Chapter 13 Hayride
Idon’t like leaving Natalya, even if I’ve got a club brother there watching over her and Thad. It doesn’t sit right to leave her protection in anyone else’s hands. But I also need to be there when we find Big Tom, Earl, Clay, and Rashell Allen.
Virus found an address. It’s an old property located southeast of Raven’s Crest. The kicker? It’s got a big barn. The same type of barn that Thad described to Boomer.
It’s the best lead we’ve got.
“You ready, Hayride?”
I focus my attention on the present and answer Scythe. “Yeah, Pres. Let’s find these motherfuckers and make them pay.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Boomer announces, rising off his bike as he joins us.
We don’t usually invite Boomer along for our illegal activities, but he’s got a warrant to search the property. That gives us a green light to step onto private property.
“You’re all deputies for the day. Don’t make me fucking regret it,” he warns.
I snort. He won’t stop us from doing anything, but I guess it makes him feel better to say it.
Scythe smirks. “Brother, we’ll fucking shit up, and you know it.”
Boomer just sighs. “Let’s go.”
It’s me, Scythe, Mountain, Phantom, Voodoo, and Scarecrow from the club. We’re all heavily armed and expect trouble, especially if Clay or any of the others are here.
We move silently across the road as we approach the gate with a metal sign reading ‘Private Property’. It’s old and rusted.
Boomer uses bolt cutters to snap the chain latching the gate closed. He tosses them to the ground, and I’m guessing he’ll pick them up later on the way out. We might be here an hour or all fucking day. Depends on what we find. Or who.
The long drive leading up to the house is gravel. Nothing is paved. A dirt path veers left, then heads slightly uphill to reach the barn. I see the big red structure with peeling paint and broken hinges, allowing the door to sit at an awkward angle.
Scythe gestures to the house. “Mountain, Scarecrow, you’re with me. Hayride, Voodoo, and Phantom, take the barn.”
We nod as we split up.
I note that Boomer isn’t entering either of the buildings but exploring the animal pens outside the barn and the other piles of junk scattered around the property. There’s a tiny shed full of firewood. A tarp-covered vehicle. Even a few pigs and chickens are roaming loose.
Everything is old and in poor condition. Clay hasn’t used the money he borrowed for repairs. I glance at the house and see the roof peeling up. It probably leaks.
Phantom walks beside me while Voodoo is slower, staying sharp as he watches for trouble. We don’t speak. Nothing to draw attention to our arrival before I yank open the crooked barn door and we enter.
There are so many broken boards and holes in the walls that natural light permeates the dark interior. I’m not prepared for what we find. Huge slabs of meat hang from the rafters above and dangle. Blood is still dripping into buckets below from several. It’s the shape that’s weird.
At first, I think it’s venison. It’s not.
The stench is foul. I pull my bandana up over my nose because I want to puke. That’s when I see a human leg attached to the long row of rib bones. The flesh is human.
Voodoo curses before he walks outside, and I hear him gag before he retches. I don’t blame him for puking. These are people. Cut up. Being prepared for a fucking meal.
Clay is a fucking cannibal.
Fuck.
My stomach churns, but I have to know what else is inside this barn. I need to see the carnage and brutality, so I won’t hesitate to act when the time comes.
I walk further into the barn and around the hanging body parts, finding what appears to be a slaughtering area. There’s arterial spray on the wooden walls. Huge puddles of dark red blood cover the whole floor and mix with bits of hay.
To the right, I see a ladder and decide to climb it. I don’t pay attention to the stains on the rungs. When I reach the top, I see more body parts. But there are also ropes everywhere.
Just looped and tied, ready to use. Dozens of them.
This is so fucked. I don’t know what to do.
“Hayride!”
I move back to the ladder and look down, seeing Phantom. He’s in some sort of hold between living and dead, a ghostly image of the brother I know.
It’s the shock. Has to be. It’s fucking with him.
“Hey! Go outside. I’ll be right there.”
I watch as he walks across the ground, but doesn’t leave any boot prints. He’s not corporeal enough to have weight.
By now, we know there’s no one here. The property isn’t abandoned, but there’s no sign of Clay or the others. They’re gone, and that makes me anxious. We don’t know who they’re planning to torture and kill next. We just don’t have enough information, despite Virus working hard to find it.
But something tells me that Clay, Rashell Allen, Earl, and Big Tom don’t have much of an online presence. I doubt they’re on social media bragging about kills and cannibalism.
I climb down the ladder and leave the barn. As I do, I see Scythe. He shakes his head, confirming I’m right. I would have heard gunfire or hollering if we had found anyone.
Boomer is on his phone. I hear him talking and explaining that he needs the coroner. Voodoo must have told them about what we found in the barn.
My phone starts vibrating, and I pull it out of my cut, swiping across the screen when I see Mayhem’s name. “Yeah?”
“She’s gone. Natalya is gone.”
I swear my blood runs cold as I hear those words. “What do you mean?”
“She’s missing. I can’t find her.” He sounds panicked. “No one has been near the room. I don’t know what happened.”
“When is the last time you saw her?”
“About an hour ago. I thought she was reading inside the family waiting room. She said she was staying there while Hank and Thad slept. Fuck!”
“I need you to stay there. Guard the room. Don’t leave Thad or Hank for any reason.” If anything happens to Nat’s family, she’ll never forgive me. “I’m going to call the prospect outside.”
“You don’t want me to search for Nat?”
“No. If she’s been taken, it’s useless. You’ll just leave her family vulnerable.”
“Right. I won’t let anything happen to them.”
I end the call and don’t respond because he said the same fucking thing before he entered the hospital to protect my woman. I’m not pissed at him, but I’m agitated.
Rashell got to Nat.
I know it’s true, and the thought terrifies me.
“What happened, Hayride?”
All of my brothers are standing there. Staring. They know what I’m about to say as I see Mountain tense.
“They took Nat.” I say it calmly, which is nothing like how I feel. Rage is building inside me, and a need for destruction. I can’t do this on my own.
I need the scarecrow. The one who’s a part of me and only takes control when I need brutality and violence. The bond that allows me to harness a strength I don’t have on my own.
“I’m going to rescue her.”
Scythe lifts his chin. “We’re right behind you, brother.”
I CAN’T SEEM TO LOOK away from the glowing red eyes, no matter how much they terrify me. I’m too transfixed by the way they lock onto me.
And then they close. The color is wiped out of existence.
I hear Rashell’s laughter, and something pokes me in the side. I feel warm blood trickle from the wound. A scream tears from my lips at the exact moment that the red eyes pop open. But they’re not red.
They’re stormy grayish blue.
I gasp. “Hayride?” I manage to ask through the blinding pain in my side.
Rashell yanks the blade away as I groan. My strength is completely decimated. Whatever drug she used, and I’m guessing it’s chloroform, has taken control of my mind and body. I’m so weak.
The eyes are so close now. I don’t know when, but they’ve changed again. Bright red. The color of blood. Of sin.
Of death.
A menacing figure jumps through the cornstalks and lands with a thud in front of us. Red eyes burn from his gaze. His facial features are too real. There are no button eyes or rosy patches of fabric for cheeks. The leathery skin pulls taut over cheekbones and a jawline that’s far too familiar.
The bulky body is bigger than humanly possible. He’s broad and thick and pure muscle, even with the straw poking out of his clothes. His boots brace his massive frame and a near dizzying height.
Even from where I am, perched on a pole, he’s much taller.
The creature is a scarecrow of sorts. He’s got the clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. But those eyes. . . they continue to burn with ferocity.
He spares me one glance, and that’s when the eyes flicker between grayish blue and red. As if he’s sending me a message. Like there’s a secret he can’t voice aloud but one I should know.
I don’t notice the weapon in his hand until now. It’s not a scythe. That would have been my first guess.
It’s a sword. Like the image tattooed on Hayride’s chest.
I’m so confused.
Rashell and her accomplice, Clay, stare, slack-mouthed and jaws wide, in fear or shock. Maybe both.
Somehow, I’m not afraid. This creature, this scarecrow, doesn’t wish to harm me. It’s insane to think about it, but I do. He’s directing his focus at the murderous fools in front of me.
And then he sprints forward.
There’s no logical reason why a body with that height and size can move so fast, but he does.
He’s as quick as a flash of lightning. I watch in fascination as his right arm swings back and then sweeps in a wide arc with enough momentum to shake the ground beneath us.
The blade meets the soft tissue of Rashell’s neck, slicing through bone without a hitch.
Her head lops right off her shoulders in a spray of blood as I close my eyes, not willing to see anymore carnage.
The sounds that follow make my stomach queasy. The blade is slicing through Rashell and Clay, hacking at their bodies. I know they’re dying just feet away from me. I whimper as I feel the hate radiating off the scarecrow.
And then it’s quiet.
There’s no sound for a few heart-stopping seconds until I hear the ropes behind me being sawed in half. The creature is using his sword to cut me free.
I open my eyes just as I begin to fall. My scream is so loud that it hurts my ears. But I don’t fall.
Instead, I drop into the cushioned, leathery arms of the scarecrow. He’s staring at me intently, his grayish blue gaze tormented by something I don’t understand.
Then I notice my blood-soaked clothes. “I don’t feel so good.” My head is too heavy to lift. I can’t help closing my eyes as I’m placed on the ground.
I hear a swish of clothing and manage to blink, catching the figure of the scarecrow. He’s on the pole. The same pole he just cut me from.
It’s a dizzying and sobering thought when I realize it’s somehow Hayride. My biker can turn into a scarecrow.
Wild.
I close my eyes again and notice two things. One, there’s a lot of blood on the ground, but I’m not close to it. He put me down far enough away that it wouldn’t touch me. And two, someone is yelling my name.
It’s a man’s voice. Hoarse. Worried.
My biker is here.