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“It absol⁠—”

We turned to see the doors burst open, a magical breeze shooing the chickens outside. It seemed High Magistrate Barlow didn’t like the fact that I’d told the secretary he was cleaning it up.

“Not our problem,” she said quickly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away from the building and toward the center of town.

We had shops side by side, and we were going to be long gone by the time they got done dealing with the chickens.

“I have a box for you, dear.” I was manning the desk when a call came in from Old Sally Johnson, who lived on the outskirts of town almost all the way on the border. Her kids were helping her clean out her house and she wanted me to come and collect her useless junk. “The kids wanted to have a yard sale, but I’d rather you come and get it.

I wasn’t about to turn down a box of odds and ends. That was one of the best ways to find these old spell books.

"Can I come after five?" I asked. I’d already lost a few hours this morning with the chicken fiasco and meeting with the Magistrate.

"Of course, dear," she answered. "Anything you can't sell, will you donate for me?"

"You got it, Mrs. Johnson. I'll see you after five," I told her before texting Blake.

There was no telling what kind of collection she would have waiting for me. I’d need backup either way. I never knew when my curse would rear its ugly head. She was better at telling people no than I was.

One time, I went to collect donations and came back with a six-foot-tall purple dinosaur. To this day, I wasn't entirely sure how. I used him to store hats and jewelry, and the town had collectively named him Barney. He'd become something of a mascot. Children hugged him. Teenagers took selfies with him. Mrs. Holloway knitted him scarves every winter.

We absolutely did not need another Barney.

If Blake had gone with me, there was no way that thing would have come back to the shop in the first place.

I just started a fresh spreadsheet to log inventory from the Johnson place when the bell over the door chimed.

"Welcome to Restless Relics, can I help you find something?" I called from the antique desk I used for paperwork.

"Just looking," a deep, timbered voice answered. I was a little startled by the voice I didn't recognize. Moonlit Grove wasn't exactly big enough for mysterious baritone voices to go unnoticed. New voices also meant new curses, and my shop had enough trouble staying in one piece with me around.

"If you need any help, just let me know,” I called out, trying to peek around the shelves and see him.

All I got was a grunt in reply.

I went back to my spreadsheet when another hiccup struck. My eyes frantically scanned the room, sighing in relief when a chicken didn’t materialize.

At least not here.

I thought I was in the clear, until a girlie shriek came from the direction the customer was in. It was so loud that I was moving before I could process it.

"Are you okay?" I yelled as I moved through the cluttered shop, trying to locate him.

As I rounded the corner, I found a tall, dark, and handsome stranger standing in the middle of the aisle with a chicken on his head.

Not near his head.

On it.

The bird looked pleased with itself and I was horrified. I guess the hiccup wasn’t innocent after all.

“Umm, there’s a chicken in your hair,” I said, pointing at the chicken who let out a little squawk.

He didn’t move.

"Umm, can I help you with that?" I asked, pointing at the chicken who was now pecking his hair.

“Yes,” he said, holding unnaturally still.