The Witch's Devil (Complete)

Chapter 20, Passing Ships

Ember's POV~

Three days have passed since my conversation with Bettina. Things around the shop have morphed into a chaotic jumbled mess. The new addition that was forced onto us by Cozbi herself. Rude. Her presence alone has caused much of the extra unnecessary tension around Damien. Being his fated mate, the tiny siren maniac has been enjoying the almost daily teasing.

Taunting the poor boy with blunt open advancements. Yet somehow dancing on the fine line that is respectful boundaries. While simultaneously also not rejecting the bond per his request.

Such a conundrum, given a living form.

Poor Samual is at her wits end with the little terror. Those two are such polar opposites it's almost a detriment to the working environment as a whole. If Samual knew what she was— what we all were— perhaps it would be easier to learn how to work together. Shaking my head in silent disapproval.

I can't deny, however, that much like Alastor she is a hard worker. Quick to learn and happy to ask for help when needed. She is a model employee in every aspect of the word. Minus the customers who need to flirt with her. Plus side to this— sales are up on both books and café sides. I truly feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place over the whole situation.

Thinking back to after I had left my office those days ago— I was met with no other option. Alastor was shrugging me off, playing wounded animal with nothing else to offer. Leaving it at just having to accept the fact. Then, when I tried talking to Cozbi the next morning— one on one— she just shrugged me off. All while trying to be touchy feely with an uncomfortably flustered Damien.

With her as a mate, I wish him all the peace in the world.

Alastor thankfully got in the middle to help out. Keeping her in line with common boundaries— while aiding Damien in the ways of those boundaries. Helping him build confidence when facing a chaotic disaster. Which seems to have been an impressive improvement on their performance together. Watching those two still bickering boys grow closer— brought a sense of pride to me for my growing group.

On the worse end of the spectrum; Alastor and I ended that day on a not so good note. It made what happened the night before, him sharing my bed for a blissfully sweet cuddle, into a bittersweet dream. Alastor built high walls of thick ice around himself. Mostly when he dealt with me it seemed. Heartbreaking. Conversations kept short and blunt, to a point. Avoiding all eye contact wherever possible. The isolating physical avoidance that has felt distressingly cold. 

Heartache. This heartache is killing me.

These last few days of avoidance have been excruciating for me to not confront him. The coward in me won, however as I was unable to bring myself to do so. Alastor doesn't owe me or— anyone— his reasonings. He is a grown man, fully able to make his own decisions about the life he lives. Even if that means I'm not a part of it. No matter how close I may have thought we had gotten— perhaps I was being a bit too naive in my feelings.

Damned witches spark— fated string.

Grumbling to myself, thinking back on the bits of research I did within my trove of the Zippel grimoires and tomes. Why couldn't you be here mom? Limited information— mostly hearsay of tales of folklore and such. Having many names for such a sensation, the pull to one soul in particular; the fated string, red string, love bond, soul mates, witches flame and many more. To help guide me through knowing what is going on. Even in my mother's bedtime talks to me— she expressed it as the witches spark. I sit, looking at a small photograph of her plastered on the wall of my office.

I miss you.

Over the course of three days, I've caught sight of Bettina's vines growing. Lush and full, in the direction Alastor goes after work. At least no one has questioned the newly formed life along the sidewalk and one side of the building.