Page 63 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“Not us,” Grumps replies. “Now stop asking so many questions. I don’t want anyone overhearing. And try to look like a tourist.”

We wind our way through the place, and it’s fascinating. I’ve never seen so many ornate and diverse graves and tombs. I’d love to spend hours thoroughly exploring the catacombs and crypts, but Grumps has other plans. It’s clear we’re not just meandering and that he has a definite destination in mind.

Eventually, when I’m just about to suggest we take a break so Grumps can rest, we come upon a small, square tomb sealed with a heavy-looking oak door and a wrought-iron gate over the top of that. The heavy branches of a nearby tree hang over its roof, partially sheltering it, and thick vines of ivy cover nearly half of its facade.

“It’s a bit small for an archive,” I note dryly. The whole tomb can’t be more than ten by ten feet.

Grumps looks around to make sure no one is watching before producing a pair of heavy, old-fashioned keys. I watch as he unlocks the metal gate and wooden door, then he ushers me inside, closing and relocking the gate and door behind us so we are standing in a small, dark space.

Before I can say anything, Grumps flicks a switch, which fills the small room with dim light. As my eyes adjust, I’m surprised to find that this isn’t a tomb at all.

Directly in front of us, taking up most of the cramped space, is a lift. A very old, Victorian-style elevator car. Grumps strolls forward, opens the ornate ironwork gate, and shoos me inside.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” I ask dubiously, gripping the strap of my leather satchel as he follows me in and shuts the door.

“Yes, quite safe. Just don’t stick your fingers through the gaps in the gate.”

“Grumps, I’m not five.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know, you haven’t made the best decisions lately.”

“Wow, I can feel the judgement from here.”

He laughs again when the elevator jerks alive, and I instinctively grab the sides, my eyes widening. The car starts to descend with an alarming amount of clunking and grinding.

“Is this archive at the centre of the earth?” I ask, noting how long the descent is taking.

“So impatient, Harry,” he tuts, but his eyes dance with amusement. “Just wait. You won’t be disappointed, I guarantee it.”

We finally reach the bottom with a doom-laden thump, and Grumps folds back the gate with a clatter. I step out of the elevator and only realise I’m gaping at the sight before me when Grumps uses the rounded pommel of his walking stick to gently push the bottom of my chin, forcing me to close my mouth.

“What the⁠—”

“Welcome to the library and archives of The Nox,” he introduces grandly. “It is, of course, a secret, so don’t tell anyone without express permission from Eli.”

“The Nox?”

“Also known as The Night Guild, established in 1868 by Elias Black.”

“Elias Black?” My gaze snaps to his. “I have a book of his. The Path of the Witch.”

“Do you?” Grumps’ lips twitch with a knowing smile.

“That was you?”

He winks. “Have you read it yet?”

“Cover to cover, several times,” I reply. “You slipped that in with all my other books before I moved?” He nods. “I used one of his spells and had one of the most vivid, surreal experiences. Ended up meeting the Goddess Diana and her lover, the God Herne.”

“Really?” His bushy brows rise almost to his hairline. “You’ll have to tell me all about that when we have more time.”

“Why did you give me that book in particular?”

“I’d have thought that would be obvious by now,” Grumps says. “Elias was the real deal, just like you. Your abilities are way beyond anything I’ve ever seen, and you’re only just tapping into them. You moved past anything I can teach you about magic quite some time ago.”

I look around again, and this time I spot a small man with curly grey hair approaching. He’s dressed in brown trousers and a thick cable-knit cardigan buttoned over a shirt and tie.

“Mr Ames,” he greets Grumps, shaking his hand. “I was told to expect you.” He turns in my direction.