Page 20 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
The house itself wasn’t much better. Rumor had it that Agnes kept the windows open year-round, so all manner of creature could come and go as they pleased. It was rumor because the rest of town avoided her if at all possible. The smell was, as one news article put it,incredible. According to Agnes, the human concept of “smelling fresh” was not one that mattered in nature.
I braced myself for the odor as we carefully picked our way past the thorn bushes and ducked under a tree that looked ready to fall at any moment, crushing whatever was unfortunate enough to be beneath it when it did. After avoiding three of the four piles of animal feces and scraping what I could off my shoe from the one I didn’t miss, we were finally at the front door.
“You’re sure about this?” I asked, trying to keep the skepticism from my voice.
Charlene and I had been best friends for years as kids, but that had been a long time ago. She was defensive about her OLS friends, and I didn’t want to offend her. It was nice to have the companionship at a time I was feeling more alone than ever.
Being the last living member of your family sucked.
“Yes. Agnes and your grandmother spent a lot of time together at the OLS meetings. She’ll be able to tell you more.” Charlene reached out and grabbed the large bronze falcon-shaped knocker, lifting and hammering it against the door twice. Deep echoing gongscould be heard from the other side. Not unlike a super-bass version of the grandfather clock at my grandmother’s house.
It took nearly a minute before Agnes opened the door.
“Char!” she exclaimed, her dark eyes lighting up with a glow that looked positively violet. It was an unusual coloring of the iris, and yet another reason Agnes was rather ostracized.
Though the sticks protruding from her hair and the leafy birds nest she wore atop it may also have played a part. Just a guess.
“Hello, Agnes. It’s good to see you.”
“Mrs. Anderloss,” I added. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Hi, Sylvie. It is very nice to see you. I’m so very sorry about your grandmother. I would have been at the funeral, you know, but Charlie got into the porcupines again.”
“Charlie?” Charlene asked, stepping inside as Agnes stepped aside. “I thought he moved out.”
Agnescluckedin disapproval. “He did. But he stuck his snout where it didn’t belong and got a face full of quills for his pleasure. Several of them were close to his eye. I didn’t feel right turning him away. He’s upstairs resting.”
“Poor little dude,” Char said. “Those raccoons never learn, though.”
“No, they don’t. Do they?” Agnes laughed.
Apparently, Charlie was a raccoon.
“Mrs. Anderloss,” I said, stepping around decaying forest debris as we followed her deeper into the house. “I was hopingto show you something and get your impression. It’s concerning my grandmother.”
“About Helen? Of course, of course. In here.” Agnes pushed open a door, and we entered what could only be described as a séance room. It was kept clean and clear of floraandfauna, which was a nice change. Four large high-backed wooden chairs surrounded a heavy-looking table, stained black and accented with orange and red lines throughout.
I had no idea what it was for, but given the array of shrunken heads, jars of liquid withthingsin them, and other objects arrayed on shelves nearby, I didn’t plan to.
“Sit, sit,” Agnes said, gesturing to chairs as she planted herself in one with padding under the rear. “These old bones need a little extra cushioning lately.”
I smiled awkwardly, handing the letter across the table to her. “It’s datedaftershe died,” I said, sitting back to let Agnes read it.
“How bizarre.” Agnes scanned the contents. “This is her handwriting, though. I would recognize it anywhere.”
“Exactly my thoughts. But it’s weird. Wouldn’t you say?”
Truthfully, I had no idea what was weird to Agnes. To me, the half-acre surrounding us was all weird. To Agnes Anderloss, it was her life. Again I wondered if perhaps I should have been more insistent we go to see Mr. Crane. Surely he would know more?
“Very weird indeed.” Agnes looked up. “Is that it?”
I blinked. “Well, there’s also the contents of the letter. It doesn’t sound like my grandmother at all. Talking about the forest like that. The darkness.”
Agnes smiled. “That’s not weird at all.”
“It’s not?” I was thoroughly lost.
“Your grandmother has always loved it. Had an appreciation for it and for the living things, much as I do. But while my love is more down to earth, more focused on the individual things, the tree here, the rock there, Charlie, etc., your grandmother saw thebigpicture. She loved the forest, for all it contained. There’s a long history between your family and the forest.”
