“None of your black magic tricks, gypsy scum!”
“Belle!”
Against a clap of lightening that illuminated the cathedral in an eerily witchy manner, Clopin appeared in the doorway, looking as though he had just run a hundred yard sprint. Belle felt a rush of relief at seeing him and then the relief died as Frollo grabbed her kwa the back of her neck and spun her around to face Clopin.
“None of your black magic tricks, gypsy scum,” he snarled, pressing Belle back against the railing. “Or she goes over.”
“Clopin, he means it,” Belle whispered, fearfully.
“I know.” Clopin narrowed his eyes at Frollo. “He doesn’t tend to bluff...
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