Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
Could life fuck my head over anymore? No? Yes?
Somewhere in the great beyond, my Aunt Laurel likely cackled in delight at how my life had taken a turn towards dealing with forces greater than myself. The way she always had faith in celestial elements, powers found in combined herbs, and intangible vibes was coming back tenfold.
Something told me this is what I got for rolling my eyes at her every time she suggested manifesting my destiny or lighting sage to cleanse bad energy.
Yet, what I was dealing with wasn’t the interference of some omnipotent and universal overlord tinkering with the lives of its underlings. This was magic, curses, and ritualistic sacrifices. Oh my!
Corbin and Bale wanted to throw my name into the hat that would mark me as their next target, potentially their final one if I had anything to say about it. I’d be their kitty heroine in shining armor if that was what it took for all of us to survive.
It scared me shitless, not because I doubted myself.
The unknown forces behind their annual hunt, and the dark powers that cursed them both, were the aspects of this entire plan that terrified me.
There was no telling to what lengths the Council would actually go to in order to continue their addiction to unrivaled power.
Something that Aunt Laurel always told me, that stuck out in my mind, was that magic had a sense of humor and never behaved. She likened it to wishing for a silver pair of shoes only for them to arrive in a dazzling shade of red and two sizes too small.
I just hoped this magic didn’t make me their fatal punchline.
There wasn’t a lot of time to come to terms with the moment I’d been dreading since the guys dropped this bomb on me. The moment when my name was drawn and announced before everybody in this damn town.
Corbin’s fingers slipped between mine as we approached the courtyard, alight with string lights and lanterns. He had been clinging to my side, determined to put me at ease.
On my other side, Bale kept pace with his hands tucked in his pockets.
His elbow brushed against my arm, whether accidentally or otherwise, I wasn’t sure.
Glancing at him at the contact, he quirked a brow as he looked my way. The feigned innocence was as obvious as the tattoos masquerading as scarecrow stitching on his face.
I gestured at the one line of ink that curved down from his temple toward his cheek. “Did those come with the curse, or were they chosen as a fashion statement?”
The mood between the three of us still bore some tension but was lighter than it had been at their cottage earlier. Using humor to dispel some of it was a specialty of mine.
Bale’s finger traced over the depicted set of stitching over his jawline, where a day’s worth of blonde stubble had grown in.
“These? Paid for in blood, but set in ink,” he replied cryptically.
Seeing my intrigue written on my face, Bale offered further explanation. “I get another stitch tattooed every year we do this. Serves as a reminder of unseen scars.”
Surprise at the revelation that they weren’t an artistic expression had me slowing my steps.
“So, there are ninety-eight of them?” I asked.
He grinned with light amusement and nodded. Then, noticing my eyes scanning for more than what was visible on his face, he laughed.
“Not all of them are for public display, kitten. Though if you ask nicely, maybe I will let you try to find the rest of them.” He winked.
Heat crept onto my cheeks.
Corbin chuckled and tugged me close to his side. His fingers came beneath my chin to turn my face towards him, his lips brushed mine as he lowered his voice to a gravelly murmur.
“You’re fucking adorable when you blush. I may need to keep Bale around just to make sure it keeps happening.”
With that, he slowly pressed his mouth onto mine, consuming me slowly in a breathtaking kiss. My mind went blank except for the way it focused solely on how he smelled like clouds bathing in moonlight and tasted like apples plucked straight from the branch.
Leaning into him, my hand squeezed his until I reluctantly broke away from the kiss, feeling lighter than air afterwards.
“Keep that up, and neither of you will make it past the corn pit,” Bale mused with a spark of something in his eyes that wasn’t jealousy. More like admiration rooted in desire.
“Tempting,” Corbin growled into my ear with a teasing nip just below it. “But we wouldn’t want to disappoint the Town Council’s fondness for making a show of announcing the lucky participant in this year’s chase.”
I smiled sweetly at the thought of taking a detour towards the corn house for some privacy. However, it faltered slightly at the reality of what was going to happen this evening.
Bale picked up on it instantly. His arm slid over my shoulders, hanging loosely over them like I was just an extension of the cross frame he spoke so fondly of.
“Don’t worry, kitten,” he encouraged. “We’ve got you. Just flash a pretty smile, shake a few hands, and then you’re ours for the rest of tonight.”
Something about the way he said ‘ours’ sent a rolling heat down my spine to someplace low in my body.
We continued to walk together, arriving at the late-night activities in full swing.
Both guys subtly separated from me, not wanting to give off the appearance of intimacy. However, they remained positioned close enough to discourage anyone from approaching uninvited.
The situation being what it was, I couldn’t help but note the irony that I should be fearing their attention, not reveling in their protection.
Meanwhile, my inner cat shifter was purring like fucking Queen Sheeba.
Traitor.
All around us, Falstonians were oblivious to my conflicted feelings and too focused on indulging in corn dogs, hard cider, and what appeared to be a beer pong variation using red cups positioned on stacked hay bales.
I had to give the town credit. They at least knew how to throw celebrations, if nothing else. Even if they came with a side of magically and magnificently mystical murder.
On the other side of the event space, I saw Chadwick and Malcolm Dennison hovering near the caramel corn stand. Before I could even process the hope of their being oblivious to my presence, Malcolm saw me and immediately nudged his twin.
Just as I was ready to suggest to Corbin and Bale that we head closer to the unlit bonfire at the center of the festivities, I noticed that the Dennisons weren’t alone.
Chad shifted just enough that I saw the familiar brunette braid and warm cocoa eyes—Beth.
Pushing past Corbin without any explanation, I stormed over to the two of them.
“What are you doing here, Beth?” I summoned the big sister tone that made all little sisters either roll their eyes or prepare to tattle to mom. I didn’t use it often, but seeing Beth socialize with those two idiots set my blood on fire.
She crossed her arms stubbornly before sassing me right back. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
It was Chad who offered the first attempt at an explanation. “Take it easy, we were just asking Beth how she was enjoying Falston so far.”
I locked eyes with my little sister, not giving a shit about whatever either of these two had to say to try mediating.
Beth flipped her braid over her shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “I came here with Dad, so take a chill pill, Har.”
Dad is here, too? Just what I need.
“Caramel corn?” Malcolm offered the bag while popping a handful into his mouth, chomping on it loudly like a horse gnawing on a carrot.
Two shadows were cast from behind me. It was nice to know who was standing guard there, prepared to provide support if I needed it.
Narrowly ignoring the urge to smack the bag of popcorn from Malcolm’s hand, I reached over and grabbed Beth’s forearm. I half-dragged her several feet away until there was a semblance of privacy from Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum.
Releasing her, I spun around and leaned forward toward her. Speaking in a harsh whisper, “You shouldn’t be hanging around those two, Beth.”
“Why not? They were being nice and talking to me. It’s more than you’ve been doing since we moved here,” she snapped.
I reared back my head like she had slapped me. “Is that what this is about?”
She gestured at Bale and Corbin, who shielded Chad and Malcolm’s view of us. “You tell me everything, but you still haven’t told me about them!”
God, I loved her, but right now things were more complicated than she needed to know about.
“Oh, Bethy-Boo,” the childhood nickname slipped out. “I’m not trying to keep—”
Screeeeeeeech! Thump-thump-thump.
Feedback from the microphone grated on the eardrums of everybody in a three-mile radius.
“Is this thing on? Can you hear me?” Mayor Dennison muttered into the mic.
After he blew into it uselessly a few times, he was finally satisfied it was in working order.
“Welcome, everyone! I promise you I won’t take more than a few minutes of your time. As you know, in a few moments, we will be drawing the name of the lucky individual who will be participating in our annual corn maze chase!” He waved his hand in the air to drum up more engagement from everybody.
Obligatory applause, hoots, and hollers followed.
It wasn’t obvious if you weren’t looking for it, but it seemed that everybody had a nagging sensation somewhere deep inside them.
They didn’t share the same excitement as the mayor at the looming annual tradition—an awareness deep within their subconscious of survival instincts hard at work.
Corbin and Bale took this as their cue to huddle in closer to me, which only made Beth stare at them with curiosity and suspicion. Something I was too on edge to address right now.
“Without further ado, I will allow my fellow Councilman, Mr. MacElroy, to do the honors,” the mayor announced before handing off the mic to Falston’s moneyman.
Clearing his throat nervously, he smiled weakly as if public speaking was more uncomfortable than death.
“Thank you, mayor. Ahem. We have the, uh, pumpkin right here.” He turned to the stool where an ordinary pumpkin sat. Mr. MacElroy fumbled with the cut-out stem while trying to maintain a hold on the microphone.
After a few agonizing seconds of watching him, he finally reached inside the gourd and wiggled his hand around inside.
Bale leaned over and whispered in my ear. “There’s only a single piece of paper in there. MacElroy’s a terrible showman, wouldn’t be able to convince a blind man the sky is blue.”
I chortled, the humor a welcome respite from the tension already building inside me. Why was I so fucking nervous? I knew exactly what was about to happen, and yet there was a tremor in my limbs putting me on the edge of wanting to flee or tackle MacElroy before he could read the name.
Finally pulling out the piece of paper, Mr. MacElroy gave a brief smile before making the grand announcement. “T-this year’s participant in Falston’s annual corn maze chase is,” he took another look at the paper, seemingly double-checking the name, “is Miss Harlow Lenoir.”
A wave of relief seemed to roll over mostly everyone there, quickly replaced by congratulatory applause. But all I heard was Beth’s gasp, and I didn’t need to see her face to know that all her previously conveyed concerns about the corn maze were wildly spinning through her mind.
“Is Harlow here tonight?” MacElroy scanned the crowd a few times before spotting me. “Oh! T-there you are. Come on up here, sweetheart. R-right this way, over here by t-the steps,” he indicated with a jerk of his chin to the far left of the platform.
Forcing a smile that felt as comfortable as gnawing on a pricker bush, I gradually made my way toward the wooden steps. However, not before hearing Corbin say something to Beth, barely audible even with my advanced hearing.
“Don’t worry, little tabby. Black cats only bring bad luck to those who underestimate them.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I smirked. Beth’s face, wide with astonishment at Corbin’s noncoincidental words, was absolutely priceless.
It gave me just enough feral courage to strut onto the platform and pretend I didn’t want to fuck all of the Town Council’s plans to shit.