And I had no way of knowing for certain which of the villagers might secretly be wolves.
Tonight, Crimson waited for me in a thicket of trees near La Maison, keeping out of sight, while I stole through back alleys toward the rear of the tavern. After waiting for what felt like ages, I seized an opportunity to cross the street, using a passing carriage to hide from onlookers.
Then I rushed to the cellar door, yanked it open and dropped inside, finding a basement corridor that led to the recessed storage area. I waited even longer in the wine cellar itself, though I felt far more secure within the quiet room, free of witnesses.
Finally, Gerard Touraine descended the steps to the corridor and entered the wine cellar with his lantern.
“Monsieur Touraine,” I whispered.
He whirled about, wrinkling his brows as he held up the lantern. His face softened as he recognized my hood, hiding behind the wine shelves. “Mademoiselle? Is that you?”
“Are you alone?”
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He glanced over his shoulder on instinct, but there were no other footsteps. “Yes. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in over a week.”
“I know. I’ve been finding information elsewhere. It’s safer that way.”
He pursed his lips, understanding but looking disappointed. “So why are you here now?”
“To see what you know. What you’ve heard. It’s not the safest, but it’s still the best. I haven’t heard much information lately, but I didn’t want to endanger you any more than I had to. I’ll understand if you wish me to leave, to keep yourself safe.” I swallowed, hoping he would not dismiss me.
He set the lantern on a wall hook. “I don’t wish that. But there’s one thing I would like.”
“What is it?”
“Your name. Unless you prefer to be called
‘The Red Rider’ now.”
I smiled. “It’s Helena.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Helena Basque.”
I squinted at him. “If you already knew who I was, why did you –?”
“I like to hear from the source directly,” he said. “Now. A boy’s been looking for you.”
I blinked. What would Pierre be doing, looking for me at La Maison? Unless I had been too careless, and he had connected my activities to Touraine. “A boy with brown eyes and a mess of blond hair?”
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He wrinkled his brow. “I didn’t see the color of his eyes, the way he squints. Surly looking fellow. He’s upstairs now, asking for you again.”
I blinked. “Who are you talking about?”
“Said his name’s Jacque. Jacque Denue.”
A flush of anger and fear surged within me.
I wanted to confront Denue and start beating on him before he got the chance to hit me again, but I saw no point. “What did he want?”
“Wants to meet with you. In private. Said he knows something about the, eh, the ‘Licannors’, something like that.”
I stiffened. “The Lycanthru.”
“Yes, that’s it. The Lycanthru. Something about the Lycanthru and Duke Laurent.”
A dozen possibilities raced through my mind. Had Denue truly discovered something of their secret activities, and of mine? Was he one of the Lycanthru himself, though all their other members were men? Was this another ploy, a petty attempt to ridicule and attack me again? Why seek me out now just to abuse me?
“You said he’s upstairs?”
Touraine gave a curt nod. “In the bar.”
Denue might have some information I could use against Laurent, if he had discovered the Duke’s connection to the Lycanthru. Could he have also discovered something that might help me stop them?
“Go about your business,” I told Touraine.
“Say nothing to him.”
“You don’t wish to meet him, then?”
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“Perhaps. But I don’t want him to connect me to you. Can you keep him in the bar until nightfall?”
“Most likely.”
“Good. Can I keep my horse in your stable by the cellar?”
“Of course. It’s for guests of La Maison.”
I nodded, hoping no one would recognize Crimson. But I had nowhere closer to hide him.
“Thank you. If you’re willing, can you find an opportunity to stand there? My horse is just within the forest. I’ll get to the stable and whistle for him when you’re ready, so you can lead him across before anyone sees him.”
He considered this, looking up and stroking his chin. Perhaps deciding
