Page 43 of The Agent and the Outlaw
“I’m fine,” I said. “The town is not far, and I’d prefer my own company than that of a stranger.”
“Ah,” he said, taking another step to close the distance between us. “So, you are in distress.”
“Whether or not I am in distress isreallynone of your concern,” I replied. “I appreciate your noble intention, sir, but wish to continue on my way.”
The haughtiness in my tone would have offended most men. The man in black, however, was unmoved. He continued to smile at me in a bland sort of way, but it seemed like a strange mask on his intense face. I quickened my steps.
He followed.
“If you are distressed, Madame, perhaps I could help,” he offered.
“Why are you so intent on helping me?” I shot back over my shoulder. I was hurrying now, practically running. “I told you, I’m fine!”
“I can sense that you are not,” came a thrum at my ear. I whirled to see him next to me, when moments before he’d been a good distance behind me. I stood frozen in terrified fascination as he reached forward and plucked a leaf from my hair. He twirled it between long, pale fingers and his small smile became a grin.
A grin full of sharp, pointed teeth.
“In fact, I can sense that you are more than distressed,petite louve.You are almost wild with fear. It’s a heady scent, you know. If you’re a quick study, I can teach you to recognize it.”
Who is this man? How does he know about me? Where has he come from?
Panic built in my muscles, urging me to flee. Before I turned to run, I caught a glimpse of his black eyes again—only they weren’t black. They were yellow, rimmed with red.
The eyes of the beast.
14
ANTOINE
November 19, 1767
The Wild Rose,Gévaudan
Of course,she was gone. I expected her to be gone. What I didn’t expect, though, was to see her out for a pre-dawn promenade with some unknown gentleman.The absolute nerve of the woman!Mere weeks ago, she was writhing in pleasure in my arms, and here she was having intense flirtations with some male passerby.
Antoine, you utter fool. You know she is not for you. Why do you care? She’s a spy and a liar, and…quite possibly some kind of werewolf.
No. I wouldn’t even think it. Doctor Van Helsing had to be wrong. There would be a logical explanation.
A logical explanation. Like Charlotte insisted when you mentioned the werewolf of Gévaudan.
I didn’t know if I believed it then, and now it seemed I was determined to disbelieve it. Charlotte had simply been angry, and the table had been weak.
From my perch on the rooftop, I couldn’t quite hear what the man in black was saying to Charlotte, but she suddenly stiffened. She looked frightened. Before I could make my way down from the roof, she bolted for the town gate, running faster than I’d ever seen a human run.
I jumped from the roof and ran toward the town gate as well, praying I would be able to reach her before any harm could come to her. Who was that man? What had he said or done that had frightened Charlotte? If he so much asbreathedill upon her, I would hunt him down and eviscerate him.
Not that Charlotte is yours to protect,said the annoying voice in my head. Still, I could be chivalrous, ensure that she was safe before we parted ways.
I dodged townsfolk as I wound through the alleys and streets. The sky was turning a lovely pink hue with the rising sun, which felt like a hopeful respite from the cold, melancholy gray that seemed to hang above Gévaudan.
Finally, I spied Charlotte on the road ahead. She saw me almost immediately—quickly enough for her to shuck her pallor of fear and school her features in an expression of haughty indifference. She slowed her pace and smiled at me when I reached her.
“Antoine! Good morning. It looks like it’s going to be a fine day today, don’t you think?”
Had this been a few weeks ago, I would have thought she was mad. Now, I’d come to recognize her expert deflections.
“Who the hell was that?” I growled.
