Page 59 of Property of Scythe
I’m running into the cornfield as I release the scarecrow and leave him at his perch, knowing he’ll be there whenever I need him. It’s Lottie I care about. She’s all I can think of as I rush through the stalks toward the circle where I left her. I don’t want her to feel that I abandoned her.
When I push through and find her staring up at the scarecrow’s face, relief washes over me. She’s safe and she’s alive. We saved her. I couldn’t have done it without his help.
“Lottie.”
She spins around and, with a soft cry, launches toward me. I catch her and hold her against me, kissing her damp hair. The rain is nothing more than drizzling now. It’ll wash away most of the blood, and the cornfield will drink it in,refueling from the vitality it stole—a circle of life and death.
Macabre, but true.
“You saved me, Scythe,” she whispers, hugging me tighter. “I know you’re the scarecrow.”
“What gave it away?” I ask, curious how she figured it out.
“The tattoo on your neck. He has the same one.”
Incredible. “You know, it won’t last more than a few hours. It’ll fade. He takes on the characteristics of his host.”
“Host?”
“The club member who needs and uses him,” I explain.
“Club member,” she repeats, blinking. “Oh, wow. You’re all a scarecrow creature?”
“Not exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that. Let’s get you inside so I can tend to these wounds.”
“But you’ll tell me more?”
“Baby, I’ll tell you everything and anything you want to know.”
She smiles, and it warms my heart. “Okay.”
I lead her toward the cornstalks, glancing at the scarecrow as he hangs. My scythe is still gripped in his gloved hand. He looks a bit annoyed. I nearly grab it, but decide against it.
I’ll come back for the scythe later. Sometimes, the scarecrows get temperamental when we try to remove their toys too soon. I don’t want to deal with his shit if he decides to fight me for it tonight.
The door opens as we reach the porch, and Hangman rushes out with Emma. They completely ignore me and rush toward Lottie, tugging her away as they hug and gush about how brave she is. I shake my head and lean against a wooden column, waiting to be noticed.
You’d think Lottie was the one who defeated the killer. They fuss over her for fifteen minutes before Pops finally lets the women talk and joins me.
“You did well, son.”
“Thanks.”
“But your woman? Fucking fierce. She’s more than an ol’ lady, she’s the grit and glue that’ll hold this club together.”
I’ve thought of that too. “She’s got what it takes to be a president’s ol’ lady. It’s not an easy position.”
“No, but she’s perfect for it. Don’t fuck it up. I like her. A lot.”
“I didn’t fuck up the last one,” I remind him.
“Yeah, so? Keep her happy. I don’t want her leavin’. Mila loves her. You love her,” he points out.
I do. It’s only been a month since we met, but I’ve fallen hard for Lottie. “Yeah.”
“Not gonna deny it?”
“Nope.”
