Red the Wolf Tracker

by Pauline Creeden

  Table of Contents

  Untitled

  Red

  Peter

  About the Author

  Red the Wolf Tracker

  Wonderland Guardian Academy, Book One

  Pauline Creeden

  Contents

  Untitled

  1. Red

  2. Peter

  3. Red

  4. Peter

  5. Red

  6. Red

  7. Peter

  About the Author

  Untitled

  Red the Wolf Tracker © 2018 Pauline Creeden

  Editing by Sheila Hollinghead

  Proofread by Laura Martinez of Indie Author’s Advocate

  Cover by TheCoverMaker.com

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  Untitled

  Red the Wolf Tracker

  Being normal is underrated.

  Red Ryder has been going to Wonderland Guardian Academy since middle school, but she still doesn't belong. At 16 years old, she doesn't have any magical talents to speak of, and the rest of her peers know it. She may as well be a typical, mundane human, and the witch sisters make her school life miserable. How is she supposed to help humanity as a guardian when she may as well be one of them?

  But Red is a wolf tracker--though she doesn't come into her powers until the death of the current wolf tracker in her family, her grandmother. Her blood carries the wolfsbane gene, the only thing that helps humans build a resistance to the Lycan virus. Her family has been donating blood for ages in the hopes of keeping the virus at bay.

  When her grandmother becomes too sick to do her job, the werewolf community wonders why their tracker has gone on hiatus. And one pack alpha decides it's time to get rid of the line of wolf trackers once and for all.

  Red

  “It’s almost over…” I keep telling myself. I sit here on this cold chair of fake leather, waiting an eternity.

  I never enjoy donating blood. Knowing my blood helps someone live makes me happy, but I don’t enjoy the process. Thankfully, my friend Peter is here with me to make me feel more comfortable, despite my apprehension towards needles. His dark eyes remain fixed on me, and his brown hair falls over his forehead, a little too shaggy for him. He needs a haircut. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  “What would you call a cat who helps the nurse in the blood mobile?” Peter asks.

  I open my eyes and furrow my brow. “What?”

  His lips turn into a cheesy grin. “A first-aid kitten. Get it?”

  I roll my eyes and half-laugh, shaking my head.

  Peter smiles and makes a motion to the nurse to let her know the blood bag is full. I start shifting in my chair to adjust my line of sight. I don’t want to see when she pulls out the needle. Peter lets out a chuckle, and I just glare at him. The red-headed nurse finally comes over. She snaps into some latex gloves and grabs my arm. I face the opposite direction and close my eyes while she pulls out the needle. I wince a little.

  She then grabs the bag full of blood, swishes it around a little bit and puts it away. When she places a band-aid where the needle was, she smiles. “Thank you for being brave and donating blood. Because you’re a universal donor, it’s even more of a blessing to many that you come in.”

  I smile back at her because I’ve heard it all before. I’d gone with my grandmother every other month for as far back as I could remember. When I became old enough to donate, she was always with me, until today. This time, she sent me with a release waiver because she’s been sick.

  “Drink this juice and be sure to stand slowly. We suggest you get some crackers at the snack center before you go.” She sing-songs her words and sounds much cheerier than her bored expression tells.

  “Thank you,” I say, as I drink the last sip of the fruit punch carton and nod to my friend.

  Peter helps me to my feet, his warm hands on my skin comforting. “I don’t understand why you keep doing this if you hate it so much.”

  “I don’t hate it… I just don’t like needles.”

  He nods and lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and we walk away.

  I know my blood is helpful to others simply because I’m type O negative, but more than that. I’m a Wolf Tracker, just like my grandma. The Wolfsbane in our blood makes us immune to the Lycan virus and it also helps other humans gain a resistance. One day, maybe all humans will have a resistance and won’t need a Wolf Tracker anymore … but my best friend doesn’t know all that.

  Peter helps me sit in the snack area and grabs a cookie and juice for me. “So, what are we doing after this?”

  “I have to go to the drug store and get some medicines for Grandma. Wanna come with me? You haven’t seen her in a while. She keeps asking about you,” I say, opening the bag of chocolate chip mini-cookies.

  “Erm… No. I—I have some things to take care of.”

  “Are you lying to me now, Peter?”

  “Why would I lie to you?”

  He was lying. One of the few benefits I gained from my gypsy blood was the ability to see lies, not that I needed the ability with Peter. He was too easy to read anyway. People always had their reasons for lying, so I wasn’t going to ask, but hopefully he’d share his with me eventually. I frowned. “I’m not saying you are. I’m just asking… Why are you avoiding her?”

  “I am not avoiding anyone, okay? I just have some things to do, that’s all!”

  “All right! All right! No need to get all defensive. I’m sorry I asked,” I snap back.

  I finish eating my bag of cookies and drink my juice in total silence. Ever since Grandma started feeling worse Peter has started acting weird. I haven’t mentioned it much to him because he always gets upset, but the truth is I’ve noticed and sometimes he gets nervous around me for no reason I can tell.

  I’m glad he came today with me because I hadn’t seen him in almost a week. That’s not normal for us. We always used to do everything together, tell everything to each other. Lately things have changed, and I’m not quite sure why.

  I enter our home and go directly to see Grandma in her bedroom. I notice she’s sleeping, so I move quietly. I pull the medication out of my backpack and place it on her cedarwood nightstand. She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping, almost as if nothing was going wrong with her. I can’t resist putting my hand on her head and caressing her all-white hair. She shifts around a little and slowly wakes up.

  “Hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?” I ask while I continue to stroke her hair.

  “How did it go?” she asks weakly. Her hazel eyes meet mine.

  “Oh, the usual. You know how it is.”

  “Did Peter go with you? Or is he still avoiding you? I hate to think of you there all alone. I know you hate it.”

  “Yeah, he went with me, but something is off with him. I just can’t figure out what it could be.”

  She moves to sit up, and I adjust her
pillow so she can sit with more support. I walk around her bed to open the white drapes, letting in the sunshine and illuminating the pale pink walls.

  “Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat. Something to drink?”

  “Just some water to take my medication, dear. I’m sure Peter will talk to you about whatever is bothering him soon. Maybe it’s just hard for him. You are teenagers now, you know. It is a time that becomes more difficult for both sexes, especially to talk things out with each other.”

  I frown. “We’ve been best friends for so long. What could he possibly have to hide from me?”

  My grandmother lifted a brow and smirked at me. “I know you haven’t shown much interest in boys yet, but who’s to say Peter hasn’t found a girl he likes?”

  Blood rushes from my face, and I feel lightheaded. My heart sinks into my stomach. Why would I feel so betrayed if that were true? I swallow hard. “He… he’d tell me about it if that were true.”

  I turn on my heel and walk to the kitchen, pull a glass from the drain board, and pour some water into it from the bottle that’s in the fridge. The glass immediately begins to sweat, chilling my hand. Would Peter really tell me about it? What if it was true and Peter was putting distance between us because of some other girl? I shook my head. No way.

  I grip the glass, smile, and head back to the bedroom. “Here you go, Grandma. Nice and cold.” I hand the glass over and proceed to get the medication ready. It’s so hard for Grandma to open the bottles anymore. Her frail hands give evidence to the amount of weight she’s lost, too.

  I can’t help but think of just six months ago when Grandma was so strong and able, to now be so weak. No one would be able to guess her age before. People always thought she was my mother or aunt. They were always shocked to hear me say Grandma. Cancer is cruel. It’s evidence that life is pain and not meant to be fair, my grandmother would often say.

  So very unfair.

  I turn quickly before Grandma can see my tears and mumble, “I’ll be right back.” I use the excuse of taking off my cloak and hanging it up, to dry my tears before walking back into Grandma’s room. She’s already falling back asleep. I walk over to the window and watch the orange glow of sunset over the taller buildings on the west side of Crystal City. My stomach growls. Maybe I’ll make a sandwich and warm up some broth for Grandma. I sigh and begin turning away from the window when I see Peter walking up to the front of the building. Well, at least he still lives here, though I wouldn’t know it since he avoids me most days now. Maybe some of it’s my fault. Because I want to spend as much time as I can with my grandmother before she—

  I will not let my thoughts go there. I refuse. I pull out my phone to text Peter and see if he wants to come up for a sandwich for supper. It’s only a few seconds before I see his response: No. Got plans.

  I sigh and make myself a sandwich before I reply. You’re always so busy. I want to spend time with you again. I miss you. Are you afraid you’ll catch what Grandma has? Cause ya know cancer isn’t caught. I press send and start eating.

  It takes longer this time to get a reply. I know u don’t catch it! Not stupid!

  I should have known that would upset him. Peter! I didn’t mean it that way. Just joking. Miss you.

  K. Walk you to school tmw. TTYL

  K see you in AM.

  I set my phone down and finish my sandwich. At least he will be spending time with me, though it feels like I am pushing him to. That’s it. No more asking. If he wants distance, fine. I stand up while slamming my hands on the table. Maybe it is another girl. If that’s what he wants, let him have it. I can be happy for him… right?

  Right.

  I warm up a small bowl of soup and take it in to Grandma. I hate to wake her but she needs to eat something, so I gently shake her. “Grandma, I need you to eat a little, to keep your strength up.”

  Grandma looks at me weakly, “Just a few bites, dear. I’m really not hungry.”

  I spoon-feed her two bites before she weakly shakes her head. I set it on the side-table and lay my head on the bed, holding her hand. She soon falls fast asleep again. I’m too young to take care of this, but there is no one else. I open her side-table and make sure WOODCUTTER is still there and ready if she should need it. I glance at the clock and find it is already 8 o’clock. I better do my chores before bed, so I can take care of Grandma before school.

  First, I water all the plants we have in each room of the house. The blue Monkshood flowers give off only the faintest scent to the human nose, but werewolves hate the smell. My grandmother taught me to crush them for the few drops of oil I can get from them, when the flowers get a little older, We collect them in a dabber bottle to make the repellent perfume that my grandmother used to wear when she went out to track the wolves. Afterward, I do my normal rounds of checking all windows and doors to make sure they are locked before I head to my bed.

  Peter

  I was hoping Red hadn’t seen me enter the building, but no such luck. I hate having to basically ignore my best friend, but if she ever found out, either her or Grandma would have to kill me and that would hurt her more than me trying to block her from my new life. At least, that’s true if my theory is correct, and Red’s grandmother is the woman Viktor is looking for.

  Three weeks ago, Viktor, the leader of the local werewolf pack, bit me and turned me into one of them. They wanted more recruits to help them hunt someone known as the Wolf Tracker—the judge, jury, and executioner of the wolves. I had no idea what that meant, but as they described things like the smell of Wolfsbane flowers and the scent of the woman’s blood, I grew suspicious, since both those things were so important in Red’s life. Then, when my sense of smell grew stronger, I became certain. Not only did I need to keep Viktor from finding them, I need to keep them from finding out I’m a wolf. I thought I could make it work and keep it a secret, but I don’t think I can do that. She’s already suspicious of me not hanging out much anymore, and it's only been a couple of weeks.

  I shake my head and keep walking to meet with Viktor, which is rare in itself. I took great pains in the last two weeks to disinfect my apartment, so it wouldn’t smell like Red or the flowers, and I even got all new clothes. Anything to protect her and her grandmother. As I get to the club, The Den, I take a deep breath to fortify myself before walking in.

  Howling greets me the moment I walk through the door. I growl in return, glaring at the bouncer who avoids my gaze, because most of the pack sees me as beta only to Viktor, because I was bitten by the alpha himself and that doesn’t happen often. Wrong place at the wrong time. Lucky me. I keep walking until I get to the back and go through a door where Viktor waits. Once through, I kneel and bare my throat to show submission.

  “Ah, Peter, my boy, get up. Get up! I was waiting for you. How have you been feeling?” Viktor strides towards me and pulls me into a hug. He smells of sandalwood and pine, a tall, thin older gentleman with a streak of grey in his longer dark hair.

  “I feel fine, Viktor.”

  “I told you to call me Father. I am your father now since I bit you, ya know. Now, what did you do today?”

  “Oh, um, nothing really. School. Then just sat at home watching TV.” Viktor leads me over to the chairs in his office and motions me to sit down. As I follow his unspoken command, he takes a deep breath in my direction.

  “Do I smell blood on you? Very, very faint.”

  “Oh yeah, my mom cut her finger, and I helped her bandage it before I came over.” I clenched my jaw, hoping he couldn’t smell Red’s blood on me. Wasn’t there supposed to be something special about it?

  “I hope your mother is okay now. How did being around the blood affect you? You are still a young wolf, and your reaction can be dangerous.”

  “I was fine—it didn’t affect me at all. I didn’t even think it would. Why wasn’t I told about that?” If I feign anger he might forget the whiff of Red he scented on me.

  “Don’t be so concerned.” Viktor’s eyes flash
yellow as he bares his teeth in a grin. “You are stronger than most because I am strong. As my son, it is to be expected. I think we should test your strength, too. Let’s find a challenger.”

  I get up and follow him out into the club, keeping my eyes down. I had already learned better than to protest an alpha’s command. Several look at us.

  “I need a volunteer to fight Peter and test his strength!” Viktor booms.

  The whole club grows deathly silent. I can feel the eyes of the pack sizing me up. I’ve always been big for my age, but now at seventeen, I’m six-feet tall and fully fill out my XL t-shirt. The Lycan virus has made me leaner, more muscular.

  “I will!” someone shouts, and Scott, one of Viktor’s other favorites, steps forward, the light glinting off his golden buzz cut. He’s only an inch or two shorter than me, a year or two older, and probably a pound or two heavier. He grins wide and stands tall. “No one is better than me anyway.”

  Viktor leads the whole club out the back door and into the alley. All the pack follows, and they form a ring. I look over at Viktor. “Do we really have to do this? I don’t like fighting.”

  “Did you question our leader?” Scott bellows before he charges me.

  I let out a yelp as I run and dodge.

  “Gah!” I turn around and punch him square in the face.

  Scott is unfazed and rams me in the chest, grabbing me around the waist and slamming me against the wall. My shirt lifts a little, and my exposed skin scrapes against the brick. In desperation, I punch Scott wildly about the face and knee him until he releases me and stumbles back a step. He smiles through the blood that dribbles from the side of his mouth then he lunges for me again.