Red Rider Redemption (The Red Rider Saga Book 3)

by D. A. Randall

  “I hoped you enjoyed visiting your loved ones again, Helena,” he said. “You must miss them terribly. Especially after seeing them die all over again, at our hands.”

  I steadied my breathing, setting my jaw. He meant to keep rattling me. I couldn’t let him.

  “There’s someone else I would like to re-acquaint you with.” The darkness behind him grew brighter, in a reddish-yellow hue against the darkness. He stepped aside, revealing the building that stood behind him.

  It was Brocard’s barn, and it was on fire.

  With the thirty-three Lycanthru men I had trapped inside. “Rider!” they screamed behind the blazing walls. “Rider!!”

  “You remember this place, don’t you, Helena?” Laurent said. “It should be fresh in your memory. All you men you murdered last night.”

  “I had no choice,” I said. “You were going to kill me. You were going to kill everyone.”

  “True,” he said. “And now that we have you, we can finish carrying out that plan. While you remain here, to be punished for your impudence. But I’m forgetting my manners. I was going to re-introduce you to an old friend.”

  He extended his hand toward the barn. Its front door somehow unlatched on its own and opened, revealing the bright orange flames within. A tall figure hunched and stepped out as the door shut behind him, then stood upright …

  To his seven foot height.

  Grenault.

  My throat went dry. He stood just as menacing, just as terrifying, as when I faced him a few weeks ago. I had barely survived our final battle.

  “No,” I said. “No! You’re dead! I killed you!”

  “Did you?” Grenault asked in his cocksure drawl.

  “Indeed you did,” Laurent said. “Yet here he is, back again to repay you for what you did to him. And he’s not alone.”

  He spread his hand toward the barn door again like a magician as it opened for him. Another man stepped out – Jacquard, the lazy youth that Laurent had assigned to guard me last night. Followed by each of the other Lycanthru I had burned alive inside those walls. They filed out, a ghostly army of men – all of whom could instantly turn into monstrous wolves.

  “No,” I said again. “No. I killed them all.”

  Laurent raised his palms. “It seems you failed. Because now they’re here to wreak revenge, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them.”

  They encircled me, surrounding me like they had before. Except that now, my hands and feet were no longer tied. Instead, my entire body stood paralyzed, struck dumb as a lamb before these beasts.

  “Now it’s time we met some of your dearest friends, Helena,” Laurent said. “Those who have been helping to support you in the past few months.”

  He reached into the blackness beside him, like he was grabbing something out of a large sack. He yanked hard – and brought Pierre out by the nape of his neck! I gasped, struggling to leap forward. To move even an inch to pull him from Laurent’s clutches!

  “No,” I rasped, barely finding my voice as I tugged at the invisible forces holding me in place. “No. Please.”

  Pierre stood motionless before the entire Lycanthru order, his head drooping. Like me, he appeared to be completely immobilized.

  “Yes, I believe we’ve found someone you care about a great deal,” Laurent gloated. “Care to introduce us, Helena?”

  “Please,” I said. “Please let him go.”

  Laurent observed him with delight. “Why should I do that, Helena? What is he to you?”

  “Let him go,” I begged. “Please let him go.”

  “Who else are you hiding from us, Helena?” Laurent asked, standing Pierre up like a statue as he reached into the black void again. This time, he pulled out Madame Leóne, Pierre’s mother. She stood upright in her embroidered dress, head down like Pierre, unmoving.

  “No! Don’t hurt her!”

  “Oh, we’ll hurt her, Helena,” he said. “You can’t protect her from us anymore. We’re going to torture her right in front of you. Along with everyone else you love. Even those you haven’t yet finished mourning.”

  He reached into the darkness again, and pulled out Mama and Papa.

  I shuddered. “No,” I said, clenching my fists. “Leave my parents alone. You already made me imagine they were still alive. You can’t keep bringing them back.”

  “But I can, Helena,” he said with a wicked grin. “We’ll keep bringing back your parents, to kill them before your eyes again and again.”

  I grit my teeth, struggling again to move. Managing only to lean forward slightly.

  “Poor little Helena,” he said. “If I were you, I would be so desperate to kill me. A pity that your arms and legs no longer work.”

  “Stop,” I said. “Please …”

  Papa met my eyes with his usual stern gaze. “Be ready, Helena,” he said. “Ready for anything.”

  Mama’s eyes were full of compassion, almost to the point of tears. “We love you, Helena. You have a beautiful life ahead of you.”

  “It’s only fair, Helena, after what you did to my men,” Laurent continued. “As the scriptures say, ‘An eye for an eye.’”

  The Lycanthru charged at them, transforming into wolves in the blink of an eye and sinking claws into their flesh. Mama and Papa grimaced as the wolves stuck them both like slabs of meat and rushed them to the barn. Its door opened magically for them like the gates of Hell, and the wolves hurled them both inside.

  “No!” I screamed, as the massive blaze swallowed their forms whole.

  “Yes, Helena,” Laurent gloated. “And these two are next.” He stepped close to Pierre and his mother. “What will you do without them? I’m sure they’ve been a great help to you, haven’t they? What will you do now without their assistance?”

  I swallowed. Yet something struck me odd about Laurent’s question. Pierre had certainly helped me, right from the beginning, and his mother meant the world to me. But she wasn’t actually assisting me the way Pierre was.

  “We’ll kill everyone you love, Helena. Everyone you have loved. Speaking of which, how can we forget –?” He bent forward, hunching over to grasp at the darkness again and pull out –

  “Suzette! No!” I screamed.

  My sister stood there before him in her dress, head down like the others, clutching her precious blanket – her “fuzzy woolie”.

  “Please! Leave her alone! You’ve hurt her enough!”

  “But we want to hurt her more, Helena,” Laurent said. “And we want you to watch.”

  “No!”

  Suzette stood helpless beneath him, clutching the woolie tighter. Tighter.

  Her fuzzy woolie.

  Her precious blanket that I had found in our barn, covered in blood.

  This wasn’t real. Laurent might have some evil power to resurrect my family, so he could kill them again in front of me. But how could Suzette still have her fuzzy woolie?

  I swallowed. “You’re lying. You can’t kill anyone again. You killed them once, but that’s all you can do.”

  “Oh, no?” Laurent demanded. He seized Suzette by the back of her neck and lifted her off the ground.

  “Helena!” Suzette squealed. “Helena, please! Help me!”

  “Stop!” I cried. “Let her go!”

  He marched to the barn door as it opened for him, releasing a gush of hot air and flame.

  “Helena!!!”

  “Laurent, no!”

  He threw her inside. Her screams echoed like knives in my skull.

  “You monster,” I seethed. “I’ll kill you …”

  “No, Helena,” he snarled. “You’ll watch as I kill everyone you care about. Such as this one.”

  He reached into the blackness again and pulled out Gerard Touraine, the tavern keeper.

  Calling him “this one”.

  I steadied my breathing. “No,” I said. “Please. … Don’t hurt her.”

  “I’ll make her scream like you’ve never heard a woman scream before, Helena,” Laurent sa
id, a thrill in his voice. “There’s nothing you can do to save her.”

  I stared at Touraine. As Laurent continued to refer to him as a female. “Leave her alone,” I repeated.

  “She’s ours now, Helena, just like you,” Laurent went on.

  I glanced about at the faces of the other Lycanthru. Like Laurent, they all smiled in triumph at me. None of them noticing that Touraine was, in fact, a man.

  They couldn’t see him.

  Simonet, however, narrowed his gaze at me curiously. He seemed about to speak when Laurent pulled another form from the darkness. It was Father Vestille.

  “Or this one,” Laurent said. “Which of your loved ones shall we kill next?”

  Father Vestille’s bald head rested against his chin as Laurent held him in place.

  “None of them,” I said. “You can’t kill any of them.”

  “You’re in no position to give orders, Helena.”

  “I’m not forbidding you,” I said. “I’m simply telling you that you can’t. You have no power to hurt any of them.”

  “We’ll see about that, Helena!” he hissed, his face instantly contorting into the shape of a wolf’s head, his body growing fur and pointed ears. He growled through his fangs, gripping Father Vestille tighter.

  Then a small ball of light appeared above Laurent, like a hazy moon. It grew larger and brighter, drawing the attention of all the wolves. They stared up at it for a moment, then shielded their eyes as the light shone powerfully, bathing the entire area. The blazing barn vanished from the background, along with the images of Pierre, Madame Leóne, Touraine, and Father Vestille. Until only Laurent and the Lycanthru remained, crouching beneath the light as though it pained them. The light continued to spread, filling everything before me, flooding over the wolves until they disappeared from sight.

  And then they were gone.

  Everything turned gray. Then the shades of gray shifted and fluttered as I moved my head back and forth, searching for something I could see. The room smelled musty as a cave and I heard a faint mumbling close by. It sounded sad, almost pleading, while something scraped and stamped at the far wall.

  I squinted at a tiny white dot at my left. It grew larger, expanding and changing to a pale yellow color. Then it became a bright yellow flower of some type, atop a tall straight stem. Beside it, a large boulder began to take more definite shape.

  I blinked and the boulder became a pinkish ball with cottony flowers gracing either side of it, while the flower waved and trembled. I blinked again. The flower became a short candle, gently flickering. The pinkish rock became the bowed head of Father Vestille, his hands folded in prayer as he rested his face against my cot, murmuring in Latin. I recognized the words from a previous mass, when Father Vestille led us to ask the Lord for divine mercy and intervention. Shadows striped his figure, as the noonday sun peeked through the planks of the ceiling. We were in the underground shelter. Across the room, Crimson stamped his hooves and scraped the dirt floor, anxious.

  My nightmares were over.

  I continued to stare, gasping with shock and relief.

  Father Vestille’s head jerked up. “Helena! You’re – Are you all right?”

  Crimson snorted and pounded the floor, tossing his head. I tried to sit up to embrace Father Vestille, but I couldn’t move my arms. I stared down in a panic to find my arms and legs tied down with ropes.

  “Sorry for that,” he said as he grabbed a knife from a tray of food. The bread and fruit had scarcely been picked at. He sliced through the ropes and I stretched my legs.

  My legs! I could bend my legs again!

  “You were thrashing about the bed in your delirium,” he explained as he blew out the candle, which had nearly burned to the wick. “I had to stop you from scratching at my face. At whatever you thought was in front of you at the time.” He shook his head and wiped his tear-streaked face. “After the first few attacks, I knew they could no longer bite you. I sensed that power had been broken, and you bore only a few wounds. But they still attacked your mind, making you believe they were biting you. I had to bring you down here, to prevent anyone from hearing you.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, sitting up. I must have smiled, because he smiled back. I had not seen him smile since he played with Suzette in front of his hovel a few months ago, as I watched them from a distance.

  “I felt everything break a minute ago,” he said. “I sensed they had lost their power over you. But then you lay so still, I feared you had …” He didn’t finish. The last wisp of smoke dissipated from the spent candle.

  I touched his arm. “I’m all right,” I assured him. “Thank you, Father. You must have been praying over me all night.”

  His face paled. He started to speak, then cleared his throat. “Helena, you’ve been delirious and under attack for three days.”

  “Three days!” I jumped to my feet, and instantly regretted it as my legs buckled beneath me. I stumbled but recovered quickly. My legs were numb and out of practice, but otherwise my reflexes felt fully restored. “Laurent might have done any number of things in the past few days.”

  “I’m sure they’ve taken advantage of your condition. They meant to hurt you, but they also likely meant to incapacitate you. However, their hold over you is now broken. I felt it in my spirit, and you can see it for yourself. They can’t harm you anymore.”

  Crimson looked rested but anxious, stamping his hooves again. “Hopefully, we can still do some harm to them. Before they attack anyone else.”

  I started toward Crimson. Father Vestille covered my hand with his. “Helena,” he said.

  “Don’t try to stop me,” I told him.

  He shook his head. “I would if I could.” His eyes melted into mine. “Just stay safe. Please.”

  13.

  I pushed through the oak double doors of La Maison de Touraine, the local tavern. My source of town gossip and information about the wolves.

  It seemed hollow as a tomb during the day, without the usual raucous laughter and shouts of men drinking the night away. I strode toward the bar counter, catching stares from the handful of men scattered throughout the tavern. Their sudden awed silence as I entered the room felt the same as when my presence had hushed the entire crowd of evening revelers. Once my battle with the wolves had become known – whether people feared or admired me – I could never enter the tavern without drawing everyone’s attention.

  The tavern’s owner, Gerard Touraine, planted his palms on the bar counter, as if offended by the sight of me. I appreciated it. Sometimes he acted as though I was pestering him. Other times he ignored me altogether. However he played it was fine with me, as long as no one realized he was feeding me information about the wolves. “What’ll you have tonight, stranger?” Touraine asked with a tone of impatience.

  “Ale,” I said, lowering my voice. “And information.”

  He turned to grab a mug, keeping his back to me and everyone else as he filled it with the usual water, before setting it on the counter. “As requested, your underage ale. Unfortunately, that’s all I’ve got for you.”

  I took a slow sip. “No one talking about wolves?” I asked.

  He shook his head slightly, staring at the counter as he wiped it. “Not a word. I’ve seen some of them, in and out. But now when they talk, they lean in close, huddling around their tables. I’ve even brought drinks around for them, to catch a few snatches of conversation. But they talk in whispers and fall silent when anyone comes near them. They’re keeping quiet.”

  I gave a barely visible nod. “I’ve noticed that, too. I try to listen from dark corners, but they won’t talk openly anymore.”

  “Right,” he said, leaning across the counter to wipe it down harder. “Seems to me like they’re preparing for something, waiting it out.”

  I sipped some more water. “Like snakes in tall grass,” I said. “Thanks for the ale.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said in a gruffer tone. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Sorry I
can’t give you anything more.”

  I shrugged. “At this point, I’m open to any suggestions for what to do next. How do I draw them out?”

  “I don’t think you can. My advice? Get some rest. Whatever they’re planning, it must be big. You’ll need to be ready.”

  Ready for anything, as Papa used to say on our hunts. Because you never know when a dangerous beast might spring on you from behind a tree or on a rocky overhang. “Thanks,” I said, leaving the mug on the counter and striding out the front doors, my cloak billowing behind me.

  I ignored Touraine’s advice, and regretted it later that night. From the rooftop of Focult le Tonnelier, the cooper shop across the street, I watched men come and go from La Maison all evening long. There were fewer men than usual, and no Lycanthru that I recognized from previous encounters. Not even Brocard or Sharrad, let alone Duke Laurent.

  A couple of hours past midnight, I gave up and went home, grumbling inside. Touraine had been right. The Lycanthru had withdrawn, keeping themselves hidden and biding their time. Their latest scheme had consumed their entire focus.

  Which meant they were bringing a greater danger to La Rue Sauvage than ever before. And I had no idea what it was.

  14.

  I woke at midday to a banging noise overhead. I rose from my cot, wearing only my dressing gown, as Crimson stirred suddenly from the hay to look up at me. Something banged again and I feared that Father Vestille had fallen. I tossed my blanket aside and hurried to the ladder to listen.

  I heard him walk across the floorboards to his front door and I breathed a sigh of relief. I heard the peephole of his oak door slide open, before he unlatched and opened it with a slow creak. “Monsieur Laurent,” he greeted.

  An icy chill raced up my spine.

  Laurent had found me.

  “Please, come in,” Father Vestille said.

  A gap between two warped floorboards let in extra light from above and allowed me to hear more clearly. So they could hear me just as well. I couldn’t retreat to my bed or risk making any other sounds. I turned toward Crimson and held up an urgent hand. Either he understood my command for silence or my intense actions alerted him to danger. He kept still.