Page 44 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

I’m such a mess. He really would be better off without me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing my face.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He peels my hands from my face. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs. “I thought the nightmares had stopped.”

I shake my head.

“You haven’t mentioned them since I got back from Yorkshire.” He studies my no doubt blotchy face—I really don’t have the colouring to cry prettily. “Prickles, maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you need to talk to someone. Waking up the way you do, I’m beginning to think they’re more like night terrors than dreams.”

“They’re not dreams,” I murmur.

“What?”

“They’re memories.”

“Yours?”

I shake my head again. “Cordelia Crawshanks’.”

“What?” He frowns, confused.

I take a deep breath. “It started just after I arrived in London. In the beginning, I thought they were just strange dreams. I saw a young woman trapped in an asylum and abused terribly. Then her brother came for her, he saved her. At first, I didn’t even know who she was. But her story began to unravel, night after night. It’s like she’s been showing me what happened to her. I began to research what I witnessed to see if I could corroborate any of the details, prove it was real.”

“And it was?”

I nod. “That was when I first realised she was Cordelia Crawshanks. And her brother, the one who pulled her from that awful place⁠—”

“Cornelius?”

I nod again. “That’s why I already had the Crawshanks family tree when Tristan came to me for help just before the eclipse. Sam…” I swallow, my throat like sandpaper.

He reaches out and takes my hand, tangling his fingers with mine. “What is it?”

“When Cornelius brought her home from the asylum, the first thing she did was retrieve the book of magic she’d brought back with her from India as a child.”

“The Book of Lala Khal?” Sam says, and I stare at him. “Tristan told me about it, it’s mentioned in Cornelius’ journals. Him and his sisters used it when they were kids and accidentally opened the portal to the spirit world, the one that Bruce guards.”

“Opening the portal is not the only thing she used the book for,” I say quietly. “Sam, she used it to raise a demon.”

“A demon?”

“She set it loose in London, using it to kill.”

“Kill who? Innocent people?” Sam scowls.

“No, they were far from that. The ringleader was Dr Whyte, who was in charge of the asylum. He abused Cordelia horribly, but he wasn’t alone. He ran something he called the Demon Club. The members were very powerful members of Victorian society. Judges, bishops, lords—he allowed all the depraved elite access to the patients in his care.”

“To do what?”

Sam’s expression tells me he probably already has a good idea.

“Whatever they wanted. They could play out their sickest, most disgusting desires and fantasies. Dr Whyte hid the bodies, disposed of the evidence, and kept their secrets in return for money, power, and connections.”

“And Cordelia sent her demon after them?”

I nod again. “She cleaned house. She made every last one pay for what they did, and I saw it all in high def, front-row seat.”

“And you’re sure it was real?”