Red Rider's Hood Read Free Page B

Marvin had intended, but was Marissa in on it, too? I silently cursed myself for allowing the Flowerses to lead me astray long enough for the Wolves to get here first.
    â€œYou don’t have to listen to everything Cedric says,” I told him. “Just because he’s a dungworm doesn’t mean you have to be.”
    â€œCedric’s right—you don’t know a thing. And it’s best if it stays that way.”
    Then he pulled open the basement door and hurled me down into darkness. I didn’t even connect with the stairs—Iflew all the way down until I smashed against the cold, damp concrete. I groaned as the pain in my knees, wrist, and side peaked, then faded, but it didn’t go away completely. The door up above had been closed and locked before I had even hit the ground, and there was no light in the basement at all. I lay there listening to my own breathing and the creaks from the floorboards above me as the Wolves moved around, probably ransacking the house. And then across the basement I heard the
click-hiss
of a match being struck. For an instant I saw a face behind the flaring light before the match went out. I gasped.
    â€œGrandma?”
    The sulfur smell of the match overpowered the stench of age-old mildew in the basement. “Caught you, did he? Sorry about that, Red.”
    It
was
Grandma. No imitation this time. “Grandma, are you okay?” Just hearing her voice brought a huge wave of relief. The Wolves might have been killers, but at least they weren’t killers today. My bones still hurt too much to move, so I just zeroed in on her voice across the room, and a tiny spot of orange light, not bright enough to light up her face. It was the tip of a cigarette. I didn’t even know Grandma smoked.
    â€œBeen better, been worse,” Grandma said. “Not my first time in the belly of the beast, if you catch my meaning.”
    I didn’t catch her meaning at all, but that was nothing new. Grandma always lobbed out expressions that no one could catch but her.
    â€œThey get my bread?” she asked.
    â€œHuh? Oh—the money. Yeah. I’m sorry.”
    â€œNot your fault,” she said. “I should have known. That Cedric Soames is no different than his grandfather. Can’t change what’s in the blood.”
    I heard her breathe out, and the smell of the spent match was replaced by a perfumy smoke, like burning spice. It was something I’d never smelled before, and I thought I had smelled just about every kind of cigarette.
    â€œWhat are you smoking, Grandma?”
    â€œAconitum napellus,”
she said. “It’s a special herb some old friends taught me about a long long time ago. Nothing illegal, mind you, but highly poisonous, if you don’t use it just right. I usually drink tiny bits of it as tea, but any port in a storm, if you catch my meaning,” which I didn’t. She took another puff and blew out the smoke in my direction. I coughed. “Like I said, can’t change blood, but you can change its flavor for a time, when you need to.”
    I had no idea what she was talking about, but this was the third time in five minutes I had heard the word
blood
. I didn’t like it.
    â€œWe’ll wait down here until they go away,” she said calmly. “Those boys won’t bother us down here now.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI just do.”
    Grandma drew in a deep breath and breathed out the smoke. “You come close to me, Red. Let the fumes soak into your clothes.”
    I didn’t know why I’d want to do that, but I sidled up beside Grandma anyway.
    â€œAhh,
Aconitus napellus,
” she said, flicking ash from the tip of the cigarette. “Of course it’s known by a more common name.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    Although I couldn’t see her smiling in the dark, somehow I knew she was. “Wolfsbane,” she said.
    Three hours later the noises from