Free Monsters in the Midwest (Book 2): Northwoods Wolfman by Scott Burtness Page B

low voice rolling with a
practiced cadence.
    “You
see, history was written mainly by churches and tyrants, and far too often, the
latter held too much sway over the former. If you look far enough back in
history, you’ll learn that some churches knew the truth of things, but the
tyrants didn’t want all of those things being widely known. They didn’t want
the oppressed population getting spooked and unruly, if you follow. So when it
came to writing the history books, most of what you get is a carefully redacted
version of events.”
    Dallas
held up his hand to interrupt.
    “This
sounds like the start of a nice story, but I think you’d better cut to the
chase. I don’t listen to history lectures until my third, no, my fourth beer.”
    Aletia
gave Colton a look and started to twirl the two-corded whip in a lazy circle.
Colton chuckled softly before saying, “Easy, now. He’s right. We should
probably clear up the basics before this good fellow loses his patience and
takes it out on Randall’s face again.
    “Told
you he’s tough,” Randall groused. “Not that I couldn’t take you,” he continued,
pointing pointedly at Dallas. “You’re just lucky Colton didn’t want you hurt.”
    “Is
that a fact?” Dallas asked innocently. “Well, that’s awfully sporting of you,
Colton. You’re a right gentleman. Now, if you don’t mind, answers, pronto, or
I’m blowing this Popsicle stand. I swear, you government types take forever to
do anything.”
    Colton
shook his head. “Not government Dallas, and we’re not hunting terrorists. I’m
not really sure where you got that idea from. I believe Randall was quite clear
when he said we’re a part of something much more important. I mentioned that
history has left us an incomplete version of what’s gone before. More
specifically, history would have you believe that there were humans, and there
were animals, and that’s all that there ever was.”
    “And
fish. Bugs. Birds,” Dallas interjected. “Wait, are birds animals? I guess not.
So yeah, birds.”
    “Okay.
Yes, animals and fish and bugs and birds,” Colton agreed with a frown. “Now, if
you don’t mind?”
    Dallas
raised his hands. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
    Moving
forward until he was standing barely a foot from Dallas, Colton’s grey eyes
went hard as forged steel.
    “I’ll
tell you what page we’re on. We are on the human page. We are also the ones
that know about those pages that history has conveniently left out. The pages
that have been reduced to fairy tales, and bad movies, and T.V. shows staring
too-pretty people. We’re the ones that protect the human race from
unmentionable things, the ones that keep you safe at night and solidly grounded
in your quaint idea of the real world.”
    Spreading
his arms to encompass the group around him, Colton said, “We, Dallas, are the
Society.”
    The
birds stopped their twittering, and the breeze no longer blew. A heavy silence
descended, and even the morning sunlight seemed to dim as Randall, Aletia, and
Colton all sat hushed, looking at Dallas expectantly.
    “Okey
dokey. Society. Check. Glad it’s a word. I get kind of annoyed by all the
letters them government types use. But don’t you think ‘society’ is kind of,
oh, I dunno, mamby pamby sounding?”
    Aletia
resumed her twirling, the sphere-tipped whip underscoring the moment with a
quiet, malcontent whir. Even Colton’s unshakeable confidence seemed to shake
just a smidge.
    “It’s
what we’re called,” he stated flatly. “It’s what we’ve always been called. When
we travelled with the Germanic tribes before Germany was called Germany, we
were die Gesellschaft. In ancient Rome, we were the societatis. In every
culture from every time, we’ve been the Society. It is not ‘mamby pamby.’ It is
the name of a very old, very important brotherhood,”
    “And
sisterhood,” Aletia corrected, the hollow whisper of her twirling whip twining
with her