Free Trouble in the Forest Book One: A Cold Summer Night by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

the merchants, but they did not have anything useful, beyond their lives. We put them to rest. In case you were wondering what became of them.”
    Suddenly, as he realized the enormity of his disaster, the Red Friar began to tremble, and he sat down quickly, his head bent toward his knees. He wanted to pray but all the words had fled him, and he could manage nothing more than “Pax vobiscum,” which he repeated several times, all the while fearing he would vomit.
    “Prayers won’t help you now, Red Friar. You are seeking relief in the wrong quarter. In fact, they will serve to make you feel worse if you persist in them. Prayers are useless. They could be dangerous, as well, if you try to call upon those who are our sworn enemies.” He reached down, his long, white fingers like the legs of a tremendous spider. Gently he patted the Red Friar on the head. “Come. Get up. Up! You will feel better when all is explained to you.”
    The Red Friar could not imagine that. He tried to crawl away from Hood only to discover that his will was insufficient to the task. He looked up at the sinister figure above him. “What have you done?”
    “Made you one of mine,” said Hood, unable to keep from gloating. “My first Friar. I had hoped there would be something unusual in your blood, but there wasn’t.” He regarded the Red Friar narrowly. “Stand. We cannot remain here much longer, with the sun rising higher in the sky.”
    For reasons that baffled him, the Red Friar made haste to agree, scrambling erect as if at the order of the Pope. As soon as he was on his feet once more he swayed, feeling light-headed. If he had been standing next to anyone but Hood he might have reached out for support, but he could not bring himself to do that.
    Hood did it for him. “It will take time for you to recover your strength, and when you do, you will have more than ever you possessed before. You will, however, be mine from this day on. You will be one of my band, and you will obey me utterly.” He gave the Red Friar a direct look that could not be escaped.
    “They will send men-at-arms against you. The garrison at Nottingham will come to end your power here.” He had hoped it would be a threat, but he listened to himself in despair, for there was nothing but subservience in his tone. Despair went through him like a hot wind.
    “Men-at-arms. How frightening,” said Hood with no trace of fear about him. “We will have to be ready for them.”
    “But—” the Red Friar could not keep himself from protesting.
    “Let them send the garrison. We need their blood.” He howled with something that might have been laughter, and the rest echoed the sound, the ululation filling the forest and sending birds and game scattering for leagues around them.
    “They are well-armed and will hunt you down,” said the Red Friar, seeking for a menace that would instill in Hood a tenth of the terror the outlaw leader instilled in him.
    “Let them try,” said Hood, and started off into the deepest part of the forest, not bothering to look back to see if his men were following him.
    The Red Friar told himself he would resist, he would not join the other at Hood’s heels. He would not become one of that devilish band. But as he issued these stern mental instructions, he could not keep from trudging off in the wake of the others, moved by a force he was unable to conquer.
    Somewhat later they arrived at the heart of a dense tangle of thicket, and discovered three ancient oaks growing up and through a vast boulder. At the base of this stone a number of tie-beam huts had been erected, with a great fire-pit in the center of the huts. Two dozen men and half as many women waited beside the fire-pit, a deep, unending hunger stamped on every countenance.
    “There is trouble coming,” Hood announced as he strode to the foot of the boulder. “We must be ready for it.”
    The men and women listened in silence.
    “Tonight, when we rise to hunt, I want every one of