Page 6 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

He shakes his head, his expression regretful. “I can’t. There’s still too much to do.”

“Sam,” I whisper, “what happened to Vivienne?”

“I’m not sure I even know where to start.” Sam swallows hard and shakes his head.

“It was magic, wasn’t it?” Sam stares at me. “She appeared to me,” I mutter. “After you left. Just for a moment. I saw her standing near the foot of my bed.”

He frowns. “I wonder why she showed herself to you?”

“I don’t know.” My stomach sours as the lie trips easily from my tongue. “It had been little more than a few moments, and I’m not even sure she was aware of me or her surroundings. But it was long enough for me to see what had been done to her. The markings on her skin, and her mouth…” I close my eyes at the wave of nausea that washes over me.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sam says a little sickly, “and believe me, I’ve seen a lot.”

“Are you sure you won’t come in?”

He shakes his head again. “Maddie’s waiting for me, and I still need to speak to Danny and Tristan. I expect they’ll head back as soon as the snow clears. But I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

His jaw tightens. “I need you to be careful.”

“What? Why?” I don’t quite succeed in keeping the hint of panic from my tone. “I don’t have any connection to her death.”

He draws in a breath. “Harrison, all I know right now is that someone extremely dangerous just took out Viv with some pretty heavy magical mojo. Until we figure out how and why they went after Viv, I want you safe. As you’re not only a witch but also someone who runs an occult shop like Viv did, I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“But I⁠—”

“Just promise me, Prickles.” He sighs. “Don’t fight me on this.”

I give a slow nod. “Okay.”

I watch him release the breath he’d been holding, obviously waiting for me to fight him on this, which I may have done any other time. But under the circumstances, being careful is the least I can do right now.

“I’d better go,” he murmurs.

“Sam.” I instinctively reach for him as he turns away, but when he looks at me, my hand drops back to my side. “You be careful too.”

His eyes search my face. Finally, he nods. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Then he’s gone. After slowly closing the door, I climb the stairs up to my small flat where the silence is almost deafening, but I can’t settle.

I’ve never felt so restless; my brain just keeps churning over and over last night’s events and I feel…lost. I’ve always been pretty self-sufficient, even with my dads. I’ve never needed cuddling or coddling, although my dads were happy to dispense both as much as I’d allow, but as I search deep inside myself, I find that, right now, all I want is Sam.

That thought alone is terrifying. I can’t start relying on someone else, especially now.

I aimlessly wander around the flat, picking things up and setting them down, adjusting the pillows on the sofa, turning one of the picture frames a fraction of an inch although it was perfectly aligned, checking the spotless shelves for non-existent dust. But nothing deters me from my turbulent thoughts.

A distraction, that’s what I need. Something to focus on. Pushing away the complicated feelings about my mother, I centre on the one thing I do know better than the others. Magic. I’m the person most suited to find out what magic was used on Vivienne, so that’s what I’ll do.

Damn it. I should’ve asked Sam for more details on how she was killed. It also would have been helpful if I’d got a better look at those symbols on her skin. They weren’t at all recognisable in the darkness of my room.

Maybe if I search through all my books, I’ll find something that can set me on the right path. I can at least help them try to figure out who did this.

I’ll keep the shop closed today and spend the time in the back room researching. If none of the books that I’ve brought with me help, I’ll head to the British Library’s highly curated section of ancient manuscripts and books of magic. I’ll need an appointment to see those collections, but I’ve been meaning to go anyway, just out of curiosity—well, ever since Elias Black’s book landed in my lap.

Before long, I’m planted at my work desk, a steaming mug of tea at my elbow, a book open in front of me and stacks of books surrounding it. My nagging headache slowly gets worse. While it’s undoubtedly from my sleep being constantly disturbed by nightmares featuring Cordelia Crawshanks and her demon-fuelled revenge tour of Victorian London, the appearance of Vivienne last night surely didn’t help matters.

Pushing the thought away, I rub the ache in my neck and continue to skim the dusty pages. They crackle as I turn them, my eyes scanning for any depictions of symbols that match those etched into Vivienne’s skin, but there’s nothing.