The Cursed Gift: Cursed Bookstore Mysteries, #1

By Chera Carmichael

Cozy bookstore? Check! Grumpy Bonded? Check! Crazy curse? Oops!

 

Adri, Jilton and Marlin just want to lay low and enjoy the hard-won result of hiding in plain sight. For years, they've run a cozy little bookstore in the upper levels of the Averie in Nevarah. But a mysterious curse might force them out of hiding right back into the life they've tried to leave behind.

 

Can they handle things quietly? Or will unraveling this curse, undo them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chera Carmichael
• Release date: Sep 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223769286

Chera Carmichael

Chera Carmichael (aka Scioneeris) to her TBDH fans is a Writer by night and a 9-to-5 worker by day. Her dragel stories feature slow-burn Poly romances featuring dragons, soulmates, elemental powers and otherwordly adventures.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Uncanny Sense Of Doom - Jilton

Dappled sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, scattering warmth and brightness everywhere it could reach through the heavy leafy branch that shielded that side of the upstairs apartment.

As the only spot of light between the cramped, open-facing kitchen cupboards, it lit up the sunstone-burner stovetop, a deep, two-compartment tiled sink and faded wallpaper behind every bit of wall that visible around the worn wooden table and charmed appliances. A solid white-checked door leading into the pantry and matching curtains around the sliding door that led out to the rear balcony.

To Jilton, it was a fairly bright and open sort of space that coaxed to life bits of cozy living dreams and adorable images of contented families happily tripping over each other and enjoying the closeness of their intertwined lives.

And had absolutely nothing to do with the worn, checked apron he wore over equally worn sleep shorts. His tangled hair was curling at the ends, thanks to the growing warmth at the stove, where the toast he'd crammed into a pan in the oven, left him wishing for a fresh, ice-cold glass of spiked fruit juice.

His fangs ached dully at the thought of either taking a bite out of his grumbling Alpha—somewhere in the cramped apartment—or his whiny Submissive—also somewhere in their ridiculous apartment—as both of them had made themselves scarce once, the moment the topic of breakfast had resulted in whose turn it was to actually make it.

He sighed and dutifully checked on the browning toast slotted into the slightly dented pan in the compact oven beneath the stove.

The savory scent of buttered, herbed toast and the slight whiff of fresh air slithering through the window open just a hand's breadth, was the main source of movement and delight in such a small space, especially since neither of his delightful Bonded could complain about a breakfast menu when they weren't contributing to his efforts.

Jilton cracked the ninth egg into the small, copper-tinted frying pan precariously balanced on the fresh sunstone stove top and swirled it together into a satisfying scramble with a very well-timed charm that directed a wisp of shadow to expertly take over.

He shuffled back a step, arms crossed over his chest and watched the cooking charms gradually take over as his magic poured into them.

If he hadn't crammed his tired brain with two weeks’ worth of cookbook reading all those years ago, when they were wide-eyed, innocent and absolutely clueless about the reality of what a Bonded Circle really was—they would've starved by now.

Well, they would've starved before they figured out how to actually make a living in a cursed bookstore, but—it was what it was.

Bells chimed and whistled from underfoot, drawing a frown of confusion.

The bookstore wasn't due to open for at least another hour—and there were plenty of signs for where to drop off packages, pick up requested orders and any other possible situation that could arise before either of them got food in their stomachs.

Jilton waited as the musical chimes faded out and a second instance didn't occur.

Good.

He wanted a nice, calm breakfast and plenty of time to eat half of his own plate before his Bonded realized they could come and annoy him.

A minute might've ticked by.

The chimes sounded out again, this time followed by a definite ping in the protective wards around the entire property.

Huh.

The irritating sensation washed over him with a decided jab of unfriendliness.

Shadows simmering underfoot went from soft and undulating to sharp and jagged in a way that left angry spikes in every instance of shadow in the kitchen. Jilton tugged on the ends of his hair, eyeing the pan of still cooking eggs and the open kitchen window.

Surely one of his Bonded could drag themselves to the front door without him having to leave their breakfast midway-!

The third time of the doorbell's insistent ringing left him lurching away from the stove and not-quite-stomping the dozen steps through the kitchen-dining-room-and-living-room to find Marlin or Adri.

But the moment he stepped out of the kitchen and its' wards, he could hear the familiar sounds of grumbling, growling and arguing.

Right.

They'd all been on edge lately and he had nothing to explain the irritation away. Maybe they'd just spent too much time tripping over each other while being stretched thin with the demands of the bookstore and their own secret lives.

A loud groan slipped out.

Can one of you check on that? he called down the hallway, having zero intention of actually following the sounds of their voices and mediating whatever petty squabble they'd gotten into this time around.

He'd done that at least fifty-dozen times in the past week, it seemed. Though his own refusal only made him grit his fangs again.

But the answer from his Bonded wasn't any more helpful than expected. His claim marks sparked at him, identical feedback from both of them on exactly how busy they were and if he could just take care of it himself.

Another groan built in his throat.

He whirled away from the front room, cast out another shadow to stay in the kitchen and watch the whole breakfast operation, while he made his way to the door that connected their apartment to the bookstore.

The dozens of chains, locks and charms layered over it, meant that he spent at least five minutes sorting them out and none of those minutes remembering that he wasn't exactly dressed for polite company or random strangers.

He made it through the door—it slammed loudly behind him—down the corkscrew spiral stairs that only tried to eat him twice—he had two scrapes on each elbow to show for it—before he stepped down in the murky, shadowed carpet of the bookstore itself.

Oi! he said, loudly. Hands cupped around his mouth, he tipped his head back and called—growled really—and the overhead lights clicked on at once.

Rows upon rows of beautiful wooden bookshelves were lit up from top to bottom, showcasing a truly impressive wealth of books and sending the swarm of furiously chattering shadows scurrying to the corners to reveal a plush, grey carpet instead.

Jilton rolled his eyes at one of the braver ones that tried to swipe at his bare feet. Mind your manners, he grumbled at it. I'm not in the mood. I'm missing my breakfast, because none of you can be bothered to open a door!

The shadows chattering grew louder, a few voices distinctly unhappy about his unofficial scold. He sidestepped, winding his way through the maze of filled bookshelves until he reached the broad, reinforced double-doors that kept the bookstore mostly safe at night.

A few spells had the security spells releasing and he cast a quick glamour over himself to excuse the lack of a proper bookstore uniform—and opened the door. The sight that greeted him was not exactly what he'd hoped for.

The package on the front step staring up at him was a pretty box of simple white, with a festive red ribbon tied into a bow, and smudged handwriting on the delivery receipt stuck to the top. He squinted at the smudges and frowned when a repair charm did nothing to fix the ink stains.

And then of course, there was the dead body.

His stomach growled as he took in the sight of the perfectly still body of a no-visible-signs of life-whatsoever stranger, sporting an ugly headwound and bleeding all over the new stone steps they'd be paying for in the next five years.

The defeated sigh slipped out as he checked the wards and cast a minor privacy charm over the stairs and front door. He couldn't leave it on the stairs like that.

It'd scare the customers.

Best to move it somewhere out of the way until someone else—not him!—could dispose of it properly.

Maybe the basement?

Or the alley.

Right.

Chapter 2

A Little Salty - Marlin

Marlin nibbled at a chunk of dry omelet, trying and failing to keep his expression somewhere in the range of neutral. The silence around the breakfast table was absolutely nerve-wracking and he refused to be the one to break it.

But pretending that nothing was wrong was harder than trying to eat his over-salted eggs with a straight face. He should've known the morning wouldn't start well, when he woke to a cold and empty bed, both of his Bonded already busy with their usual morning routines—and squabbles.

Arielle. Some mornings, it really didn't pay to be the last one awake.

To his right, Adri was meticulously cutting his own omelet into impossibly tiny shreds to sprinkle over his very plain bowl of cheesy hot cereal, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to do—and stomach.

Jilton's piercing gaze remained fixed on a point between them as he mechanically shoveled his own breakfast into his mouth, fangs gleaming every so often.

Huh.

That was—odd.

The stare—not the fangs or the poor table manners—because a distracted Jilton usually meant for very distracted problems finding their way to Marlin's immediate attention, something he wasn't in the mood for. Again.

After the catastrophe that was the past two and a half months, he was looking forward to normal, everyday business in the bookstore. Things like finding rare books upon request, wrapping up purchased gifts, shipping things out with the Paladin Parcel Delivery and whatever else needed to be tended to.

No curse-breaking any strangely sentient books, curse-wrangling any other random objects, haggling about costs on damaged shipments or wrangling sleep-deprived Healer interns from the tiny cafe section out the door at closing time.

It was on the tip of his tongue to speak up—reluctantly—when Adri jabbed his spoon into his bowl with an angry clink. What? he demanded, hackles up as he glowered at Jilton. I'm eating it, aren't I?

Jilton blinked at him, slow and purposeful, as if he couldn't wrap his head around the unexpected outburst and was deciding whether it was worth the hassle of acknowledging it.

Every shadow in the kitchen—flared.

Oh Adri.

Marlin immediately stuffed a chunk of over-salted omelet into his mouth. Learning to hold his tongue was a hard-won lesson in the years since they had Bonded. It was still one he was learning, if he was honest.

Golden eyes narrowed to points. You can stop giving me that look when I haven't done a single thing to your precious coffee-

I'm not giving you any sort of look, Jilton said, smoothly. You or Marlin, so don't infer pointless things that having nothing to do with your ridiculous request to hire on more help. We've been over this a dozen times in the past week, if not more. Hiring on help is not a viable option when all three of us have-

We could still hire a part-timer, Marlin said, carefully.

Immediately, twin stares of irritation zeroed in on him. The air crackled.

Wait—wait! I mean, someone who helps while we're all there. Wouldn't that be acceptable? Marlin offered a placating smile. The main problem is that we don't want anyone attached to us or the bookstore and we don't want them around after hours, yes? It's either we get more help or we shut down the coffee bar. We can't be in so many different places at once and still maintain the good energy on-site. It's too large of a drain.

Adri sulked into his hot cereal, his irritation simmering down to an acceptable level. It wouldn't be so difficult if either of you would make an effort to charge the sunstones instead of turning them into bloodstones. That kind of magic only interferes with the overall health of the wards. Sunstone magic is purer and has light properties from-

I've heard that spiel before, Jilton said, smoothly. And if you want them so badly, you're more than welcome to venture down to ground level and charge the stupid things yourself. I've already told you, I'm not doing it and we’ve already seen the problems that crop up when I do.

Just because you had one bad experience doesn't mean- Adri began.

One? One dozen? One hundred? What does it take for you to understand that it doesn't matter when I go or how you set it up, the outcome is still the same. I'm tired of you complaining about the blood when you know I have no control over it! Jilton's eyes darkened. Thin wisps of shadow wafted up from the slicked waves of his dark hair. It lent an even wilder tinge to his appearance.

Marlin frowned. These are two different conversations, he said, lightly. Am I missing something here or are we-

That's not what I'm talking about, Jilton! That's not what I meant and you know it. If hiring good help was so simple, we'd have done it already, Adri said, annoyed. I would've done it already, if you two weren't breathing down my neck about how we shouldn't hire any Fae because of the wild magic in the-

It's a very nice neck, Marlin said, deliberately taking a sip of his too-hot coffee.

The liquid head burned pleasantly down his throat, before settling comfortably in his stomach with a pulse of diffused energy.

Distantly, he was aware of a new changed