Page 65 of Wicked Curses
When they finished here, he’d tear his room apart again. He’d gone through it soon after moving in and then again after doing some redecorating, but now he would examine every floorboard on his hands and knees.
Sahira held her hand out to him. “My dagger.”
Orin gave it to her before turning his attention back to Radagast. “Asshole.”
“I should have known it was too good to be true when he was kind to me.”
“You’re not to blame for this.”
“I know, but I should have seen it coming.”
She rose and walked over to the opening in the floor. She knelt beside it while he grasped Radagast’s ankles and dragged him farther away from the hole.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“Stairs.”
Before he could question her further, she stretched out her leg, stepped onto something, and disappeared into the opening. Orin walked over to the edge of the hole and peered into it.
The wooden slat Radagast removed to enter the room hung on hinges inside the pit. The hinges had no rust and looked brand-new; no wonder he never heard the thing open.
He’d expected wooden stairs, but these were made of stone. Chunks of rock were missing from several, but they were in good condition.
As he examined the stairs and the small stone space below, he decided Radagast didn’t build it. The pub was designed around this.
Besides, Belda would have noticed him hacking away at stone and carving into her pub. She would have lost her shit… unless she knew he was doing it.
But he didn’t think that was likely either. This wasn’t Belda’s or any other lycans’ style. Emotions ruled them, and they went at things head-on. Plus, he didn’t see her setting Sahira up like this.
The warlock hadn’t struck him as the type to get his hands dirty with anything requiring hard labor. He’d intended to draw out his torture before finally ending it.
At the end of the stairs, he discovered Sahira standing in the shadows of the small square room. The glow from the candle above barely illuminated the space, but he saw enough to know it was empty.
Sahira ran her hands over the stone wall as she searched for something to reveal the entrance. Orin joined her, and after ten minutes, his fingers found a small divot in the wall.
He pushed on the divot, and with a click, a door swung open a few inches to reveal the space behind the pub. He gripped the thick stone door with a steel interior and pushed it out enough to step outside.
The closest building was the large storage barn fifty feet away. Morning was approaching, but everything remained dark, and since no homes were beyond the pub, no immortals were anywhere near.
Orin turned to examine the other side of the open doorway. On the inside, the door was stone, but the outside was the same wooden facade as the pub.
“Can you close the door?” he asked her.
She stepped outside and swung it shut. He should have told her to keep it open, but if Radagast had gotten inside, they could too. They stood side by side, studying the wall, but he couldn’t see any difference between the closed door and the pub wall.
“There’s no difference,” she murmured.
“If I didn’t know it was there, I would never know it was. Whoever built this did a fantastic job.”
“Yippy for me.”
“Come on; I have plans for our friend.”
It took some time, but Sahira found the small knot in the wood that was a button. The door swung silently open, and they both entered the room again.
Once they were back in Sahira’s room, Orin lifted Radagast’s heart before slinging the warlock over his shoulder. He carried the man downstairs and dropped his body on the table with a loud bang. The table rattled but remained firm beneath Radagast’s limp body.
He went to the storage area behind the bar, found a piece of rope, and returned as Sahira emerged with a bucket of water and cleaning supplies. She stopped to watch as he tossed one end of the rope over a beam and pulled it down.
