Red Rider Revolution

by Randall Allen Dunn

  She stared at the floorboards again, knitting her brow, closing her eyes. Monsieur Serrone stepped to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, which she covered with her own.

  “It’s tragic, isn’t it? The idea that these things would abuse innocent children that way.”

  “No,” Madame Serrone said absently. “We should tell her. After all she’s done, and all that she’s attempting now, she should know.” She moved to the dining table and sat in a chair, folding her hands in her lap and leaning forward a little. “We had a daughter, Marguerite,” she said. “She was killed by the wolves. She was only five.”

  I felt hollow. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Thank you,” Monsieur Serrone said dully. “We both witnessed it. We were having a meal in a field, and let her play afterward. Probably not the wisest choice, in retrospect.” He cleared his throat, twice. “She was standing near the edge of the forest, when a large wolf grabbed her.” He sighed. “Tore her to pieces. We ran at it, trying to frighten it off, though it was far too late. It growled at us and we kept our distance until it left. But we knew it wasn’t a mere wolf. Not only its size, but the way it stared at us, warning us off. Like it knew exactly what it was doing.” He pulled up a chair to sit with his arm around his wife, speaking in a more subdued tone. “We’ve been here ever since, trying to understand what happened, and where that kind of wolf came from.” He ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “Trying to determine their patterns, their abilities, their methods, any weaknesses …”

  “Silver,” I interrupted. “And fire. But silver seems to work faster and be more reliable.”

  Madame Serrone blinked at me. “Silver? That’s all?”

  Monsieur Serrone leaned forward. “How do you know this?”

  “Experience,” I said.

  “But you’re only a child,” his wife insisted.

  “Perhaps,” I said. “But a child who’s seen up close what the wolves can do, and is determined to stop them.”

  “But they’ll kill you,” Madame Serrone said, almost pleading. “You can’t keep after them the way you’ve been doing.”

  “But you’re going to keep after them, anyway, no matter what we say,” Monsieur Serrone said, staring right at me. “Aren’t you, Helena?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Madame Serrone rubbed her knuckles like she was kneading thick dough.

  Monsieur Serrone sighed heavily. “Well, we know you’ve done a lot of damage to them in La Rue Sauvage. And you’re being careful, I assume.”

  “Yes, I am,” I promised.

  Madame Serrone nodded in silence, not looking at me. As if I was the daughter she had lost. Or one she feared she was about to lose. “I’ll tell you what we know,” she said. “They have control of DeSarte. They’re not hiding in the shadows, the way Father Vestille tells us the wolves did in La Rue Sauvage. They outnumber us, and the police are among their order. So no one dares confront them, let alone defy them. Those few who do …” She broke off, pressing her lips tight.

  I waited, but she still said nothing. “… Yes?”

  Monsieur Serrone also hung his head. “Those few who do speak against the wolves, they disappear. No one ever hears from them again. One young boy, around your age, tried to warn everyone about the wolves, long ago –.”

  “Marceau,” Madame Serrone said.

  Monsieur Serrone nodded and stared at the floor. With his arm around Madame Strineau, they looked like a couple staring into the casket at a funeral. “Yes, Marceau, that was it. Only sixteen years old. He witnessed the Lycanthru transforming in a barn one night, and stayed with us for a few nights afterward. He never told us about the incident, at first. But after we told him some children had been attacked by wolves in Burgundy, and discussed how it might relate to local wolf attacks, he confided in us.”

  “He thought that if enough people knew about the wolves, we could fight back together, and stop them,” Madame Serrone added. “Except …” She trailed off again, turning away.

  “Except the police arrested him on false charges that he attacked a man with a knife,” Monsieur Serrone finished. “Then they found that knife in the barn where Marceau worked and had been sleeping. Amazing how they knew exactly where to look in all that hay, wasn’t it?”

  “Where did they take him?” I asked, hearing my own anxiety over it. “The boy, Marceau.”

  “Supposedly, they took him to the asylum, since he kept ranting about men changing into wolves and attacking people,” Monsieur Serrone said.

  Madame Serrone broke in. “But we had some friends inquire for us. The asylum showed no record of admitting Marceau. He simply vanished.”

  I looked from one to the other, breathing heavier. “When did this happen?”

  Monsieur Serrone blew out a weighty sigh. “Nearly thirty years ago,” he said. “A couple of years before we lost Marguerite.”

  I steadied my breathing, wishing I could steady my heartbeat. Only sixteen years old, and he disappeared.

  Only sixteen.

  “Most of what we learned at the outset, we learned from this book,” Monsieur Serrone said, pushing some dish towels aside to reveal a thick book in the center of the table.

  “It’s a reference on the supernatural world,” Madame Serrone added. “Father Vestille also has a copy.”

  I turned to read the title: Tomas’ Unseen Workings of the Spiritual Realm.

  Monsieur Serrone opened the book, pointing to the table of contents. “It lists a number of strange things that have occurred over the years, that people usually dismiss as legends.”

  I glanced down at some of the chapter titles.

  Witnessing of Angels: Physical, Aural, Corporal, and Immaterial.

  Witnessing of Demons: Physical, Aural, Corporal, and Immaterial.

  Witnessing of Vampires and Succubi: Signs, Activities, Markings, Supernatural Control of the Senses, Strange Powers, Weaknesses, Prayer and Supernatural Combat Against Such Creatures.

  Witnessing of Were-wolves.

  I paused. “Were-wolves,” I said, speaking the strange word aloud to hear it.

  “Wolves who were once men,” Monsieur Serrone stated.

  I swallowed. I skimmed the rest of the chapters, on other creatures and on various cults who practiced black magic at different levels, including the Lycanthru. But apparently the Lycanthru were not part of the study on were-wolves.

  “He made no connection between the two,” Monsieur Serrone said, apparently noting my confusion. “If he had lived longer, he surely would have discovered it.”

  “He died?” I asked.

  “Natural causes,” he said, answering my next question.

  “Brother Tomas investigated each claim to learn the truth,” Madame Serrone said. “And more people came forth with reports of unusual activities they had observed. Over the years, he uncovered a great deal of dark magic that’s been practiced in various regions for the last century and longer.”

  “Including the Lycanthru practice of wolf worship and witchcraft to command wolves,” Monsieur Serrone said. “Which we now know they’ve taken much farther.”

  “We haven’t heard of them taking children, or anyone else, solely to abuse them,” Madame Serrone said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised by it, the way we see them act toward people, even toward one another.”

  I considered the way the Lycanthru had tormented one another at the Vorace tavern, with little regard for the damage they might cause themselves.

  “We’ve also seen them leaving town sometimes, as wolves, heading toward the forest,” Monsieur Serrone said. “Where they go or what they do, we couldn’t tell you.”

  “Who would know?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about that tonight,” Madame Serrone said. “You can stay here and sneak out at dawn.”

  I steeled my resolve. Madame Strineau needed me, to help find Claudette. I couldn’t let her down. “No, I’ve got to get back. I have to find the woman who accompanied me here.”

&nbs
p; Madame Serrone’s eyes widened. “You brought someone with you? How do you expect her to survive in town, after all this?”

  “That’s why I need to find her, and her daughter, Claudette. Now who knows more about the Lycanthru and what they’re up to? What about that man, Michel, who takes orders from DaVorre at the tavern?”

  Madame Serrone leaned forward in her chair. “You can’t even think of going back there. All the Lycanthru are searching for you.”

  “They won’t search there,” I said, listening to the quiet out in the streets. “They’ve likely put out most of the blaze by now, and they’ll search everywhere else for me. I just need to make it across a few streets.”

  They both gaped at me.

  Madame Serrone fixed a gaze that was somehow both stern and sympathetic. “Be careful, Helena. Every moment. You have no idea what these men can do.”

  “I know we can’t stop you,” Monsieur Serrone said. “Just don’t do anything crazy.”

  “Too late for that,” I said. “Who would run back into a burning building?”

  16.

  I eased the Serron es’ front door open. The street was empty and silent. I opened the door wide and glanced about, seeing no one, hearing distant shouts of those hunting for me.

  I stole across the street, leaving Crimson hidden at the Serrones’ stable for now. The Vorace tavern wasn’t far. I would double back for Crimson once I got the information I needed.

  I kept to the alleyways and dark shadows, staying out of sight. Easy enough to do this time of night with the buildings crammed so closely together. I peered around a corner to view the Vorace, and three wolves still loitering in front of it. The fire was nearly out, having caused far less damage than I imagined. Yet smoke still flooded from the building’s blackened walls.

  The wolves pawed at their noses and crouched, finally dropping to all fours. The smoke stench was too much for them. Then I noticed something else on all fours, low to the ground. A man with his back to us, wearing a black satin vest, his head hanging low. He turned toward one of the wolves and I saw his gaunt face and stringy moustache.

  Michel, the barkeep.

  The other wolves hurried off, away from the lingering smoke. I presumed they were joining the search for me. I crept forward from the alley as Michel started to crawl away. He would tell me everything I needed to know about the Lycanthru’s plans.

  From somewhere behind me, a woman’s voice rose. Sounding angry, or frightened, perhaps.

  Then I heard growling.

  Michel continued to crawl away, inch by inch.

  The growling grew louder, as did the woman’s cries.

  I turned and ran toward the source of the noise. To the end of the alley, back onto the street and across it to another alleyway. I rolled the crossbow off my shoulder and raised it to a ready position. I would have to find Michel again later, and trust the Lord to deliver him into my lap a second time. I couldn’t let some poor woman die, only a couple of blocks away.

  I turned into an alley toward the voice and growls. There at its end, beside a couple of weathered wine barrels, Madame Strineau stood, cornered with her back to the wall. Two gray wolves stood on their hind legs, leaning into her and snarling.

  “We’ll find her,” one wolf growled. “No matter where she’s hiding.”

  “She can’t escape us for long,” the second wolf added.

  “Get back!” I ordered them, pointing the crossbow as I marched toward them.

  They turned, all of them startled. Madame Strineau pressed her back to the wall as the wolves strode toward me.

  “Well, well,” one wolf sneered. “We’ve been looking for you, Mademoiselle.”

  “And you found me,” I said, aiming the crossbow at his face. “Congratulations.”

  He paused. “Don’t be deceived by our numbers, child. We can howl for the others to be here in seconds.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Line them up while I reload.”

  He hesitated again.

  So did his companion, drawing close beside the first wolf but coming no farther. The second wolf leaned forward, flashing yellow teeth. “Stand there and don’t move!” he ordered.

  “I prefer to keep moving,” I said, circling around them, my crossbow fixed on them, as they circled with me.

  “And I prefer you dead!” the second wolf growled, rushing at me in a fury.

  I pulled back on the lever, releasing a single bolt to his chest.

  Stopping him dead, letting his carcass hit the cobblestones.

  The first wolf stared at his companion, then turned to me, stunned. “You’ll pay for that, Mademoiselle,” he snarled.

  I remembered my mother and father and Suzette and felt the rage rising up in me again. “I already have,” I said.

  The wolf shook its head and grinned. “Oh, no, foolish girl. Your suffering hasn’t even started.” He snorted. “The Prime sends his greetings.”

  I felt blood drain from my cheeks. The Lycanthru in La Rue Sauvage had also mentioned “the Prime” a few months ago, in their secret gatherings. The Prime seemed to be their supreme leader. “Tell him and the rest of your order that I have a message for them as well.”

  “And what is that?” the wolf asked, grinning.

  “This,” I said, firing another bolt deep into his gut. He slumped to the ground, cold and silent. “I think they’ll figure it out.”

  “You killed them,” Madame Strineau said, gaping at the bodies of the wolves in awe. “You killed them both.” She stared at me. “You’re everything they claimed you were.”

  “We can discuss that later,” I said, drawing close to her. “What happened?”

  “I left the tavern, like you instructed,” she said. “I hid back here and everything was quiet, until that explosion and fire. Then all those wolves started roaming the streets and shouting, and finally those two discovered me back here, as you saw.” She continued staring at the bodies of the dead wolves. She finally tore herself away to meet my gaze. “Thank you for rescuing me.” “No one came here before the explosion?” I asked. “No. I was all alone.”

  “Then stay here,” I said. “I need to question someone about the Lycanthru. I’ll return for you.”

  “But who are you –?”

  I was already heading back the way I came, across the street and through the next alley toward the Vorace. I emerged and spotted Michel again, still crouched but observing the tavern’s ash and spreading smoke from a distance. He turned to see me with my crossbow and straightened to his full height to flee.

  I raced after him, covering my face with my sleeve. He was about my size, but nowhere near my strength or stamina in a sprint. I caught up to him in seconds and pushed him against a brick wall, shoving my weapon under his nose. He raised his hands in surrender, staring into the crossbow’s barrel. “Where did they take her?” I asked.

  “Wh-What?” he stammered. “Who?”

  “Claudette,” I said. “Claudette Strineau. Where did they take her?”

  He narrowed his eyes, looking confused. “Claudette Strineau? I – I don’t –.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know! You work for the Lycanthru. You hear them every night that your boss, DaVorre, sits at that head table. You must know something about that girl.”

  “Yes,” he said in a panic. “Yes, I’ve seen her. But – I can’t tell you anything more, they’ll kill me!”

  “Tell me or I’ll help them do it.”

  He knit his brows. “What?”

  I drew closer to his horrified face. “I’m going to find her eventually. Tell me where she is, and you’ll save us all a lot of time and pain.”

  “P-Pain?”

  “Then I can go and gather her, and you’ll never hear from me again. But if you don’t tell me, then when I do find her, I’ll tell them you helped.”

  “No,” he said, his voice cracked. “Please. You don’t know what they’re like, how dangerous they are !”

  “I know how dangerous I am. Tell
me.”

  “But – But –!”

  “Please, Monsieur, tell her where they’ve taken Claudette!”

  I turned to see Madame Strineau, standing at the mouth of the alleyway in her elegant dress. Did she intend to draw the entire Lycanthru order back here with her shouting?

  “She’s my only child,” Madame Strineau continued. “Please, I beg you!”

  Michel turned back to me, trembling. He swallowed. “There’s a cave, deep in the woods. They often go there at night. That’s probably where they’re keeping the girl.”

  “Where in the woods?”

  Michel spat out directions and I released him to lumber away like a wounded rabbit. I strode back to Madame Strineau. “You could have alerted the rest of the Lycanthru,” I scolded. “You could have gotten us both killed.”

  “I’m sorry, I – she’s my only daughter.”

  My anger cooled as I noted the fear showing in her eyes. “All right. But from now on, stay behind when I tell you and don’t interfere.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry, Helena.”

  “Now wait in the alley, where you were. I don’t hear anything, so you should be safe.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my horse,” I said. “We’re going into the woods to find your daughter.”

  17.

  Soon the woods grew denser, the night darker, as we traveled northwest into the deep woods. We kept to the forest, rather than detouring slightly to return to the Strineaus’ home.

  “Should we stop at the house to inform Rene what we’ve learned?” Madame Strineau asked.

  “No,” I said. “We keep going. I understand you want to report everything to your husband, but the faster we find the Lycanthru, the better chance we have. Then you can return home with your daughter.”

  I meant to add, If we find her. But I didn’t. Something told me that Claudette was still alive. Was it a hunch? An inner prompting from God? A vain hope that I now shared with the Strineaus? I didn’t know. Yet I now expected to find Claudette and return her home, though there was no valid reason to believe it.

  Clouds drifted across the sky, covering and uncovering the moon, over and over.