Page 35 of Wicked Flavors

Lot 391 shined beneath the lights of the antique store, looking much newer than it had the day it left. The human, on the other hand, looked like hell. Or more accurately, he looked like he had been through a hell of his own making. The same man who so boldly came into Ambrosius shop several days prior, only to leave supposedly empty handed.

Both Ambrosius and the Antiquarium knew this man had taken Lot 391 that day. They had allowed him to do so willingly. Still, Ambrosius had seen this kind of soul many times before. Had seen the same script play out decade after decade, century after century without fail. And so, Ambrosius chose to play along.

“Hello, sir,” Ambrosius said with a plain smile. “I see you’re back again. Is there something I can help you with?”

The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Which Ambrosius knew to be true, not just because of the redness of his eyes or the dark circles underneath. He looked sallow, sickly, and had a distinct aura of paranoia about him.

“Look,” the man said, out of breath, “You have to help me. You have to take this back!”

The man slapped the golden wrist watch again, as if trying to bury it into the countertop. Ambrosius looked down at the item and feigned ignorance as he looked back at him. Like he had told Gwendolyn, he wasn’t entirely responsible when it came to the strange occurrences one might experience with an item from his shop. So, he felt no need to clarify.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I have never seen a golden wristwatch like this before,” Ambrosius lied. “I feel that I would remember such a distinct item, as I have records for every single antique in this shop. I have no record of this one.”

Desperation and panic flowed from the man in a way that Ambrosius was also used to, though he didn’t quite understand it on a human level. His more demonic self, on the other hand, was enjoying itimmensely. Ambrosius could already tell that the corruption of this man’s soul was on the cusp of harvest.

The man—becoming increasingly more frazzled—ran a hand through his messy hair.

“No, you have to listen to me! Ever since I got it from the store, strange things have been happening to me! Every time this watch beeps, something fucking weird happens!”

Ambrosius believed him, but he tilted his head and feigned more confused ignorance to the man’s plight.

“I’m sorry to hear that you’re having a difficult time right now, sir. But like I said, I have never seen this item before in my forty-four years on this earth,” another lie,but Ambrosius was certain his human form was approximately that old. “But if you want, I can pull out the ledger, and we can go over it together.”

An empty promise. Ambrosius knew that the ink that once listed Lot 391 had vanished the moment the item had left the Antiquarium. He was in the process of placing the ledger onto the counter when the man broke.

“Look, do you want me to say it already? Fine, fine! Okay, I took this from your store. I stole this from your store right in front of you. Okay? And I need you to take it fucking back already!”

An admission of guilt was always good in Ambrosius’ opinion. He appreciated brutal honesty from humans, as they so rarely gave it. Though an admission of guilt under duress was not nearly as good as a voluntary one.

“Stolen? Well, that is a problem … however, as I’ve stated before, I have never seen this golden wristwatch in my store before. But even if I had, I’m afraid you don’t know about our store policy. To put it plainly,” Ambrosius continued with a cruel smile. “All sales arefinal.”

“No, no, I didn’t pay for this! Istoleit. I stole this! It’s not the same!” The man shouted.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t matter if the item was stolen or not. This item is yours now,” Ambrosius explained. “And it will be yours for therest of your life.”

The man cursed Ambrosius and vanished out the door as quickly as he could. Yet another reason why Ambrosius detested humans. Their misguided belief that they could run from their problems—just like Gwendolyn, who was still trying to weasel out of their agreement—this man was trying to escape his own fate. But it didn’t matter.

Ambrosius stared at the golden wristwatch as it slowly melted away. Wisps of its existence dissolved into nothing, like vapor. While humans might have made a habit of running from their problems, their problems had no trouble chasing them.

The demon knew he would be hearing about the man’s death very, very soon. If Ambrosius was lucky enough, his next customer would come in with a newspaper that they would conveniently forget on his register counter. It was how Ambrosius had discovered exactly where he was.

Everett, Washington was a place that Ambrosius had never been before, but he wasn’t a stranger to the state itself. It did help Ambrosius place where he was in the world, which brought a small amount of comfort. If Ambrosius knew where he was, he knew wheretheywere too. And he knew that they wereclose. He could sense them, the same human fools who thought they were so much better than the rest of monster-kind. The ones who thought they could save humans from becoming monsters.

But that was something Ambrosius would have to put on the back burner for now. What he really needed was for Gwendolyn to finish the doll. For her to accept the gifts Ambrosius had given her. As to how he would persuade her of such a thing was still elusive to him.

Emotions were out of Ambrosius’ wheelhouse. He couldn’t remember what they felt like before, and even now, in a human body, they were vague. Distant. What little familiarity Ambrosius had with them were the emotions most monsters were familiar with.

I don’t have to understand how she feels, Ambrosius thought.I just need to know what I can do to get her to be more agreeable.

Ambrosius thought about Gwendolyn as he went about the rest of his day.

He thought about her anger. He thought about the small gap between her two front teeth. He thought about how she slapped him, and ignored the small tremor that went through his spine. He ignored the flare of pain that came from his hip, and he ignored his surroundings as he kept thinking about it.

About her.

Yet for all his thinking, impulsivity urged Ambrosius to act. To stop thinking about everything and dosomething. Because the truth was, Ambrosius was angry at Gwendolyn in a way he had not been anticipating at all. And anger in a demon could easily bleed into hate, which made for a very messy professional relationship.

Ambrosius couldn’t afford for the contract to fail. The Demon Pact had to succeed, or else he would have to wait for the next town to try again.

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