Page 67 of Wicked Curses
“I have something to show you,” he said.
He didn’t wait to see if Belda was following him before climbing the stairs. Sahira attributed that to his royal heritage. As a prince, he was used to saying something and having others obey him.
As an alpha lycan unused to obeying anyone, Belda hesitated, but her curiosity won out, and she followed him upstairs. Sahira trailed after her.
She’d brought cleaning supplies up but hadn’t cleaned yet. Orin had told her to leave the mess so Belda could see the full extent of what happened here.
The lycan paused in the doorway as she gawked at the blood splatters. She pointed to the hole in the floor. “What is that?”
“A trapdoor,” Orin stated.
“Didyoudo that?”
“No. I was wondering ifyoudid.”
Belda glowered at him. “No.”
“Did you know about it?”
“No.”
“Radagast did.”
Belda’s brown eyes narrowed on him. “What happened?”
Orin filled Belda in on the events of last night. When he finished, Sahira took over and explained what had happened over the past week. When she pulled down the collar of her shirt to reveal the bruises and welts, Belda’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything.
“Orin told me something attacked you, but I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” Belda murmured.
“What were you expecting?” Orin asked.
“A spell from the witches or something similar. I couldn’t do anything without proof it was them and figured they’d leave you alone after Orin interfered, but….”
“Radagast was too arrogant for that. He believed I wouldn’t interfere again, or he could kill us both.”
“Yes.” She pinned Sahira with her intense gaze. “Do you think the other witches are in on this?”
“I don’t know. When I believed they were sending something into my room and somehow bypassing my protection spell, I was sure there had to be at least a dozen involved, but Radagast didn’t need anyone else for this. It wouldn’t have taken much power for him to mask himself as that shadowy creature.”
A muscle twitched in Belda’s cheek as she studied her before striding forward and vanishing downstairs to the room below. Orin and Sahira exchanged looks, but neither followed her; she returned a minute later.
“Radagast stayed in this room when he first arrived,” Belda said as she pulled the trapdoor into place. “It was once mine, too, but I never knew that was there.”
“He must have found it somehow,” Sahira said.
Belda stepped back to examine the floor now that the trapdoor was secured. It fit so perfectly into place that Sahira couldn’t see a difference in the floor panels.
Whoever designed this did a spectacular job. Her brother, a man who loved to build tunnels and secret entrances, would have hammered them with questions about their technique.
“It’s impossible to see,” Orin said.
“So it is,” Belda murmured. “Okay, so we have some cleaning to do, and you’re going to cut that asshole down. Get himoutof my pub. No one can know about this trapdoor or the other entrance; I won’t have immortals tromping in and out ofmypub when I don’t know about it. We’ll tell them he came in through the back door and attacked you last night. They don’t have to know it’s been happening for a week.”
“What if the other witches and warlocks already know about it?” Sahira asked.
“It’s possible,” Orin said, “but I don’t think he told them. This was his secret space, one he discovered when he lived here, and one he kept to himself because it would have made him feel superior.”
“I agree,” Belda said. “But in case we’re wrong, can you put a spell on the outside door that would alert me to someone entering, even if I’m not here?”
