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“Do you have someone that delivers furniture?” I questioned. She was untying the string on the tag hanging from the cabinet and nodded.

“I do. I’ll call him for an estimate if you give me one moment,” she said with a quick, still-flustered smile. It was adorable.

Not for the first time I wondered what her scent was like. I bet it was something sweet and spicy like her personality.

With the bird in one arm, I pulled out the phone and dialed the magistrate. The flustered secretary answered on the first ring, the echoing of chickens in the background making me smile.

“Hello, this is Rook Sinclair. I arrived in town and encountered a chicken. I’d like all of the chickens that are loose to be gathered and delivered to my house in town. I’m heading for the hardware store for fencing.”

“Charge it to the magistrate,” she said quickly. “They already have a budget for curse cleanup and this counts. I’ll get right on this, sir.”

I tucked the phone away before joining her in the front. She said a quick goodbye into the phone before putting it down and offering a tight, still mortified, smile.

“He just finished a delivery and is on his way to us now,” she promised. “I work his fee into pricing, so it’s included.”

“Thank you, Miss….?” I trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Prue,” she said, solidifying that she was the woman I was going to be working with. “And you are?”

“Rook Sinclair,” I said with a flourish, balancing a sleepy chicken in one arm. “Curse expert, collector of degrees, and, apparently, owner of poultry.”

Her eyes widened, before narrowing. She knew exactly why I was here and wasn’t having it.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Sinclair,” she said as she took my offered card and swiped it, waiting for it to go through before continuing. “But I have no interest in a partnership.”

With that, she rushed outside to meet the delivery driver. She could run all she wanted but it was inevitable.

We were tied together, she just didn’t know it yet.

I glanced down at the chicken in my arms and tried out a few names.

“Henrietta?” Another peck. “Ouch, okay. Cluck Norris?”

Each new and increasingly ridiculous name earned me more chicken violence.

"What about Eggatha?" I asked, as I anticipated another pinch of pain from her annoyance. This time she simply blinked and ruffled her feathers. “Oh, a winner? Just wait until you meet all your friends soon. You'll have to help me name them as well.”

She looked oddly pleased, which only had me questioning my sanity. There was no way this chicken was truly understanding me.

If she remained a chicken at all. Who knows what surprises a curse-tainted chicken could bring.

Did I look like an insane person talking to a chicken in an antiques shop? Oh, absolutely. But I’d accepted that some level of insanity would be my life now.

I had no choice but to stand here and wait for Prue to come back so I could give her my address. She’d left it behind in her haste to get away from me.

Time stretched on long enough I was as restless as the chicken. I started to walk around the shop, taking in the eclectic mix of antiques. Near the back, by a long stretch of cabinets, I found a set of curtains.

Everything in me told me this was a bad idea, but curiosity had always been my downfall. So, with one glance at the chicken in a plea for her cooperation, I pushed past them.

My eyes immediately fell on a tall armoire that had a bright orange sticker on it.

Cursed Objects: Handle with Care

Why would the mayor allow her to have these here? With her curse this was not just a liability waiting to happen, but could be downright catastrophic.

Was this a secret? I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough. The little witch was bound to find me here and give me an earful for going where I shouldn’t.

As if on cue, Prue’s voice echoed out. “Rook?”