Page 26 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

Pop glances at something off screen and sighs. “Babe, what are you doing?”

“I need my tarot, I need to do a reading. I told you I sensed shadows surrounding that girl. I should have looked into it further,” Dad replies, his voice filled with worry. “That poor girl. What did I send her back into?”

“Babe, you need to calm down. You didn’t send her anywhere, she went back of her own free will.”

“I should have helped her.”

“You did,” Pop says soothingly. “You did exactly what she asked. You kept Harrison safe.”

“We did,” Dad corrects, and even though I can’t currently see Dad, I do see the familiar, affectionate smile Pop sends in his direction. It makes me unbearably homesick.

“Your cards are in the cupboard by the armchair.”

“No, not those ones. I want the Ceridwen deck. It’s more accurate for specific questions.” I can hear his voice getting fainter, as if he’s still talking while walking out of the room, then Pops sighs.

“I’d better go and help him before he gets himself all worked up.”

“Okay,” I mutter. I miss them both so much, but deep down in my gut, I know I can’t go home, not yet. “Give him a hug for me and tell him not to worry.”

“I could tell him that, but he’s going to worry regardless.” Pop exhales. “Look, Harry, I want you to be careful, okay? Call and keep us up-to-date with what’s happening, and if you need us, we’re only two hours away.”

“Pop, it’s a four-hour drive to London,” I remind him.

“Not the way I drive when my kid needs me.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “You might need to sedate Dad if you’re planning on driving like that. Do you remember what happened when you were driving on the autobahn in Germany?”

“How often do I get to drive on a road with no speed limits?”

I smile and let out a slow breath. “Love you, Pop.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he replies softly. “Call if you need us, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you soon.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. My tea has long gone cold, so I tip it down the sink and rinse out the cup. I don’t have time to make another one; I still need to get dressed and open the shop. Pushing aside the homesickness, I head out of the kitchen towards my bedroom.

It’s just after lunch when Tristan, the pretty young man with wild curls and glasses who seems to be inordinately comfortable in the company of ghosts, wanders into my shop. I watch from my comfortable chair in the corner of the store, my book once again open in my lap.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him again so soon, but I don’t really know what to say. My people skills are not so much rusty as woefully underdeveloped.

Soft, soothing music fills the air along with the scent of herbs and candles as he peruses the glass display cabinets of crystals and tarot decks.

“Back again so soon, Tristan?” I finally say, shifting his attention from an ornate athame.

He turns to look at me, seemingly surprised at finding me watching him.

“Um.” His cheeks flush slightly, and he pushes his glasses back into place as they slip down the bridge of his nose. “You remember my name?”

“You’re rather hard to forget,” I reply mildly. “I don’t get many people infested with spirits in my shop.”

“Hardly infested,” he scoffs, and I have to wonder how unusual his life is that getting trapped in his own body with a deceased drag queen didn’t really register with him as a reason to panic.

“Where are your disembodied sidekick and your deceased duckling?”

“Do you mean Mrs Abernathy?” he asks. I assume he means the little old lady and nod. “Dusty and I managed to figure out her unfinished business in the end. She crossed into the light with her true love. As for Dusty—” He pauses. “Actually, I have no idea where she is right now. She has a tendency to just show up.”