Werewolf Academy Book 2: Hunted (24 page)

“Let him carry your bag, Alex,” Boris instructed with an exasperated shake of his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

The big Alpha trudged up the stairs with a servant half his size following behind carrying his suitcase.

“But why?” Alex asked when Boris was at the door.

The servant shot a glance
to where Mrs. Dickson was still waiting in the car. Her hand waved animatedly as she spoke so quickly Alex could barely make out what she was saying.

“Why do it for yourself when someone else could do it for you,” the servant stated in a voice lo
w enough for only Alex to hear.

At Alex’s surprised look, the servant winked.
“I’m Henry,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Alex felt a hint of relief at the first sign of a normal human interaction at the house. “I’m Alex,” he replied.

“Now, about that bag, Alex,” the servant said. He took the luggage from Alex and gestured toward the stairs.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to understand this place,” Alex said under his breath.

Henry shrugged. “Luckily, it’s not a necessary part of your stay here.”

Alex reached the doors. The servants on either side nodded at him in a gesture that was
close to a small bow. “Uh, thank you,” Alex said. The servants smiled and he stepped inside the house.

The grandeur of the exterior was outdone by the interior. A majestic, sweeping staircase ran on each side of the entrance hall. Marble floors, statues in cleverly designed nooks, and black and white as far as Alex could see made up the furnishings.

“Your room is this way, sir,” Henry instructed.

Alex realized he was staring. He hurried after the servant up the right side staircase. He wondered where Kalia was. It seemed he had already lost her, something that felt very possible in the huge house.

Henry opened the fourth door on the right side of the hallway.

“This is the guest wing, sir. This room will be yours for the duration of your stay.”

Alex stared at the huge, sweeping ceiling and vast space of the bedroom that would have taken up the entire Pack Jericho common room along with his room.

“Are you sure this is right?” Alex asked, amazed. “Isn’t there somewhere, uh, smaller I should or could stay in?”

Henry shook his head with a warm smile as if Alex amused him. “I hope it doesn’t disappoint you to hear, but this is the smallest room in the house, sir.”

Alex shook his head in astonishment. “That’s incredible. I wonder how big the biggest room is.”

“That would be the basketball court, sir. It has an adjoining swimming pool and hot tub. I could give you a tour if you would like,” Henry offered.

Alex let out an accepting breath. “Might as well. Good thing I can always find my way back here if I get lost.”

At Henry’s questioning look, Alex remembered that he wasn’t talking to a werewolf. His interactions with humans had been limited to Nikki, Kalia, and Professor Thorson. Now Brock and Caden, he reminded himself. He forgot that a human’s sense of smell wasn’t nearly as keen as a werewolf’s. He also didn’t know if Henry knew he was a werewolf. Given Kalia’s brief description of the fear of werewolves at the Dickson household, he doubted the servants knew of it.

“Uh, good sense of direction,” Alex said.

Henry nodded. “At least I won’t have to worry about finding you lost in some far quarter of the house, sir.”

“You’d need to find me?” Alex repeated. “Why?”

“I am your personal assistant, sir; your servant, if you will. Your needs are mine to fulfill, and I am personally responsible for your wellbeing,” Henry replied.

Alex studied him, not sure if having a manservant follow him around would be a good thing. “Does everyone here have a
personal assistant?”

Henry smiled, his mustache twitching with humor. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Mrs. Dickson has four personal servants, as well as two maids,
a seamstress, and a butler.”

Alex dared to ask, “For the entire house?”

Henry’s smile deepened. “No, sir. For herself. There are thirty-four servants at the Dickson household, as well as a dozen or so others for hire depending on the season.”

“Why does the season matter?” Alex’s head was reeling with the thought that it took so many people to run one house.

“Gardening, spring cleaning, clearing walkways of snow, trimming hedges, caring for the pool,” Henry listed. He shrugged. “There are hundreds of odd jobs Mrs. Dickson hires out for. It gets a bit hard to keep track.” He flicked his hand toward the door. “Shall we see to that tour?”

Alex was tempted to refuse. There was too much to take in as it was.
Between the servants, guards, and Kalia’s family, he had never been surrounded by so many humans. He had already started to regret taking up Kalia’s offer about spending Christmas at her house.

Henry read his hesitation. “It might feel good to stretch your legs after the long ride. Besides, once you get the hang of this place, you’ll see that it’s not so bad.

Everyone dressed up for dinner. The concept made Alex want to laugh and cringe at the same time. He tried not to fidget in the dress shirt and slacks Cassie had thankfully insisted he take. There was seldom an occasion to dress up at the Academy. Students were allowed their own form of worship, and there was even a small chapel room at the end of one of the classroom wings, but Alex only went there when Cassie dragged him for Christmas.

He missed Cassie terribly. It had only been one night, yet they had never been so far apart. He was grateful Cassie had Tennison, but looking around the table at the faces of strangers, he realized he had no one.

“How do you like our humble residence, Mr. Davies?” Mr. Dickson asked.

Alex’s head jerked up at being addressed. “It’s, uh, nice,” he replied.

The Dickson family laughed. Small, twittering laughter came from Mrs. Dickson; she held a napkin daintily in front of her lips to hide her smile. Boris gave a deep, throaty guffaw that made Alex’s cheeks burn. Alice and Jordy, Kalia’s younger siblings, giggled because everyone else was laughing. Mr. Dickson fought back a smile that showed humor in the depths of his eyes. The one that got to Alex the most was Elizabeth, Kalia’s older sister. She practically fell off her chair.

“It’s, uh, nice,” she imitated, covering her mouth with dainty white fingers that Alex doubted had ever
seen hard work.

Alice and Jordy broke into giggles again.

Mr. Dickson took a calming breath, but he couldn’t fight the smile that stole across his face when he asked, “If this house is just
nice
, you must come from quite the establishment, Mr. Davies,” he said with a meaningful look at Alex’s department store shirt.

“Dad,” Kalia scolded.
She sounded thoroughly dismayed at her family’s rudeness to her guest.

Mr. Dickson lifted his hands. “I’m just saying, Kali. Your young man here must have quite the upbringing if this house doesn’t awe him the way it does the rest of our friends.”

Kalia gave him a stern look. “Maybe grandeur doesn’t impress everyone,” she retorted.

Mr. Dickson chose not to respond.

Mrs. Dickson cleared her throat gracefully and asked, “So Alex, where did you say you grew up?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn’t say,” he replied.

It was obvious by Mrs. Dickson’s silence and persistent attention that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had the answer.

Alex glanced at Kalia. Kalia lifted one shoulder.

“I grew up at the Academy.”

Silence fell around the table. Gazes shifted from right to left. Boris looked at
Kalia; the discomfort of their expressions let Alex know just what a mistake he had made.

“Is that Jaze Carso still
the head of the establishment?” Mr. Dickson asked.

Before Alex could nod, Kalia cut him off with, “Dad, don’t go there.”

Mr. Dickson threw up a hand. “Kali, I just don’t understand why
he
has to be the one to run that place. What kind of an example is he setting for those kids?”

“Adam, it’s not our place to question,” Mrs. Dickson said quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

“They’re a bunch of murderers, Marnie. And we’re sending our kids there. How is that supposed to help anything?” he demanded.

Mrs. Dickson shook her head. “It’s the only place they’re safe.”

“What if by the time they come back, we’re the ones not safe?”

Mr. Dickson’s question hung in the air. Alex didn’t dare even swallow the bite of heavily spiced fish that was in his mouth. He couldn’t believe what they were accusing Jaze of. He didn’t know whether he should say something. He couldn’t let it sit, not with Jaze’s reputation on the line. They should know how much Jaze put himself out there to protect werewolves.

Alex swallowed and spoke quickly before he second-guessed his decision. “Jaze puts his life on the line for—” He caught Kalia’s quick shake of the head and remembered at the last minute that her parents didn’t allow them to use the word werewolf, “For people like your children,” he finished. “He leaves his family and confronts dangerous situations on a weekly basis.”

“If only we could hope someone would end his life,” Mr. Dickson replied.

Alex stood up so quickly his chair screeched back. He didn’t know what to say. His instincts demanded that he defend the one who had done so much for he and Cassie, yet instincts also dictated that attacking someone in their own home was not smart or polite.

Mr. Dickson’s eyes widened. Alex followed his gaze and glanced down. He realized he was holding
a spoon in one hand and his fork in the other. Both utensils were bent by his clenched fists. He dropped them. They clattered on the table, the shapes of his fingers imprinted in the fine silverware.

“Please excuse me,” he muttered before rushing from the table.

“Alex,” Kalia called after him.

“Let him go,” he heard Mr. Dickson reply as he hurried to the front of the house. “I’m not so sure inviting him here was such a good idea.”

A servant opened the door when he neared. Alex stormed outside and rushed across the lawn. He wanted to phase, but knew with the heavy security around, he would be shot on sight. He ached to run away, to leave the Dickson residence behind and never look back. To hear what they thought about Jaze and the rest of the professors at the Academy made a knot in his stomach. The taste of fish refused to leave his mouth.

Familiar footsteps ran across the lawn. He carefully composed his expression and turned with his arms across his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Kalia said. “I can’t believe he said that.”

Alex kept his gaze on the white walls and
black shutters of the mansion. “I guess it’s good for me to know what he thinks.”

She shook her head. “Not like that. He can have a little decorum.”

Alex’s lips twitched into a smile. “One of your fancy words again.”

She let out a sigh. “I have a few other choice words I’d
rather use.”

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?”

She nodded, opened her mouth, then shook her head with a little stomp of one foot. “I’m out of practice. Apparently the Academy has been good for me at least in one way.”

Alex let out a small laugh. He turned his attention back to the house. The sound of the guards walking the wall a few hundred paces behind them was loud in the night. Alex could see the silhouettes of other guards
checking the grounds near the house. The front door was opened by the servant. Mr. and Mrs. Dickson walked out. They paused on the porch and stood arm in arm, conversing quietly as if they didn’t notice Kalia and Alex on the vast lawn.

Alex shifted his attention back to the white walls. “It’s amazing how something so beautiful and grand can be so cold and unfeeling.”

“I know what you mean,” Kalia replied.

Alex glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and realized she was watching her mother as Mrs. Dickson made her way carefully over the wide expanse of grass toward them.

Kalia leaned closer and said in an undertone, “Just for your information, Jet may have been personally responsible for killing two of my uncles along with three cousins.”

Alex could only stare at her. “You didn’t think to tell me that
before
dinner where I just proclaimed my loyalty to Jaze and his cause?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Would it have made a difference?”

Alex sputtered. “Well, no, but, uh, but I would have at least been a bit more prepared for your father’s Jaze bashing fan club.”

Mrs. Dickson reached them. “Are you two enjoying a little fresh air?”

“Any air is better than being in that house one more minute,” Kalia replied.

Mrs. Dickson’s gaze showed no reaction to her daughter’s comment. She shifted her eyes to Alex. “I hope you found your accommodations suitable.”

“Uh, more than suitable,” Alex replied, remembering his earlier understatement that had been taken so badly. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He studied the ground at her feet. “I, uh, would like to apologize for dinner.”