Page 120 of Executing Malice

Several hours later, I’m the one left in charge of picking through the slimy entrails in search of the seeds while he pokes holes into the flesh. No eyes. No toothy smiles. He’s not carving them at all.

The great thing about today is my forethought in taking the day off months before Jasmine booked her vacation. It’s the only day I refuse to work. I’ll even open and close Christmas if I’m asked, but never Halloween. That’s my special day, which means Jasmine is back from her week away and I’m free from working open to close every day.

A Halloween miracle.

For me at least.

Reed, on the other hand, is having a hell of a time keeping the teenagers in line around town. I got a flimsy text from him telling me we need to talk, but no response when I asked him what about. It’s been radio silence over the last several days while the kids of Jefferson run amuck and keep the sheriff’s office on their toes. Last I heard, they’d lit a giant bonfire out by Ashwood Barn that nearly set the entire forest ablaze. Parents were called and punishments were issued. But right when they thought that would be the end of it, someone started a trend to see who could steal the most pumpkins off one porch and move them to a different porch without getting caught.

Harmless, but it still got a lot of people fired up when the challenge went from swapping pumpkins to seeing who could put pumpkins in the weirdest locations, which had a lot of kids climbing people’s houses to get to the roofs.

But it will end soon enough. Once Halloween passes, the kids tend to calm down. The pranks stop and everyone goes about their lives. Reed just needs to keep from shooting anyone for a few more hours.

“Did you want to go to the festival tonight?” I ask Dante while trying to shake a seed off my finger into the bowl with its fellow seedlings.

Dante pauses in his art to glance up at me. “Oh, we’re definitely going.”

My already heightened curiosity peaks. “Is my surprise at the festival?”

The sharp end of the drill is pointed in my direction. “Your surprise is up here.” He gestures with the drill up towards his head.

I roll my eyes. “What was your plan if you hadn’t shown me your face?”

He gives my question some consideration before answering simply, “I was going to leave your costume on your bed with a note to meet me at the festival.”

Pausing in my seed picking, I cock my head. “What makes you think I would have agreed to that?”

“The same way you followed me down into the basement. You’re curious. You always have been. And you have a shitty sense of self preservation.”

“Hey!” I laugh. “I think I was going to kill you that day, honestly. You were a witness to my crimes.”

It’s his turn to pause and tilt his head. “Really?” He chews that over, comes to some conclusion and shrugs. “Too bad you didn’t try. That would have been fun.”

I snort and return to my task. “You wanted to get stabbed?”

“You always got so wet when we’d fight and I would dominate you.”

I shiver unconsciously at the image of him pinning me down and forcing me to take him.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” I breathe, suddenly a bit warm in my tank and shorts.

“Oh, you’ll get your chance,” he promises, enticing my eyebrow to lift.

“You’re such a tease.”

He shoots me a smirk and returns to his work.

“Why did you stab those tires?” he asks, head still bent.

The drill makes a shrieking sound and punctures the stiff flesh.

“He was an asshole. Slammed his door into mine and then said I hit him.”

Dante’s face tilts, all humor gone. “Who is he?”

I shrug, keeping the motion nonchalant to avoid stirring the pot. “Some out of town douche.”

He’s still watching me, but I can tell his brain is triangulating the best way to find the asshole and teach him a lesson. I’m momentarily relieved I don’t know his name.