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Overview
The daughter of a werewolf hunter will become so much more.
Thirteen-year-old Mercy Pinkerton thought her days of cleaning house, fixing the barricade, and wiring electric prongs were over. She would finally get to train to be a werewolf hunter, what she has always wanted.
She doesn't know that there are worse monsters than the werewolves that plague Kanta each night. Danger lurks around every corner. She'll have to avoid her father's temper and follow his orders, even if it means risking her life.
It is supposed to be Mercy's big day, but will take a drastic turn for the worse. She'll have to keep her wits about her, remember her training, and prepare for the ultimate test of bravery if she hopes to survive.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781955854030 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Mawr Paw LLC |
| Publication date: | 03/22/2022 |
| Series: | The Wolves of Kanta , #1 |
| Pages: | 136 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.34(d) |
| Age Range: | 16 - 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The crickets were deafening as moonlight streamed down through the branches. Mercy's pulse rang in her ears and her entire body was tense. Her left calf kept cramping up, but she ignored it. A moment's delay when the beast showed its face could mean a gory death. She couldn't fail tonight, not after months of practice. Behind her she knew Father was watching, and she wondered if he felt as nervous. The forest was deceptively peaceful, but Father said they were close, and that if she remembered her training, she could hear them, too.
She got into position in the middle of the clearing with her foot poised above the pedal switch. She tried to calm her mind and focus. The clamor of crickets surrounded them, but that was merely wrapping the noises beneath. She tried to listen closer. She heard an owl in a tree, her father's raspy breaths, and the heavy, padding paws of the beast stalking her. Her mouth was dry and her body began to tremble. Father had said she would panic, that it was a normal reaction to facing one in the wild for the first time. That was the deciding moment, he had said. She needed to keep control of herself, but that was so much easier when she knew they weren't near, when she knew it was safe.
Then she saw it. Through a thick patch of bushes, a pair of yellow eyes caught the moonlight and locked on to hers. Mercy froze. It was said when you looked into a werewolf 's eyes, you felt how easy it would be to become its prey. Facing one required both a strong mind and a strong body. It was as much a mind game as a physical one, and never had Mercy felt so small and insignificant. She had a very sensible and primal urge to run away. There was no way to prepare for that moment, Father had told her. That was the gamble of going trapping to begin with, whether or not you would be able to contain the urge to flee. She felt her legs shake but forced herself to stay rooted to the spot. If she ran, both she and her father could be torn apart.
When the werewolf lunged forward, the only thing Mercy could think of was how big it was. The careful planning she and Father had done over the past months was suddenly forgotten, and her mind went blank. When the creature leapt into the air, its arms out to its sides and its black claws extended, she went rigid with terror. All she could do was stare and gape and be fascinated by the size of it. She forgot the warnings, she forgot everything, until her father cried out behind her.
"Mercy!"
He cocked the gun and pulled her free from her trance. If he shot it, the beast was useless, and their work wasted. She slammed her heel down on the switch and jumped backward just as the beast landed. Four long black claws sliced at her back as she turned on her heel. She winced but didn't slow down. Five seconds, Father had said. That was all the time she had before she was caged in with the beast. She locked her eyes on the branch she had put down as a marker and forced her legs to move. It was actually easier when she didn't have to look the beast in the eye. Mercy leapt at the last moment, clearing the branch. Behind her she heard the cage hit the ground and the metal pin lock into place.
The werewolf was snarling, biting at its cage, its teeth making tiny indentions in the metal. The cage always made them hunch down so they looked smaller.
She turned to her father. "I'm glad you didn't shoot."
He was standing with his rifle held out, still aiming at the frantic, caged werewolf. "You were slow."
She took a deep breath to get her body to stop shaking. "I panicked."
He nodded and finally relaxed his arms and lowered the gun. "I warned you about that." He went to the front of his truck and pulled out a long tube and a metal dart. Mercy had crafted many of them over the years, from whatever metal scraps they could find. The dart's long metal tip was about three inches long, made to penetrate any part of the beast's body. He loaded the dart and walked up to the cage. The werewolf within snarled and backed away, almost as if it knew what was coming. Father held up the tube, and with a single puff of air struck the beast in the leg. It let out a long, lonely howl and slumped to the floor. Its eyes drooped and a bit of saliva dripped down between a pair of sharp canines.
"It works fast, doesn't it?" she whispered.
"You move that slow again, you'll get worse than a few cuts on your back. You'll be dead, or worse, one of them." His blue eyes were hard as he glared at her. "I'd hate to have to hunt you down, Mercy."
She didn't look away or flinch under his gaze. "I know. It won't happen again."
He walked around the cage until he was near the beast's rear then cursed under his breath.
"What is it?"
"It's a female. I thought for sure you would have attracted a male, but I guess you're too young for that still."
Mercy felt a pang of frustration at her father's words. She wasn't technically a woman yet, and that would hamper her usefulness as bait. Male werewolves were drawn to women, not little girls. She didn't understand why a female werewolf would come for her, though she supposed that considering how the males were preferred, there were probably more females left in the forest. Females were worth far less though.
Father slammed the side of the cage and crouched down to eye the beast with a curl of his lip. "If I had known it was female, I wouldn't have wasted a dart on it. I should have checked first." The werewolf rolled its eyes lazily to look in his direction.
Mercy put a hand to her father's shoulder. "It's alright. Maybe we can still bring her in. Surely somebody can use her."
He sighed and got to his feet. "I doubt it, but I guess since I've already wasted the money, it couldn't hurt to try." He motioned to the leather straps hooked on to the tail end of the truck, and the ramp they would use to pull the beast into the truck bed. "Strap her up. We'll drag her worthless ass in."
Mercy nodded and set to work.
* * *
Solomon hated his job. He hated the blood, he hated the danger, but most of all he hated Kanta.
The city of Kanta was an ugly place. The more the werewolves spread across the rural communities, farmlands, tiny villages, and homesteads, the more the people of Kanta suffered. It was a place of survival. People who gave up trying to defend their homes would travel here, but it was also the destination of scavengers and thieves. The desperate struggled here, and the naïve often met with grisly ends. The werewolves were a blight, and Kanta was suffocated by their endless numbers. Noblemen who lived many miles away, in towns that only heard of the troubled lands and feared of one day meeting the same fate, offered a measly price for each head brought to them. It did little to quell their numbers. They only spread farther; every man, woman, and child who was lucky enough to survive a bite added to the wolves' numbers.
Kanta itself had once nearly been destroyed by the beasts. It had happened over a decade ago, and the town had been reduced to three community buildings: the jailhouse, the pub, and the mill. They'd been the only defensible places as the werewolves surged each night and Kanta's population dwindled. Solomon was one of a few who had survived that bleak time. Anna had still been alive then, and ironically the world seemed more hopeful. It had been before he and Anna were wed and years before they had had Mercy. They'd lived in the basement of the pub with the rats and the roaches, who hadn't seemed at all bothered by their reduced human cohabitants. Thomas Farrell was another of the survivors. He owned the mill, an inheritance from his father, but Thomas's mind had always been slightly off. That, alongside his heavy drinking, had made his supposed epiphany questionable. Each night they'd boarded up all windows, and Solomon had been one of five men to keep watch and fire shots at any wolves stupid enough to approach them. If a shot had happened to hit a fellow man, then so be it, as he had been even more foolish to be out after dark. Thomas would never shoot, but he'd watch them fire shots all through the night, nursing his alcohol as though every bottle was the last. He'd watched as the werewolves had fallen to the ground and their blood had spilled out over the dirt. The ground of Kanta had always been stained with wolf blood in those days.
After a full week of such an existence, ammunition had become scarce. There'd been talk of sending someone to a nearby city during the day, but there'd been no telling if they would make it in time before nightfall. With no gasoline for the remaining vehicles and no surviving horses, the journey would have to be on foot. That was when Thomas had pulled out a small container of liquid he'd claimed would help. He'd called it Liquid Lead and said it would turn any rampaging werewolf into a sweet pup.
Most of them had thought it was the drink talking, and the rest had been enraged at him. Why hadn't he mentioned it before? What proof did he have that it would work? When Thomas had admitted that he'd mixed the strange concoction of ingredients himself, the entire room had burst into laughter, and he'd been dismissed by all as a drunken loon. Solomon, on the other hand, had been desperate, possibly more than the others. Anna had been sick every morning, and they'd both been concerned it was morning sickness. Unlike the others, Solomon had been worried for more than his own life. He and Anna had been the only ones to sit down with Thomas and listen to his plan. The pub had belonged to Anna back then, and she'd known where to find the tools they'd need. They'd found a few long metal pipes and a box of nails on the basement shelves. They'd wrapped the nails with paper and twine, and dipped the tips in the Liquid Lead. At first they'd been terrible shots, but then that fabulous concoction was dropping werewolves left and right. That was when he'd realized Thomas wasn't merely mad, he was a mad genius. By morning, they had had a pile of twenty or so unconscious werewolves, and Thomas Farrell had become a hero.
The truck hitched and coughed as they drove uphill into town. The first rays of sunlight were shining down through the trees and gave the world a sick pinkish hue. These days, Kanta looked very different. Instead of just the three piddling barricaded buildings with tiny holes for the nightly shooting gallery, there were more than ten lively businesses, including two pubs. There were other trappers here, too, and Thomas Farrell's brilliance made sure there was plenty of competition. Thomas paid top dollar for every live werewolf brought in, and Solomon could feel the eyes on his truck as they puttered through town.
He hated the idea of Mercy living here, doing the same work he did, killing with the same chill in her veins. Of course, Solomon had never wanted a girl to begin with. They were too vulnerable, too delicate, too difficult to keep safe. He felt like the gods had spat on him twice when Anna had died and he'd been cursed with a girl on the same day. Up until now he had managed to keep her away from town, keep her away from the vices and evil that dwelt here, but he couldn't keep her away forever. Eventually the girl would have to come here, especially if she wanted to be a trapper like her father. He had hoped that her youth would turn away the curious gazes, but these were troubled men, often little better than the beasts they hunted. More than that, Mercy was a lovely girl. She had inherited her mother's dark skin and his own blue eyes. The werewolves targeted blossoming young women, leaving Mercy as probably the youngest for miles around the city. That made her a target for more than just the wolves of the woods.
At the end of the road was Thomas's mill, a metallic monstrosity that loomed like a miniature god over the town. It belched giant plumes of steam into the air as the gears within churned. He parked his truck and stepped out; Mercy did the same, and Solomon could feel the interest building. Eyes peeked out of slotted blinds, whispers hid behind hands, and a few were even so foolish as to gaze with open greed. Solomon pulled out a prod stick from the back of his truck and pushed it into Mercy's hands. The poor girl wasn't oblivious to the looks she was getting, but she couldn't realize how much her presence was like spilling fresh blood in a wolf 's den in winter.
"You remember how to use one of these, right?"
She grabbed the handle on the end and wound it; the other end lit up as a spark of lightning shot between the two metal spokes. He nodded to the werewolf that was watching them with partially lidded eyes. "She'll be waking up soon, and I want you to keep her in line. Don't get squeamish on me. She cuts someone inside, Thomas will lower the price, assuming he'll be willing to take her at all."
Mercy nodded, her eyes stern as she watched the werewolf dozing in its cage. He pulled down the truck latch and started winding leather straps around the base of the werewolf 's cage. Inside the beast opened its eyes and watched him from its stupor. He pulled out an extension from under the truck bed and dragged the cage out to attach the wheels. He moved methodically, keeping his eyes on his work, even while his skin crawled.
"Morning, Solomon. I see you made an interesting catch last night."
Solomon gave a heavy sigh. He knew the voice. He turned to see Carter Flemming lurking behind him. He was a tall, scrawny man with the beady eyes of a rat, and he was eyeing Mercy in a way that made Solomon clench his teeth. He nodded to the man. "Not quite what I was hoping for, but she'll do I suppose."
Carter glanced down at Mercy. "I guess your little one isn't old enough quite yet to help out." The beady-eyed man was normally far cooler in his transactions, but there was a disturbing gleam in his eyes. "Though give her a few years and you might not need to trap at all."
Solomon pulled the cage off the truck extension. The cage hit the ground hard, but the wheels were sturdy and held the weight. Still, though, he appreciated the way Carter jumped at the sound. "She's not for sale. Move along."
"No need to be so hasty, old friend." Carter had a way of hissing his words that made them sound like a curse. "In a few years you might not have much of a choice."
With a grunt, Solomon calmly pulled his sawed-off rifle loose from his belt and loaded in a fresh pair of bullets. "Is that a threat? I'm not opposed to be bringing in a corpse along with this hairy bitch."
Carter backed away with his hands raised. The fool was making threats without even caring to arm himself: typical, foolish Carter.
Solomon smiled. "Give me an excuse to wipe your smirking face from this town." He had built himself a reputation over the years, one that prevented most from daring to cross him. He believed in keeping his enemies six feet under, though he had to thank Thomas's wealth and connections for keeping him out of a jail cell.
Carter had the look of a man who realized he was a few words short of the grave and turned to run into a nearby shop. A few onlookers chuckled, many of them other trappers who were probably far better at trying to nab a child than Carter — trappers that Solomon would need to keep an eye on if he wanted his daughter to remain safe. Gods, and Mercy was only thirteen. He could only imagine what it would be like in two or three years when she began to grow into a woman. He might be tempted to build an iron fortress like Thomas's mill if it wasn't so damned expensive.
Solomon clamped a metal handle around the bars of the cage and used it to pull his cargo. The werewolf 's cage was one of Solomon's own designs and made bringing in these beasts far easier and quicker. The less time spent in Kanta to sell off one, the better. He started in through the front doors of the bleak Farrell Mill. Mercy followed, keeping the prongs close. She was a bright child, and a good listener, too. She had her parents' wits and the prongs to keep any fool that approached her at bay. If she could stare down a she-wolf, surely she could handle a few trappers.
* * *
A gray-haired guard stepped aside as Solomon dragged the cage through the iron gates. The place always reeked of oil, and the humidity inside made him instantly break out in a sweat. The guard held up a fist, and Solomon paused so that the wolf could get looked over.
"You can see she was drugged," he wiped at the layer of sweat over his lip. "I'd rather not wait too long in this heat if it's all the same to you, chief."
He had a deep voice and stepped around the cage to look the wolf up and down. "It's a female."
"I know that."
"The master isn't taking females. They don't last as long."
Solomon sighed. He knew she would be a hard sell, but he had hoped he would at least get through the front gates without being turned away.
As the guard got closer, the she-wolf got up on all fours. She stared at him with menace and bared her teeth with a snarl. "Did you drug her?"
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The She-Wolf of Kanta"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Marlena Frank.
Excerpted by permission of Aurelia Leo.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Map of Kanta
Map of Thomas Farrell's Mill
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Afterword
About the Author