Page 66 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“Uh…” Tristan glances at Dusty, who mouths a name to him, but I don’t catch what it is. Whoever is responsible for these items appearing, Tristan and Dusty seem to have figured it out. “Um, I think you have an admirer.”

“I told you I had a stalker.” Chan fists her hands on her hips, looking absolutely mutinous.

“Don’t quote me on it or anything, but I don’t think it’s meant in a kind of stalkerish I have a shrine of you way and I’m going to chop you up and keep you in my freezer kind of way.”

“What kind of way is it, then?” Chan says dryly.

He winces. “I think it’s more of an I like you and I have zero social skills kind of way.”

“Tris, that’s not really much better,” she replies in confusion.

This whole situation is so utterly bizarre and yet I have to admit I’m really starting to enjoy Tristan, Dusty, and Chan’s company. It’s certainly never dull.

“Um, I think they’re meant to be…like…uh...I don’t know…love gifts?” Tristan says.

“Love gifts?” she repeats. “A death shroud from a second-century Tibetan corpse is a love gift?”

He shrugs and her eyes narrow. “Do you know who it is?”

“You don’t like my gifts?” says a deep voice behind us.

I jolt and take an involuntary step back as Death appears from thin air and is standing calmly next to the TV across the room.

“YOU!” Chan’s eyes flash. “You’re the one who’s been leaving all this stuff?”

“They’re gifts,” he replies, as if he doesn’t understand what the problem is. “Is it not how you mortals demonstrate your regard?”

“Not with grand larceny, no,” Chan answers in complete disbelief. “You could’ve just got me a box of Maltesers and a Pandora gift card.”

Death’s eyes flick to the painting. “I always liked this painting, even if Guido was an insufferable bore.”

She stares at him. “You knew the artist of this three-hundred-year-old painting?”

“I’m far older than that,” he answers easily.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Chan waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “You’ve spent forever, like, collecting people’s souls or whatever.”

“I reap souls, I don’t collect them,” he corrects without a hint of offence. “But that’s not all I do. I’ve always enjoyed watching mortal history unfold.” He crosses the room until he stands in front of Chan, leaning in but not crowding her space. “I’ve seen things you couldn’t possibly imagine. I witnessed the destruction of Pompeii, saw the great fire reduce London to ash. I stood within the walls of Constantinople at the fall of the Byzantine Empire…actually, that was a very busy day for me.”

“I’m sensing a theme here.” Chan stares up into his eyes and taps her foot impatiently. “One that still doesn’t explain why all this old stuff is currently in my living room.”

“Because you are the first to interest me in eons,” he says, frowning. “I wanted to gift you items that were worthy of you. They are priceless beyond human comprehension and filled with ancient magic.”

“Oh,” Chan replies in surprise, her features softening slightly as she studies him, her perfectly painted lips pursing in consideration. “You do know I’m a boy in a dress?”

“Classic To Wong Foo,” Dusty whispers beside Tristan.

“What’s a Wong Foo?” Death turns to Dusty with a frown and I must admit I’m completely at a loss too.

Dusty opens her mouth, but Tristan shoots her a look. “No,” he mouths.

Chan snaps her fingers to draw Death’s attention back to her. “Death, focus please.” She watches him speculatively when he complies. “What do you want from me?” she asks curiously.

“I would have thought that obvious. I want to engage in a mutually enjoyable outing where we can interact in a pleasant manner.”

She blinks slowly three times. “You…want to take me on…a date?”

“Is that not a mortal custom?” he replies, bewildered.