Page 51 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
“And you, Mr. Crane,” I said politely as he took my hand and shook it.
“I told you, it’s Des, please,” he replied with a wag of his finger, a big smile from ear to ear that echoed in the bright brown of his eyes.
“Des,” I said with a little nod.
“You’re here to formally take your seat on the board, I take it?” he asked with unrestrained eagerness.
“Ah, no,” I said, feeling awkward as I turned him down. I’d totally forgotten about that. “Not exactly.”
“The seat is yours, you know. Taking it is just a formality, sign a few papers, that sort of thing. We really could have it done in no time flat.”
“Thank you. But I came here today for another reason,” I said, steering the conversation back on track.
“Very well,” he said, schooling his facial features into cool neutrality. “Tell me, how may I help?”
There was an odd emphasis to his question that caught me off guard. Had he expected this of me as well? The intensity in his eyes as he awaited my purpose was unusually strong.
“I want to know more about the past of New Lockwood,” I told him, watching his face closely. “Particularly about a conflict around 150 years ago.”
Crane didn’t look surprised at all by my question. “What do you want to know?”
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Not much.” Crane thought for a moment. “It happened. We know that much. Few records remain. Some say the forest turned on us. That it covered the town in darkness, which is preposterous, of course. I suspect they meant it metaphorically.”
I thought of the dreams of darkness lit only by eyes that I’d had recently. “That makes sense,” I said, trying to stem the discomfort I was feeling. “Who did the conflict involve?”
“According to legend, the people of the forest.”
“People of the forest?”
Desmond nodded. “For a long time, there was rumor of people who lived in the deep of the forest, hidden from the rest of the world.” He shrugged. “I’ve only ever encountered it in documents about events like this. No verified sources, only second- or third-hand mentions.”
Forest people. Was that who Lincoln was?
“So what happened 150 years ago?”
“Fighting. Lots of it. Most of the town burned down. Those few who survived didn’t write much about it,” he said. “Only fragments, bits and pieces. From what I can tell, they were rather scarred by the entire experience and worked to put it behind them.”
“Between the townspeople and the forest people?” I asked, shocked. “Why?”
“We don’t know.” Crane shrugged. “None of the records actually mentionwhothey were fighting. So we don’t know that it was against one another, but … who else would it be?”
“Are they Natives? The forest people I mean. Are they a local tribe?”
“Unknown. It would make sense, but we just don’t know.”
“Do they still exist, these forest people?”
Desmond Crane’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Why would you ask that?”
“Curiosity,” I said, glad I had the answer prepared ahead of time. “I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Most haven’t. The mentions of them disappear about ninety years ago, as far as I can tell. Few left in town that old. I only know about them because I deal with the past.”
“I see.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
