Page 55 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“What was that?” I whisper.

“What?” He smooths his wrinkle-free sweater and drops his hands to his sides. He may be trying to act nonchalant, but I can see he’s shaken.

“I saw something. I never get images from people though, only from objects.” I study him closely.

“It’s not a big deal,” he snaps defensively. “It’s probably just because I’m magically inclined.”

“Maybe,” I mutter. “What was the mirror I saw?”

“Mirror?” His gaze sharpens.

“It was mounted on a wall, with an ornate black frame.”

He shrugs and looks away, “I’ve got something like that in the flat. Maybe that’s it.”

I’m pretty sure he’s lying, but before I can question him further, he begins tidying the items on the desk. “Why are you here, Sam?”

I see, it’s like that, is it? I muse silently. Since I’ve touched on something he obviously doesn’t want to talk about and have got all his prickles up in the process, I answer his question cautiously.

“I just thought I’d keep you in the loop. You’ve been curiously radio silent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harrison scowls.

“Nothing, Prickles.” I grin, enjoying the colour flushing his neck. “After the other day in Tristan’s kitchen, you agreed to help but then you haven’t been in touch.”

“Or maybe I’m just a very private person,” he counters, and there’s a glimmer of defiance in his posture. “Besides, I agreed to help Chan find somewhere suitable for Tristan and Danny to live, which I have done. I’ve been searching the listings and have forwarded them to Chan. You and Danny have your own tasks, which play to your strengths in law enforcement and private investigation. I can’t imagine what you could possibly want from me.”

Oh, so many things, Prickles, I think to myself but wisely choose not to voice. Slow and steady is going to be the way with this gorgeous and prickly man.

“It’s always good to have an extra pair of eyes.”

“I’m sure the ones you have will work just fine,” he says snippily.

“Be that as it may, I have a copy of Bruce Reyes’ missing person’s report. I thought you might want a copy,” I offer.

“Why would I want that?”

I almost chuckle but hold it in. “Because we’re kinda all in this together.”

He raises one brow. “Team Tris?”

“Something like that.” I smile. “But honestly, I think there’s something odd going on in Madame Viv’s shop.”

“So why come to me?” he asks carefully.

“Because she runs an occult shop like you. Because, thanks to Tristan and Dusty, we know already that there’s some kind of portal inside that shop, one that leads to the spirit world, apparently, and god knows where else. It’s all tied up in magic and you’re the only real-life witch I know who has honest-to-god superpowers.”

He scowls at me. “Firstly, the kind of shop she runs I’m absolutely certain is nothing like mine. Secondly, the spirit world and or portals leading to and from it is not my area, and third, they are not superpowers. It’s magic.”

“Isn’t it essentially the same thing?” I ask, just to rile him up. I’m beginning to love that flush that begins at his delectable neck and rises to his sharp cheekbones.

“One requires that I wear underpants over a unitard and a cape, while the other would have got me hanged only a century ago.”

“Come on, Prickles.” I lean forward on the desk, propping myself on my elbows as I give him a slow smile. “Help us out. Maybe you can figure out how he ended up haunting a bookshop when Danny and I are pretty certain he wasn’t killed there.”

He stares at me for several long seconds and then rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. “Fine, hand it over.”

I reach into the inside pocket of my wet coat and pull out a soggy, folded piece of paper.