Page 107 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

He shrugs. “I don’t know how curses work.”

“In many different ways, but I must admit, I’ve not yet come across one that can change someone into poultry.”

“Ten minutes.” Sam points at me. “Then you have an appointment with your sofa and my lips.”

I snort. “Fine, ten minutes.”

Once he’s safely out of the room, I unlock the safe and add the music box to its rapidly expanding contents. After closing the door and making triple sure it’s secure, I remove the gloves and set them neatly on the bench.

Picking up the now harmless cardboard box, I’m about to flatten it down and put it into the recycling when I see something laying in the bottom. Reaching inside, I pull it out.

It’s a business card, but there’s nothing on it except a flower.

I turn it over to see that it’s blank on the other side, then switch back to study the design on the front. I’ve seen that design somewhere before.

It comes to me suddenly, and I pull down the black cloth-bound book written by Elias Black.

Flipping through the pages, I stop at the endpapers at the back of the book. There, in tiny print, is the same symbol and a name.

The Black Orchid Co.

So, there is a connection between this Elias Black and Cordelia Crawshanks. There are so many questions floating around my head, but at least now I know where to start. That’s with researching the Black Orchid Company and seeing if it still exists today.

Tucking the business card inside the book, I slot it back onto the shelf. I’ll tell Sam about this, but not until I know more about what I’m dealing with. If this business is somehow involved with cursed objects, I want it as far away from Sam as possible.

With the decision made, I climb the stairs and go in search of those lips I was promised.

Once again, I can’t sleep. Sam snores peacefully beside me, his arm thrown over my waist and anchoring my body to his. For once, the lack of sleep isn’t due to bad dreams. It’s not even due to getting used to sharing my personal space with someone who is a human hot water bottle and loves to snuggle in his sleep.

My brain simply won’t switch off. I keep coming back to questioning who left the music box outside my shop. It’s not the usual way I come across cursed objects. In the past, I’ve been contacted by the owner then taken possession of the item after several conversations about safe transportation. But this was just abandoned on my doorstep where anyone could have stumbled across it.

Maybe they’d heard about my previous work with curses? However, a smaller, more worrying voice at the back of my mind wonders if it’s because they know the connection between me and Cordelia, and not merely by DNA.

What if this is somehow tied to the dreams I’ve been having?

Sighing in frustration and wishing I could just slip into sleep, I shift and turn my head, then almost scream as my eyes fall on a man standing beside the bed. I scramble up and switch the light on, displacing Sam, who is as naked as I am.

“What?” he says sleepily, lifting his head to peer blearily.

His gaze sharpens as it lands on the man, who just stands and watches us.

He’s dead, for a start.

I’ve never had a ghost just appear in my bedroom in the middle of the night. I must say, it’s very unnerving.

There’s something familiar about him, about his face. I tilt my head as I study him. He’s tall and skinny, with short brown hair, and he’s wearing jeans and an old Queen T-shirt.

“Dusty?” Sam says in confusion, and my eyes widen.

Oh my goodness, he’s right.

It’s Tristan’s friend and Spirit Guide in Training. I didn’t recognise him since I’ve never seen him out of drag before.

“I need your help,” he says. When I look closer, I see his eyes are red-rimmed and filled with tears.

“Dusty, what’s wrong?” Sam asks.

He sniffs and wipes his eyes. “Actually, it’s Dustin when I’m not in drag.”