I wriggled in fury and desperation as the wolf cackled.
It snapped its jaws at my face a few times, as if it meant to swallow my head. I tried to wriggle away as it laughed.
“We’ll meet again, Helena,” it said.
Then it put its paw over my mouth, which smelled rank and bitter. My eyes felt heavy and everything went black.
I blinked slowly, my eyes feeling heavy again. The room slowly appeared, as if a fog of mist was separating from it.
My body felt like it was weighted down, immobilized. I moved a hand at my hip. I was lying in the Strineaus’ guest bed.
I slowly raised my head. I was wearing my tunic, as before. My trousers, cloak, and boots lay where I had left them. I lifted the blankets. I was no longer mummified. I peered up at the ceiling. There was no heavy rope, no hook. It was all a bizarre dream. A vivid, terrifying dream.
My chest heaved, my breath coming rapidly. I blinked some more, squinting and struggling to shake off the feeling of being cocooned. It was mid-afternoon, judging by the sunlight in the curtained room. How long had I slept?
I could hear the Strineaus in the dining room. Monsieur Strineau sounded annoyed, while his wife seemed to tolerate his irritation.
I pushed back the covers and struggled to sit up. I rubbed at my eyes and shook my head, still confused and exhausted. Such a bizarre nightmare, worse than I had experienced in years. I looked around the room. The dresser, table, chair, everything was back where it belonged. It was a dream, nothing more. I had never seen that auburn wolf before, though it sounded familiar. I forced myself to stand, retrieving my trousers and boots to dress.
“- seems like an enormous waste of time to me,” Monsieur Strineau was mumbling. “We could have had her by now.”
Liana answered. “Perhaps. But that is not for us to decide. Just be patient until we can – Oh, Helena. You’re up.”
“Yes,” I said, standing in the doorway.
Madame Strineau folded her hands before her, looking perfect and demure in the same velvet dress from the day before. “We’re just laying out some breakfast and then we’ll eat and be on our way.”
She sounded tired. Defeated.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a seat at the table where an empty plate and glass had been set, beside two settings with halffilled glasses. I still felt woozy and confused, struggling to settle into reality. I blinked hard. I had to focus on finding Claudette. “What time is it?”
“Nearly four o’clock,” Monsieur Strineau said.
“Four?” I asked in alarm.
Madame Strineau offered a forgiving smile. “You must have been exhausted, dear,” she said, setting out a plate of meat with some vegetables and roasted potatoes as she sat.
Monsieur Strineau took his wife’s plate to dish up some meat for her. “Here, my love.”
She put up a hand. “No, thank you.”
“Please, dear. You love lamb.”
“I can’t eat anything just now,” she said, staring at us and smiling like a porcelain doll.
“Have some bread, at least,” Monsieur Strineau said, passing the platter of broken bread pieces to her. She obliged, taking a single crust and setting it on her plate. Monsieur Strineau offered me the platter. “It’s not much, but – something to eat before we leave.”
I blinked. “The two of you are staying here,” I said.
They turned sharply at me. Monsieur Strineau narrowed his eyes. “She’s our daughter. And we both know these woods. You don’t. Madame Strineau can stay, but I’m coming along.”
“I beg your pardon,” Madame Strineau said. “As she’s our daughter. So I’ll be joining you to search for her.”
“I’m sure you’re both capable of searching,” I interrupted. “But what do you plan to do once we find her?”
I waited for that to sink in. They stared at the floorboards, quiet.
“We’ll do what we must,” Madame Strineau said. “Whatever you tell us.”
“Good,” I said. “Then I’m telling you to stay here.” I tore off a chunk of bread and started chewing it quickly. We had rested enough. Enough for me to have a vexing nightmare. Now every second we wasted was another second the Lycanthru could spirit Claudette farther away. Another second they could torture and abuse her, if she was still alive.
“Let us come with you,” Madame Strineau pleaded. “At least until we find some sign of her. I’m begging you. I simply –.” She seemed close to breaking down in tears. “– I have to know where she is. That she’s still alive.”
I swallowed. It was time to give them the cold truth. “And what if she’s not?”
Madame Strineau stiffened. She started to reply, then stopped herself.
I wanted to soften the blow. But that would only make it worse later. “She is likely dead,” I said. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’ve never heard of the Lycanthru capturing someone and keeping them alive for any reason. She is probably in pieces.”
Madame Strineau gasped and covered her mouth.
“How dare you?” Monsieur Strineau demanded. “Have you no heart or soul? To talk about our daughter as if !”
“As if she’s already gone,” I interrupted. “You asked for my help. This is how I help. By telling you what to expect. Which is what I expect to find. If your daughter’s alive, I’ll find her. If she’s not – I’ll let you know. But we will do this my way, not yours, and you’ll stay out of my way. It’s too dangerous any other way.”
Madame Strineau folded her hands in her lap, closed her eyes, then looked back at me. Calm and comatose. “You think the wolves killed her.”
“I see no reason that they wouldn’t.”
She nodded slowly, her posture rigid, like a perfect portrait model. “Then I must know that.”
She reminded me so much of my mother that I couldn’t refuse her. “All right, I’ll take you,” I said. “But only you.”
Monsieur Strineau halfrose from his chair. “What?”
“I can’t bring anyone else on Crimson with me. She’s lighter. And I expect her to follow my instructions and stay out of my way when told. And we’re not bringing that wagon into the woods. They’ll spot us coming from a mile away.”
Monsieur Strineau soured. “Should think you would be used to that,” he grumbled.
I ignored that, focusing on Madame Strineau. “If we do find Claudette, you will not try to fight anyone or anything. Do you understand? If there’s any danger, I will tell you where to hide, and you’ll remain there until I return for you. Understood?”
She nodded. “Perfectly.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
Monsieur Strineau glared at each of us in turn, then flipped his plate over as he rose abruptly. He snatched up a final piece of bread and stomped to the front room. Then he flopped into his sitting chair with his back to us and tore off some bread with his teeth.
Madame Strineau stared into her lap, then turned apologetic eyes on me. “He’s upset.”
“I gathered that.”
She sighed deeply. “You can’t blame him. I’m equally upset.”
“I know,” I said. “But on you, it’s much harder to tell. Which is another reason I’m letting you come with me. You can help me find my way around town, without announcing our presence to anyone who provides useful information.”
She knit her brows. “Around town? I thought we were searching the woods.”
I shook my head. “We’re not just searching for wolves,” I said, setting some lamb on my plate and stabbing it with my fork. “We’re searching for the men they once were.”
A few minutes later, I sat atop Crimson with Madame Strineau behind me. As I suspected, her added weight didn’t pose much of a burden for him. After helping his wife up, Monsieur Strineau held her hand and met her eyes with the look of a lost puppy. Or a lost husband and father. “Stay safe,” he told her. “Do all Mademoiselle Basque says, and come back to me.”
“I will,” she replied. He turned to me, his eyes m
ore sullen . “Watch over her,” he said. “Bring them both back to me.”
I nodded, promising nothing. Then I kicked at Crimson’s flanks and we charged farther to the northeast toward town.
Toward the Lycanthru of DeSarte.
13.
The moon hung low as we rode into town, with Madame Strineau pointing the way. The journey through the DeSarte woods had been eerie, between the slippery terrain and the gnarled branches clawing up from the earth like giant spiders. Madame Strineau gripped my upper arms in panic several times, nearly toppling us in the muddy patches as Crimson struggled for traction. Yet the town unsettled me even more.
The moment we entered, I felt that strange sensation of evil again, so thick it felt as if the night air itself was tugging at me skin. The first houses we passed were dark and deathly quiet, with barely a candle lit among them, inside or out. A few people wandered the streets, and stared at me with cold suspicion as I passed. Some of their expressions bordered on hatred – either hatred of a stranger or actual hatred of me, though no one here knew me. A haggard, silver-haired woman stood outside her house, eyeing me strangely as I rode by. Her legs were long like a stork’s, and her thin arms tugged a shawl about her shoulders. I didn’t know what to make of her expression, but she seemed familiar to me somehow.
Ahead, we heard some murmured conversations. We rounded a corner onto the main street and found large groups of people laughing, couples strolling by, others huddling close together to enjoy the latest gossip.
Then they saw me.
Conversations stopped.
Their stares were different than those of the villagers in La
Rue Sauvage, where my strange appearance stunned everyone upon first glance. These people also looked awestruck with a hint of fear, but their looks contained a sense of anger and even rage. As if offended that I had entered their town.
Madame Strineau seized my upper arm again. “What’s happening?” she asked in a harsh whisper.
“It’s your town,” I said, meeting the suspicious gazes of each local. “You tell me.”
“Everyone’s staring at us,” she said, breathless.
I pulled my arm free and urged Crimson forward, as my cloak wafted from my shoulders. “You get used to it,” I said.
We proceeded at a slow pace, past the vicious stares of strangers.
I let the crossbow roll down off my shoulder. I slid back its top catch, glancing inside to confirm it was filled to the top, though I had loaded it before we left the house. I had to be ready for whatever might come next. Lord, please watch over me and protect me in this alien place.
Ahead, a group of men glanced back at me as I approached, then bent to speak to someone in the alley. It must have been a child, as low as they stooped. They straightened and narrowed their wintry eyes at me, keeping silent as I rode past. At the other end of the alley, I glimpsed a shadow of a fleeing dog.
Or a wolf.
The men continued to study me as I passed.
I laid the crossbow in my lap, my hand near the trigger. Everywhere we traveled, we met unforgiving stares. Though, thankfully, they all remained in the areas where they stood. No one tried to overpower or even address us.
A dim ruckus rose from the center of the town, where several torches hung outside a building with several high windows. It appeared to be the local tavern. “What’s that building there?” I asked, pointing.
She leaned close to my ear. “I believe that’s where everyone goes for alcohol in the evenings. I’ve never been there.”
“Then this will be your first visit,” I said, urging Crimson ahead.
Madame Strineau gripped my upper arm. “But – won’t men be there? Smoking and drinking and trying to hurt one another?”
“That’s what usually happens.”
“And aren’t those wolves there?”
I fixed my eyes on the tavern doors as we crept toward it. “That’s what I mean to find out.”
We soon drew close enough to read the sign etched above the tavern: Vorace.
Voracious.
We moved to the hitching post outside the tavern. I got down, careful to swing my leg over slowly, to avoid striking Madame Strineau’s face. Then I reached up to help her down. “This might well be the time I instruct you to run, or hide. Don’t argue when I do.”
Madame Strineau nodded as she settled onto the ground and straightened her dress and riding cloak. I led Crimson to stand beside the other horses at the hitching post.
Madame Strineau raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to tie him up?”
“He’ll be fine,” I assured her. Crimson snorted in her direction, as if emphasizing the point. “Stay close behind me.”
I tugged the thick cherrywood door open, holding it open for Madame Strineau with my boot, then moved inside.
The Vorace tavern was wild. Wilder than La Maison de Touraine had ever been. Men were shoving and striking one another at random, with smiles on their faces. Two men sat at a table, backhanding one another’s faces as they spoke, as if it was a game to see who could draw the most blood. At another table, four men were holding a thinner man down on a table as they forced beer down his throat. Yet the man swept the nearest attacker’s legs from beneath him, pushing him aside and knocking a mug into another man’s skull. Then he circled the final man to fight, both of them grunting at one another, delighted with themselves. Beyond them, a large man threw a younger boy clear across the room to slam against the wall. As he slid to the floor in a pitiful heap, the larger man barked a laugh.
Then noticed me at the door.
At the same time that everyone else did.
The room fell dead silent.
“Wait outside,” I whispered.
“But –.”
“Now.”
I waited a moment for the door to close behind her. Whatever was happening here, I needed to face it without Madame Strineau and the attention her stylish dress would attract. And once I did learn what I was facing, I would need freedom to move.
I started toward the bar. A mousy-looking man pressed his hands to the counter and cleared his throat as I approached. “May
– May I help you?”
“Water,” I said.
He scratched at his stringy moustache twice and swallowed. Then he filled a cup with water from a pitcher and slid it to me. I took it and sipped, as dull murmurs of conversation started up. I expected someone to approach me at the bar, but heard no one.
“Mademoiselle,” someone called.
I turned to see a squat man, sitting at a table near the bar with six other men, all of them holding mugs and studying me. He knew without question that I was a girl, despite my broad hood and trousers. His smile gleamed beneath a thick moustache. “Join us,” the man invited. The brawny man nearest him rose abruptly, allowing the mustached man to kick the empty chair out from the table for me. “Please.”
I hesitated a moment. Then strode cautiously to the offered chair and sat, spreading my cloak to the sides. Keeping a close grip on my crossbow.
“You’re a stranger here,” he said.
“You’re very observant,” I said. The other men at the table were taller, most of them thin, two of them brawny.
“I thought so,” he said. “I’m sure I would have remembered seeing someone like you. I’ve never met a girl who refused to wear a skirt.” He turned to the other men, a few of whom chuckled. The others scowled at me.
“As I said. You’re very observant.”
“And what is a little girl like you doing in a tavern?” he asked, sipping from his mug.
“Whatever I want.”
The man laughed. “I am Hugo,” he said, flashing crooked teeth. “Hugo DaVorre. A very important man here in DeSarte. I own this tavern. I named it Vorace, after myself.”
I narrowed my eyes, glancing sideways at the scrawny man polishing the bar counter.
DaVorre tossed his head toward the man. “Michel works for me. And he works very hard. Don’t
you, Michel?”
Michel nodded quickly from the bar. Too quickly. Then ducked his head down and continued cleaning.
“I’m taking the evening off,” DaVorre said. His gaze slid down to my waist, then traveled back up to my eyes. “You have someplace to stay, mon chéri?”
My skin bristled. For the first time, I longed to see Pierre strike someone in a fit of jealous rage. But I needed to gather information. “Possibly,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“Well, you can stay with me. I live close by, and I promise I’ll take good care of you. I wouldn’t want a young lady like you to be stranded out in the cold.” He leaned forward with a menacing grin. “These streets aren’t safe at night.”
I held his gaze. “Neither am I.”
DaVorre stared blankly at me, not seeming to understand my words. Then he threw back his head and laughed like a donkey. “What’s your name, Mademoiselle?”
I held his gaze, noting how the other men shifted around him. They were starting to edge toward the sides, to flank me. “Helena.”
“Well, you don’t look that dangerous to me, Helena. Although you look like you’ve been in a few fights. And lost.” He guffawed again, pleased with himself.
“I haven’t lost many,” I said.
He stopped laughing abruptly. Almost as abruptly as the others stopped circling me. “Is that so? You wouldn’t be that little girl who went out hunting wolves in La Rue Sauvage, would you?”
“I might be.”
“Such a sad story, wasn’t it? I hear that poor girl lost her Mama. And her Papa. And her little baby sister, too.”
My nails dug into the crossbow stock.
“Then they say she just went crazy, hunting down giant wolves in the middle of the night. When she should have been sleeping, all nice and cozy in her own bed. I hear she started dressing strangely, too, like a man.” He locked eyes with me. “Sort of the way you’re dressed.”
“Sort of.”
“So what brings you to DeSarte … Helena?”
“A little girl is missing. I’m going to find her. And whoever took her.”
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