Page 27 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

A door slamming loudly behind me makes me jolt, and the image in front of me tatters and fades away, leaving me once more staring at the others standing around in the wreckage of Vivienne’s bookshop.

“What the hell?” I mutter, thankfully not loud enough for the others to hear.

I step further into the shop and feel a strange wave of familiarity. Not for the shop, for the building itself. It’s like I have a deeply ingrained memory of every inch of the place. Even though it looks very different from how it did originally, I know exactly where the foyer was, the parlour, Cornelius’ study. It’s like the very blueprint is stamped on my brain.

As I reach the middle of the room, I feel the floor ripple beneath my feet and a surge of nausea. My vision greys slightly and I sway, trying to get my balance, but it suddenly feels like the floor has tilted.

“Whoa, steady there,” Sam rumbles against my ear as his arms slip around me.

“Are you okay?” Tristan asks in concern.

“I’m okay, thank you.” I straighten up and push Sam’s arms away, even though all I want him to do is hold on tighter to keep the pieces of me from flying apart. “This place packs quite a punch.”

“It’s been that way since the eclipse,” Tristan mutters, looking around absently.

He may have only been able to sense it since then, but I suspect this place has always been this powerful. My gaze lands on the bloodstain in the middle of the floor, and I can’t tear my eyes away. My stomach lurches again. This time, though, it’s not due to the ambient magic in the room but because of the thought that this was the exact place my mother took her last breath.

I feel so sad. I may have had issues with her, I may not have completely understood why she gave me away, but she didn’t deserve this.

“Mr Hadley, the solicitor, said they’ve had someone in several times to clean it, but it just keeps coming back,” Tristan mutters, and when I turn to look at him, I see he’s also staring at the bloodstain, his eyes filled with sadness.

It takes my brain a moment to catch up and then I realise what he’s said. Mr Hadley? The man from the graveyard? How does Tristan know him, and when did they speak?

For a second, I’m worried what this Mr Hadley might have said. He knew my name when I hadn’t offered it, and it makes me wonder what else he knows about me.

“What else did the solicitor say?” I can’t help but ask.

Tristan turns to me, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “Why don’t we sit down? I’ll tell you what I should have said yesterday before we cracked open Viv’s gin and took a little detour that went full on Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

I sink onto the small, sagging sofa, and Sam takes a seat next to me. I don’t complain or shift away. In fact, I press closer into the warmth of his thigh to experience the comfort he doesn’t realise he gives me.

Danny and Chan take seats on the chairs beside the sofa, and Tristan proceeds to explain that he and Danny had met with Vivienne’s solicitor, the mysterious Mr Hadley, yesterday. He was from a firm that had been in business for over two hundred and fifty years and had represented the Crawshanks family for almost half that time.

A now familiar and uneasy feeling flutters in my chest. If they have been involved with my birth family for this long, it makes me wonder how many of the Crawshanks secrets they have been privy too, including the circumstances of my birth and adoption.

“—turns out that Viv did have a kid. She gave birth to a son when she was only seventeen and put him up for adoption. They’re trying to track him down now⁠—”

I tune back in time for my heart to start pounding and my palms to sweat. The solicitors, Mr Hadley included, know about me. Although, thankfully, they don’t seem to know my present identity.

Or do they?

Why was Mr Hadley in that graveyard with me? Why did he specifically point out Cordelia’s grave, tell me it was empty?

I have a sneaking suspicion this Mr Hadley knows more than he’s letting on.

I’m only half listening as Tristan continues to explain something about him being made interim custodian of the bookshop and something about a key Vivienne left him with instructions to find the cupboard it belongs or whatever.

I want to concentrate on the discussion, but my mind keeps wandering to something Tristan and Sam had both mentioned about the bookshop’s paranormal activity. According to them, this place was normally swarming with spirit activity on a daily basis, but there’s nothing now. Not a peep. It’s almost too quiet.

There’s something else at play here. Some other kind of magic, one that doesn’t have the same fingerprints as the magically spiked gin.

“Let’s divide and conquer,” Tristan announces just as I tune back in. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to. I’m still feeling the hangover from our magic carpet ride last night. I just want to crawl back into bed.”

“Prickles?” Sam draws my attention away from Tristan and Danny. “Are you okay?”

I push myself up from the sofa and Sam follows. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Sam studies me for a long moment, then leans in close. His voice is low, and I try not to shiver at the feel of his breath on my neck. “I think we both know that’s not true. But I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”