Ambrose's POVNight had settled over the Spellman mortuary. The lamps burned low, the house creaked with its usual familiar groans. Hilda was baking again, Zelda was lecturing Sabrina upstairs… and Ambrose?
Ambrose was watching Keiran.
The boy sat in the parlor, quiet, as though the shadows themselves had called him into being. He didn't fidget, didn't pace, didn't hum to fill the silence like most did. He simply was.
Ambrose leaned lazily against the doorway, arms folded. "So. Keiran."
The stranger glanced up, expression unreadable.
"You're… different," Ambrose continued, a grin curling his lips. "Not just handsome-different. Not just broody-different. But older. Like you've been walking around a lot longer than Sabrina thinks."
Keiran tilted his head slightly, as if measuring Ambrose in return. "You're very observant."
Ambrose smirked. "It's a talent. Comes from being stuck under house arrest for decades. You learn to read people when they're the only entertainment you've got."
Keiran's POVAmbrose's eyes were clever, far too clever. He wasn't like Zelda, who relied on authority and instinct, or Hilda, who saw only kindness. Ambrose was sharp. He saw through masks.
That made him dangerous.
And yet… strangely enough, Keiran found himself almost amused. "Observation is a double-edged sword," he said evenly. "Look too closely, and sometimes you don't like what you find."
Ambrose chuckled softly. "Oh, I've seen plenty I don't like. Doesn't stop me from looking."
Ambrose's POVHe stepped closer, dropping onto the sofa across from Keiran. "So tell me, mysterious savior of my cousin — what's your angle? Because I don't buy the whole good Samaritan act."
Keiran was silent for a long moment. His gaze dropped briefly to the flickering candle on the table, shadows playing across his sharp features.
Finally, he answered:"I don't have an angle. Not with her."
And the way he said it — so calm, so certain — sent a chill through Ambrose. Not because it was threatening… but because it was honest.
Narrator's POVFor a while, they sat in silence. Two warlocks — one cursed to the house, one bound to secrets deeper than anyone could guess.
And though Ambrose still had questions, he decided not to push. Not yet. Sometimes it was better to let mysteries unfold at their own pace.
He leaned back, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Well, Keiran… welcome to the family circus. Hope you like witches, secrets, and very poor tea."
Keiran allowed himself the faintest smile. Just enough to hint that maybe — just maybe — he didn't mind.
Narrator's POVUpstairs, Sabrina lay awake, thinking of shadows and secrets.Downstairs, Ambrose and Keiran shared a quiet, unspoken understanding.
And in Hell, Lucifer's fury only grew.
The pieces on the board were moving.