Barely.
I looked up, but DuChard had disappeared. I heard something clicking up above, like sticks. I ignored it, continuing to work my feet free.
“Please feel free to exhaust yourself, child,” DuChard said, appearing back at the hole. A long straight stick extended down into the hole. He attached another long stick to its end, clicking it into place. Then another. And another.
They were the bamboo sticks I had noticed before, that someone had tied to the thick tree above.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice rising.
“Helping you, Helena,” he said. “Surely you don’t imagine you can escape that mud pit, do you?”
The stick continued reaching down toward me.
Then he shoved it at my collarbone, pushing me down. I grabbed at the pole but he pulled it out of my reach. Then he jabbed at my opposite shoulder, forcing me down again.
“I told you I would bury you, Helena.”
52.
Moonlight glinted off the chilly waters as I stirred them up, trying to bat away DuChard’s bamboo pole. I stretched toward the pool’s outer rim, only five feet away. But my legs were locked in the center of the cave, the mud above my calves.
DuChard struck my head with the long pole. He couldn’t swing it hard enough to hurt me, but he didn’t need to. He only needed to distract me, tease me with the pole just out of reach. Then push my shoulders down with it again, a little deeper into the mud.
“The frequent rains collect in that mudhole, Helena, conveniently filling it for your arrival. When I promised I would bury you, I meant it as a figure of speech. But we keep this place prepared for intruders, so it seemed wise to let you chase me here. To your ironic end.”
He prodded my shoulders again, hard. The mud began to swallow my knees. I swatted at the pole. Missed. “Come now, Helena. Surely you can do better than that.” He angled the pole out of my reach, then snapped it against the back of my head. “You never did find that little girl, Claudette, did you, Mademoiselle?”
My nerves blazed. I ignored the sharp pain at my scalp. “What have you done with her?”
His grinning fangs gleamed in the moonlight. “Whatever we want, for as long as we want.”
“Let her go!” I demanded, ducking his next swing. “You don’t need her for anything!”
“She helped lure you into our trap, didn’t she? Of course, that’s not her true value.”
I worked my right leg a little looser. But I couldn’t free myself faster than DuChard could submerge me. “What do you mean? What’s Claudette to you?”
“Hardly important for you now. You should treasure your last few minutes of breath before the mud sucks you under.”
He shoved the pole against my other shoulder, shoving me farther down. The mud started to seep around my thighs. I gasped, searching the dark cave for anything within reach that I could use to pull myself loose. I had my grappling hook but nowhere to toss it.
“Nothing more to say, Helena? Have I already silenced your juvenile threats?”
He struck my face with the pole while I was distracted. I nearly lost my balance, massaging my stinging jaw. Yet I had sunk so deep I couldn’t even fall sideways. Mud enveloped my thighs and I had sunk in the water to my chest.
“No matter,” he said. “Speak if you wish. I promise to tell everyone how bravely you died. Right up to your final terrified breath.”
He thrust the pole at me again, and I seized hold of it. But he still pushed me down with terrific force. I clung to the pole as he forced me deeper, the water rising to my shoulders.
The pole shook as DuChard grunted. Then he fell, splashing heavily into the pool a few feet away.
I looked up to see a large man’s silhouette over the opening.
“Helena! Are you all right?”
It was Monsieur Leóne. He had surprised DuChard from behind and knocked him into the hole.
I still held the bamboo pole.
“Quick, Monsieur! Pull me up!”
I raised the pole high. Monsieur Leóne grabbed it and tugged me up, my legs pulling free of the mud.
“No!” DuChard growled, wading and clawing his way toward me.
I clung to the pole, hoisting myself up as Monsieur Leóne pulled me higher, tugging me free.
DuChard seized my leg with the grip of a python.
He yanked my thigh to his chest, baring his teeth. “You’re not going anywhere, Helena!” he snarled. “If I am to die here, you can be my last meal.”
I struggled to pull away as he cradled my leg and prepared to sink his teeth into it.
The pole shook. Perhaps Monsieur Leóne meant to secure a better grip. DuChard looked up, confused.
An awl flew down at him, embedding itself in his chest.
A silver-coated awl.
“Stay out of our village,” Monsieur Leóne said.
DuChard’s fingers slipped and lost their hold on my thigh. “Helena …” he rasped, weakening.
His teeth curled into a vicious snarl, his rage reviving his strength. “No!” he said. “I told you – I am going – to bury you!”
I tried to tug my leg away as he opened his jaws. I had lost a boot in the clinging mud, but I only needed the free one. I kicked hard at the awl, jamming it deeper into his chest.
DuChard’s hands fell away from me and lay limply at his sides. His throat issued a hollow gasp.
“You heard the man,” I said. “Stay out of our village.”
He bared his fangs, struggling to reach for me.
I kicked again, harder. DuChard fell away, landing on his back.
His head half-submerged.
He lay there, partly floating on his back, partly immobilized in that awkward position.
“Hurry!” Monsieur Leóne called, pulling me up again.
I firmed up my hold on the pole, letting him draw me higher and higher to safety.
Beneath us, DuChard rasped. “I’ll … bury … you!”
I jumped out into the cool night air, where Monsieur Leóne hoisted me up by my shoulders. I glanced back to see DuChard’s hand clawing above the water’s surface, stretching to grab me. While the rest of him remained underwater.
A second later, his fingers curled and sank beneath the surface.
The Prime was gone.
“Helena.” Monsieur Leóne gripped my shoulders, his voice anxious. “Helena, are you all right?”
I looked up at his sad eyes. At the triple scar he now wore across his forehead, like the one I bore on my face.
Then I fell into his arms. I had escaped the asylum and DuChard’s lies. We survived their attack on La Rue Sauvage. I no longer needed to be strong. No longer wanted to be hard and cold. All I wanted was to have a father’s arms around me, keeping the monsters away.
“I should have believed you, Helena,” Monsieur Leóne said. “I should have told people what I knew. Can you forgive me?”
“I already have,” I said, burying my face against his chest. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You saved me, Helena. You saved us all.”
Crimson whinnied. We broke the embrace and turned toward him, as he snorted and stamped his hooves against the hill.
I whistled for him. He trotted over to us and I patted his flank. “Good boy. Where did you run off to?”
He snorted again.
“He ran toward me,” Monsieur Leóne said. Twirling about, stomping. I knew something was wrong for him to be so agitated. I followed him back here and saw that wolf at the top of the hill, so I ran at him to knock him down, and then I would use the awl. Didn’t know there was a hole there.”
I almost laughed. “Well … there was. What about the battle? How did everyone fare?”
“I believe it’s all over now,” he said. “There were almost no wolves when I left. Let’s go back.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Monsieur Leóne shook his head. “Not sure. The last few wolves scattered and fled.”
“What abou
t Simonet?” I asked, eager.
Monsieur Leóne frowned. “No one saw him among the wolves, and no one saw him leave, either.”
“I did,” I said.
“Regardless,” Monsieur Leóne said. “What matters is that we’re safe. We fought them and drove them back. Helena. We won.”
“Red!” Pierre rushed to me, leaving Madame Leóne by herself to continue bandaging a young man’s wounds. “Red, what happened? Are you all right?”
I threw my arms around Pierre, then kissed him hard, forgetting myself. Too late, I realized I was standing right in front of his father, who had walked back to the battlefield with me. I stepped back, heat rising to my cheeks. “Monsieur Leóne, I – Pardon me, Monsieur.”
Monsieur Leóne turned to one side. “I see nothing,” he said.
I smiled, pulling Pierre into another tight embrace. Over his shoulder, I saw Gerard Touraine, walking back and forth with a sponge to help wash people’s wounds. I broke away from Pierre to walk through the crowd.
Everywhere, people were injured or sobbing or trying to comfort someone else. Smoke rose from fires that had been built to warm small huddles of two or three people. I saw haggard and disoriented faces on otherwise confident men and women. They had fought the wolves directly, and repelled them. But now how would they shake the memories of their battles with fanged monsters?
Monsieur Leóne said we had won. But this didn’t look like victory.
I spotted Father Vestille, praying over a few people. His brother, Marceau, stood close by to listen, still wearing the LieutenantGeneral’s hat.
“Helena! Are you all right?” Father Vestille asked, putting a hand on the shoulder of the man he had been praying for. “Where’s Monsieur DuChard?”
“Gone,” I said. “Buried.”
Marceau rose slowly, gaping at me. “You destroyed the Prime?” he gasped, clearly impressed.
“I had help,” I said, looking up at Monsieur Leóne. “Where are the wolves?”
“Destroyed,” Touraine said, with amazement in his voice. “We fought them off and killed them all. Never seen anything like it.”
“We haven’t killed them all,” Marceau corrected. “We barely finished half of them tonight. The rest ran off into the woods.”
“What about Simonet?” I asked.
“No sight of him,” Marceau said. “This isn’t over.”
I sighed. “It is for tonight.”
I heard sobbing, and moved toward it. Other people passed before me, and as they cleared a path, I found the source of the noise.
Celia Verdante lay on top of a bloody body. A tall man, with an expensive long-tailed waistcoat. Not moving.
Beyond his body lay another body. A woman, wearing an elegant dress.
Celia’s parents were both dead.
I approached slowly, as if I might step the wrong way and fall into another pit. “C – Celia?” I asked.
She said nothing, but continued to weep, sprawled over her father’s corpse.
I reached out to touch her shoulder.
She gave a vicious shove backward to throw me off.
I withdrew my hand. “Celia. I – I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can –?”
“Don’t touch me,” Celia said from beneath her canopy of black tresses, not moving. “Keep away.”
I swallowed. “Celia, I – I didn’t mean for –.”
“Keep away from me.”
I backed away, even more carefully than I had approached.
“Proud of your revolution?” someone sneered.
I turned to see Monsieur Denue, his tear-streaked face glinting in the moonlight, his tunic matted with dark blood stains.
“– Monsieur Denue?” I asked.
Father Vestille stepped forward, holding his arms out to steady Monsieur Denue. “Andre. What happened?”
Monsieur Denue pointed a crooked finger at me. “She happened,” he said. “My wife is dead because of your revolution.”
I gasped, feeling nauseous.
Touraine stepped forward. “She’s dead because of the wolves,” he said quietly
Monsieur Denue whirled at him. “The wolves never bothered us before she came.”
“That’s not true,” Monsieur Leóne said. “The wolves were always here. We just refused to see them.”
“I don’t need to see them!” Monsieur Denue spat back. “I’ve seen my wife, lying on the ground. Sliced open.” His eyes flashed at me. “Do you want to see that?”
I swallowed. “No. I’ve seen enough,” I said. “– I’m so sorry.”
“You’ll be sorrier,” Monsieur Denue warned. “You took away my son. Now my wife. You’ll pay for it.”
Father Vestille moved in front of me, blocking him. “She’s already paid more than enough. Come, Andre. Let me walk back with you to administer the last rites. Then I’ll see you home.”
Monsieur Denue tore his arm out of Father Vestille’s grasp. “Save your last rites. What good does it do her now, or me? What good does it do any of us?” He took another threatening step toward me. “Don’t think you can hide behind Father Vestille forever. Or that you can take my family from me and get away with it!”
Monsieur Leóne stepped between us: “You’re not thinking clearly, Andre. The wolves are the cause of this, not her.”
“Isn’t she? She brought them down on us, just like you said she would!”
“I was wrong,” Monsieur Leóne said. “I acted out of fear. You can’t blame Helena.for –!”
“Enough!” Monsieur Denue said, silencing him. “You can talk! You have your family. Mine is gone.” He stabbed his finger toward me again, as the moonlight turned his face ghostly and grim. “Because of her. And I’ll see you suffer for it.”
No one spoke as Monsieur Denue turned and stamped away. I could see where Jacque had gotten his mean streak. Perhaps his father wasn’t as weak as he appeared.
Madame Leóne arrived as Monsieur Denue was marching away. She put a hand to my shoulder. “Helena. Are you all right?”
I stared after Monsieur Denue. “I’ve made some enemies today,” I said aloud.
“He’s just grieving, and angry,” said Monsieur Leóne. “Angry at his loss and angry at himself, that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. So he’s lashing out at the nearest target. I suppose that’s what I was doing, too. Forgive me.”
“Of course,” I said, nodding as Monsieur Denue’s figure disappeared into blackness. “I have more important things to worry about than him. I still have to find Claudette. The Lycanthru are still keeping her somewhere.”
“Then we’ll find her,” Father Vestille said.
I blinked at him.
“Together,” Monsieur Leóne added. Touraine and Marceau nodded with him.
Pierre smiled. “You’re not alone anymore, Red.”
Father Vestille put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll stand with you, Helena. Whatever it takes.”
“And however long it takes,” Madame Leóne said, with her arm around me.
A rush of relief washed over me. I now understood what Father Vestille meant about God placing the lonely in families. Without planning to, I had started a revolution. I was no longer an outcast, fighting the wolves alone. Our tiny village had transformed itself overnight. We would find Claudette and the Lycanthru, and together we would rescue her and destroy them forever.
I looked around at the faces surrounding me, assuring me. Pierre. Father Vestille. Marceau. Touraine. Monsieur and Madame Leóne. All with passion and purpose in their gaze. I had acquired an army.
I took Pierre’s hand and leaned against his mother, as Father Vestille watched me with a look of pride.
More important, I had found a family.
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DEN
113.
Run, Amy, I order myself. Move!
The Dugans race toward me in the darkness with Todd in the lead, his bow still drawn and ready. Behind him, Troy pockets his iPad device that somehow pinpointed my position. Gunther set me up. Sure, he gave me a head start and these night vision goggles, but what good does it do me if everyone knows where I am?
I turn and sprint away.
“I hear her!” Troy calls. “Over there somewhere!”
Okay, they don’t know exactly where I am and they can’t see me. I’ve got a chance. A slim one.
I once heard something about soldiers dodging bullets by varying their pattern of movement, giving no time for a sniper to aim at them. They couldn’t outrun a bullet, but they could outpace the sniper’s reactions. So I dart to the left, between two Snack Shacks. The first arrow sings past me and plunges into a shack wall.
They’re actually shooting arrows. Shooting at me! This is insane.
And they can track my every move. They’ll find me. Everyone will find me. I’m dead.
No, that’s not true, I remind myself. Don’t give up. You’ve got a knife and night vision. They can see you on the map but they can’t see you up close. Keep running, keep fighting. Keep yourself alive!
But how do I keep ahead of that tracking device?
“Come on, she’s getting away!”
Their voices are further away. I was in such shock, so pumped with adrenaline to run and keep running, I didn’t realize I outdistanced them. For now.
I zigzag between shacks and stands toward the Venetian Passage, where gondola boats bob in the sparkling water. Beyond the lifeguard’s slim supply shed, I see oars set upright against the metal fence. I throw open the gate, letting it clang loudly against the fence, and hurl an oar into the water.
Red Rider Revolution Page 36