Page 67 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
So I’m hearing he needs a family, and we’re in the market… I suppose he can fill the fifth role…Joan trails off.
Not happening.
“A fae who can mimic the forms of others? Imagine the trouble. Fae are mischievous by nature, so if a changeling stayed in Faerie, the fae wouldn’t know who was real and who was a changeling.”
“So they swap them for humans because humans are lame and don’t have magic?”
He chuckles. “Harsh, but fair. Humans are the safer bet and they won’t condemn an entire family by transforming into someone important like a fae of one of the high courts.”
“Well, that’s sad.” I glance at my notes and trace a finger over the word changeling.
Does Adler miss Faerie? Does he even remember it?
“So, changelings can shapeshift into animals and humans?”
“If you want to get technical, we’re animals. But to simplify things, yes.”
I nod. “Interesting.”
With a smile, he takes another sip of coffee. “Indeed. There are four courts—or lands—two unseelie and two seelie territories. Unseelie are known to be the worse of the two. Then, within each court, there are two classes of fae. The high fae and the low fae. It gets complicated, but those are the basics.”
“And the slaves? Where do they fit in this world?”
“Well, they technically don’t count in Faerie. They’re simply there to do as they’re told.” He notices my frown. “Yeah, it’s kind of strange considering all of Earth’s history with slavery, but not all realms are created equal and Faerie hasn’t had the same sort of civil unrest as Earth has.”
Huh. “Faerie sounds like a horrible place to take a vacation.”
Carter’s eyes crinkle. “Probably not the best place for a human to visit.”
I take a lot of notes, but most of what I learn is through our discussion and when I ask questions which take us down rabbit holes. By the end of the two hours, my hand is sore from writing and my wolf is begging for a snack.
“Maybe I’ll see you this weekend?” he asks, putting the desks back in line after I gather my things.
“Uh, sure. I’m not going anywhere… it’s not like I can.”
His smile falls at my grumbled words but I leave before he can recover. Any apology he might offer won’t change the fact that I still haven’t been able to call Aunt Lou and I’m essentially a prisoner until I do what the alpha—who I’ve never met—decides I’m worthy enough to leave.
* * *
Makingmy way upstairs after a quick snack, I decide it’s time to visit the mysterious west wing again. There’s no one milling about when I reach the landing on the second floor, so I quickly step over the velvet rope and move toward the ballroom.
This time I’m wearing shoes, but the dust floating in the air is enough to make me cough. I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the noise. Nothing like choking to death while trying to be a ninja.
I rub my arms, fighting off a sudden chill. I should have grabbed a jacket before coming, but I was too excited about exploring to think about it. It’s not entirely dark because of the natural light, and I duck around a broken cobweb dangling in the middle of the hallway. The door to the ballroom is ajar, and I pause outside, leaning against the wall and listening for any sign of activity. As with last time, there’s no one here.
Moving through the entryway, I carefully make my way toward the stage where I saw the orb last time. The chances of it lingering around are slim. I have to try though. My mind will never settle until I get some answers about this place. The creepy woman in the bathroom is by far the most malevolent being I’ve seen here, but I doubt she’s the worst Bad Moon Academy has to offer.
When I don’t see the sphere floating around, I plop onto the stage and huff.
You know there are living beings in this building, right? Why are you trying to make nice with the dead?
I know that,I tell Joan.I’m not making nice. I’m trying to get answers about why so many spirits are haunting this place.
Your funeral,Joan says.
She’s rather helpful. I suck in my cheeks and glance around the ballroom. The dance floor is covered in a thick layer of dust as are the tables and their settings. The curtains are pulled, but enough light filters through for me to make out the majority of the finer details. Whoever built this place didn’t skimp when it came to architectural design. The ceiling is vaulted, and the pyramid shaped chandelier looks ridiculously expensive.
I move to the middle of the dance area, picturing myself in a fancy ball gown and dancing with a handsome man.
