Page 13 of The Alpha Dire Wolf (Bloodlines & Bloodbonds #1)

Sylvie

F ollowing my instinct without delay was a smart move. Although it was less than a ten-minute walk to town hall, by the time I arrived, there was already a veritable stream of people heading inside. Others besides just the surplus store owner were expecting the mayor to speak.

“Half the town is here,” I muttered to nobody in particular.

“Those that care,” said an elderly woman stepping out of a bright blue Cadillac. I eyed the pristine blast from the past with the giant rear fins and sparkling chrome. I couldn’t have placed the year, let alone the decade, but I knew a lovingly cared-for machine when I saw one.

“Care? Care about what?” I asked, waiting as the gray-haired woman manually locked the door and stepped away, moving much more spryly than I would have guessed, given the wrinkled skin and age marks covering her.

“The well-being of the town, of course.”

“Right.” I frowned. It was still a quick response to make a beeline for town hall. To be that automatic, people would need to be familiar with it. “Does this sort of thing happen often around here?”

“A wild animal stampede?” The woman laughed. “No, that’s a new one by me, and I’ve been here all my eighty-one years.”

I looked around at the steadily growing crowd, with still more making their way from all directions. “Then how does everyone know to come here?”

“A stampede is new,” the woman conceded, starting to make her way to the building to join the line forming outside the doors.

“But this is New Lockwood. There’s always been a strangeness about it.

Weird happenings that nobody can’t quite explain.

Which means the mayor will speak to everyone afterward.

Assure us that it’s okay and that it’s nothing to worry about. ”

“Ain’t nothing okay,” the person in line in front of us muttered, glancing over his shoulder. He was also on the older side of things. As, I noticed now, were many of those attending.

“Hush,” the woman said.

“It’s the truth. Them woods is cursed. We all know it.”

“Cursed?” I leaned forward. “What does that mean? It’s the second time I’ve heard someone say that today.”

The old lady’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t from around here. Are you?” The suspicion on her face was plain to see, emphasized by the added wrinkles and guarded tone. She peered closer at me.

“I was born here,” I said, uncomfortable to be on the defensive. “My parents took me away when I was ten. I came back a few days ago for my grandmother’s funeral.”

The line shuffled forward.

“Funeral?” the strange woman repeated. Then her eyes opened. “Oh, you’re Helen’s granddaughter! Lovely woman. Truly a shame to hear about her passing. I remember now. I saw you at her funeral. I’m very sorry, my dear. She used to play bridge with us once a month or so. Absolute hoot.”

I grinned as the suspicion evaporated, replaced by friendly comradery as we approached the doors, our line funneling through inside with paced efficiency. “That is one way to describe her, yes. Thank you.”

“Come on then, let’s get inside and see what the mayor has to say this time.”

“Can you tell me more about the woods?” I asked, reaching for the door to hold it open for both her and the man, who was still grumping to himself about the curse.

“The forest treats everyone differently,” the woman said, tilting her head toward the back of the man’s head, as if to point out one such manner of treatment. “If you aren’t good to it, it won’t be kind to you. Bad things may happen. Treat it well, and it maybe welcomes you.”

I recalled the warming embrace that I often encountered upon setting foot inside the forest.

“Nobody can quite explain it,” she continued as we followed everyone into the main auditorium. “But there is, without a doubt, something strange about it.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, noting the way her face scrunched up suddenly as she finished talking. “Do you need a chair?”

“I’m fine,” she said, swatting my helping arm away. But she was gentle about it. “I’m eighty-one, not ninety-one.”

I laughed. “If you say so. But what was with the look then?”

“It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked about the woods. We just sort of know ,” she explained. “My brain got to thinking about when it all started.”

“You know the origins of the mystery?” I asked, leaning in eagerly.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she said, waving me off.

“I was just remembering something I heard when I was younger. About something from the forest, spilling over to the town. Troubles, with people over the forest, squabbling about something from even longer ago. I was young when that happened, so I didn’t pay much attention, you see.

But that feels right. I don’t recall much.

Though I do know they didn’t come around much after that. ”

We were in the auditorium now, much of the seating occupied by those who had come first, forcing us to find chairs in the second to last row.

“Is that all?” I asked once we were seated. “You don’t remember anything else?”

“No,” she said. “Just that they didn’t come around anymore after that. Maybe the historical society can help you out. They’ll have records of all that, details, those sorts of things. That’s what they’re good for.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, you’re probably right. Thank you.”

The mayor took the stage to a chorus of shouted questions and raised voices from all sides. He ignored each and every one of them. Instead, he raised his hand and waved at the various people, greeting many of them by name.

Somewhere between middle-aged and elderly, he wore a sleek-cut charcoal-black suit that reflected very little of the stage lighting.

His hair was thinning but styled well, not bothering to hide the flaw.

A confident man, he walked across the stage without worry.

I couldn’t tell if it was the truth of him or just a projection he was putting on to keep everyone else calm after the events.

An elderly male with a walker shuffled his way up the aisles, looking for a seat.

I bid the lovely bridge-player a fond farewell and relinquished my seat, taking up a position against the side wall and immediately feeling better.

Something about sitting among the long-time townsfolk hadn’t felt quite right.

Perhaps it was something to do with the suspicion I’d been greeted with for asking so many questions, a suspicion only dismissed upon realizing I was the granddaughter of someone they knew.

Small-town prejudices.

I hated being considered an outsider. New Lockwood was my hometown.

I should never have left.

Apparently, according to twenty-six-year-old me, my ten-year-old self had a choice in the matter.

“Before anyone else asks, no, the 5k Beast-Run was not on the schedule for today. Someone got it mixed up. It was supposed to be next weekend!”

A mixture of laughter and muted nervous titters echoed through the auditorium as the mayor finally spoke up. Apparently, the place was full enough for him. Later-comers could hear it from those already assembled.

“I already have assurances that the next one will be cleared with my office before they proceed. Don’t worry.”

There was less laughter and more muted nerves this time. Which the mayor immediately picked up on.

“I have already assigned some people to begin looking into what happened today,” he continued in a more sober, serious tone, letting his eyes sweep the packed auditorium.

The air conditioning was forced to work overtime to keep up.

“Something scared those animals today. It was probably some idiots somewhere who started up logging operations again.”

The nervousness filling the room evaporated, replaced by an audible rumble of anger. That was a protectiveness over the forest from the people. I knew because it wasn’t the first time logging operations had caused issues. Only the last time, it had forced my family out of town, not the animals.

“It’s the curse of the woods, coming true. That’s what it was!” someone shouted.

Far more agreement than I would have expected from a room full of sane people followed the cry.

“Now calm down,” the mayor said sharply, pointing in the direction of whoever had shouted.

“That is not true, and you’re not helping anyone by spouting that sort of thing.

There is no curse of the woods. Nothing to fear, no evil .

Leave that sort of talk to ghost stories around the campfire.

Okay? There is a logical reason to all this, and my office will get to the bottom of it, and—”

The mayor’s voice became a non-distinct blur as fingernails of glass scraped down my spine. Eyes wide at the mental warning siren, I started surveilling the crowd, looking for whoever was watching me.

It didn’t take long.

He was standing at the back of the room, flanked by a pair of open doors, the natural daylight streaming in through them lighting him up like a spotlight.

Black boots, black pants that still hugged his legs with far too much perfection, and a different red and green flannel shirt, but still the same man.

With his long wavy hair, stubbled chin and mismatched eyes staring out at me from under the brim of his hat.

The intensity in his gaze was striking, both eyes boring into me, like he was trying to get a point across.

I just couldn’t figure out what. It didn’t help that my body was warming under his attention.

Stop that. You are more than a piece of meat to be stared down by some sort of hunter.

Part of me wanted to be his piece of meat. To feel those thick hands on me, learning just how much power they contained.

Before I could figure out why he was there, the man stepped forward, standing tall.

“The forest is not cursed,” he said. The rich, deep timbre of his voice cut through the mayor’s comforting speech with casual disregard, as if it weren’t even there.

“If there is evil afoot, it does not come from the woods. It comes from one of you.”

The crowd was dead silent. I was dead silent. Everyone was stunned by his words.

Someone exhaled loudly, and the crowd erupted into sheer pandemonium. Accusations and threats were hurled in all directions, cries of calm were stampeded over with shouts of fear. It was a madhouse of people accosting the mayor and one another.

In the midst of it all, the mystery forest-man turned and walked out.

Why the hell would he say that?

I had to know. Leaving my spot against the wall, I waded through the crowd in the standing room only at the back, hurrying after him.

“It comes from one of you.” An odd choice of phrasing. Whoever he was, he knew more than he was saying.

Irritatingly good looks or not, I intended to get him to reveal it.

Behind me, the crowd pressed forward toward the mayor, demanding answers.

It was unnerving how easily and with just a few words the forest-man had unraveled them all, exposing their fears.

Tensions must have already been high for that to be the case.

“You!” I shouted as I burst out through the doors. “Stop!”

Something was going on in New Lockwood, and he was going to give me some answers.