Page 58 of Property of Scythe
This low to the ground, I’m barely getting wet anymore. The rain hits the tall cornstalks first, and by the time it reaches me, it’s more of a trickle. My muscles burn from the exertion, and there’s a painful tick on my left side, but I won’t let it distract me.
“Lottttttiiiieeee,” he calls out, trying to unnerve me.
My pounding heart is making it hard to hear other noises. It thumps in my chest so hard I visibly shake. My hands tremble, but I remain in place, waiting for as long as I need to before I move. I don’t care how many times he calls for me.
I know when the killer is close. I hear his boots crunching through the rows of corn. He’s coming near to where I crouch. I’m not going to have any choice soon. I’ll have to take my chances and run.
When I can hear his heavy breathing, I dart from my hiding spot and run in the opposite direction. But I realize my mistake when I leave the safety of the corn stalks and enter a large circle, betraying my location. There’s a giant scarecrow hanging from a thick wooden pole. From his position, he’s staring downward at the cornfield.
Something about his face is familiar. It’s strange, but he’s not quite like the scarecrow I saw the day I was followed at the edge of town. This one appears almost lifelike. His body is thick, and his arms are rounded with muscles. It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever seen.
The skin is leathery but human, his hair like fine spun gold. His dark eyes seem to bore right through me. I can almost imagine the smirk on his lips.
He’s perched like he’s not only overseeing the protection of the cornfield, but like he’s also an avenging spirit ready to drop down and tear apart any threat. He’s menacing, but he doesn’t feel threatening. Not to me.
The last thing I notice is the scythe that’s gripped in his right hand. The blade’s steel catches the light and shines with a reflection of the moon. I don’t have to touch it to know it’s sharp. Why would a scarecrow have a scythe in the middle of a cornfield?
I’ve lingered too long. I gasp when I hear the killer’s sinister laughter, spinning around as I realize he’s found me. We face one another as he slashes his knife through the air. He wants me to fear him, but I won’t. He’s not getting that reaction out of me.
“What?” I taunt. “You think you’re winning?”
He growls. No words. I’ve never heard his voice.
“I’ll fight.” I lift the shears. “You might cut me, but I’m going to get my pound of flesh too.”
He grins and pushes his hood back, revealing the scarred face of a man I’ve never met. “I’ve got plenty of scars.” He seems almost gleeful at the idea.
I don’t have time to do more than brace myself as he runs toward me, lifting his knife. There’s a determination in his eyes that proves he means to hack my body apart and enjoy every second.
But he never reaches me.
A roar of wind and something unnatural pulses behind me. A shadow jumps over my head and lands with a heavy thud. I’m facing the back of a monstrous figure. With shock, I recognize the scarecrow.
He grips the scythe and stalks toward the killer. There’s no hesitation. No mercy. The scarecrow masterfully swings his scythe and cuts through the air. A man’s horrified scream follows, but is cut off by a gurgling sound.
I close my eyes against the slaughter, refusing to focus on the gore. I know the killer is dying. He’s being sliced up as viciously as he dismembered his victims.
When I finally open my eyes as silence stretches across the cornfield, I gasp. The whole area is bathed in blood, but that’s not the shocking part. It’s the scarecrow kneeling before me, his head lowered as if he’s seeking my approval and showing deference.
He doesn’t speak, and I don’t think he can.
“Thank you,” I finally say, blinking as I feel the grip of the shears in my hand. I drop them, no longer needing a weapon. There’s no threat now. “You saved me.”
The scarecrow nods before he stands. He gestures to the pole like he has to return, and I move out of his way. One second, he’s standing on the ground beside me. The next, he’s perched atop the pole again, staring out at his domain.
This time, the scythe is crossed over his chest as a warning to those who enter his cornfields. He won’t hesitate to punish the wicked or anyone trying to inflict harm. I don’t know how that knowledge pops into my head, but it does.
I stare at his face, that is lifeless again. Just a hint of his features remains, but I catch the tattoo on his neck. It’s an exact copy of the symbol inked on my biker’s neck.
That’s when I realize this creature, this scarecrow, is Scythe.
Chapter 19 Scythe
Inever meant to reveal what I am or the curse to Lottie this way. It just happened.
Hangman called me as soon as Lottie rushed from the panic room. He said she planned to save Emma.
My crazy, fearless ol’ lady. I’m going to spank her ass later.
