Page 64 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“This is my grandson, Harrison.”

“Welcome to the archives.” He nods. “My name is Anselm. I’m one of the custodians here. I have taken the liberty of setting out some volumes I think might be of use. If you’ll follow me. Mr Ames, I understand you’ve visited us before?”

“Once, a very long time ago,” Grumps answers.

Anselm nods again. “This way, please.”

This place is incredible. It’s like something you’d expect to see in The Lord of the Rings. Underground catacombs with vaulted stone ceilings high above us give the place a cavernous air, and the floor beneath my feet is ancient flagstone. Between them are thick columns of intricately carved stonework, the kind long since lost to time.

“What is this place?” I ask as we follow Anselm past rows and rows of dark wood bookcases reaching so high that they are each equipped with their own ladder. Manuscripts, scrolls, and ancient, heavy-looking, leatherbound tomes fill every single shelf to the limit.

“This was originally the underground catacombs of an abbey built back in AD 564,” Anselm explains. “After the original abbey was destroyed, these lay undiscovered for centuries, and as the average ground level rose as each generation added to the city, they sank deeper and deeper. When they were rediscovered by Elias Black in the mid-nineteenth century, he encouraged the building and spread of the cemetery above.”

“It’s the perfect cover,” I agree. “With no building projects allowed on or near such an old cemetery, there’s little fear of discovery.”

“Exactly,” Anselm says. “Each year, new discoveries are made in London. Every time they dig down for the foundations of a new build, they seem to hit Roman mosaics and all sorts of old relics. This was the perfect location for The Nox when it was founded. It was originally the headquarters, then it later became the archives. Of course, this place is protected—not just by the layout of the cemetery above, but by magic too.”

“Magic?” I repeat.

“Very much. The Nox has enemies of its own, who would love to get their hands on what is kept here.”

“So, is this Nox, or Night Guild, or whatever it’s called, an active guild? Like the Freemasons or the Illuminati?”

Anselm draws to a halt beside a long, highly polished table which has several lamps and a stack of very old-looking books on it.

“That is a story for another time, Master Ames.” He gestures towards a deeply cushioned chair pulled up to the table. “Please take a seat. As Mr Ames should be aware, we ask that you do not go in search of any documents or manuscripts yourself. We have a very strict system to avoid anything being mislaid. If you require any further help, my brothers and I will be at your service.”

“Your brothers?”

“Aldred and Audren. They are also both custodians,” he replies as Grumps and I seat ourselves on opposite sides of the stacks of books. “I have laid out several volumes pertaining to demons, demon magic, and blood magic as requested by Mr Ames. I can provide tea and refreshments if you require them, but we ask that you don’t have them near the manuscripts. There is a seating area a little further down.” He points to the other end of the cavernous room.

“Thank you, Anselm,” Grumps says, already pulling a thick black, leatherbound book towards him and carefully turning its crackling pages.

The quietly efficient man melts away, and I grab a book at random and begin to leaf through it.

“What did you say the name of that demon was?” Grumps asks.

“Ishaan,” I say quietly, not ready to share my paranoid fear that the demon is somehow in my head. Although if Sam is right, my ability to see what transpired in London a century and a half ago may not be due to the demon but some other supernatural entity entirely, and I’m not sure which is worse.

“Hmm. I say we divide and conquer. I’ll see if I can track down this particular demon while you look at demon traps. If we can figure out how the trap was constructed and how it works, we might be able to narrow down who created it and how to keep it from being opened.”

Yesterday, we all collectively decided that while Sam is back up north dropping off his client at that haunted hotel, Grumps and I should concentrate on the most immediate problem, which is how to stop someone from opening the demon trap.

“Sounds like a good idea. Right now, I’m operating on the assumption that one of the Crawshanks siblings created the trap. Although it wasn’t common knowledge, I’ve seen enough to know each of them were magically gifted, plus they were the only ones who knew about the demon. Anyone else who encountered Ishaan was either skinned, ripped apart, or one time…eaten.” I shudder.

Grumps nods, pursing his mouth in distaste, and leans back over his book.

I leaf through page after page until I finally come to a stop and stare at a depiction of a fully functional demon trap. The writing scrawled underneath the illustration reads:

Hester West. Mercy, Massachusetts. 1704.

“Grumps.” I tap the table to get his attention, then slide the book over to him, turning it around so he can see.

“Is this the trap you saw?” he asks.

“Yes. I recognise the layout and the symbols. This was the trap in the bookshop.”

I wait for a few minutes while he reads through the accompanying description.