Page 45 of Wicked Flavors

“So, the doll was haunted,” Gwen huffed.

“No. If it had been haunted, you wouldn’t be alive right now,” Ambrosius replied. “But the same rule applies, in this case.”

Gwen faltered, sending him a questioning look.

“The funny thing about dolls or toy bears is that they aren’t really anything. They don’t project anything because they aren’t alive,” Ambrosius explained. “However, get a human in the room, and that doll or bear could be anything. They’re easy objects to project your thoughts andfeelingsonto.”

“What does that have to do with…”

“I gave you a doll because I knew you would understand what that was like,” he said, not too unkindly. “I knew the moment you came in. The way you held yourself, the way you dressed. You’re someone who is used to having others make assumptions about you. That’s why you stripped every piece of color from your life, except for your little hobby.”

It wasn’t anything Gwen didn’t already know about herself, but it still hurt to hear him say it. She supposed that was why it was called the ugly truth, but it still unnerved her how much he had learned about her from that one initial meeting. Ambrosius had mentioned being able to read minds, but Gwen wasn’t certain to what extent. If he could read all her deepest thoughts, then why would he bother talking to her at all?

“I’ve learned to protect myself,” Gwen replied.

“Oh, my bittersweet,” Ambrosius smiled—an almost soft thing that took her by surprise. “Soon, they will need protecting fromyou.”

Gwen didn’t know what to make of that, but she did acknowledge the grotesque excitement that danced inside of her at the thought. It should have been horrifying, but Gwen couldn’t muster the emotion.

She was too hungry.

“I gave the doll to my neighbor,” she confessed. “He steals packages from the apartment across the hall.”

“A thief?” Ambrosius hummed. “Perfect. Come along.”

Ambrosius swept past her, opening the door that Gwen thought had been damaged. Looking at it now, it was exactly how it had been before Ambrosius showed up. He crossed the tiny threshold and stood before her bed. Unfortunately, Gwen felt it stir something within her and warmth grew in her chest.

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked as she slowly followed, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

The fireworks had started sometime during their little encounter. Most of her neighbors had probably gone to the courtyard to watch, or even the pier to get a better look.

“To your neighbor’s, of course.” Ambrosius grinned.

“I … what?”

Gwen stood awkwardly in front of her neighbor’s door.

She had tried to stall, confused as to why Ambrosius insisted that he couldn’t help her retrieve it.

“It’s your doll, my bittersweet. You did this, now you must unmake it. Besides, I can’t cross the threshold unless your neighbor invites me in,” Ambrosius explained.

It confused her further as Ambrosius escorted her to the apartment in question. Why would Sticky Fingers invite her and not Ambrosius if he was with her? Either way, Gwen supposed it was better to get it over with as she raised her hand to knock.

“Oh, just a moment.”

Before Gwen could question him, Ambrosius had already raised his hand toward his face. Gwen wouldn’t have been surprised if he needed a moment to check his hair. He appeared awfully vain, but—

Gwen’s body froze as Ambrosius’ fingers pressed into the corner of his eye.Digginginto the corner before disappearing entirely behind the eye. It was like watching an old baby doll, whose eyes could open and shut, but in reverse. Flesh tore, and she stared in utter shock as the whites of his eye got bigger and bigger, until eventually it popped out of his face like a lollipop. Shockingly clean, but still equally disturbing.

It was still connected by the optic nerve, but it was no longer in Ambrosius’ head, and for some reason, Gwen couldn’t get that sentence out of her brain.

“Don’t scream,” Ambrosius said as he snapped the tiny tether.

“Just—why?” Gwen asked, staring at the eye in his hand.

“Because I can’t be there, this is the next best thing,” Ambrosius explained as he rolled his eyeball like a marble. “Now, open your hand—”

“No,” she hissed.

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