Page 63 of Property of Scythe
Interesting. “Why did they curse your ancestors?”
“They wanted to ensure the town could never turn on them, so they cursed the original bloodlines. We’re obliged to ensure protection of the town because of it.”
“You’re all the original bloodlines, aren’t you?”
“Good guess. Yeah, we are.”
“You said your vitality is linked to the town. How does that work with the scarecrows?”
“In exchange for our protection, our vitality, or our essence, is linked to the town and its inhabitants. Me and the other members of the club are bonded by our brotherhood, but also our connection to those founding fathers. The witches gave us the means to defend the town, no matter what threat emerges.”
“They used the scarecrows.”
“That’s right. We can connect and use them to watch over the town, and when there’s a threat, they become a deadly use of force.”
I saw that firsthand. “Does that mean you’re not human? You healed super fast when you got thrown from your motorcycle.”
“I am, Lottie. It’s just when the town needs me, I become something more.”
“I guess I can live with that,” I tease. After all, it’s that ability that saved my life.
“That’s good because I have a confession.”
I startle at his words. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not.”
“Well, tell me.”
“I’m the one who paid for all your purchases the day you were shopping.” He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs.
I’m shocked. “Why?”
“I was intrigued by you. I didn’t plan it, but it felt right in the moment.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “Didn’t want to piss you off ormake you think I was some psycho clown killer.”
I narrow my eyes in what I hope is a stern look. “No more secrets.”
“You got it.”
Scythe continues our walk and leads me to one of the scarecrows. We stop at the base of the wooden pole, staring up at the figure that looks far less menacing than the night the killer died. In the early evening light, he’s calm and almost majestic, his focus unwavering.
“I want to share my vitality with you, Lottie.”
“What’s that?” I blink, unsure what he means.
“I’m going to have a long life.” He coughs and clears his throat. “Longer than you. I don’t want to say goodbye too soon.”
I’m confused. “You won’t die?”
“I will,” he clarifies. “It’ll just take a lot longer than you.”
His words replay in my head. “What does this mean?”
“I’ll make a small incision in my palm and also in yours. We’ll combine our essence.”
