Page 106 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“Would they protect me?” he asks curiously.

I shake my head. “Not enough. You’re susceptible because of the way your gift works. Being able to read objects means you absorb their energy. Trust me, it would be incredibly dangerous for you to touch anything that’s been cursed.”

Picking up the box and handling it as if it were a bomb, I head into the back room of the shop. Whatever is in this box will need to be safely locked in the safe until I can figure out how to neutralise it.

If I can neutralise it.

I’ve never felt anything so strong. The dark energy of it vibrates uncomfortably through my arms.

Sam closes the front door and locks it, then follows me into the back room, flipping on the lights as he goes.

“I wonder who left it on the doorstep?” Sam muses as I grab a box cutter and slice through the tape holding it closed.

“I have no idea,” I mutter, folding back the top and peering inside. “What the–?”

I suck in a sharp breath.

“What is it?”

“It’s just really powerful.”

It’s not a lie. It really is that powerful, but what I haven’t told Sam, what I can’t say out loud, is that I recognise this item.

I reach into the cardboard box and carefully lift out a Victorian music box. It’s made from polished walnut, the hinges blackening with age. The lid is decorated with an intricate pattern of leaves and vines inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. Protruding from the left-hand side of the box is a small ornate key that, once wound, would power the mechanism, after which the box would play a song once the lid is lifted.

I won’t do either. I don’t know enough about the curse, so to wind the key or open the box would be very foolish.

Tilting the box slightly in the light, I see a name engraved on a small golden plate.

Cordelia.

I’ve seen this very music box in my dreams, sitting on the dressing table in Cordelia’s room. It was one of the only things she brought from India, and the only thing she treasured other than The Book of Lala Khal.

How the hell did it end up here?

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, breaking my thoughts.

“I need to study it first,” I reply. “I need to know how the curse works in order to break it, which takes time. For now, I’ll lock it in the safe with the other cursed items.”

“Harrison,” he says seriously, “are you okay?”

I shake my head. I want to tell him everything, I want to let it all spill out of me, but the words won’t come.

“It’s just worrying. I’ve never felt magic on this level before, which is why I’ll have to be very cautious with it.”

“I don’t like it.” He frowns. “How did it end up on your doorstep with no note or instructions or anything?”

“I do have a bit of a reputation in certain circles. There are very few curse-breakers. It takes a very specialised set of skills and a level of magic most don’t possess.”

Sam exhales slowly. “Better get it in the safe, then, if it’s that dangerous.”

“It is.” I set it down on the table, and Sam stares at it.

“Sam,” I say softly, “why don’t you go upstairs and put the kettle on? It wouldn’t be good for you to be in here when I open the safe. We already know you’re drawn to objects like these based on the way you reacted when they were in the glass cabinet out in the shop.”

Sam watches me closely for a moment, then nods. “Fine, but if you’re not upstairs in ten minutes, I’m coming back down here to make sure you haven’t been changed into a chicken.”

“A chicken?”