October 4, Friday

THE SHRILL ring of my phone jolted me awake. I fumbled for it on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. Mom. Of course. Because 6 AM was a perfectly reasonable time to call someone.

"Hello?" I croaked.

"Josephine, darling! You sound dreadful. Late night with your rustic Romeo?"

I rolled my eyes, sitting up in bed. "Good morning to you too. Where are you?"

"I'm in London for the Literature Festival."

"Has it been nice?"

"No, it fucking hasn't. More than one person has hinted at the claims of that parasitic ex of yours."

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry—be proactive."

I bit my tongue to keep from telling her I had been proactive. "I heard he had an accident and might be out of commission for a while."

"You were misinformed. Vivian just called me. Since Curtis can't work, he's demanding more money."

I blinked. "More? But I thought you were already paying him off?"

"We were going to, but now that he's temporarily out of the social media game, he claims he needs compensation for lost income."

I closed my eyes briefly. "How much more does he want?"

"The fucker wants another hundred thousand on top of the original amount."

I bolted upright. "That's insane!"

"Vivian thinks we should counter-offer."

I sighed. "What do you think?"

"I think we should pay the shitstain to make him go away."

I bit my lip. Had my attempt at magical revenge somehow made things worse?

"Josephine? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... I need to think."

"Well, don't think too long. We need to give Vivian an answer by Monday."

"Okay. I'll let you know… soon."

"How's the book coming along?"

I brightened. "I'm making good progress. I should be able to deliver the manuscript soon."

"Tick tock," she sang, then ended the call.

I frowned, then flopped back onto the bed and groaned. Then I picked up my phone and thumbed through posts of Curtis with both arms in casts straight out in front of him, Curse of the Mummy-style as he glared into the camera. I laughed, but the noise petered out to a whimper.

The curse was supposed to make Curtis back off, not double down on his demands. And now, thanks to his "accident," he had even more leverage.