A Tale of Red Riding: Rise of the Alpha Huntress (The Alpha Huntress Series Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 9

“Granny, are you here?”

As Red peered in through the front door, she was baffled to find that the place looked like an abandoned shack. A thick layer of dust blanketed the room from floor to ceiling. A musky odor hit her senses so hard it made her eyes burn and stomach churn.

She wanted to dash right back outside out of fear of what might be lurking in the house, but that just wasn’t an option until she knew for certain that her granny wasn’t in danger.

“Granny, if you’re in here, please say something.”

It was so icy cold that Red could see her breath as she stepped over the threshold. The instant she pushed the door shut, the room transformed to the warm and welcoming home she had come to adore.

All the dust was gone without a trace. A flame ignited in the fireplace, filling the room with comforting warmth. The aroma of fresh baked blueberry muffins filled the air. It was enough to make Red’s stomach rumble with hunger and remind her that she hadn’t eaten since the previous day.

Curious about the strange phenomenon, Red reached back and pulled the door open. In a flash, the room was again the lifeless tomb she had first seen.

An eight-foot serpent slithered in from the kitchen doorway. It showed Red its venomous fangs and hissed as it raced toward her. Red screamed and slammed the door. The snake vanished seconds before it would have bitten into her leg.

The room was once again warm, clean, and safe.

“It’s a pretty good trick, eh, Red?” said Grenda.

Red’s heart skipped a beat as she spun around. She could not have been more relieved to see her granny strutting down the stairs, wearing her furry winter coat and slippers. “Granny, I don’t understand how this is possible.”

“Nothing to get worked up over. Just a little protection spellcraft I put on the inside of the house. I got worried after you didn’t come home last night,” Grenda said.

“Spellcraft?”

“You know, crazy concoctions empowered by tongue-twisting incantations,” Grenda said.

“Granny, are you saying you can do magic?”

“Couldn’t go around calling myself a witch otherwise.”

“A Witch?”
Red yelped out.

“Don’t go getting yourself all in a tizzy over it. I’m not the sinister sort that goes around eating little children or casting curses all willy-nilly.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Red cracked a grin, feeling a little foolish over her startled response. “It’s just that I didn’t even know there were such things as witches.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t. There are a lot of things in Wayward you’re going to have to get used to,” Grenda said.

“No doubt,” Red mumbled under her breath. “I hope you were just kidding about there being the sort of witches that eat children and cast curses.”

“I wish I was, dear.” Grenda reached into a small leather pouch on her belt loop. She pulled out a handful of silver dust and began scattering it around the room.

“What sort of spellcraft are you doing now?” Red asked.

“This is no spellcraft. I’m just spreading a little silver flash powder around to keep away the creepy crawlies.”

“I see.” Red was quite sure she didn’t want to know what creepy crawlies were, so she just assumed her granny meant common household bugs.

Grenda blew handfuls of the powder underneath the furnishings and behind shelves. “There is no shortage of witches who have dabbled around in the dark spellcraft. The problem is that such power is obtained without true discipline. The mystical forces are dangerously seductive, so you have to know how to keep it all in balance. Casting magic for vile purposes can twist a witch’s mind up in a hurry. Once things get too far out of control, it’s nearly impossible to come back. Those witches usually have to be rounded up and done away with.”

“You mean burned at the stake?” Red asked.

Grenda nodded. “Sometimes that’s the way it goes. I personally prefer to use methods that are a little less vicious.”

Red gasped. “So you’ve taken part in those hunts?”

“It’s dirty work, but somebody has got to do it. Don’t go thinking an angry gang of villagers with pitchforks and torches could handle such a dangerous task,” Grenda said.

Just the thought of this made Red shudder in fear. “If it’s so dangerous, why would anybody want to be a witch?”

Grenda giggled. “Don’t go thinking it’s all dark and sinister. There are plenty of us who do a lot of good in this world. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m one of the best healers in all of Wayward. Just last week I stopped a plague that could have taken out half the trees in the Tolkien Shire.”

“I’ve never heard of a plague that attacks trees.”

Grenda grinned proudly. “And thanks to my crafty solution, you never will. Proof positive that witches aren’t so bad to have around.”

Red doubtfully shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Your friend Luna is my top student. She’s one of the most powerful witches around. Or she will be when she grows out of being so dang clumsy.”

“Luna?” Red asked. “Oh, you mean Dote. Yes, I just met her outside.”

“Dote.” Grenda belted out a laugh. “Fifteen years old and still going by that silly nickname you gave her all those years ago.”

“I did that?”

Grenda scampered toward the kitchen doorway. “Darn right you did. You had nicknames for most of your friends. Even that imaginary boyfriend you were always going on about.”

“Hold on a second. I had an imaginary boyfriend?” Red asked.

“You were hardly a toddler, so don’t go making a thing of it. And don’t just stand there looking like something the cat dragged in. Get in here and tell me where in Wayward you’ve been all night.” Grenda entered the kitchen.

Red again felt nervous as she recounted the events of the night in her mind. She could only hope that Grenda would understand that most of it wasn’t her fault. As she stepped into the kitchen, her head hung low, like a child about to receive a spanking.

“Have a seat.” Grenda placed a plate of wonderful fruits and muffins on the table. “You look half-starved.”

“Thank you, Granny.” Red sat at the table and didn’t hesitate to dig right in. Her stomach had been cramping a bit, though she wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or the fear of punishment.

“Well, out with it. What sort of mischief did you get yourself into this time?” Grenda asked.

It took Red a moment to gather the courage to speak. “Oh, Granny, I didn’t mean to stay out all night. It’s just that I got lost and couldn’t find my way back. A strange voice called to me. It was a goblin that nearly ate me, but I stabbed him in the chest with a stick and then things got even weirder from there.”

“Slow down, Red. You sound like a little tot trying to talk her way out of getting a licking. You’re not a child here. Just tell it to me like a grown-up would.”

Red’s tension drained away. She took a bite of her muffin and savored its wonderful flavor for a moment. “After I slayed the goblin, I blacked out and woke on the steps of a strange temple. I met a woodsman named Ethan who told me I was some kind of alpha hunting werewolf that has to become a high protector and slay some kind of god called Ragnar. Or something like that.”

Grenda sat back in her chair and grumbled to herself. “Is that all of it?”

Red frowned. “Well, I also met a girl called Ice who invited me to a ball. I don’t much want to go, but I accidentally invited Dote to come along. She was so excited that there’s no way out of it, and I don’t have a thing to wear.”

“That was all one night? Guess that will teach me to leave you home alone.”

“Granny, I do hope you’re not angry with me.”

“Of course I’m not angry, Red. I was darn near shaken out of my shoes when you didn’t come home. Wayward has dangers greater than you can even begin to imagine. If something had happened to you, it would have been disastrous.”

Red took another bite of her food as she pondered Grenda’s words. “I have questions. I need honest answers.”

Grenda stood up from the table. “Since the cat’s halfway out of the bag, there’s no point in dragging it out. Let’s go.”

Red grabbed another muffin and followed Grenda upstairs. They stopped at a door across from Red’s bedroom. Grenda knocked twice, then three times, then twice again. There was the sound of a lock disengaging, and then the door creaked open on its own.

As they entered, Grenda spun around in a circle and waved a hand in the air. Red gasped in amazement as flames ignited in gas lamps mounted on each of the four walls.

“Remind me to teach you that little trick one of these days,” Grenda said.

“I surely will.” A rush of joy filled Red’s heart as she took in the room. “This was my parents’ bedroom.” She was about to open a finely carved wooden box sitting on top of a dresser, but stopped short.

“Go ahead, dear. It all belongs to you now,” Grenda said.

“All of it?”

“Every last trinket.”

Red smiled in wonder as she opened a box to discover it contained several pieces of jewelry. None of it was particularly fancy or of high value, but in her eyes it was a trove of priceless treasure.

Next, she opened a drawer and pulled out a green silk scarf. As Red rubbed it against her face, she caught a scent that she assumed belonged to her mother.

She finally opened a large chest at the end of the bed. The sight of its contents was so startling that she slammed it shut in a panic.

“Oh dear. I should have warned you about that.” Grenda opened the chest, revealing it held swords, knives, clubs, and battleaxes. “Your parents had many enemies and fought in countless battles.” She took out a sword with a three-foot silver blade and placed it into Red’s trembling hands. “This belonged to your mother. She used it to slay many attackers.”

“No way.” The hilt fit perfectly into Red’s hand, as if it had been forged just for her. She held it up to the light and gazed into the glimmering blade. In the reflection, she saw her mother thrusting the silver weapon into the heart of a black werewolf with glowing red eyes.

The image was so startling that Red dropped the sword.

Grenda picked up the weapon. “There is no need to fear the sword. It knows who you are. It will proudly serve you as well as it did your mother. Now hold out your thumb.”

“What for?” Red took a nervous step backward.

“You have to trust me, Red. Now do as I say.”

Red held out a trembling hand. “I hope you’re not planning to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“Relax, my dear. This won’t hurt … too much.” Grenda flicked Red’s thumb across the edge of the sharp blade, cutting into her flesh.

“You call that not too much?” Red pulled her hand away. “I sure hope there was a point to that.”

“Look into the blade again, and you will understand,” Grenda said.

“If you say so.” Red took a nervous breath as she held the sword close to her face. She cringed a bit at the sight of her own blood dripping down the blade. When she gazed into the silver surface, her reflection transformed into a werewolf. Not the hairy dog-faced kind, but her face with wolf-like features. “Granny, is that me?”

When Red lowered the sword, she found herself standing inside the Moon Temple. She was wearing form-fitting battle armor that came down to her knees like a skirt. Claws poked from her fingertips. Reddish-brown fur covered her from head to foot. Topping it off, she wore a hooded red cloak that made her look like a superhero.

She looked to the pedestal holding the moonstone marked Alpha. It was illuminated and humming in an eerie low-pitched tone.

She then saw the clock on the wall. It was counting down from—

5 YEARS / 0 MONTHS / 0 DAYS

0 HOURS / 0 MINUTES / 3 SECONDS

The moon gate began swirling with a vortex of mystical energy. Inside was the silhouetted image of a man Red couldn’t see, but somehow knew he was Ragnarok. His black armored hand reached out through the vortex.

“Join me, Red Riding,” roared a voice of pure evil.

Red’s eyes filled with terror as she realized Ragnarok wanted her to pull him through the gate, and even more disturbing, she knew she held the power to do so. “I’ll never help you.”

“Then everyone in Wayward will die, and it will be your doing,” Ragnarok said.

The double doors of the temple exploded open. Red shielded her face as a massive gust of flames blasted in, setting the chamber around her ablaze. A horde of werewolves charged in, growling in rage.

Trembling in fear, Red raised her sword high. A white werewolf with glowing purple eyes lunged at her through a wall of fire. Its mouth was open wide with the intention of crushing her throat. Red wailed out a battle cry and swung her sword with furious intent.

An instant before they collided, Red snapped awake in her parents’ room. She leaped backward and swung her sword. The blade sliced through one of the poles holding up a canopy above the bed. The whole thing came plummeting down with a crash and a bang.

“Red, calm down. You’re safe,” Grenda said.

“Is that what’s to come for me, Granny?” Red asked.

Grenda put a comforting hand on Red’s shoulder. “What the sword showed you is one possible vision of the future. Never forget that nothing is written in stone.”

“How can I face such a terrible ordeal? I’m just an orphan girl that doesn’t know anything about fighting in battles or defeating monsters,” Red said.

“Of course you can. You’re the Alpha Huntress,” Grenda proclaimed.

Red sat on the bed. “I am not. I’m nothing.”

Grenda gave Red a disapproving glare. “It’s a good thing your mother and father aren’t around to hear you talk like that. They sacrificed everything to assure that you would live to see this day.”

“Are you saying they died for me?”

Grenda sat next to Red. “When it became known that you had received the Alpha Power, there were some who believed they could take it away and give it to another. They planned to invoke a dark spellcraft that would rip the power from you. When the first attackers came that night, your mother fought fearlessly to keep you safe. In the end, she was fatally wounded. Your father refused to leave her side, but when push came to shove, he had no choice. Your mother and I stood together and gave him enough time to take you safely away.”