Chapter Nine

"It won't work, you know." Hugo got up and sauntered over to the fireplace mantal, his hands in his pants pockets, as he stared into the flames. "If you're thinking you've tied yourself to a golden goose, probably imagining you'll be financially set for life, you're mistaken. Benedict has got consequences coming to him and they won't bode well for you."

"I haven't noticed anything he's needed to take consequence for. But then, you probably know him better than I do, being family and all." Dixon shrugged and took a sip from his refreshed coffee mug.

"You truly don't know what he's done? Why he's even here?"

Dixon hesitated. Shifters didn't lie, and he had no idea if Hugo had the magical ability to tell if he was skirting the truth. Fortunately, perhaps emboldened by Benedict's absence, Hugo didn't wait for an answer.

"The man who walked out of here like his shit doesn't stink is a mass murderer," Hugo hissed, coming closer, his hands now fisted. "He killed his whole family in a blink. And then, if that wasn't bad enough, he took the title that has been in our family for generations, as well as the massive inheritance from his dead father, my poor late brother, and built this travesty of a replica house as if people would forget what he did.

"You wouldn't understand." Uncle Hugo was on a roll. "You're a shifter. Your bear's too simple a creature to comprehend the nuance of magic. That man," he pointed with a shaky finger at the door Benedict had left through, "that man claims to speak to the dead. He's unnatural. A carrier of black magic which is the very worst of our kind."

Our mate would prefer we not hurt the scumbag, Dixon reminded his bristling bear. At least not yet. But Uncle Hugo probably doesn't know that. Very deliberately, Dixon put his coffee mug on the table. Then he clicked his neck, tilting his head hard to one side and then the other. Raising his elbows he rolled his shoulders, one at a time, before lacing his fingers together, he inverted them and stretched out his arms, so his palms were facing outward. His knuckles wouldn't crack, but Hugo was watching him closely as if he expected them to. After they were flexed and stretched, Dixon rested his hands on his lap and met Hugo's eyes. "I'm not sure why you're telling me this."

"You clearly have a love for the finer things in life." Hugo pointedly looked down at Dixon's shoes. They were handmade. Dixon wasn't going to feel embarrassed for supporting local craftspeople.

"They're very comfortable." Dixon wiggled his feet. "What of it?"

"You're not going to have access to these things much longer, don't you see?" Hugo perched on the edge of the couch Dixon was already sitting on. "Benedict's going to be locked up for the rest of his life. He killed every member of his immediate family. The council has evidence…"

"I would've thought if there was evidence of any wrongdoing, Benedict would've been arrested last night when we arrived in the country," Dixon said, doing his best to be calm. His bear was of the opinion Uncle fucking Hugo's face could do with some rearranging.

"That's what was going to happen." Hugo leaned forward and Dixon caught a whiff of his lies. "Look, I don't expect you to understand how things are done here. You're not a magic user, and you're not British, but the Dule name carries a lot of weight here. I pleaded with the Magical Council when I heard they were going to finally arrest my own nephew for the horrors he'd committed, to give him a chance to submit to me, to hand over the title and inheritance so that it's not lost forever."

"If Benedict's arrested then wouldn't that title automatically fall to his heir? Is that you?"

Hugo snorted. "Centuries the Dules have been respected in magical circles. For literal centuries we've been a silent power behind the council offering our expertise and magical skills that help monitor the behavior of magic users worldwide."

There were definitely delusions of grandeur going on in Hugo's mind, and Dixon hadn't missed that Hugo hadn't answered his question. Dixon rubbed his forefinger under his nose. Lies stunk.

"Fair enough, but I'm still not seeing why you're telling me any of this. Are you saying the only reason why Benedict's not been arrested for goodness knows what is because you've got clout with the Magical Council and asked them to wait?" Dixon leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as he turned his head in Hugo's direction. "Why did you do that? There's clearly no love lost between you both."

"Love." Hugo shook his head in disgust. "That's the problem with being a shifter and American. You're all about emotions instead of the important things in life. You couldn't begin to comprehend the concepts of honor, social ranking, or legacy laws and how they apply here. I do. Once news of my nephew's arrest becomes public, every living Dule's life is going to be examined under a microscope. It's going to be horrific. The family will need strong leadership to weather this time, and the logical person to fill that role is me."

Dixon shrugged. "I wouldn't know. It's got nothing to do with me, but if you say so. I'm still not seeing why you're here now. Why the delay? If the Magical Council has all this evidence against Benedict why wasn't he charged in San Francisco and extradited back to England years ago? That would make more sense to me."

"The Council was waiting for one last piece of the puzzle to become revealed. Clearly, I can't explain every little detail to the likes of you, but believe me the case against my nephew is airtight."

"Yes. Yes. So you've said. But why would you insist that the Magical Council, who I imagine operates much like the Shifter Council does, why would they have to wait before arresting him? Why would you want them to wait if he is guilty as you claim?"

Dixon knew Hugo was lying through his false teeth. The man had an agenda, and it probably had a lot to do with Hugo wanting his grubby hands all over Benedict's title and estate – just as Benedict had said.

Hugo shook his head. "I have no idea why my nephew or anyone else associates with shifters for any reason. You might as well leave now. Just leave. Benedict is going to be arrested and charged with the death of his family, and this place, this land, this ridiculous farce of a house, and everything else associated with it will be mine. There's nothing here for you, there will never be anything here for you."

Why did Benedict leave me alone with this twat? Although the answer was obvious the moment Dixon thought the question. Because he trusts me. He knows me. Dixon had a lightbulb moment. He knows I'll be true to my nature.

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere." Dixon smirked as he sat back, stroking over the ring Benedict had given him. "I don't think Benedict will be either. I don't know why you're here, but maybe you just popped around because you wanted to borrow a cup of sugar. Is that something British people do? I'm not sure where the kitchen is, but I can ask someone if you like."

"Who the hell…?" Hugo's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of the man's skull. "How did you get that ring? That's my brother's ring. My dead brother… that's his… that's… that's… you've got no rights to that." Hugo lunged toward him, his skinny fingers curled in grabby claws. "Give it back!"

"Don't you touch me." Dixon twisted so Hugo was met with his shoulder. "You do not have the right to touch me."

Hugo didn't hear him. That's the only excuse Dixon could think of for what happened next. Hugo slammed his hand on Dixon's shoulder, and Dixon's body jolted as if he'd been hit with electricity, but just as quickly as it happened, the ring on his finger heated and the crest in the middle glowed.

"You attacked me," Dixon growled. "You attacked a shifter with magic."

"That ring's not yours." Hugo was demented, trying to climb into Dixon's lap, reaching for his hand. "It's that Necromancer's fucking fault. He did this. He ruined me. He took my family from me. I want to see him hang. If he hadn't left the country when he did I would've shot that black magic asshole straight through his shriveled heart. I want him dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!"

Dixon's bear exploded, shredding Dixon's clothes as he shifted. The couch tipped over backward, crashing to the floor. Standing firm on four legs, the bear looked around, expecting Hugo to be running for the door, but the idiot magic user was rummaging through the clothes the bear had left behind.

"It had to have come off. The ring would come off when the brute shifted. Come on, come on. Where is it? Where is it?"

The bear glanced down. There was a ring glinting on his claw, just as Benedict had said it would be. The bear chuffed quietly, rocking his weight to his right side so he could lift his left paw. Hugo looked up and his mouth dropped open.

Yeah, asshole. Looking for something? The bear gave the best approximation of a wave that he could, before slamming his paw down on the floor and showing all his teeth. He could see it, the moment the dots connected for the bitter magic user – how big Dixon's bear really was and how the magic that Hugo had thrown at him had just pissed him off big time.

"You're as much as a fucking menace as the necromancer you're fucking," Hugo yelled as he scuttled back on his hands and knees, one hand sweeping behind him as he tried to find the door. "You can't touch me. No one will believe I attacked you first. You're nothing but a shifter."

Dixon ambled along. He wasn't in a hurry. It wasn't as though he wanted to bite the magic user's ass, or any other part of him for that matter. Besides, from the smell the magic user was leaving behind… yeah, I'm not going near anything that smells that bad. But he was making his point. Hugo wasn't welcome and Dixon's bear followed him all the way to the front door.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer," Hugo yelled, sprinting for his car. "I'll have you declawed for this." Seconds later his town car was speeding down the driveway.

Feeling quietly pleased with himself, Dixon turned around. Benedict was standing on the top step smirking at him, flanked by the doorman who'd found the travel mug and the disapproving face of Mrs. Porter. "We're well rid of that piece of trash," the woman said, and Dixon really got the impression she was looking down her nose at him. "But if you start shedding fur or hair all over the carpets, you and I will be having words, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a roast to tend to. Make sure you're on two legs at the dinner table."

She stalked off like Dixon imagined witches from a fairy tale might do – all rustled skirts and disapproval, but the footman laughed and so did Benedict.

"Did you have fun?" Benedict came over and nodded to the side of the house. "Let's go and introduce you to the gardeners. I'm sure you can do with a walk around the roses before dinner."