Red Rider RIsing: Book 2 of the Red Rider Saga D.A. Randall (top 5 ebook reader TXT) 📖

another tree near me. He struck that trunk and sprang from it, launching himself at me like a flying nightmare, his jaws wide.

I noted that normal wolves can’t climb trees, while I fired as a reflex, sinking my last two bolts into the auburn wolf’s mouth and gut. The beast spun backward in mid-air and twirled to the ground. It hit the earth like a sack of potatoes and lay dead.

No bolts left.

The others stared at the fallen animal and glanced at one another, shifting their paws. But they didn’t leave. Some fixed their eyes on the auburn wolf. Others backed away, ready to run.

A few growled up at me.

I turned toward a shuffling sound farther up the path, as the wolves also turned. Between the leaves, over the bushes, I could see Crimson’s 263

head as he trotted back and forth. He had insisted on staying close.

I whistled for him. Time to escape, if we could.

The wolves glanced in all directions.

Crimson bounded through the trees, the red cloak wafting behind him like a soldier’s flag.

The wolves backed away.

“There are two of them!” one snarled.

“Run!” growled another. Half the pack turned and sprinted away as I watched, amazed. It wasn’t just Crimson that startled them. They withdrew at the sight of my hooded cloak.

The remaining wolves lost their courage and ran as Crimson charged at them. Ran from the sight of my red hood.

I swallowed, releasing a hard breath. I shimmied down the rope as Crimson drew near, then jumped onto his saddle and kicked at him, leaving the grappling hook behind. I could retrieve it tomorrow. Or Pierre could make me another one.

We galloped toward Father Vestille’s hovel, kicking up mud and leaves, Crimson’s hooves pounding with the rhythm of my heart. I steadied my heartbeat, gathering my thoughts.

Everything had suddenly become clear, in one horrifying night. One horrifying hour.

The wolves spoke. I had not imagined it.

The wolf that killed Grand’Mere Marie had spoken to unsettle me. He never expected me to survive and expose his strange ability. The Lycanthru were transforming themselves into wolves to attack people, led by Duke Laurent.

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But I had discovered their weakness. The slightest touch of silver killed them. They now feared me. Feared my red hood.

I thanked the Lord for revealing everything to me, my senses surging with relief and rage as we rushed through the frigid night. Everything became so clear. I could stop them.

I could kill them all.

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We emerged from the seclusion of the forest pines and trotted into the clearing where Father Vestille’s hovel sat. Nestled deep in the woods, his home was easy to reach and easy to maneuver from. Riding all the way into the village was out of the question, now that I knew the Lycanthru’s secrets. They would hunt me down. I could never use Pierre’s loft again.

I tried to settle my racing heart. I had found the Lycanthru. And discovered Duke Laurent leading them. I still saw the image of his face 270

beneath that monstrous wolf-hood, standing before the cult that was terrorizing the province. Still saw Laurent and the other men drink that foul sulfurous liquid and transform themselves into enormous wolves.

I shook off my fears. Silver would destroy them. I could destroy them. I had to keep my courage. More important, I had to keep myself hidden so I could rest. No one could know that I had anything to do with Father Vestille anymore.

Or all of our lives would be forfeit.

I led Crimson to the stable behind the stone hovel and surveyed the area for any witnesses.

Then I kicked aside straw and lifted the secret door to Father Vestille’s underground sanctuary. I checked again for any sign of movement from the surrounding trees, then led Crimson down the ramp. He could fill up on oats and bed down for the night. I lit a candle and found the underground room much cleaner.