I stared at the vial a second longer, before setting it aside in the box. “That should work.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Marceau added. “We’re still stuck in the asylum. In the end, it accomplishes nothing. We don’t even know our way around DeSarte anymore, if we could even leave the asylum.”
I nodded toward the middle of the table. “The Serrones know the area perfectly. They can help us.”
Marceau narrowed his eyes. “Help us do what? Wander through the woods until the wolves catch up to us?”
“I can help you, too. If we work together, we can escape.”
Marceau shook his head. “Not impressed by your achievements so far. When you can figure out how to escape your cell, I’ll consider it. Until then, do as you’re told and don’t draw attention to yourself.”
I met Dureau’s gaze briefly before he stared down at the table like Marceau. He seemed open and ready for this nightmare to end, but was following Marceau’s cynicism instead.
I stared down the table again at Marc Creonin, calm and dignified as he continued his work routine, unperturbed.
Resigned to his life of slavery.
I had to change Marceau’s mind.
As soon as possible.
39.
By the end of the day, after another humiliating spoon-fed lunch of mush, I finished eighty-five vials. Approximately the same number of Lycanthru I had killed in La Rue Sauvage. As I dressed in a man’s clothes, stayed up to hunt throughout the night, and ostracized myself from everyone in the province. Everything I had done over the last several months had been virtually undone in a single day.
“Well done, Helena,” Monsieur Strineau said with pride. “Now you can prepare for tonight’s festivities.”
He and Madame Strineau bound my arms again and led me back upstairs to my cell.
The rack table stood upright. To my left, a large metal hook hung from the ceiling by a thick rope, like the riggings of a merchant ship.
Madame Strineau held me before it. “I thought we would have a little fun before we release you to the rest of the pack,” she said with glee. “Remember it, Helena?”
I stared at the enormous hook overhead. The same hook I had swung from in my dream at the Strineaus’ house.
But it was no dream.
I struggled in their grip.
“You do remember, don’t you, dear? That wonderful helpless feeling, wrapped in bandages and hanging upside down? But this will be most different. For now, you can wait until we gather the others. To give you a small taste of what to expect later tonight.”
They dragged me to the rack, untying my arms and forcing my wrists and ankles back into the straps. Then Monsieur Strineau cranked the straps tighter again, stretching my arms and legs tight. I gasped and groaned.
Madame Strineau took a step back to admire my helpless state. “Excellent. Now just wait there for us, darling. We won’t be long.”
They left the room. I hung from the upright table, sucking in my stomach to adjust my body, getting slightly more comfortable. Forcing my stomach in tighter allowed me to stretch my arm farther, giving the wrist straps more slack. I angled my palms down and tugged hard on the leather cuffs, to no avail. I pointed my fingers up, to make my wrist slim enough to slip through the bands. No use. I was stuck tight.
A few minutes later, I heard someone approaching. A man’s boots clomped in the corridor. Had Monsieur Strineau returned? Or was this one of the other men that Madame Strineau went to fetch?
The door creaked open. I tensed.
The black leather boots stepped inside, and I met the morose expression of Lieutenant-General Vitton. I clenched my fists and shook as his stare burned into me. He closed the door and strode up to my face, his hat’s wide brim nearly brushing my chin. “Good evening, Mademoiselle,” he said. “Are you enjoying your accommodations?”
I swallowed and said nothing.
“Here, let me help you.” He stepped to the side of the rack. The chains creaked as my wrists were pulled higher. I grunted at the jerking pain.
“You wanted my help, didn’t you, Helena?” he said. “You came to me often enough. Now I can come to you, whenever my duties allow. I certainly couldn’t miss seeing you at tonight’s event, to see you get all you deserve.”
He cranked the wheel another notch. I groaned, my body trembling. I no longer had a choice whether to tighten my stomach.
“That should do,” he said, standing before me. He studied me a moment, the same way Simonet often did.
Then he slapped me.
Tiny lights circled before my eyes, like glowing fish swimming in all directions.
He backhanded me again. And again. Then started pummeling my taut gut with his fists. I clenched my jaws, accepting his blows, waiting for it to end.
“Giuseppe,” Liana said, entering. “How nice to see you again.”
Vitton didn’t turn, but he stopped punching me. “You as well, Madame.”
“You know we’re to leave our sweet little Helena intact for tonight,” she said.
“This is only a mild beating,” he said. “The Arena is for cutting.”
He hammered my stomach again several times, then slapped me some more. I wanted to vomit.
He stepped back, satisfied for the moment.
Madame Strineau lifted my chin to meet her sparkling eyes. “You must stay a while, Giuseppe. I’ve decided to give our little dolly a taste of the Arena. Everyone is so excited that they’ve prepared everything well in advance for tonight.” She leaned into my face. “So we have time to play.”
I hung upside down from the ceiling hook of my cell, bandaged from head to toe. Madame Strineau took infinite pleasure in wrapping me tightly, starting at my ankles, as the other Lycanthru held me in place. Monsieur Strineau, LieutenantGeneral Vitton, and two other men I didn’t know, who had already transformed into wolves.
I struggled to pull my legs away from them, while my arms still hung from the rack, but it was pointless. Once they had tied my wrists behind me and pinned my arms to my sides, binding me all the way to my neck, they tied my ankles to a heavy rope, secured it to the metal hook, and hoisted me into the air. Then they all undressed and drank vials of Lycanum to transform.
Now I hung suspended from the ceiling, twisting to see each wolf’s face.
Madame Strineau squatted, taking my head in her auburn paws. Seeing her as she appeared in my presumed nightmare made my heart race.
“We call this ‘the bag’, dear,” she said. “A little game we like to play, with you hanging like a sack of potatoes.”
She stood and pushed me. I swung freely to the opposite side of the room, where something slammed hard into my back, knocking me in another direction. I spun helplessly, catching fleeting glimpses of devilish upside-down grins. Another Lycanthru hammered my shoulder, sending me toward his companion, who drew back his paw to punch me.
They pushed me from one to the other, each one slapping or striking me as I came near. In my stomach, my chest, across my face.
“What’s wrong, Helena? Did that hurt?” one wolf taunted after ramming his paw into my gut. The blow made me want to wretch, but I kept myself rigid, forcing my mind to remain calm.
“Answer him, you little brat!” another wolf growled before slapping my cheek and sending me spinning. They all laughed as I spun like a depraved child’s toy.
Madame Strineau grabbed my waist and drew me close in an awkward hug, her furry paws cradling my head again. “I think it’s time we set poor little Helena loose,” she said. “Don’t you, my precious dolly?”
She waited for me to strain my neck to see her flash of teeth. Then she raised her claws and slashed at my side, pushing me away. It barely scraped my ribs, slicing away some of the wrapping, but it stung. The next wolf struck at my stomach, cutting more of the bandages away as he scraped my belly. A third wolf scratched the back of my thigh, deep enough to burn. I cried out. It felt like I was surrounded by Jacque DeNue and his gang once more. Unable
to defend myself, unable to fight or do anything but wait out their relentless beating.
Tears streamed up across my forehead, against my will, and fell upside-down into the ends of my hair. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Ah, now we have your attention,” Madame Strineau laughed.
“I trust I have yours,” a new voice announced.
I swung freely. No one touched me.
Footsteps approached. I turned to see the upside-down figure of Simonet standing over me, hands folded behind his back.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked Madame Strineau.
She cleared her throat. “We were preparing her,” she said.
Simonet studied me. “That will be sufficient,” he said. “She’s frightened, and enraged. Now save your efforts for the Arena. We want the others to see her.”
He turned and strode to the door, leaving me to finish swinging. Over his shoulder, he addressed Madame Strineau once more. “I trust you will bring her on time. The Prime does not wish to be kept waiting.”
40.
Madame Strineau kept my legs free but her paws stuffed a thick cloth in my mouth to gag me before leading me out, as her husband held the door open. A frenzy of loud, excited growls rose from somewhere beyond the outer corridor, unlike anything I had heard before. The Lycanthru sounded raucous, like men celebrating at La Maison de Touraine after a successful day’s labor.
They dragged me down the corridor to an archway, which led to a spiral stone stairwell. We descended a few flights, emerging at the bottom, where it seemed more airy and the excited din was at its loudest. I breathed rapidly, in and out, halfexpecting to be thrown into the midst of dozens of Lycanthru as their midday meal. Except that I knew they wanted to keep me alive.
For sport. Monsieur Strineau dropped to all fours and loped through the square archway, past two upright wolves who smiled back at me. He disappeared into the empty area beyond them, while Madame Strineau kept her hands locked on my arms. Monsieur Strineau soon padded back to us, rising to his hind feet and nodding to Madame Strineau.
“He’s arrived?” she asked.
Monsieur Strineau looked back at the entrance, beaming. “He’s here.” A loud howl came from within, making me flinch. Silence fell quickly.
“Good afternoon, my brothers,” DuChard greeted the crowd in a loud voice.
I fidgeted, trying to pull away, as the Strineaus kept me in position. I wished for a few minutes of freedom, long enough to race forward to strangle DuChard.
“You’ve all been so patient. These last few months have caused great concern, I know. But you no longer need to worry. Once again, as before – as it should always be – we have nothing to fear. We have defeated our enemy, and brought her here for your amusement.”
I pushed hard against the Strineaus, my feet slipping on the stone floor as the crowd howled with approval.
“And as I promised, she is not only imprisoned here where she belongs, but she is forgotten by everyone outside these walls. No one will ever search for her. She has been dressing like a man, staying out all night long, and telling bizarre tales of men becoming wolves.” The crowd laughed, clearly pleased with themselves. “What is more, she has insisted that Siegfried Simonet, the man she killed with her own crossbow, is now alive and wandering the streets!” More laughter. More shouts to hurry along. “No one wishes to ever see or hear of Helena Basque again. She now belongs to us.”
A frightening rise of howls and snarls that continued to grow louder, more violent.
More anxious.
“From now on, when those ignorant villagers speak of the ‘Red Rider’, they will speak of a deluded young girl who lost her mind and was sent away in disgrace. When they speak of her within our order, they will speak of her endless screams.”
The crowd erupted in howls and vicious snarls. I pushed back against the Strineaus but they locked their hands tighter, edging me forward.
“But first, we will teach her the folly of attacking us. Along with some of the other inmates who continue to earn a place in the Arena. I’m sure you recognize them, especially Anton Dureau.”
The crowd howled again.
“And, of course, Marceau!”
They growled louder, seeming excited and enraged. Madame Strineau removed the gag and bent close to my ear. “Your turn, dear.”
“Now welcome our guest of honor as she enters the Arena for her first time. Our sweet young warrior, Helena Basque – ‘The Red Rider’!”
The Strineaus shoved me forward, past the wolf guards and through the archway into a large open floor pit. Above us, dozens of Lycanthru sat among the tiered seats, some prowling on all fours, some seated, some on their hind legs. All of them howling and snarling and craning their necks to leer at me. It truly did remind one of a Roman Coliseum.
The wolves’ cheers rose as the Strineaus led me toward the center of the Arena, where DuChard stood before a small group of men like a general leading his troops. A shorter wolf stood upright at a distance behind them, holding a whip. He snapped it at one of the men who stood apart from the others. The man yelped and clutched at his wounded arm.
“Back in line,” the wolf snarled, gathering up the whip. I recognized the way he held it in his fist. It was Garroche, the carriage driver who brought us here, now in his wolf guise. The same wolf who captured me with his whip in the cave when I confronted the Prime.
DuChard extended an arm toward Garroche. “As you see, Garroche is here to keep our guests on the floor, as always.”
The short wolf – Garroche – bowed his head to DuChard.
The Strineaus shoved me at Marceau, as he stood surveying the Lycanthru around the room, looking nervous.
“Marceau!” I greeted. “Are you all right?
“I’ll know in a few hours,” he answered, still glancing in all directions.
I glanced at the handful of other prisoners standing in the center of the room. Dureau was there, along with some other inmates I recognized from the workroom. Even Monsieur Creonin was there, which appalled me. He had to be in his ‘80’s, with his frail body and full white beard. How could they put him here with all the younger men to square off against wolves?
DuChard raised his arms to get the crowd’s attention. They didn’t respond as quickly this time, still on their feet, cheering, snarling, howling. Some of them looked ready to jump out of their seats and join the other wolves advancing on us from the ground floor.
“Now, my brothers,” DuChard announced to the crowd as they finally quieted. “Let us see how well she fights!”
The crowd erupted with a deafening roar of approval, howling, growling, stamping their feet in the seats, scratching at the walls.
“Sorry you’re here with us,” Marceau said. “Now they own you, too.”
I surveyed the room, filled with my deadliest enemies, ready to tear me to ribbons.
“Let’s get you ready, dear,” Madame Strineau called, her voice shrill in my other ear.
The ropes were slashed and pulled from my arms. I massaged my wrists, glancing back at her.
“Better? You’ll want your limbs free to run, I assume,” she mocked, backing away with her husband to the outer entrance, where thick doors were shut behind them.
My hands were free.
I stared at the surrounding wolves again. The Lycanthru who had taken everything from me, and wanted to now destroy everyone I knew and loved. And Francois Revelier’s advice surged in my temples once more, as I studied each wild face: Stand up and do something.
I never thought I could stand up to Jacque Denue and his gang. Let alone take on the entire Lycanthru cult that terrorized La Rue Sauvage. But I did it. By the grace of God and sheer determination, I did it.
“They don’t own us,” I answered Marceau. “Not unless we let them.”
“If you say so,” he said. “Right now, they own every weapon you could possibly use to fight them, along with the charming ability to change themselves into ravenous wolves.”
“I need my weapons back,” I said, lowering my voice. “You said you and Dureau know how to use Lycanum to escape your cells?
“Of course. But there’s no point in trying it again. Once we’re discovered, they return us to our cells, and prepare to punish us.”
“If we work together, we can find a way out. I need my uniform back. I need my gloves.”
Marceau turned and stared down at me. “Your gloves? You’re afraid you might catch a draft?” He shook his head. “And what exactly do you plan to do here in the Arena?”
A dozen grinning wolves surrounded me and the handful of inmates standing in the center of the room. I crouched, spreading my arms, readying myself for their attack. “Survive, somehow.”
“Good start,” he said.
“Then let the games begin!” DuChard shouted from the center of the floor, before stepping away to the outer walls, making room for the wolves. The whip snapped again as Garroche urged the other slaves to the center of the Arena.
The other prisoners scrambled forward, then crouched like I did, though surely not for the same reasons. They probably hoped to run, to minimize their pain. Not to escape, and certainly not to fight. I had no idea how I would fight the Lycanthru without weapons. But Francois taught me to use an enemy’s strength and actions against them. With my hands and legs free, I had a chance, slim as it was.
The closest wolves drop to all fours, ready to spring.
I crouched lower, my skin tingling. Partly from fear, I knew, but I also from something else. I was moving beyond fear now, as I stared into the leering faces of the monsters advancing on us. The same breed of wolves who killed Grand’Mere Marie and tore my face open when I was only seven. The same wolves who killed my greatest friend, Francois, and proceeded to slaughter Papa, Mama, and my little sister, Suzette. Who tried to kill me a dozen times before convincing everyone I was crazy and locking me away in this asylum. This place struck terror in my heart last night, like it must still do to the other prisoners. Terror over the helplessness they felt, as they wondered what the Lycanthru would do to them.
But I wasn’t helpless anymore. Not for several months now. What more did they think they could do to me? I spent most of my life in misery. And for the past few months – with Pierre and with Father Vestille – I was happy. Truly happy. Now they had taken all of that away, as a cruel revenge.
Red Rider Revolution Page 27