Werewolf Academy Book 2
Page 21
Broken windows, cushion-less couches soggy with countless storms, old televisions with the screens smashed out, and garbage bags ripped open by cats and even bigger rats littered the narrow streets. Boris continued to run without pausing as though he had followed the same route many times.
Alex began to catch the scent of other werewolves. He saw paw prints on the pavement before them. Werewolves in wolf form had crossed the same path. The signs Colleen had taught them in class let him know that the wolf trails were extremely fresh. Boris ran as if they were late; perhaps he truly did have something waiting for them.
The scent of werewolf became overpowering. Alex began to see shadows in the adjoining alleys, pacing figures who ran as they did, intent on the same destination. Foreboding filled Alex’s chest. Instinct told him not to rush into something headlong that he didn’t know he could get back out of. What if Boris was leading him into a trap? What if Boris’ Extremist parents still practiced, and they knew Alex’s connection with Jet and Jaze.
His steps slowed. He was about to listen to his instincts and turn around when he glanced back. The golden shine of six pairs of wolf eyes met his gaze. They were following him. He didn’t know if he should fight or run. The spaces between the adjoining alleys had gotten longer. The scent of rot and the aged, baked wood of the old, collapsing buildings crowded his nose. The wolves behind him paced closer.
Boris gave an encouraging bark ahead. Alex had to choose between fighting the half-dozen werewolves behind him or catch up to the one who had led him there. Another bark sounded, more impatient this time. Alex snorted softly, clearing the scent of decay away. He trotted to Boris, leaving the other wolves to follow.
Boris turned at the middle of the long alley and disappeared. The glow of wolf eyes coming from the other direction made Alex hurry forward. He found storm doors flung wide open, revealing the poorly-lit basement of a huge warehouse. With at least a dozen werewolves in front and behind, Alex knew he didn’t have a choice. He gritted his teeth and padded down the cement stairs.
Alex blinked, then blinked again. He paused at the top of the first landing and stared at the sight before him. Roughly fifty wolves lounged, ran, or tumbled around the huge basement. Machines that had once made up what appeared to be an old carpentry business were pushed to the sides to make room for the revelry. The sounds of barks, yips, and huffs filled the air.
The padding of paws on cement made Alex’s ears flick back. He stepped to the side in time to avoid the werewolves he had seen in the alley. They shoved past him and trotted down the stairs without a backwards look. The wolves were a mixture of young and old, male and female. Alphas and the others mingled without conflict. It was a haven of sorts, a safe escape for werewolves looking to enjoy the full moon’s forced phase without danger.
Boris caught Alex’s stare. The Alpha gave a small huff of humor before turning to pace down the cement steps after the other wolves. Alex chided himself for his lack of trust of the Alpha and followed behind.
As soon as Alex’s paws touched the floor, a shoulder slammed into his, knocking him to the ground. Alex sprang up with his fangs bared and a snarl rumbling from his chest, ready to take on his attacker. All around him, other huffs sounded, giving laughter to the situation. Alex focused on the wiry brown wolf who had struck him. The wolf appeared to be a bit older than him with dark green eyes. He waved his black-tipped tail as a slight apology.
Alex realized the attack had been nothing more than some sort of initiation. Apparently his bristling fur and bared teeth was what the others had hoped for.
Boris bumped Alex’s shoulder with his own, tipping his head to the side to indicate the wolf. Alex followed his gaze to see the wiry wolf stretch his front paws forward as a puppy would to invite another puppy to play. Alex was torn between amusement and affront. He was no longer a puppy, and was still a bit ruffled by the unexpected attack.
The wiry wolf rose and shook himself. Boris and the wolf bumped shoulders as if they knew each other. Boris tipped his head with his ears forward to indicate that Alex should follow them. The two roamed around the machines to the center of the room. As Alex paced behind them, more wolves fell in, crowding each other. Boris and the wolf snapped at each other. Other wolves leaped at them. Soon, Alex watched an all-out good-natured wolf brawl spread across the floor of the warehouse.
Boris hit Alex’s shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling, but this time Alex was ready. He leaped back to his feet and sprang over Boris before the Alpha could strike again. Boris turned in surprise. The wiry wolf tried to knock Alex off his feet again, but Alex jumped back. As the wolf followed, Alex continued back. The wolf was relentless, snapping at his paws and trying to make him stumble. The mock fights around them slowly stopped as others became interested in what was going on.
Alex couldn’t shake the brown wolf. He was fast, but the brown wolf was taller and older. He had a longer reach and knocked Alex down more times than Alex got away. Alex was growing frustrated. He didn’t know why he had become the wolf’s target, but apparently their little tussle had the attention of the entire warehouse. Even Boris watched with an amused gaze as if Alex’s discomfort didn’t bother him.
Alex hated feeling foolish, especially if that was the brown wolf’s only intention. He was worried his heart would skip a beat and he would end up sprawled on the floor like an idiot. For a wolf, a true wolf, the others’ estimation of that wolf’s power proved his standing in the pack. If Alex slipped up, he would be hard-pressed to gain the respect of the wolves in the warehouse. Pride and instinct refused to let him fail, yet the persistence and skill of the wolf that attacked him didn’t leave room for any lapse of attention or strength.
Alex knew he couldn’t depend on his heart to hold up under more strain. He had a sudden idea. The next time the brown wolf sprang at his paws, Alex leaped sideways and latched onto the back of the brown wolf’s neck. He rolled over the wolf and jerked his head around. The momentum flung the brown wolf halfway across the warehouse.
The brown wolf hit the side of a round cylinder with enough force to dent it before he fell to the ground. Silence filled the room. Only Alex’s rough breathing and ragged heartbeat met his ears. He held perfectly still, wondering if he had done the right thing, or if he had seriously offended who appeared to be in charge of the wolf gathering.
After a few seconds of intense silence, the brown wolf rose to his feet. He met Alex’s gaze. The wolf’s eyes were two different colors. For a second, Alex thought of Drogan. The Extremist leader’s eyes were green and dark blue. Even a picture of the man had sent Cassie screaming with the memories of the terror he had caused.
Yet this werewolf’s eyes were brown and green. He padded slowly across the floor, his gaze only on Alex. Alex stood perfectly still. He knew it would only take a bark of command for every wolf in the warehouse to tear him apart. Alex would fight; he would never give in to anything without a fight. Yet it was obvious it would be a very losing battle.
The brown wolf paused a few paces from Alex. Very slowly, as if time no longer mattered, the wolf pushed his paws forward into a long, stretching bow, the same invitation to play he had given at the beginning. The wolves around them began to break away, the tension dissolved. At Alex’s surprised stare, the wolf’s mouth opened into a yawn that ended in a bark. He rose and shook himself again. He finished crossing the space between them and butted Alex’s shoulder with his head, a wolf’s sign of acceptance. Wolves flooded over to them, swarming the brown wolf and Alex. Before long, it seemed he had met every werewolf in the warehouse.
***
“Not what you expected, huh?” Boris noted.
They sat on the landing where they had first entered. The hold of the moonlight had long since faded, and Boris had rustled them up some clothes from the apparently well-established stash in the warehouse. Other werewolves lounged around the room or went home. A few of the younger ones still played in wolf form between the machines.
“Not what
I expected at all,” Alex replied. “I thought you might be taking me off to slaughter.”
Boris gave him a glance filled with laughter. “You’re honest, at least.” The Alpha was quiet for a moment with his gaze on the floor. When he broke the silence, he didn’t look at Alex. “So why did you still follow me?”
Alex thought about it. “I’m pretty hard to kill.”
Boris snorted a laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
A man with long brown hair and mismatched green and brown eyes climbed up the stairs to join them.
“Sorry about startling you there,” he apologized, taking a seat a few paces away from Alex. He let his legs dangle over the edge of the landing. “It’s sort of our tradition to haze newcomers.” He fell silent, then gave a slight smile as he said, “I suppose it’s a bit cruel.”
“It’s not that bad,” Alex said.
Both of the other werewolves laughed at Alex’s uncertain tone.
The brown-haired werewolf held out a hand. “I’m Red.”
“Red?” Alex asked.
Red grinned. “I know. I had red hair when I was born. It eventually turned brown, but I was already stuck with the name.”
“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Alex.” He shook Red’s hand.
“That was a nice retaliation back there,” Red said, nodding toward the warehouse floor where they had fought. “Nobody’s flipped me like that before.”
Alex glanced at Boris. “Even the Alphas?”
Red gave a slight lift of his shoulders, a shrug that said much more than his words. “There’s a reason I challenge each wolf who comes in. I don’t care for bullying or fighting on full moons. Each who makes it to my safe house deserves a night of freedom from pecking orders or rank fights.”
“You don’t allow rank fights?” Alex couldn’t believe it.
Red smiled. “When you have enough Alphas willing to back up your rules, nobody messes with them. Trust me. It’s nice to put all of that aside for a night.”
Several werewolves walked up the stairs. “Excuse me,” Red said. He walked with the werewolves to the door and talked with them quietly for a few minutes.
“He’s a lone wolf,” Boris told Alex quietly.
“He doesn’t have a pack?” Alex replied.
Boris shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to them during the genocide, but I know it was bad. Red runs by himself, but keeps this place as a gathering safe house for full moons and to house families on the run. He’s a good guy.”
Alex nodded. “I can tell.” He asked what had been bothering him. “Why are all of these wolves here? There are kids that don’t go to the Academy. It’s safer there. Why don’t their parents send them?”
Boris studied the wall across from them. “Not everyone’s parents can afford to send them to the Academy.”
That surprised Alex. “Jaze would take care of it.”
Boris shook his head. “I don’t mean financially.” He looked at Alex. “You lost everyone.” He said it as a fact. “I think you’d understand how those who have lost so much cling to what they have left. How do you tell parents who have lost some of their children to send away the rest, even if it means their safety? We hold those we love closest to us so we can protect them ourselves, not send them away.”
The Alpha couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. Alex remembered Kalia’s arguments with her mother the first time they arrived at the Academy. She had been sent away with her brother, problems their parents didn’t know how to handle. No matter how many toys, clothes, or nice furniture occupied Boris and Kalia’s rooms, the objects didn’t mean love. In fact, the emptiness of such things was even more pronounced to Alex now that he saw them through Boris’ eyes.
“We need an Academy the parents can go to, also. Somewhere families can be safe together,” Alex said quietly, thinking aloud. “Somewhere Drogan and the General can’t touch them.”
“Those are names not allowed here,” Red said from behind them.
Alex turned quickly, worried about offending the werewolf who had been kind to them. “I’m sorry. They’re a bit close to home.”
“Drogan killed Alex’s parents in front of him,” Boris said.
The silence that hung in the air let Alex know Boris was letting him decide whether or not to tell Red he was Jet’s brother. Alex chose for the time being to keep the information to himself. He wasn’t sure why he felt that was the right decision, but since leaving the Academy, he had come to realize that the world wasn’t quite as black and white as he had imagined it.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Red said. “There are many here who have suffered the same. You are among friends, and welcome to return at any time.”
Boris and Alex knew a dismissal when it was given to them. Weak sunlight filtered through the storm door to the alley.
“Have a merry Christmas, Red,” Boris said, shaking the werewolf’s hand.
“You as well,” Red replied. He patted Alex’s shoulder. “Take care of this one.”
“I will,” Boris promised.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Is your family going to mad that you’re late on Christmas morning?” Alex asked.
“Who says we’re going to be late?” Boris replied. He dug through a pile of garbage bags near the entrance to the underground warehouse. A few seconds later, he pulled out a cell phone in a sandwich bag. Boris opened the bag and removed the phone. “It’s a pre-pay,” he explained as he dialed the number.
A few minutes later, a limousine pulled up to the mouth of the alley. The limo driver didn’t look the least bit surprised to pick them up at such a dangerous part of the city in the early hours of the morning. The guards and then the servants at the door were equally expressionless upon the arrival of the two boys.
“Go get changed into something nice for breakfast,” Boris said as he jogged up the stairs to his own room.
Alex did as instructed. A few minutes later, he had shrugged into his only dress suit Henry had already thoughtfully set out on his bed, and was back downstairs. To his surprise, Kalia was the only other person in the dining room. He took a seat across from her.
“Have a nice night?” Kalia asked.
The hint of longing in her eyes made Alex downplay the experience. “It was alright,” he conceded. “Not like running in the forest.”
“I saw how that went,” Kalia replied. “It’s a little more difficult with missiles chasing after you.”
“Don’t remind me,” Alex said with a shudder.
She smiled. “I still haven’t thanked you for carrying me back. I feel so bad about that. You were already a target. You didn’t need to take care of me, too.”
“I wasn’t about to leave you there,” Alex replied. The sunlight from the wide windows around the dining hall danced in her gaze. He was taken by the many colors of blue caught in her irises. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I’m really not sure anymore,” Kalia replied.
She was staring at him with such an intensity that Alex felt she could see every bit of him, the fear, the defiance, the drive to fight Drogan, the reluctance to accept that he deserved to be alive when so many had already died. He felt as if all of his defenses crumbled away, as though her searching look rendered him completely bare. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.
Alex was afraid to move, filled with fear that she would turn away from him after all she had seen. He was damaged. He was filled with the haunted memories of watching his parents die. He was full of holes, merely a shell of who he had been when Jet was still alive. He hated who he was, but couldn’t find that carefree boy again no matter how hard he looked.
As if she couldn’t help herself, Kalia reached out a hand and set it gently on his cheek. The heat from her fingers warmed his skin.
Alex closed his eyes, unable to meet her gaze anymore.
She breathed his name so softly he would have missed it if he hadn’t had his werewolf senses. “Alex.”
“You don’t have to hide yourself,” she whispered.
“If I pretend to be whole long enough, I can almost believe it,” Alex replied as softly.
“We’re all searching for pieces of ourselves,” Kalia told him. “But we can’t do it alone. You have to let people in.”
Alex shook his head. “Nobody should have to see what’s inside me.”
Kalia gave him a soft, sad smile. It filled her eyes with sorrow as though she wanted to cry for him.
“Merry Christmas!” Jordy yelled as he and Alice ran into the room. Their nice clothes were already wrinkled and Alice’s had what appeared to be toothpaste on the collar of her dress.
Kalia and Alex sat back. Kalia gave him a quick smile as though they had shared something that meant a lot to her.
“Merry Christmas,” Elizabeth said, following the children at a more sedate pace.
Kalia returned the greeting. Eventually, Mr. and Mrs. Dickson entered. As soon as they sat down, servants began to flood the room bearing trays of pancakes, waffles, ham, pudding, and spreads.
Boris slumped into his seat a few minutes later looking exhausted. “Mornin’,” he mumbled.
“Did you forget something?” Mr. Dickson asked.
Boris looked down at the absent space beneath his chin.
“I have your tie, sir,” Boris’ man servant said, offering the already tied red and green object of discussion to Boris.
“Thanks,” Boris muttered, slipping it over his head. “As if I need a noose around my neck to eat breakfast.”
“Boris,” his mother chided. She turned her attention to her youngest children. “Alice, what have you gotten on your lace? And Jordy, it looks like you’ve been wrestling with Todd again. I’ll have him know that his job is to dress you, not entertain you.”