Page 55 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“I’d also like to know how a London solicitor knows a man who claims to have been born in the Hell dimensions, and how that same solicitor has magical warding protecting his office.” I glance over my shoulder towards the closed door. “And a dragon guarding the gate.”

His lips twitch. “Not quite a dragon, but Mrs Middleton is somewhat of an acquired taste, I’ll grant you. I can’t imagine she was overly gracious when you arrived unannounced. She doesn’t like to be inconvenienced, but she has certain talents that make it prudent for Mr Mason and I to overlook her socially intolerant nature. If it helps, it’s nothing personal. She doesn’t like humans in general.”

I don’t miss the way he says humans, not people.

My eyes narrow. “You’re not just an ordinary solicitor’s office, are you?”

“No, we’re not. Hadley and Mason has existed in some form or another since 1605, the time of the succession of King James to the English throne and the reformation of The Witchcraft Act of 1563.”

I open my mouth to say something when the door behind us opens. Looking over my shoulder, I see Mrs Middleton bring in a tea tray, which she sets down on the desk before nodding to Mr Hadley and then exiting the room without acknowledging me at all.

Mr Hadley hands me a fluffy white hand towel she had balanced on the edge of the tray, then proceeds to pour from a delicate Wedgewood china set.

“Milk?” He picks up a little jug as I unfold the towel and attempt to dry my face and hair.

My eyes narrow slightly. “Should I be worried that Mrs Middleton may have put cyanide in it?”

Mr Hadley chuckles. “I can assure you, Mr Stone, you are quite safe.”

“Milk, please. No sugar.”

He nods and sets a teacup in front of me. “Now, where were we?” He takes a thoughtful sip of his own tea.

“King James.” I set the towel on my lap and pick up my cup, relishing the warmth against my fingers.

“Ah, yes, of course. Well, by all accounts he was quite unhinged when it came to witches.”

“I’ve read his book, Daemonologie,” I admit. “Unhinged is putting it lightly.”

“Mine and Mr Mason’s forebearers, William Hadley and Henry Mason, were high-ranking members of the king’s court. They did not succumb to the witch fever, and it didn’t take them long to realise that someone would have to step in and protect the innocents. They could not do so openly for fear of retribution from the crown, so they founded an underground society to help those accused.”

I frown. “I’m not really sure I know what this has to do with a hundred-and-fifty-year-old demon trap in a bookshop.”

“We’ll get to that particular subject in due course.”

I wait for him to continue as I lift my own cup to my lips.

“William’s and Henry’s descendants continued to do what they could to protect those of magical abilities, having by this point discovered that magic is very much real, as I’m sure you are already aware.”

His direct gaze bores into me, and I shift uncomfortably. He may be happy to spill his guts, but I have no idea if he knows anything about Harrison, so I keep quiet and just listen, wondering where he’s going with all this.

“By the mid-eighteenth century, Victor Hadley and Thaddeus Mason, the heads of the society at the time, changed course slightly. They founded what is now known as Hadley and Mason, bringing the underground society of their grandfathers into the light and transforming it into a legitimate business that could operate in modern society. They dealt in property brokerage, legal representation, and other things, none of which I’m inclined to speak of right now. In short, Hadley and Mason was founded and continues to exist to make sure that people of magical or supernatural descent were and are protected. We deal in legacies, Mr Stone. We represent some of the oldest and most powerful families in London, and I’m not talking about money or political connections.”

“You mean supernaturally powerful bloodlines.”

He inclines his head.

“Like the Crawshanks.”

“They are one of them, yes.”

“How many can there be?”

“I’m afraid that is privileged information, Mr Stone.”

“I still don’t get why you’re telling me all this.”

“Because we’d like to requisition your services.”