Page 48 of Wicked Flavors

Discerning

Ambrosius

He felt it the moment it happened.

The extinguished life. A soul winking out of existence, freeing the apartment for whatever evil entity happened upon it. Ambrosius happened to be such one entity, and he took advantage of it immediately.

Looking back, Ambrosius hadn’t been sure what to expect. Gwen was rather unusual in her own way—even for a human. He had anticipated a long, drawn-out conversation, or even her returning to the apartment—cowardly, but not too unlike her avoidant nature. But the delight he felt upon finding her hunched over her prey had succeeded all of it. Her hair had deepened, the pale pink blossoming into a more vibrant shade of pink. He observed the veins beneath her skin, watched as they slowly receded as her skin took on a more mortal hue.

Naturally, Ambrosius complimented her. It was important to give praise where praise was due. The poor thing really had been starving, it seemed.

“I…” Gwen trailed.

He couldn’t see her expression, as he had manifested near the door. Her posture had slumped and her arms had gone limp beside her. Suddenly, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. The warmth of her amber eyes was now an unnatural cyan, glowing. Her mouth was stretched in an uncomfortable grin by human standards.

“I was so hungry,” Gwen whimpered before black ichor gathered in the corner of her eyes. “I was sohungry.”

Ambrosius wasn’t sure why she was bleeding from her eyes like that. The human was dead, and any displays of horror at this point was a waste of energy. Unless Gwen didn’t quite have control over her power yet. Warlocks were rarer than demons, given how demons loathed working with humans. Not to mention that the transition from human to monster usually failed. Ambrosius knew she could have died or been driven mad, but his intuition told him she wouldn’t. And Gwen had proven him right as she peered up at him in the aftermath of her first meal.

Then why the theatrics?Ambrosius thought, puzzled.

“You’ll always be hungry,” he said. “That is the nature of evil like us, my bittersweet.”

Gwen didn’t say anything, even as the ichor fell over the curve of her cheek. Ambrosius wasn’t even sure she was aware of it. Could it be possible she felt … guilt?No, that didn’t make sense to him. Gwen became less and less human the moment she had entertained the thought of making a deal with him. She may not have known what she hadagreed to, but surely Gwen had read the scroll, so why was she acting so…

Human,Ambrosius thought with disdain.A part of her is still human.

He would have to smother that flame soon. Until then, Ambrosius knelt beside her and brushed a strand of her vibrant hair behind her ear. She flinched, wild grin wavering for a moment.

“You’re … going to be fine.”

There was no way she wouldn’t be. Once she got over her pesky humanity, Gwen would thrive in the dark, Ambrosius was certain of it. After all, she had managed to kill her first human in less time than it took him to make a sale. And hunger was always a great motivator.

His words, however, didn’t ring true enough for Gwen. He could see it in the way her face hadn’t changed, still a mask of poorly concealed instability. A part of her had greatly enjoyed her meal, but despair had settled into her soul like a worm digging into a decaying animal.

How bothersome.

Ambrosius sighed, lifting a hand to hover above the dead human’s head. He felt Gwen’s eyes follow, but she didn’t voice the question he sensed at the tip of her tongue. She would get her answer soon enough, as Ambrosius probed into the fading psyche. The last thoughts that ran through this human’s head rolled through Ambrosius’ like an old record. He had been confused, frightened, based on the panicked impressions Ambrosius read. But one thing he found particularly curious was the slow decline of these thoughts, and more importantly the lack of associated human emotions.

When humans died in the face of monsters, they rarely stopped thinking. Whether they were aware of it or not, their thoughts still filtered through their minds. Only they went by so quickly, Ambrosius doubted they even noticed it over the fear. Even on the edge of death, a human would succumb to wishing they had more time, or wishing they had expressed some unfulfilled desire. Yet, Ambrosius found none in this man.

There wasn’t a hint of fear in his brain, no confusion, no terror, even though it was evident on his face. None of the foreign emotions that usually intertwined with a human’s thoughts. It was as if something had pierced his mind and surgically removed it. And without access to their emotions, why would a human ever think about their fear or regrets?

How appropriate,Ambrosius thought as he dropped his hand.

Gwen was still watching him. The ichor had traveled down her neck and was staining her shirt. Ambrosius steadied his cane before wrapping his arm around her waist. He hoisted her up, tucking her to him as he stood. The sharp pinch of pain at his hip was manageable as he plopped her onto the kitchen counter. He leaned his cane against the wall and began to search the cabinets. Ambrosius found a washcloth in one of the drawers, got the edge wet, and proceeded to clean her face.

“There’s no need to shed tears, my bittersweet. He’s dead, you can’t change that,” Ambrosius chided.

The awkward grin had softened, eventually melting into a closed mouth. Her hands were limp at her sides, but he could see the glow in her eyes starting to clear. The manifestation of her warlock form was starting todissipate, which meant she was calming from whatever state she was in.

“I was just trying to get the doll…” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Ambrosius snorted. “You sound guilty. Silly really. A snake doesn’t apologize to a mouse before it devours it.”

“He wasn’t a mouse, he was a person,” Gwen insisted.

“Hewasa human, and youaren’thuman anymore,” Ambrosius retorted as he smeared the black liquid away.

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