Page 59 of Wolf's Return
Edmond snagged the boy’s arm before he could back away too far. “Not so fast. We brought you here to do a job, remember?”
“Or what?” Remi’s face paled. “You will eat me? Or turn me into one of you?” Remi stopped pulling against Edmond’s hold, and his expression turned cunning. “You know, being a man who can turn into a wolf could be interesting. Can you smell better and hear—”
Edmond growled. “I am not turning you.”
Remi’s gaze turned on him as D’Artagnon slipped into his clothes and armor. “He might?”
D’Artagnon snorted. The boy was bold. D’Artagnon liked him. Gaharet handed him a sword, and he tested its weight, the grip settling into his palm as though he had handled it only ‘ere-yesterday. He returned it to the scabbard and buckled around his waist.
Edmond cuffed Remi. “Nobody is turning you, Remi, and nobody is going to eat you, but I might consider thrashing you if you do not tell us this secret way of getting across the wall.”
Remi pouted. “The least you could do is consider it.” He shrugged and faced the wall. “You might change your mind one day. About the turning part, not the eating part.”
Edmond growled.
Remi held up his hands. “Do not get your hauberk all twisted. I will tell you.” He grinned. “I kind of like the idea of being part of a werewolf pack. I could get up to all sorts of mischief knowing I have you lot at my back.”
Edmond rolled his eyes. “I have created a monster.”
Remi winked. “Not yet, but maybe one day.”
D’Artagnon growled. They were wasting time. The sky had darkened, and for the first time in a long time, D’Artagnon was eager for battle.
Remi turned to Aubert. “He is grumpier than you are.”
D’Artagnon snarled, baring his teeth at Remi.
Remi swallowed and backed up a little further. “No need to get testy. To get over the wall, you throw three rocks at the pleasure house roof. Someone inside will throw a plank across to the wall, then a rope will drop. And you will need some coin to pay passage.”
D’Artagnon slid his sword out a little, revealing the blade.
“Oh, you have coin. Of sorts.” Remi glanced around at the group. “Are you going to be able to climb up a rope wearing all that steel?”
D’Artagnon slammed his sword back into his scabbard. If his enemy was in this pleasure house, no madam, or any of her henchmen, were going to stop him, coin or no.
He scooped up three rocks. One by one, he threw them, hitting the roof of the pleasure house. Shutters banged open and the scrape of timber against stone echoed in the night air. The end of a plank jutted across the wall and a rope dropped to the ground.
Gaharet stepped forward. D’Artagnon placed a hand on his brother’s chest, halting him, and growled. Gaharet may be alpha, but D’Artagnon had not come this far, sacrificed so much, to let him walk head-first into danger.
D’Artagnon strode out of the forest and across the open ground. His brother, Edmond, Aubert, Farren and Remi, followed him. He grabbed the rope and, using the knots tied along it at intervals, climbed to the top of the wall. Crouched low, he unsheathed his sword and crossed the board to the open window. The smell of sex, stale sweat and rotten meadowsweet rushes coated the back of his throat, but beneath it all, the one scent he was hoping for. Lance.
D’Artagnon slipped inside. A burly man with small, squinty eyes in a battered face barred his way.
The man took in his armor and sword and grinned, holding out his meaty hand. “FourSol.”
Gaharet stepped into the room behind him.
“For each person.”
“That is outrageous!” said Remi, climbing through the window. “The price last week was fourdenier.”
The man scowled. “Keep yer mouth shut, boy, or the price will go up to fourlivre.”
D’Artagnon stepped forward, his sword raised.
Gaharet put a hand on his arm. “Would you kill a man for doing what he is paid to do, D’Artagnon?”
Remi spluttered. “But…but…the price…”
