own eyes. A flash of green eyes that looked hell bent on surviving, Brother Aaron’s devotion mirrored her own.

Nothing mattered except saving Ambrosius from these fanatics, a desire that slowly crawled its way up the back of her throat. It pressed against her neck, bulging outward like an Adam’s apple as it crept over the back of her tongue. Gwen tightened her hold on the knife, pressed it an inch deeper into herself. Something told her she needed to be closer to his face.

Gwen opened her mouth wide, and a spider spilled from the inside. The same blue backed spider that had grown in her bathroom, only now it was less fuzzy and more deadly in appearance. Crawling over her teeth, more spiders escaped the cavern of her mouth and throat with sharp limbs. They leapt across the short distance and landed on Brother Aaron’s face. The cultist screamed as the small creatures bit, pulling back on instinct as more spiders appeared.

Brother Aaron spun, hands ripping spiders from his face and revealing bites that quickly turned necrotic. But that didn’t stop the colony, as the open wounds only seemed to encourage them. By the time the last remaining spider slipped from Gwen’s mouth, Brother Aaron had ran. He was still trying in vain to remove the spiders, tripping on his own cloak near the end of the aisle. All the while, his screams of fear and agony filled the air. It was better than any playlist George ever broadcast on the radio during their closing shifts.

Gwen may have lost the element of surprise, but the rush of dopamine that burst in her brain may have been worth it. The pleasure running through her body was unlike anything she had experienced before. As she slowly approached the fallen cultist, a part of her wondered if this was how Ambrosius felt when he chased her. Gwen couldn’t deny the appeal, though she preferred being chased when it came to her demonic lover.

The spiders were ravenous little things, burrowing into bitten flesh. Gwen’s eyes glowed as she eyed Brother Aaron’s dying breaths, watching his half delirious expression. He reached out, hand stretching toward something unknown.

“Praise The Bound Obscene…” he whispered.

He died a moment later, under Gwen’s unnatural stare. The euphoria was a little less intense in the building, but something had shifted in the air. The unbridled excitement was starting to turn to anxiety. The intense emotion exploded somewhere near Gwen.

No, not an explosion.

A gunshot.