Page 52 of Property of Scythe
I already thought of that. “Yes, but he won’t be able to resist because I’m going to piss him off.”
Her eyes widen, and a brief look of fear crosses her features. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“He has to be injured after you hit him with the Hummer. He’s probably desperate at this point. I’ve got to lure him in before he does something crazy.”
“Like drop off a severed arm?”
Yeah. She has me there. “I know, but he’s angry now. A lot more than before you hit him.”
“He’ll want me, Scythe.”
“And that’s not an option.” I tug her onto my lap. “You need to stay here. I won’t risk you.”
“I appreciate that, but what if he comes here looking for me?”
Fuck. It’s my biggest concern. “I don’t think it’ll happen, but the panic room will protect you. He can’t get inside.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
I capture her mouth in a kiss, pushing my tongue through the seam and tasting her. She’s sweet and intoxicating. Heaven in the middle of hell.
As the president of this club, I have to take care of business, but I don’t want to leave her or Mila. It’s creating havoc in myhead.
“We’ll be safe, Scythe,” she assures me.
I hope she’s right.
THE LINES OUTSIDE FEARFarm are the longest yet. They stretch all the way to Mystic Emporium and Butter Bliss Bakery. Granny Jo is taking advantage of the crowd and has her door open, enticing customers with maple-glazed donuts, pumpkin bars, and snickerdoodles fresh from the oven. The Mystic is brewing up a vat of spiced cider outside the entrance while several witches sell the drink to passersby.
It’s cooler out, and now that we’re into September, the days aren’t quite as long as summer. The crowds are bundled up a bit more against the chill, and there’s a buzz of excitement as the leaves begin to change color and fall from the trees. Phantom joins me as we walk through the festival, checking in with all the employees, vendors, and actors to ensure they’re aware of the psycho clown. We have protocols in place, and we’re using the buddy system, so no one is out here alone and without help in case of emergency.
But not everyone is here. I’ve left several club members at The Barn, along with Hangman, the prospects, and Boomer. If the psycho turns up there, we’ll know. For now, I’m focusing on the festival. There are quite a few returning customers, and I like to make my rounds, ensuring everyone is having a good time.
“The wait for the hayride is over an hour and a half,” Phantom informs me. “I’ve got a few actors out there engaging the crowd, so theyaren’t bored.”
“Good call.”
“The corn maze is moving steadily, with a short wait of about thirty minutes. I’m not seeing any sign of trouble anywhere.”
“It’s early,” I warn him.
“I know. Just keeping you up to date.”
I appreciate it. I’m trying to keep tabs on my club members, the festival, the visitors, and the attractions, so I have an idea of what is happening at all times. It’s an impossible task, but I do it anyway. We’ve used two-way radios in the past when the crowds get this big, and we might have to start utilizing them again. Tonight, I’m too wired with energy to worry about it.
“I get it. Have you seen Mountain?”
“He’s by the hayride. Said something about switching out actors so it doesn’t get stale for repeat riders.”
Makes sense. “Did he have his axe?”
“Yeah. It’s strapped to his back. Guess what costume he chose?”
“A lumberjack,” I deadpan.
Phantom snorts. “Oh, you’ve played this game before.”
