Red Rider Redemption (The Red Rider Saga Book 3)

by D. A. Randall

  The ugly transformation had started. Before everyone’s eyes, the hair on Laurent’s skin turned gray while his nose and jaw extended. Pointed ears grew atop his head as fangs protruded from his grinning mouth. He ripped away shreds of his uniform and stood before everyone as the enormous gray wolf, while women screamed and men backed away.

  Only to find themselves surrounded by more monsters, beneath skylights that produced the same hideous results. Everyone shuffled about in a panic, searching for some escape. The musicians raised their instruments like weapons in a desperate defense. Young maidens retreated from their once-handsome escorts and searched for a human man to protect them. Men scanned the room for an exit or a weapon, or something to tell them this was not a living nightmare.

  I threw on my tunic and secured the cloak about my neck. I needed them to see me in full garb. The Lycanthru wouldn’t fear an attack from Marie Beauchamp, even if she held a crossbow.

  Someone fired a musket, and everyone paused. Then a wolf growled and slashed, presumably at the screaming soldier who tried to kill it.

  I leaped into the room as everyone reeled with horror. Laurent had already grabbed the Queen by her wrist. He stood on his hind legs, looming over her. “Welcome to the party, Your Highness.”

  I aimed my crossbow at his skull while the Queen shrieked. “Laurent!”

  He gaped at me, his wolfish face in utter shock. “Impossible.”

  I fired.

  He ducked aside. My bolt hit a Lycanthru a few paces behind him. The man gasped and grabbed at the bolt lodged in his chest, then fell backward into the fountain, sending a wash of water across the floor.

  Twenty-four wolves left.

  Laurent rose with a wild glare, baring his fangs. He seized the Queen’s shoulders and held her in front of him. “I can’t imagine how you got in here, Helena, but you won’t be leaving in one piece.”

  “What did you say?” I asked, circling for a better angle. “It’s hard to hear you while you’re hiding behind the Queen’s skirts.”

  He angled with the Queen to keep her between us. I held my position. No one dared move. We were all helpless to act and desperate to escape this nightmarish battle. Unless someone made a move soon, one of the Lycanthru could get reckless.

  I scanned the room. Powerful as they were, the Lycanthru’s eyes bulged as wide as those of the helpless guests, seeing me and my crossbow. “I’ll only kill the ones who interfere,” I said. “Walk away now and you’ll survive the night.”

  “She’s alone!” Laurent shouted. “We can destroy her!”

  “Try it,” I answered. “Whoever wants to die first, run at me now. Whoever wants to survive, walk away slowly.”

  I waited while they considered. If they didn’t withdraw – if they attacked in force – I could kill the first nine with the crossbow. Then hope to finish off the others with my blades, before they sliced me to ribbons.

  A single footstep broke the tense silence. Laurent’s royal advisor, Simonet, emerged from the crowd, still fully dressed. He had not drunk his Lycanum. He kept himself in full view of everyone as he slowly crossed the ballroom.

  “Simonet!” Laurent growled, clutching the Queen closer. “What are you doing?”

  Simonet regarded Laurent, then looked down at his doublet’s lapel. He lifted his hand and tore off his royal insignia.

  Laurent gaped at him. “Simonet! How dare you! Come back!”

  Simonet turned to meet Laurent’s narrow wolf-eyes. “It will not be today, Your Grace,” he said.

  “Simonet, stop! If you desert us, we’ll hunt you down! You won’t last another night!”

  Simonet ignored him, stepping cautiously toward me with both his hands in sight. I kept a watchful eye on all sides, expecting him to distract me while the others attacked. But he continued toward the entrance. From a safe distance, he met my eyes and gave me a respectful nod. Then he passed by me and strolled out the front door.

  “Simonet!” Laurent called. “Simonet!”

  Two other wolves, one brown, one black, exchanged glances, then hurried out after Simonet.

  Leaving only twenty-one Lycanthru.

  “Come back, you cowards!” Laurent growled.

  I crept forward, the crossbow raised, as Laurent took a side step toward the front exit. I moved to block him as the crowd parted, backing against the walls. “The only way you leave is if you release the Queen. Step away from her and I won’t shoot.”

  “Forget the Queen, Laurent!” one wolf shouted. “We’ll have another chance.”

  “We’ll never have another chance!” Laurent barked.

  “We can’t rule if we’re dead!” growled another wolf.

  “She’s the only one standing between us and the throne!” Laurent snarled.

  “Wrong!” someone shouted.

  It was Pierre. He stood at the far end of the room with the other guests. His silver blowgun was extended and raised to his lips.

  I wanted to cry out, tell him to stay back. But there was no stopping him.

  “Let Her Majesty go. Now!” he ordered Laurent.

  Everyone stared at Pierre. A wolf standing near him scoffed. “What can you do with that toy, Son?”

  “Blow you away,” Pierre said. He blew through the pipe, spraying silver dust at the wolf’s huge face.

  The wolf coughed, and gave a short laugh.

  Then his eyes bulged and he fell to the floor.

  As the wolf fell, another Lycanthru snarled and sprang forward. He backhanded Pierre, sending him sprawling to the floor.

  “No!” I cried.

  Pierre fell onto his blowgun and did not rise. I fired straight at the wolf that struck him. My bolt sank into his belly and he fell on his snout.

  Nineteen left.

  I gaped at Pierre, lying there motionless. I pried my eyes away and whirled back to Laurent.

  He was gone. The Queen stood alone, looking about herself with a confused expression.

  I scanned the crowd, the fountain, the pillars, the maroon orchestra platform. Laurent had disappeared.

  “Go, Your Highness!” I shouted. I swept my crossbow at the rest of the Lycanthru scattered around the room. They took the warning and stayed back.

  The Queen came to her senses and summoned her guards. “To the coaches!”

  The soldiers hurried to surround her and hustle her out the door, their weapons raised. She glanced back at me with astonished eyes as they rushed her to safety.

  Now I simply had to clear the room, before the Lycanthru grew impatient.

  I searched for Laurent among the wolves, as the guests crowded together against the surrounding walls. “Everyone! Go home! Lock your doors and shutters. I’ll clean up here.”

  The party guests leaped away from the wolves, shoving against one another in a mad frenzy.

  “Not you!” growled a large wolf to my left.

  The beast grabbed Celia and dragged her back as she screamed. In the rush of the crowd, I couldn’t get a clear shot.

  “Leave her alone!” a young man cried.

  I thought it was Pierre, already up and fighting again. But as the people flew past, I spotted Jacque Denue, tugging against the massive paw that held Celia’s hair. The wolf released her and turned on Jacque in a rage. He slashed Jacque’s chest, tearing it open and spraying blood across the rear table.

  I shuddered and fired straight into the monster’s neck. He groaned and felt at the bolt, looking confused. Then he slumped to the floor as guests backed away from him.

  The villagers streamed past me, bottlenecking at the front doors. I scanned the ballroom, accounting for each wolf. I counted ten, fourteen, seventeen of them positioned around the edges, near the straggling guests. Still no sign of Laurent.

  I finally located him as he stepped out from behind a long table. He stood tall on his hind legs with a gloating smile. Screams mounted behind me.

  “Helena, watch out!” Father Vestille called from the far wall.

  I whirled. A large blac
k wolf broke through the escaping crowd and rushed at me. I lifted my crossbow but he knocked it aside. It flew across the room, skittering across the floor toward the feet of the remaining villagers.

  The wolf snarled in my face with rage, its blue-gray eyes shining.

  Sharrad.

  He was the black wolf that had fled the ballroom earlier with Simonet. Only to return and catch me off guard.

  My heart beat madly as I took a few steps back. Sharrad continued to advance, growling with vengeance. I flicked my wrists back, producing the silver-edged blades.

  Sharrad’s eyes widened. He lunged and seized my wrists before I could slash at him.

  “So that’s how you escaped,” Laurent hissed, a few feet behind me. “You won’t have that advantage this time, Helena. Remove those gloves and bring her here.”

  “Gladly,” Sharrad said. In a flash, he yanked each of my gloves off and tossed them aside, then secured his grip on my wrists again.

  I tried to jerk my hands free. Kicked uselessly at his side. He gave a guttural laugh, my childhood nightmare coming to life. He had stripped me of my weapons. Nothing could stop him from dragging my heels across the marble floor toward Laurent.

  28.

  I kicked at Sharrad’s side again. He growled down at me through his fangs, more vicious than before, and kicked my thigh with one hind leg. I grunted at the blow. The remaining party guests stood in a helpless line against the far wall beyond the fountain, where the other wolves kept them under guard. I glanced over my shoulder as Sharrad dragged me to Duke Laurent.

  Laurent smiled in triumph through his fangs as Sharrad deposited me at his feet. I glanced back at Pierre, still lying motionless on the floor. Behind him, Father Vestille and Gerard Touraine awaited their fate with the other guests. At least the Queen had escaped the ballroom with her soldiers.

  Laurent turned to Sharrad. “Take care of her. We’ll dispose of the Queen.”

  “I’ve been longing to, Lord Laurent,” he replied. He twisted my arms up behind my back, stopping just short of breaking them off. I grunted at the screaming pain.

  Laurent gripped my cheeks. “Don’t damage her too much. Tomorrow, we’ll make her suffer publicly in the center of the village.”

  I struggled and prayed for some escape. The Lord couldn’t let this happen, not after I had come so close to stopping them. He couldn’t let them kill all of my friends and take over La Rue Sauvage. He couldn’t let them devour the Queen and seize control of France!

  “Wash off this paint,” Laurent ordered Sharrad, waving at the makeup that covered my scars. “I want everyone to recognize Helena when she begs for her life.”

  “My pleasure.” Sharrad tugged me toward the bubbling fountain.

  “You!” Laurent called to an auburn wolf. “Watch our other guests. The rest of you, come with me!”

  I heard them howling and loping out the entrance and the front gates. Sharrad dragged me to the fountain in long strides. Once there, he locked his sable paw around my wrists and forced my knees to the marble floor. “The party’s over, princess. Time to show your real face.”

  He peeled back my hood, then grabbed the back of my neck and forced my head into the fountain. I had barely gasped for breath before he plunged me into the underwater vacuum. Dizzying water rushed around me as I pushed against him, trying to rise as his enormous paw held me under. I twisted my face away from the fountain’s stone floor and prayed he wouldn’t scrape my cheeks across it.

  He yanked me up. Water flew from my hair and neck as I sputtered. He tugged me against his chest, his fur brushing my cheek. “Not long enough. You still look pretty.” He gave a husky laugh. “Let’s try again.”

  He bent to wrap his arm around my thighs. Then he hoisted me over his shoulder and turned me upside-down. I shook my head in protest as he held me over the fountain.

  He wouldn’t wait for Laurent, any more than Jacquard did. Sharrad meant to finish what his brother started when he scarred my face. To humiliate and torture me right here, until he killed me.

  I stared down at the rippling water like it was an open grave. I sucked in air as he shoved me back into it.

  He rested the top of my head on the fountain floor. I planted my palms there and twisted from side to side, as much as his monstrous grip would allow. My hands scrambled for something to use for a weapon or leverage, anywhere along the smooth surface. I bucked beneath the water, bobbing my head left and right, as the bubbles danced around me. I couldn’t hold out much longer.

  He suddenly released my legs. I tumbled sideways into the water. Rather than wait to figure out what new torture he meant to inflict on me, I sprang up and sucked in the ballroom air, still stale from the lingering odor of Lycanum.

  Sharrad gaped at me and shuddered. I rose to my knees, drenched, as water flooded over the sides of the fountain.

  The shine left Sharrad’s blue-gray eyes as his shoulders sagged. He dropped to his knees and fell face-first to the marble floor. Beyond him, the auburn wolf lay dead beside the guests he had guarded. One man held my crossbow in his fists.

  It was Father Vestille.

  I shook my head to fling away water and focus my eyes. I crawled out of the fountain, careful not to slip. Father Vestille still aimed the crossbow in our direction. He didn’t move. “Father Vestille. You – You –.”

  “I have just killed a man. Yes.”

  I frowned. “It was a wolf.”

  “No. It was a man. But if I had not killed him, he would have killed you. I will always choose you.” He swallowed hard. “Even if it means I can no longer be a priest.”

  The others fell silent. I stared at him in shock. He had given up everything he loved for me. “Father –.”

  Touraine broke in, stepping forward to address the crowd. “You all decide what you want. As for me, I’ll have no other priest in this community.” He met Father Vestille’s eyes. “And you’ll see me on Sunday.” The others murmured agreement.

  I turned from them and hurried to Pierre, still lying on the floor as water spread across it. I listened to his steady breathing, thankful he was all right.

  Touraine stepped forward, handing me my gloves. “What do you need from us?”

  I turned and stared at the waiting crowd as I tugged the gloves back on. I wished I knew how to use their help, now that it was offered. But I had nothing for them to do. “Go find all the silver you can. Anything you have. Candlesticks, jewelry, knives, tools. Silver will kill them.” I looked back down at Pierre and stroked his head. “Find what you can and protect your homes. I’m going after the Queen.”

  Touraine knelt beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take care of him.”

  I swallowed, withdrawing my hand. Pierre would be all right. So would the others. I had to go.

  I caught Father Vestille’s eye and pointed to the auburn wolf. “Can you pull the bolt out of that one for me?” I asked. He nodded and turned. I hurried to Sharrad’s body, stepped on his furry back, and pried the other bolt out. I wiped the blood on my trousers, feeling utterly filthy.

  “God be with you,” Father Vestille said, tossing me the crossbow and the spare bolt. He made the sign of the cross over me. “Go save the Queen.”

  29.

  I ran to the door, my boots slipping on the ballroom floor. I found firmer footing once I hit the ground outside of Chateau de Laurent, and squinted through the darkness at the line of coaches beyond the iron gate. I spotted Celia’s and ran to it.

  Crimson stamped his hooves beside the rest of the horse team, anxious. He surely hated being hitched to the Verdantes’ carriage, hidden in plain sight, while the wolves escaped. I freed him and climbed onto his back. He snorted as I urged him forward.

  We charged down the path leading away from Chateau de Laurent and veered into the cool pine forest, well-lit by the full moon. The Queen’s coach would have to follow the winding path, but the wolves could rush straight through the woods and the rolling hills beyond. I found three of them
racing ahead of us. The night wind riffled my cloak as I urged Crimson after the snarling silhouettes.

  I had no time to grab the other weapons from my bag at Chateau de Laurent. Had I brought the single-shot crossbow, I could fire it with one hand. The repeating crossbow required both. I only had seconds to learn how to shoot it at full gallop.

  I nearly hugged Crimson’s neck, the reins in my left hand, the crossbow in my right. We drove straight up behind the wolves. I aimed at the dark gray one on my right and moved the crossbow’s lever close to the reins. I gripped the lever tight with my left hand and thrust the entire crossbow forward, to force the lever back while I steadied myself. I struck the wolf’s side and it howled. It tumbled over, dead, and Crimson leaped over it.

  I finally shot a wolf while riding.

  The brown wolf glanced back from my left, wide-eyed and panting. I took the crossbow in my left hand and leaned toward him. I fumbled with it to shoot before he could dodge. I managed to switch hands on the reins, but my awkward shot struck a tree above his head. He quickened his pace. I charged after him, bouncing and jostling as I struggled to aim.

  I tugged on the reins to slow Crimson down, letting the wolf flee farther ahead with the other one. I switched the crossbow back to my right hand, which was far easier to manage. I aimed and fired, then watched him fall to the dirt.

  Fifteen yards ahead, the final auburn wolf quickened his pace. I pushed Crimson harder to close in on him. The wolf looked over his shoulder and veered to the right, giving me a clear target. I repeated the same motion as before, dropping him with one shot.

  I could only shoot from my right side. I had to make that work, to finish off the final fourteen wolves.

  We emerged onto a clearing to view the rolling hills that led away from the village. We bounded over them, following alongside the path, where dust clouds still rose from the coach’s flight. I spotted the Queen’s distant carriage escaping at a frantic pace. About a half-mile behind, the wolves continued to scramble after her.