Page 30 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“You’re just?”

“I’m not good with people.” I scowl, annoyed with myself. I wish I had the confidence to adjust to any social situation, but I don’t and I don’t think I ever will. It’s just not the way I’m made. “I lack the skills and patience, but you shouldn’t have to miss out on dinner with your friends because of me.”

“Actually, this is the first time I’m meeting Tristan properly.”

“You and me both,” I mumble.

“Really?” He tilts his head as he studies me.

“I helped him with…something.” I hesitate. I don’t really care if people know I’m a witch, but I’m also aware most people don’t believe magic is real. “Anyway, he got it into his head that he wanted to thank me. I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but now he’s decided he wants to befriend me and doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.”

Sam chuckles. “I knew I liked him. He does seem like the type to kill with kindness. He and Danny are a perfect match from what I’ve seen so far.”

“Sickening, isn’t it?”

“Completely nauseating.” He grins.

“Am I right in thinking it’s your birthday?” I ask. “Danny mentioned it earlier.”

He shrugs again, and I realise it seems to be his fallback means of communication.

“We should probably go and join them before they think we’ve both legged it,” he says, avoiding talk of his birthday, and it makes me wonder why. I don’t particularly celebrate my birthday either, given that it was the day I was abandoned by my birth mother.

I shouldn’t be intrigued by this man, but I am—not that I have any intention of doing anything about it.

“Shall we?” He lifts his hand in the direction of the table.

I’m about to move when I hear a hard clattering, and we both turn back to the front windows of the restaurant. It’s completely dark outside now, but the rain is coming down in a torrential downpour, hammering at the glass so hard it sounds like it’s going to shatter. The lights above us flicker violently.

“That’s some storm,” Sam mutters, his brows drawn down.

“Yeah,” I murmur, staring at the windows. “Some storm.”

The memory of Herne’s words echoes in my mind, and I continue to suspect, as I have for the past few days, if he meant an actual storm was coming, not a metaphorical one. Because this storm is definitely not natural. The air is heavy with crackles of energy and the scent of ozone, even from inside the building.

My gaze skims over to Sam. Our eyes lock, and for a brief second, I think he feels it too, a strange sense of foreboding, but the sound of a sharp crack of lightning followed by the boom of thunder jolts us both.

“That sounded very close,” Sam murmurs.

“Yeah.” I swallow tightly. I’m not scared of storms at all. I’ve always loved the thunder and lightning—the moodier the weather the better as far as I’m concerned—but there’s something about this particular storm that has my body flooding with a surge of adrenaline and my skin crackling with static electricity.

“Well”—Sam straightens—“we’re safe enough in here. I think we need a drink though. What do you say?”

“I say make it a double,” I mutter, and Sam laughs as we wind our way through the tables to take our seats beside Tristan and Danny.

“Everything okay?” Danny asks.

“All good.” Sam nods. “Got a hell of a storm brewing out there though.”

“You’re not kidding.” Tristan groans, eying the driving rain through the windows. “The flat’s going to be flooded by the time we get home. We’re going to have to buy Jacob Marley a wetsuit and a snorkel at this rate.”

“Jacob Marley?” I question.

“My cat, or I should say, our cat. Jacob Marley seems to have adopted Danny. He literally won’t let Danny out of his sight,” Tristan replies.

“You have a cat called Jacob Marley?” Sam chuckles before I can respond.

“Don’t ask.” Tristan rolls his eyes.