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She turned to the open larder and reached into it, her fingernails scraping along the wood on the rear of the box. “Morty knew Mrs. Hendricks hid liquor and cheroots in here, and this is where he used to hide his own supply away from the governesses. I had forgotten how devious he was with this spot.”
“Hiding cheroots doesn’t seem that devious.”
“It was with our governesses.” She chuckled to herself. “And even when he convinced me to try one and it turned me ill, he wouldn’t give up the location of them. He got caned for that one. I escaped with vomiting for half a day.”
Wes bent over to see into the box, watching Laney’s hand dig about. Her fingernails stopped scraping against the wood backing and she yanked her arm backward. The back swung open, revealing three shelves that were at least an arm’s length deep past the larder box.
“What? How?” Wes’s brow furrowed and he stepped to the side of the larder box. The box was as tall as he was and sat against the stone foundation, a normal depth to it.
“The stones behind the larder box were removed and this hidden compartment was attached to the back of it.”
Wes squinted in the low light, bending over again to look into the larder where Laney had shifted away the false back, the panel folding onto itself on the right side. He stood and looked at the outside of the larder again, following the seam where it met the stone wall. Someone had even inset the sides of the hidden compartment so it sat deep in the shadows of the juncture behind the larder box. “Clever.”
Facing him, Laney leaned her shoulder into the larder box, partially disappearing. A smile cut across her face. The first real smile he’d seen on her lips since he’d arrived at Gruggin Hall.
She looked up at him as she pulled her arm free of the larder.
The Box of Draupnir.
Clutched in her fingers. Just as he remembered it.
The blasted thing had caused riches. Had caused deaths.
Cursed, along with anyone that held it.
And now Laney held it.
The relief he thought he’d feel at having it in his sights again wasn’t flooding him like he imagined it would.
Dread.
Only dread.
Dread that gnawed on the pit of his stomach. Dread that drowned the air in his chest, fresh breaths not able to break in.
She tugged the back of the larder box closed and stood up, the smile on her face even wider. “This is the box, isn’t it? Morty had only written me about it, but this looks like what he described.”
“Aye. It’s the Box of Draupnir.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
Wes nodded.
She twisted the small box around in her hands, her delicate fingers rubbing along the grain of the wood, swirls of madness making the box look alive. Moving. Furious.
His breath held in his chest. Waiting. Waiting for the glimmer of madness touching her eyes. The glimmer of madness he’d seen in almost every person he’d ever seen hold the box.
Her mouth pulled to the side. “So peculiar. All this fuss over a little box. I don’t see what is so special about it.”
He exhaled and forced a nonchalant shrug. He knew full well what was so special about the box, but he wasn’t about to tell Laney a speck of information on it.
She held it up to him. “I should deliver it to Mr. Filmore.”
Wes shook his head. “It’s too late.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. The man isn’t going to do anything for you tonight and will probably be so irate you woke him up that he will drag through the work tomorrow and delay you even further.”
