The girl shook off her mom's grip. "They have dollies."
Her eyes were riveted on the rainbow doll.
"And I like this one."
Chapter Three
Her mom glanced at the doll and grimaced. "Rainbow Brite? I haven't seen one of those in ages. This one has to be from the mid-eighties. Did it come in that box?"
"Oh," I said, faking a giggle. "That's just someone's idea of a joke."
"I like it," the little girl repeated in a sing-song voice. "It's meant to be mine."
That phrase made alarm bells ring in my head. I'd heard it many times before.
Luckily, the mom was not affected. She regarded the doll with ill-concealed distaste. "It's older than you are, Ginny. C'mon, we can order something online when we get home."
"But this one is mine," the little girl wailed.
"It's old and probably quite expensive," Mom said.
"I have my birthday money," the little girl whined.
I hid a smile. The items in my shop were expensive, but not in the economic sense. Money had no meaning here.
And Mom was right to keep her daughter away from this doll.
"You asked Santa for an American Girl," the mom replied. "I'm sure he'll bring it."
The little girl looked torn.
"That sounds like a better idea," I said, stuffing the doll back in the cage.
"C'mon," the mom said, opening the door and letting in a blast of cold air. "If we don't get to the ghost tour, they'll leave without us."
With a last mournful glance at the cage, the little girl reluctantly followed her mother out of the shop.
I grabbed the cage and placed it behind the counter. The doll could stay there until I found a permanent place for it.
Bubo leaped onto the vacated spot and started licking his fur.
"Is that its new home?" he asked. "It doesn't seem fireproof enough."
"Why do you care?" I asked, reaching for my drink. "You're an immortal plague daemon."
But I shared his sense of unease. We'd received weird items before, but somehow this felt different.
"One that's stuck in a cat body," he noted. "You try licking ashes out of your fur. I still have flashbacks about trying to clean myself after the Great London Fire of sixteen sixty-six."
Ah, yes, the conflagration that had finally stopped London's worst plague outbreak. The Magical Curiosity Shoppe had been a tiny storefront in Southmark on that night. I remember watching London Bridge burn throughout the night, the acrid smell of smoke and loss clinging to the air.
Then a piebald cat arrived at the shop, tail singed and whiskers burnt off. Once the plague daemon entered the shop, the store disappeared and the Great London Fire was left behind.
The plague had not reappeared, and it wouldn't, not as long as Bubo was locked up in the shop.
With me.
I reached out and stroked the daemon's fur. "Well, I'm not plague-stricken and I've been living in the shop with you for centuries. So I don't think little miss Rainbow Brite is going to burn us down."
"Famous last words," Bubo muttered, his lithe body shivering under my hand.
Why, the poor thing, er, daemon, was really scared. How strange.
And how unnecessary. If there was a way to destroy this store and its contents, I would have done it a long time ago.
"Oh, c'mon," I said, finishing the drink. "Would it make you feel better if I put a fire protection spell around it?"
I could do a quick amulet. It wouldn't do any harm and it may make Bubo feel better.
"Why would I want to protect the doll?" Bubo asked with a snarl. "If you're going to make an amulet, make it for me."
Ah, the cat's majestic self-centeredness had been a haven of stability for me for centuries. Today was no exception.
"I'll do it for the whole store,” I said. “How about that?"
Bubo made a face. "As if I care about the rest of you."
That made me laugh. "I'll try not to take that personally."
I would need materials. Lead would be good for a fire protection charm. I scanned the store, looking for something useful. Yaavik the teddy bear had a lead inscription...
But Yaavik had disappeared. The Victorian dolls had followed his lead and retreated into the shadows. Even the unicorn skeleton was surreptitiously sneaking behind the damask curtain.
"You're bone, you idiot," I muttered. “Combustible materials can’t protect from fire."
No lead, then. Fine, I could improvise.
I opened a drawer. If I remembered correctly, we should have some iron nails from Roman times in here somewhere…
They were gone. Gee, who knew metal could be so sneaky?
"Don't look at me," Bubo said. "I don't play with murderous metal items. I like feathers and catnip."
"I could go to the botánica," I mused, throwing my empty cup into the trashcan, "and get some supplies."
Two outings in one day? That would be an unprecedented luxury.
But I'd be gathering materials for a protection spell for the shop. Surely that merited a little leeway.
Bubo's eyes narrowed. "You're dying to get out, aren't you?"
"Hey, I'm doing this for you," I replied, already heading for the antique cash register. "You're the one who wants protection."
I pushed a couple of metal buttons at random, then pulled the lever. The drawer opened with a clang and I grabbed a bunch of dollar bills.
I didn't bother to count them. It would be the right amount.
It always was.
"I'll eat all your cookies while you're gone," Bubo warned, as I walked to the door, stuffing the dollar bills in my pocket.
"Do it, and I'll make an ash-attractant amulet instead." I turned the closed sign over. "You'll be licking cinders off your fur for decades.”
He glared at me as I exited the shop, locking the door behind me.
But I didn't care. He was right. I was desperate to escape. Even the freezing weather couldn't stop me.
I headed back to Main Street, burying my nose in my cozy scarf to stave off the wind. The botánica was two blocks away and I had to pass the perennially tempting bakery to get there. I walked by quickly, not looking at the specials. Surely Bubo wouldn't eat all the cookies.
I finally reached the botánica, a sprawling store with a large sign proclaiming that the place sold books, potions, and spell casting materials, but "exorcisms were extra." The large glass window was covered with posters advertising services and town events, including the PRoVE ghost tours and the upcoming Lughnasadh happy hour. The town businesses all seemed to advertise on the botánica's window because they knew the manager, Kat Ramos, would not mind. Poltergeist Pizza had its menu up and the Banshee Creek Bakery had a flyer advertising its new holiday smoothie. PRoVE had tons of ads for its events, and there was even an advertisement for the Magical Curiosity Shoppe—
Wait, what?
I stared at the window in shock. I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing, but there it was, in black and sparkly purple ink: Magical Curiosity Shoppe Now Open! Visit Us And Find That Precious Item You Didn't Know You Needed.
Why was there an ad for my shop here? My shop didn't advertise. In fact, it possessed a reality-warping field that kept the curious and uninvited away. The shop's magic wouldn't allow me—or anyone else—to advertise.
So this colorful little flyer shouldn't exist.
I entered the botánica, muttering the Greek word for silence under my breath. That spell ensured that the warning bell Kat used to announce customers would not reveal my presence.
Kat was standing by the bookshelves, chatting with a customer. While she was distracted, I surreptitiously snuck up to the window and grabbed the advertisement, crumbling it up and stuffing it in my pocket.
"Dora," Kat exclaimed behind me. "What are you doing here?"
"Just dropping by," I turned to face her, "and picking up some things."
I froze as I caught sight of her companion.
"G
ood to see you again," Thomas Lane said with a knowing smile. "Unexpected shopping trip?"
"Something like that," I muttered.
"I'll leave you to take care of our new neighbor, Kat," he said. “Please let me know when my package comes in."
"Don't hold your breath," Kat cautioned. "South American orders take forever."
"I understand," he replied, walking toward the door. “I’m used to it.”
I stepped back to get out of his way. He noticed the gesture and his lips curved into an expression that was almost, but now quite, a smirk.
"The fire charms are in the back," he whispered as he passed next to me.
"Gee, thanks," I replied.
But he was gone.
He'd just delivered a pyrokinetic doll to my store. The fire charms comment wasn’t just a guess. Thomas knew exactly what was going on.
"Nice, eh?" Kat asked with a wink.
"What?" I replied.
She laughed. "I mean Thomas. He's good looking in that 'hate to see him go, but love to watch him leave’ way."
"Oh, sure," I replied, not knowing what exactly she was talking about.
Kat threw her hands up. "His butt. He has a nice butt."
"Oh, that."
"But enough about the local attractions," she continued. "What can I help you with?" She glanced down. "Was there something wrong with your ad?"
I followed her gaze to a crumbled piece of paper, lying on the floor between us.
How did the flyer fall out of my pocket?
"I didn't intend to start spreading the word," I replied, bending down to pick up the paper. "I'm not ready for an onslaught of customers just yet." I stared at the paper, which was suspiciously unwrinkled once I smoothed it out. "How did this get here, by the way?"
Kat frowned. “I thought you put it up.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It just kind of appeared one day."
"I bet," I muttered, glaring at the paper. "Well, let me know if another appears."
There would be another one, for sure.
"Appears?" Kate asked, looking confused.
"If my, uh, secret benefactor," I said, "decides to put up another one."
Her face cleared. "Sure, I'll keep you posted."
I nodded, knowing perfectly well there was no such benefactor. The shop, it seemed, was being naughty. It wanted to attract customers and was experimenting with new marketing techniques. Lucky me.
I had to figure out a way to deal with that, but first I had to handle the doll.
"In the meantime,” I continued. “I'll just get some supplies for a fire protection amulet I'm working on."
"Sounds great," Kat said. "Those are in the—"
"In the back," I replied quickly. "I know.”
I passed the bookshelves full of tomes about Voudoun, pre-Christian mythological treatises, and lighter items like the cartoon pamphlet titled 1001 Halloween Jokes for Kids. The store wasn’t big, so I quickly reached the back, where Kat kept her magical materials.
An apothecary chest had little drawers full of stones and crystals, bags of dried herbs hung from an old metal rack, and bundles of twigs hung from the ceiling. I walked around an umbrella stand full of tree branches ready to be turned into wands and staffs, and peered at the burnished wooden chest. I pulled open a drawer labeled "garnet" and took out a smooth, pear-shaped stone with a pre-drilled hole. I found lead fishing weights in another drawer and a leather cord in a third one.
A little pinch of cinnamon and I was done.
I handed Kat the money and she put my purchase in a reusable yellow bag with the botánica's logo and the motto "Exorcisms Are Extra" in gothic font.
"There you go," she said. "Good luck." She glanced down at my bag. "And be careful."
"Careful?" I asked. "Why?"
Her lips turned up into a mischievous smile. "Fire can be a metaphor."
“A metaphor for what?"
She stared at me like I was missing the obvious. "You know, for other things?"
I still didn't understand.
She shook her head in exasperation. "Never mind. Happy spell crafting. I hope to see you at the happy hour tonight."
"Thanks," I replied, heading out the door. "It sounds like fun."
That was a pretty noncommittal response. Stepping out of the store for a coffee break or spell material was one thing, going to a happy hour was quite another. My curse was allergic to fun.
But Kat's comment about the fire still bothered me. Maybe she meant a metaphor for cooking? Or...
I couldn't think of anything.
I returned to my shop, unlocked the door, and turned the sign on the door to “Open.”
Bubo was sitting on the counter, next to an untouched bag of cookies, an annoyed look on his face.
"You didn't eat them?" I asked, placing my botánica bag next to him. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
"It's white chocolate," he replied, curling his lip. "Plus I've been busy."
I frowned. "Busy with what?"
He glanced behind the counter. I walked around the store warily and peered down.
The doll's cage was still there, just where I left it.
But the door was open.
And the doll was gone.
Chapter Four
"Don’t look at me," Bubo said quickly. "There wasn't much I could do."
"Did you even try?" I asked, slamming the cage door closed.
The clanging sound reverberated through the shop ominously.
"When the inventory wants to leave," he replied, “it just leaves. Anyway, she petted me. You know how I get when someone pets me.”
"Let me get this straight," I said, staring into his glowing yellow eyes. "You let a little girl come into the store and leave with a homicidal artifact, just because she stroked your fur?"
Bubo bristled. “You don't have to sound so judgmental. She was very good at it and clearly had lots of cat petting experience."
"The store was locked. How did she get in?"
Bubo yawned, exposing razor-sharp fangs. “It unlocks itself. You know that."
Yes, I did. When an item wanted to leave, it would find a way.
And the consequences were often horrifying.
"But where was her mom?" I asked helplessly.
"Nowhere to be found," Bubo replied. "She brought her kid up right, though. Look, the girl left her piggy bank as payment."
That explained the porcelain pig with the legend "Compliments From Virginia Union Bank. A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned" that was on the counter. The sight of it tore at my heart.
"Don't worry about it, toots," Bubo said. "There's nothing you can do."
He was probably right, but I grabbed the doll's paperwork anyway and started to read. Maybe there was something there that could help.
The memo wasn't reassuring, even on a second reading. The first owner of the doll had been a nine-year-old girl from California named Jenny Luna. Her mom had bought her the doll as a present. There was nothing suspicious about the purchase. The doll came from a large toy store chain and was bought with cash, which was normal for the time. There was nothing noteworthy about it other than it was a highly coveted early release of the toy.
And that a few days after, the little girl perished in a fire.
Unlike the other deaths, however, it wasn't a house fire. The girl had died in California in a freak tunnel accident where an oil tanker hit a crashed vehicle, causing an explosion during rush hour. The cars piled up behind the inferno and the passengers were unable to escape in time.
That did not sound like something the doll had caused. Although the fact that the doll had survived the explosion seemed suspicious.
I leafed through the memo until I found the appendixes at the back. One contained photographs, including a school picture of a smiling gap-toothed Jenny Luna wearing a Rainbow Brite shirt.
That girl had really loved Rainbow Brite, loved it so much that she made her mom stand in line for hours to get an early release of the do
ll.
Loved it so much she'd carried it everywhere.
Loved it so much, she'd died with it.
"It's haunted," I said. "The doll is possessed by a little girl."
Bubo sighed. "Who cares? It's gone and you can't get it back."
"Maybe." I put the papers back. "Maybe not. They said they were going to the ghost tour, right?"
"Yes, they did," he answered, licking his back. "Ironic, considering that the little girl is carrying the specter with her. PRoVE will be pioneering the bring-you-own-ghost tour.” He paused in mid-lick as I grabbed the piggy bank. "Wait, you're not going after them, are you?"
I glanced at the piggy bank. It was probably useless...Then I caught sight of the botánica’s bag.
"Yes," I replied, emptying the bag. "I'm going after them.”
It took a few seconds to thread the leather through the stones and complete the charm. I would have to activate it magically, but that would have to wait until I figured out how I wanted to use it.
"There's nothing you can do," Bubo said, as I tied the knots and put the charm in my pocket.
I paused. He was right.
But, somehow, I couldn't just stay in the store as I’d done before. Someone would drop by the shop and pick up a horribly dangerous item and I would just wave them off and wait for the shop to teleport to its next destination. No muss, no fuss.
But it was different now. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but I couldn't just stand and watch any more, curse or no curse.
"I can try," I said, grabbing the piggy bank and heading for the door.
"And you can fail," Bubo replied.
“Thanks, I really appreciate the support,” I said, turning the knob.
Or, rather, trying to turn it. The contraption refused to move.
"I'm not being a party-pooper," Bubo said, flopping onto his back so he could lick his belly. "It's just a statement of fact.”
"We'll see."
I stood back and stared at the knob.
"Open," I said in Greek.
The knob slowly gyrated and the door opened.
"That’s more like it," I said, exiting the shop with the piggy bank in my hand.
The sun was setting and the alley was crowded with shadows. Main Street still had some light, so I was able to make out different groups of people milling about. A gaggle of teens was lined up for a last cupcake before the bakery closed for the night, and a scattering of couples were waiting for a table at the pizzeria. Happy hour was about to start.
Spells and Jinglebells Page 13