Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen: Yellow Eyed Santa

Chapter 19 Chapter Nineteen: Yellow Eyed Santa
"And what exactly is that supposed to be?" Carter asked, pointing at one of the many statues lining the massive throne room.

The sculpture in question was nightmarish; a giant dog-like creature with three massive heads, each one frozen mid-snarl with teeth bared and eyes seeming to follow him around the room.

It was easily twelve feet tall, carved from some kind of dark stone that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

This cult was really big on wolves if they were willing to tolerate such an eyesore of a statue lying around the place, Carter thought.

Balfour, who'd been showing him around the ornate mansion for the past half hour, as full of enthusiasm as a museum tour guide, grinned broadly. 

The man was built like a tank; probably six-foot-four of solid muscle with a thick beard going silver at the edges and laugh lines around his eyes that suggested he smiled more often than he frowned. 

He reminded Carter uncomfortably of a buff Santa Claus.

"Ah! Excellent question," Balfour said, his deep voice booming in the cavernous space. 

“That is our goddess Lunara in her wolf form. The ultimate symbol of majesty and dominion over all other packs, and indeed over human society itself.”

He continued happily, “She gives us our strength, rules most of our culture through our sacred moon, and with her divine blessing, the Cross empire will soon rule the entire world."

Carter coughed to cover his reaction. “Nutjob.”

Balfour's happy expression faltered slightly. "What was that?"

"I said next statue," Carter said quickly, pointing vaguely at another sculpture across the room. "What can you tell me about that one?"

Balfour's smile returned full force. "Ah yes, that magnificent piece depicts the First Alpha, Fenris Cross, who founded our pack over three centuries ago.”

‘Legend has it he could shift into a wolf the size of a small house, and his howl could be heard for fifty miles in every direction. He unified the warring packs of the northern territories through a combination of strategic alliances and, when necessary, overwhelming force. The artist who created this was actually..."

Carter let Balfour's cheerful, deep voice fade into the background noise as he took in his environment more carefully, scanning the place for potential escape routes.

The throne room was absurdly large; Carter was beginning to understand there were barely any normal sized rooms in the entire building.

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, showing a view of manicured gardens and, beyond that, dense forest.

He could see people moving past outside. Muscular people, very muscular people, all of them moved with the same predatory grace that Dallas had.

And Carter was willing to bet they were all so-called ‘werewolves’ tasked with guarding the property.

"...and if you look closely at the base, you can see the names of all the Alphas who've led the pack since Fenris, including Dallas's father, Aurelius Cross, who still technically holds the title though he's preparing to pass it to Dallas at the next—"

Carter glanced up at the ceiling, pretending to admire the ornate molding while actually staring at the small, discreet CCTV cameras positioned at regular intervals throughout the space.

There was one in each corner of the throne room, and he'd spotted at least a dozen more scattered throughout the hallways they'd walked through.

It wouldn't be easy to get out of here. 

He'd have to work hard for it, plan carefully, probably spend weeks gathering information and looking for blind spots in the security system. Especially if he were to escape by himself without any outside help.

"...which brings us to the Treaty of 1847, when the Aurelius Cross rescued our werewolf pack from near extinction by diversifying into human business, creating the wealth that raised our pack to prestige and made us indispensable members of human society–“

Carter was still wondering if he could somehow make it out of one of those giant windows when Balfour’s question broke him out of his thoughts.

"So what are your thoughts?"

Carter blinked, realizing Balfour had stopped talking about the statue and was now looking at him expectantly. "Huh?"

Balfour's bushy eyebrows rose toward his hairline. "Have you not been listening to a word I've said?"

"Well..." Carter shifted his weight, feeling like a student caught daydreaming in class. "I mean, I don’t even know why I asked…”

Carter coughed awkwardly, “I don't really care very much for statues. Sorry. No offence to your goddess or your First Alpha or whatever, but sculptures aren't really my thing."

To his surprise, Balfour only grinned wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Very well, very well! Your honesty is refreshing. I was told you quite enjoy the literary arts, shall we go to the library instead? I think you'll find our collection far more interesting than a bunch of old rocks."

"Sure," Carter said, relieved. "That sounds good."

They left the throne room and made their way through a series of increasingly opulent hallways. 

Everywhere they went, people passed them; servants carrying linens, stern-looking men and women in expensive suits, younger people who looked like they might be Dallas's age. 

All of them greeted Balfour first with clear respect: "Good afternoon, Beta," or "Beta Balfour, a pleasure."

Then their eyes would slide over to Carter, and they'd add something like, "Greeting, mate to the Alpha," bowing with varying degrees of warmth. 

Some of them seemed genuinely curious, while others looked at him with suspicion.

"How come there are so many people here?" Carter asked after the fifth such encounter. "I thought this was just Dallas's house."

"The pack is preparing for the Moon Festival coming in a fortnight at the next full moon," Balfour explained as they turned down another corridor lined with portraits of stern-looking men who all bore a distinct resemblance to Dallas.

"It's one of our most important celebrations. We need all hands on deck to prepare the mansion itself and then the pack houses scattered throughout the territory outside. During the festival, we'll have werewolves coming from allied packs all over the country, perhaps three hundred guests in total."

A few more people passed them in the hallway, these ones younger; maybe late teens or early twenties.

They stared at Carter unable to hide their shock, whispering to each other in loud whispers.

"Is that really him? The Alpha's mate?"

"I heard he's human. Completely human, can't even shift."

"And a male one at that. I thought the Alpha would choose a proper female Luna from one of the bloodline families."

"Do you think it's some kind of rebellion? Or maybe the Alpha's finally lost his mind—"

"That's odd," Carter muttered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Balfour's jovial expression transformed instantly into a hard and dangerous glare. 

His eyes flashed a bright unnatural yellow for just a second and he turned to face the gossiping teenagers with a look that could have melted steel.

"Forgive the young werewolves," he said, his voice dropping to a growl that made the teenagers go pale. 

He raised one of his massive hands, retracting sharp claws while glaring at the small crowd, “They are young and have yet to learn to be tactful. Or when to keep their foolish mouths shut. But no matter, soon they will be taught a hard lesson on respect."

The teenagers took one look at Balfour's face and ran down the hallway in the opposite direction, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to escape.

Carter stared at Balfour with new fear, now realizing that the gentle giant act was just that, an act. 

Underneath the Santa Claus exterior was something far more dangerous, and he would have to be very careful not to make himself a target of those angry eyes.

Or else…