Page 72 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

I answer his unspoken question without a trace of self-consciousness. “I use this room for my own personal rituals and spellcraft as well as a working space for the shop.”

“Fascinating,” he murmurs. “So I saw you moved all the cursed objects from the display cabinet in the shop.”

I nod and hand him a mug that says Something wicked this way comes… which for some reason seems apt. Mine says Do no harm.

“I’ve actually had another two items sent to me since then, but I haven’t had time to study them. I truly don’t know what possesses people to create things so cruel and harmful.”

“It’s the nature of some.” Sam takes a sip of his coffee, and his hum of approval warms my belly. “Some people bring light and love, and some…only pain and destruction.”

He lifts his hand to his face, his fingertips lightly tracing the scar running down his cheekbone. I don’t even think he’s aware that he’s doing it. I want to know what happened, I want to know everything there is to know about him. I’ve never met someone who interests me as much as Sam, but I won’t ask him. I wouldn’t want anyone prying into my secrets, and I’m certainly not going to do the same to him.

“What’s in the parcel, then?” I ask, changing the subject. “Or am I supposed to guess?”

Sam grins and hands it to me. “For you.”

Curious as to what he could’ve brought me, I open the bag and straightaway realise it’s a book. An old one, from the looks of it. I reach in and carefully withdraw it from the bag, and when I turn it over in my hands to look at the front cover, I gasp in surprised pleasure.

Crawshanks Guide to the Recently Departed, by Cornelius Crawshanks.

I’m holding in my hands the thoughts and words of one of my ancestors. Not that Sam knows the significance, but still. Having seen Cornelius so often in my dreams of late, now I can actually read his own words.

“Is this Tristan’s copy?” I ask, remembering that he had a copy of this book, but Sam shakes his head. “How did you get it?”

“There was a very limited print run on this book back in the late eighteen hundreds. Only fifty copies and strangely enough, they never were sold. The entire print run sat in a back room of Madame Viv’s bookshop in Whitechapel. Tristan has one copy, and when I went by there yesterday to pick her up, I asked for a copy for you.”

“You went to pick her up?” I ask without thinking. “Why?”

“You know the presence Tristan has nicknamed Chaos, the one that was terrifying his dad?”

I nod. “I put wards and charms in Martin’s room to protect him.”

“Well, it was going after Viv too. Not surprising, really, if this entity is trying to come through the portal that’s located in her shop.”

“Is she okay?” I frown. I may have plenty of issues with her, but at the end of the day, she’s my mother. I don’t want any harm to come to her, regardless of how I feel about her giving me up.

“She is now.” He sighs. “We’re all feeling a little guilty that none of us thought to check in on her. Tris found her sleeping in a tiny little stockroom behind the cash desk in her shop—it’s really little more than a cupboard—because she was too scared to sleep upstairs.”

“Where is she now?”

“Staying with Tristan and Danny at their new flat.”

“They have a new flat?” I blink. “Already?”

“The ceiling fell in at their old place. It’s been leaking for a long time, but the landlord kept putting them off when they asked for it to be repaired. With this storm and the relentless rain, it finally just gave way.”

“Are they okay?” I bite my lip worriedly. I may not have known them for very long, but I’m finding that I’m actually quite fond of them.

“They’re fine. Lost a few of their possessions, nothing that can’t be replaced. Their new digs are actually in Whitechapel, not far from Viv’s shop.”

My thoughts return to my mother, who was too scared to stay in her own home. Is this what she gave me up for? Was this what she was trying to save me from? A building that holds far too many dark secrets that we’re both tied to by blood?

A sharp pain stabs through my skull and my vision wavers. I sway slightly and Sam catches me with one arm, setting his cup down on a nearby bench with the other.

“Whoa there, Prickles.” He wraps his arms around me and I sag into his hold.

Even though his coat and hair are damp, he smells so good. I can’t help but inhale slowly, drinking in the scent of him. There’s something about him, something I can’t explain. Where he stands is a blank space. I can’t get a read on him at all, not so much as a stray hint of an emotion, unlike when I’m around other people. It should scare me not being able to gauge his intentions or motives, but it doesn’t. It feels…soothing, like a balm to my soul.

I’ve never felt such contentment. I almost wish I could exist in this one moment of time, so I can rest from the world.