Page 51 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

That’s exactly what I want to know.

“Bloodlines.” Death looks directly at me, and my stomach clenches so tight. Does he know who I am? Does he know about my connection to the bookshop and its owner?

“What? Bruce’s bloodline?” Tristan frowns.

The cat, who until now has been content to nap on Danny’s lap, cranks one sleepy eye open and catches sight of Death. He stretches lazily and drops to the floor. Waddling his chunky body towards Death, he sniffs at one trouser leg before giving a little wiggle in preparation and launching himself up into Death’s lap.

Death looks down in distaste at the cat purring in his lap. “Urgh, get it off me.” He wrinkles his nose.

“I would’ve thought you’d like cats.” Chan’s mouth curves in amusement. “Didn’t the ancient Egyptians believe they were the guardians of the dead?”

“That was many centuries ago, and this one is fat and lazy.” Death looks back down at Jacob Marley to address him directly. “You are a disgrace to your ancestors.”

Jacob Marley’s response is to purr loudly and reach up, placing his paws on Death’s chest and bumping his nose to Death’s chin before licking him. The look on Death’s face is enough to have Tristan reaching out and lifting Jacob Marley from his lap. The cat gives a loud mewl of indignation and turns around in Tristan’s lap, slapping him in the face with his tail, before he leaps over to Danny’s lap and settles down once again.

“Sorry about that,” Tristan mumbles. “Jacob Marley is…” He breaks off and shakes his head, changing the subject. “I don’t really know what you want me to do, Death. I mean, what’s all this about bloodlines? Am I supposed to research Bruce’s family tree? How’s that going to help?”

“Mortals.” Death rolls his eyes. “Always expecting to have the answers handed to them. I cannot tell you what you want to know, bound as I am by my own rules and restrictions. Rules which, yes, I may be bending to help you, but there are limits. You must figure the rest out for yourselves.”

“Figure what out?” Tristan’s voice rises in frustration.

“Discover the secret of the portal and you’ll discover why it has to be Bruce.”

“But–”

Before Tristan can protest further, Death disappears, leaving all of us staring at each other and wondering what the hell is going on.

“Well, that was weird,” Chan mutters.

“Tris.” Danny reaches for his hand.

“This isn’t fair,” Tristan blurts out.

“Tris, it’s going to be okay.” Danny squeezes his hand.

“How is this possibly going to be okay?” he yells in reply.

“Tris.”

“No,” he snaps. “This is such fucking bollocks. I didn’t sign up for any of this. I didn’t ask to be able to see dead people, but I went with it because what choice did I have, really? But this? This is completely different. This isn’t having some random spirit follow me home and helping them solve their unfinished business so they can move on. I can’t do this. I don’t know anything about cold cases and magic doorways. I already feel like crap and my head is pounding. You’ve broken your leg, we haven’t even started packing up the flat yet or found somewhere new to live, and we’ve got to be out of here in a matter of weeks. Now on top of all that, I’m supposed to figure out how and why Bruce is supposed to guard some dumb doorway. And my cat hates me.”

He finishes in spectacular fashion by bursting into tears.

“And I’m hungry,” he adds miserably.

I have to say, I feel for him. I’m on the periphery of this mess and yet somehow caught up in the middle of it, not that they know that. I understand the worry and frustration he must be feeling right now because I share it.

“Okay, that’s a lot to unpack.” Danny reaches out and rubs Tristans back. “Chan, can you grab Tristan a glass of water and some paracetamol? That should sort out the headache.”

Dusty scoots the box of tissues on the table closer to him, and it’s actually really sweet to see how all his friends hustle to take care of him. I feel a pang of sadness and wonder what that would be like.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, plucking a tissue from the box.

“Have you got a menu around here for the Chinese takeaway you mentioned earlier?” Sam smiles at him. “I’ll go and grab some dinner for everyone.”

Tristan sniffs loudly and blows his nose. “In the drawer next to you.” Jacob Marley, clearly feeling somewhat guilty for the face slap earlier, has now shifted from Danny back into Tristan’s lap and is rubbing his head against Tristan’s chest as he purrs loudly. With a sigh, Tristan lifts his hand to stroke the cat’s head.

“See?” Danny huffs a quiet laugh. “He doesn’t hate you. He just likes to be a dick. It’s his personality.”