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

keep it as long as necessary. But someone in town might notice if fifty men didn’t perform their duties today. And to be frank – every one of us wants a piece of you.”

He released my face and I gasped, hanging my head.

“Sharrad,” Laurent called.

Sharrad stepped forward with a strip of cloth. He yanked it apart with his fists, showing its thickness as he marched toward me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked Laurent quickly. “Why are you attacking everyone?”

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Laurent held up a hand, stopping Sharrad in his tracks. “Why?” he repeated. He spread his hands like a showman before the other men. “Why not?” They roared with sadistic laughter, as though I said something hilarious.

Laurent paced, as if considering the question for the first time. “Power, Mademoiselle.

Unlimited, eternal power. The age-old lure of immortality. All we need to do is kill a wolf for its pelt …” He aimed my crossbow between my eyes, smiling as he played a hunter. “And keep it among our possessions. Then, after absorbing a few rays of moonlight, we can transform into the most fearsome creatures the world has ever known.

Provided we also drink the Lycanum potion.” He waved a hand toward the foul, bubbling vat.

“Together, these things make us stronger. We age less rapidly. We remain powerful, even in our normal form, so long as we continue to feast now and then. Especially when we feast on the innocent.”

Quick as lightning, he backhanded my left cheek. It stung like a block of wood. The room spun for a moment while I regained my breath.

“You see what I mean?”

He yanked off my hood, his force nearly choking me with it. Then he seized a clump of hair at my scalp and wrenched my head back. I gasped at the sharp pain.

“But you’re strong, too, aren’t you, Helena? Stronger than anyone imagined. So we have to take extra measures to deal with you. And to make an example of you.”

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He shook me by my hair. I clenched my teeth and let him hold me like a marionette.

Resisting would only make it worse.

“The intriguing thing about power,

Mademoiselle, is that once a man tastes it, he can’t stop hungering for more. Tonight, when the moon is high, we shall assume our more powerful form.”

He leaned close to my cheek, enough for me to smell his last drink of red wine. “Then we’ll feed on you, piece by piece, growing stronger – as you die, screaming.”

No, I thought. Lord, don’t let me die like this. Help me escape! Send them away and help me escape!

He grinned, my hair trapped in his fist. “I should conclude my business and join the others here by eleven o’clock. Then we’ll spend the night tending to you, for the last time, before we feast on the main course. That gives you a full day to consider your folly and form your apology to me, for your brash interference.”

“What about the silver?” I gasped. “Why does it hurt you?”

He gave my hair another sharp jerk.

“You’re so persistent, Helena. You still hope to learn something to pass on to your friends, if you have any left. If you do, don’t worry. We’ll find them and finish them off. Just like you.”

I thought of Pierre and tugged violently at the ropes, in spite of myself. Despite the pain that shot through my scalp as he tugged my head back in place. I considered Father Vestille and Gerard Touraine. A few anxious words from any one of 315

them, wondering whatever happened to me, could be enough to rouse Laurent’s suspicions and seal their deaths. Because of me.

His voice softened to a purr. “Of course, if your apology is humble enough, I might let you beg for your friends’ lives. As for the silver …” He rested the point of my crossbow’s loaded bolt against my cheek and stroked me with it like I was his pet. “When your friend, Francois, killed Gustave with his silver ax, we were surprised that anything could harm us. But we consulted the Prime, who is far more experienced in these matters.”

“The Prime?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that, Helena.

In La