Page 23 of Curses and Cornstalks
The only thing Cassie has to worry about in this cornfield is me, and I’ve already decided not to harm her.
“No,” I assure her, slowing down even more so that we’re walking side by side. My arm brushes hers and electric sparksskitter down my limb, heating me from the inside out. “In fact, we’re almost there.”
Chapter Ten
Cassie
Almost there?
There’s no way.
How long did I walk before I found Atticus? Two hours?
“I don’t understand.” I chance a glance over at him. The sky has darkened to scarlet and navy, but there’s enough moonlight to make out his profile. I note the way the wide brim of his hat dips over his eyes, casting a long, menacing shadow over his covered face, and the way the rope around his neck sways with every step. “How are we almost there?”
When he looks over this time, his eyes lock with mine so intensely that a shiver vibrates down my spine. Not for the first time, I find myself wondering what he looks like beneath that burlap sack.
He said he was less human than I imagined, but his eyes are undeniably human. Expressive, full of life. They reflect his emotions, his awe, rage, curiosity, and relief.
Maybe he isn’t as much of a monster as he thinks he is.
“My magic extends beyond the vines,” he says slowly. “I can tell you exactly how many rows of corn there are without havingcounted them. If there are animals or people roaming through the stalks. I can also control how quickly we travel through the field.”
I glare at him, almost certain I misheard him.
“You control how fast we travel? Did you keep me lost for hours on purpose then?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, I cannot control how quickly you travel on your own. Only if you’re with me.”
I blink several times, chewing on that information.
“You made sure we got out quickly… so I’ll leave faster?” I don’t know why I ask the question—it sounds silly as soon as it comes out—but I can’t help myself.
To my surprise, Atticus stops short. My heart jumps into my throat as I stop and turn to face him.
“I can keep you impossibly lost for as long as you want,” he says, his voice impossibly low. “But I think your cousin would start to worry, would they not?”
His words are a threat, a promise, that has my skin heating. Whether with desire or reluctance, I don’t know, but he doesn’t move. It dawns on me after a long moment that he’s waiting for an answer.
Do I want to make it to the end of the cornfield?
Or do I want to get lost with him?
To my surprise, the answer doesn’t come immediately, and my mind wanders instead.
A look up at the sky has my stomach sinking—the orange and red tints of sunset have almost faded completely, replaced by a dark, star-flecked sky. I’ve been gone several hours longer than I anticipated, and I probably have a million missed calls from Aunt Bonnie and Madelyn. I’m sure they’ll be worried.
But, now that I’m faced with impending freedom, I wish it hadn’t come so quickly.
I want more time with Atticus, to pick his brain and find out what his life was like before the curse. Coming across a sentient scarecrow isn’t something that happens more than once in a lifetime—it shouldn’t happen at all.
What if I never see him again?
What if this is my only chance to talk to him?
My stomach turns at that possibility, but it’s quickly replaced by something more sinister.
If I stay, and my family sends a search party, what would become of Atticus? Would they hurt him? Try to kill him?
