Red Rider Revolution Page 2

  I turned to see it continue toward the other end of the counter, where Touraine stood alone.

  No.

  I turned and dove for my crossbow, beneath the table near the front doors. Snatching it up as I rolled, I landed on one knee to turn and fire. Touraine’s face paled behind the wolf’s claws, glistening in the light of the upper torches.

  Then the wolf arched its back in a spasm as my bolt found its mark. Then it clenched its teeth and fell before Touraine, backed against the far wall, clutching his chest and gasping.

  I whirled about at Simonet. He stood cowering behind the tables. “I should never have let you go.”

  He said nothing, just continued to back away. Backing himself into a corner.

  I raised the crossbow to fire.

  He held up a hand. “Be advised,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “I may be the last of my order, but there are others. Those who cared for me these last few weeks. They’ll find you and take revenge.”

  “Once they find me, they can take their place in line with the rest of the Lycanthru. Right behind you.”

  I fired. The silver bolt sang through the air and sank into Simonet’s oversized gut. He cried out and clutched his stomach, gasping. Then he stared at me with wide eyes and sputtered, blood oozing between his fingers. He stood there another moment, as if he could preserve his existence just by standing upright. Then his knees buckled and he fell backward onto the wood floor, dead.

  The last one.

  I had killed every last member of the Lycanthru cult. They were gone.

  I felt as if a crushing weight had fallen off of my chest. As if I could breathe clean air after being buried in a coal mine for a month. They were gone, never to attack anyone again. Never to leave another man or woman widowed. Never to leave another family childless. Never to fill the heads of villagers with nightmares of their grisly fangs and claws.

  Gone forever.

  The door flew open. I whirled with my crossbow to see Pierre Leóne rush in.

  “Why can’t you ever wait?” he complained. “I told you I’d be right behind you.” He massaged his sore jaw. “And stop hitting me! I had no idea where you were when I woke up.”

  I moved toward him, holding back a smile, wishing I could take away the pain I had given him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “So you hit me?” He gaped, then rubbed his cheek again.

  I wanted to fix his tousled blond hair and hug him, but not in front of Touraine. No one knew about us yet. “I just – I just couldn’t let anyone else die on my account. Not one more person.” I looked back at Touraine, who nodded that he was all right. I turned back to Pierre, putting a gentle gloved hand against his sore cheek. “I’ll try to stop hitting you.”

  “Could you?” he asked, still annoyed.

  I smiled. I did regret striking him. Especially since Pierre was the one who told me that several people spotted Simonet in town with some strangers, headed straight for La Maison. “I’ve no reason to hit you now. They’re gone. I just finished Simonet and the men he brought with him.”

  Pierre bl inked, amazed. “Gone? You got all of them?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes. … I killed all of them.” The meaning of that was still sinking in. I had killed one man after another in the last several months. Men who belonged to the secret Lycanthru cult that worshiped wolves. Who found a means for transforming themselves into wolves and used it to prey upon innocent people. They killed my Grand’Mere, her neighbor Francois, my parents, and my little sister, Suzette. Then they tried over and over to kill me.

  I killed them instead. One by one, over weeks and months, I slaughtered all eighty-eight members of their horrid order, ending their reign of terror on our village community. I never meant to become a killer or an avenger. I only wanted to secure freedom and peace. For myself and for everyone in La Rue Sauvage.

  And I had done it. I secured peace and freedom, by becoming a relentless killer. But what had I become? What was left for me to do now?

  One of the oak doors swung open again. I whirled with my crossbow at the chubby man who entered, dressed in priestly robes. His arms flew up, his eyes wide. “Wha –? Wha –? What is all this?” he sputtered.

  I lowered the crossbow slowly. An innocent priest in La Maison, right after I finished off Simonet, was the last thing I expected. “I – I’m sorry. There was – a disturbance here. Who are you?”

  “I – I – I –!”

  “He’s with me,” Pierre said, cutting off his stammering. “This is Father Séverin DuChard. He arrived the other night, to help Father Vestille. He’s staying with us.”

  I – I have orders from Burgundy.” He held out some official papers, which shook in his hands. I recognized the church’s seal on the bottom of it, but the rest of the writing was a blur. Not that it would have meant anything to me, anyway. He was just too frightened to know what he was doing.

  “I believe you,” I said, setting the crossbow on the counter. “It’s all right, sir. Everything’s all right.”

  Another man burst through the front doors, brandishing a pistol. It was Giuseppe Vitton, our new Lieutenant-General of Police. “Everyone stay where you are,” he ordered, leveling his gun in each of our directions. I raised my arms but held onto the crossbow. His stern brows creased at me. “Drop that weapon.”

  I bent to lay the crossbow on the floor, close to my feet. Even now, I couldn’t bring myself to let it too far out of my reach. Couldn’t bring myself to fully trust any authority, if anyone at all.

  “What’s happening here?” He eyed Touraine.

  “It’s all right, Monsieur Vitton,” Touraine said, hands raised. “These men attacked me. Helena here stopped them. It’s all over.”

  It’s all over. The strange words echoed in my mind.

  Lieutenant-General Vitton surveyed the room with sharp eyes, keeping his gun raised. Father DuChard sucked in air, arms raised high.

  Finally, Vitton relaxed and holstered his weapon. “I’ll need a little more explanation.”

  Father DuChard swallowed, arms still high, as he nodded toward Pierre. “I’m staying with the Leónes. I saw their son run on ahead and heard the commotion here.”

  Vitton cast an impatient glare at him. “Not from you,” he said. He jutted his chin at me. He was a scrawny scarecrow of a man with a thin moustache and a severe expression. He wasn’t built for fighting, but I certainly wouldn’t want to cross him. “You’re the Basque girl, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  He stared down at Simonet’s body again. Then at the large wolf carcasses at various corners of the room. “More of those wolves, I assume?”

  I nodded again.

  “I’ll definitely need more information,” he said, holstering his weapon. “You can pick up your crossbow, but don’t wander off. I’ll need to make a report of –.” He waved his hand vaguely around the room with a look of annoyance. “– whatever this is.”

  Father DuChard finally lowered his hands and wiped his bald forehead with a handkerchief. “Heard the commotion,” he repeated. “Thought I could help.”

  “You can,” I said. “You can both help bury this man.”

  LieutenantGeneral Vitton knelt to study Simonet’s face. “This was the former Duke’s advisor, was he not?”

  “He was,” I said.

  Father DuChard stared down at Simonet’s body. “What – what happened to him?”

  “He got in my way,” I said. Then I felt the edge leave my voice. Leave my soul. “He was – part of an evil cult that threatened our village. That murdered innocent men and women and children, for sport. That tried to take over all of France. And – And we stopped him.”

  Father DuChard gaped at me, quieting his breath. “Oh.”

  I cleared my throat. “So – if you could both help Monsieur Touraine with this last one, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Father DuChard nodded with a jerk, looking nonplussed. “Yes. Yes, of cou
rse. As soon as I administer last rites.”

  I scowled at the idea. “I don’t think that’s necessary in this case.”

  Father DuChard gaped at me, blinking.

  I swallowed the rest of my opinions. “But go right ahead.” What did it matter, now that Simonet was dead, along with the rest of them? The only prayers that mattered to me now were the ones that had already been answered. I turned from Simonet’s corpse as Father DuChard knelt beside it and began reciting prayers in Latin.

  Lieutenant-General Vitton finished stroking his chin in his study of Simonet and strode directly to me. “We’ll remove the body in a few moments,” he said. “I’ll need you to answer some questions.”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling strangely relaxed. For the first time in months, I could let someone else take charge. Let someone else clean up.

  Let someone else fight.

  We explained everything. How we learned about the wolves and their plans to overtake the province and attack the Queen. How we learned of their weakness of silver and tipped my crossbow bolts with them, used with the repeating crossbow Pierre designed which could fire ten bolts in succession. How Simonet and others continued their daily routines of life, but secretly transformed into wolves to attack people at will, drawing strength from the flesh of innocents. Vitton listened to every word, making no response. Barely even blinking.

  Finally, we explained that a few villagers – Doctor Renoire, Pierre, and his mother, Lisette – had spotted Simonet in the province, striding through the streets with these other strangers.

  Touraine shook his head and released a heavy sigh. “You were right. They came after me, like you said they would one day.”

  “It was only a matter of time before they figured out who was helping me.” I turned from the Lieutenant-General to Pierre, so innocent, so brave. So willing to risk his neck for me. “After we heard about strangers entering the village with Simonet, I figured they were the remaining Lycanthru, coming to find the ones who helped me.”

  Lieutenant-General Vitton nodded slowly.

  I didn’t reveal that I had no idea who the Lycanthru would come for. They might have hunted Pierre, who helped me fight the last wolves at the royal ball. Which was why I had to conceal a rock in my fist and knock him flat, before dragging him into the shed behind his house. At least he would remain hidden while I checked on Touraine. All the while hoping none of the Lycanthru would imagine my connection with Father Vestille, but would instead believe I was still at odds with him.

  When Pierre heard the strangers had been seen heading toward La Maison, I feared I would never arrive in time to steal inside Touraine’s back door. Thank God I made it. Thank God all my friends were still alive.

  The Lieutenant-General stared at me, his eyes wide, waiting to ensure I had finished. Then he pursed his lips and looked again at Simonet’s dead body, which Father DuChard had covered with a spare tablecloth. “I see,” he said, drawing out the words. He studied me up and down, perhaps considering my small stature or the fact that I was a young girl, not a warrior who could battle wolves. He stared at me. “If everything happened as you say, then the entire province of La Rue Sauvage owes you an insurmountable debt. I’ve heard about these wolves. That is, one version or another, depending on who’s telling the tale. And I’ve heard of you, and all you did. Risking your life to stop them, at an immeasurable cost to yourself and your reputation. But I haven’t heard it from your own lips until today. I may need to gather more details from you another day, Mademoiselle, but for now you’re all free to go. We’ll see to Simonet’s body.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He glared at me, seeming offended. He took a step toward me, his face stony and serious. “Should anyone forget to say it, Mademoiselle, let me say on behalf of those ignorant men who will never know what you did for them – thank you.” He removed his wide-brimmed hat and bowed at the waist, hanging his head low. He stood that way for an embarrassing few seconds that seemed eternal, then straightened with a final look at me before turning away to help DuChard.

  “You kids want some water?” Touraine asked. “Don’t think I’ll get any customers back in tonight.”

  “Well, actually, Helena,” Pierre said, massaging his jaw. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Uh – that I learned about the Lycanthru. Might be important, if they ever come back?” His eyebrows rose a little as he pursed his lips.

  He was a pitiful liar.

  “All right,” I said. “If you feel it’s important. I’ll meet you at your shop in a few minutes. Touraine, are you all right?”

  He breathed out a laugh. “Better now than before. Think I’ll just close up early tonight, soon as they’re done cleaning up. Might have myself a drink or three.”

  I smiled back. Actually felt the smile in my cheeks. For the first time in months, perhaps years, there was cause to relax.

  To finally rest.

  I nodded to Touraine, and Father DuChard and the Lieutenant-General, then followed Pierre out. Father DuChard glanced over his shoulder at us, still looking perplexed, as Vitton helped him slide Simonet’s body into a burlap sack.

  My boots clomped onto the front stoop as the oak doors swung shut behind us. I felt my breath grow shallow, my heart beat faster. Being with Pierre – wanting to be with Pierre – made me more nervous than fighting some of the Lycanthru. “Crimson’s this way,” I said, nodding toward the stable behind La Maison.

  Pierre walked toward the stable with me, leaving his own horse, Diamond, tied to the stoop’s hitching post. He remained silent as we walked, our feet crunching over pebbles and twigs in the grass. Leaving the rich smells of beer and baked bread in La Maison for the stench of manure and hay. But we would be alone.

  I found myself stepping more quickly, almost skipping, as we neared the stable. I peered around its wall, to see Crimson toss his head at me. I moved over to greet him, patting the side of his neck. Smiling into his eyes.

  Then I stepped away to retreat behind the wall and turned to Pierre.

  “Come here, you handsome boy,” I said, tugging him close. We both glanced about once more, making sure there were no witnesses. Then I leaned into him and he kissed me, cradling my shoulders.

  I felt as giddy as a little girl. I never imagined I could be loved, with my hideous face and my bizarre battle against the wolves. Let alone by a boy like Pierre! With his mess of dirtblond hair and his haunting brown eyes. Not to mention his undying devotion and tender kindness, doting on me like a precious child. I was being courted by the most magnificent boy in the village.

  He finished his kisses and leaned back to smile at me. “You’re the most beautiful girl in La Rue Sauvage.”

  “You mean the most beautiful scarred girl. Or the most beautiful wolfchasing girl.”

  His smile faded a little. “You could just say, ‘Thank you’.”

  I tried to stifle my smile. But I couldn’t. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I backed against the stable wall, frowning at the thought of what tomorrow might bring. Or not bring. “Pierre, what am I going to do now?”

  He knit his brows together. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve spent the last few months fighting the Lycanthru. Now they’re gone. We’ve won.” I half-shrugged. “What do I do now?”

  He still looks confused. “Red, you saved everyone. We can all go back to normal life again.”

  I think of Mama and Papa. My baby sister, Suzette. My Grand’Mere and Francois. All killed by wolves. “Not all of us.”

  His face looks pained. “Sorry, Red. I – wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s all right. I just – I’ve made myself so – different. I don’t know where I belong now.”

  He lowered his chin, meeting my gaze. “With me.”

  Hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop smiling around him. Nor could I brood about anything for too long. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps everything would return to normal, with the Lycanthru gon
e. I could start to live the life my parents wanted for me, even if they couldn’t be here to see it. Perhaps I had been saved, too. “All right, Pierre,” I said, setting my worries aside. I leaned into him again, letting him kiss me, stroke my hair beneath my hood, caress my cheek. As if we were the only two people in the world.

  I was in love.

  After a few more minutes of kissing, stroking his head and hair, clinging to him like he was a rock in a rainstorm, we finally said our farewells. I couldn’t look away from him as he waved. Couldn’t shake the warm feelings growing inside me as we forced ourselves to keep moving away from one another, retreating to our horses. He seemed as eager as I was for our next meeting. Our next chance to hold hands, to pull one another close. To lean into one another like we shared the same soul.

  He finally faded into the darkness, striding toward the hitching post to retrieve Diamond and head home. I watched him go, admiring his walk, his shoulders, his beautiful hair. It was as if the wolves never existed.

  Except they did. They destroyed my home, my family, and countless others in the village. But no more. They’re gone. Gone forever.

  I moved to Crimson, who no longer stamped his hooves. He seemed to sense the new peace that had settled over us. Over me.

  I cupped his head in my hands and smiled. “We did it, Crimson,” I said, beaming. “We did it.”

  3.

  I rode through the dark forest – the forest that once filled me with fear and anxiety, but now seemed alive with crickets and wind and frogs and other harmless things – toward Father Vestille’s hovel. Emerging from the forest, I saw his small home, bathed in moonlight. My secret home for the last few months, where he hid me from the wolves.

  I smiled. This had become a true refuge. Not just from the wolves, but from everything they took from me.

  Except it was dark inside. Father Vestille normally waited up for me, but he must have gone to sleep early. That is, before midnight. The moon had sunk toward the horizon. Dawn would break in a few hours.

  I urged Crimson toward the rear stable. Not pushing, not hurrying. Just guiding him home at a leisurely pace.