Page 45 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“I’ve seen the newspaper archives, Sam. It’s all there. The London Terror Spree of 1850. Last night was the final instalment of her revenge tour. She had her demon kill Dr Whyte by flaying him alive.” I swallow convulsively. “He looked like a peeled tomato.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah,” I reply, my stomach rolling uncomfortably. “She also set the inmates loose. In the dream, they killed most of the staff and burned the asylum to the ground.”

For several long moments, he just sits and watches me, probably processing everything I’ve told him. I know he believes me, no matter how insane it sounds.

“What I don’t understand,” he finally says, “is why you saw it all. You have no connection to the Crawshanks family other than via Tristan, whose only tie is his friendship with Viv. But even that wouldn’t explain this. You said the nightmares began when you first arrived in London?”

I swallow hard.

“You hadn’t even met Tristan then.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Maybe it’s because you’re a witch,” Sam muses. “Maybe it’s just that you were powerful enough to pick up on a certain frequency, one that allows her to show you her memories. But wouldn’t that suggest she’s still around? Her spirit, maybe?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

This would be the perfect time to tell him about my connection to the Crawshanks family, but I’m still too raw.

Just tell him. Tell him. Tell him. It’s a drum beating a tattoo in my head.

“Sam, I⁠—”

His phone pings in the pocket of his trousers, and he pulls it out, frowning as he scrolls down the screen.

“What is it?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.” He slips his phone back into his pocket.

“No, what is it?”

“Just Danny. He’s got a person of interest he wants me to help him chase down.”

“You should go.”

He shakes his head. “I think I should stay here with you.”

“Sam, I’m always a bit unsettled after one of these encounters with Cordelia’s messed-up psyche. I know how to handle it. I need a hot shower, something to eat, and time to settle. You should go help Danny, seriously.”

He looks torn.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve been handling these dreams for months. I’m not as bad as I was in the beginning. At least I’m not throwing up as soon as I wake up anymore. That’s progress.”

“I don’t know, Prickles.”

“I’m good. Go, Danny needs you.”

He sighs and leans in, grazing a feather-light kiss to my jaw. “Okay, but I’ll be back later, and then we still need to talk about last night.”

I search his face and then nod. “Okay,” I agree.

When I finally plug my phone in to charge after Sam leaves, I find a message from my grandfather from the night before, telling me he has arrived in London and settled at a hotel, and asking where to meet up. I take a deep breath and send a response, mentally preparing myself for his questions, then hurry to get myself together and out the door.

When I finally enter the small café I suggested, I see him at a table tucked into the corner, sipping a cup of tea and reading the paper.

As I wind through the crowd towards him, he looks up and folds his paper, setting it on the table and gruffly huffing, “Took your time.”