Page 21 of Hearts Etched in Glass (The Afton Adders #2)

Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana

The hunting trip is in two days’ time. I can only imagine what things the McKinleys will conspire to do, but I am confident that our plan will be much more mischievous and bloodier.

After that meeting, Marcus poured his heart out to Tilly, explaining how Mr. McKinley was his abusive dom. It has taken all of my patience and bribery from my brother, Kenneth to not interfere and wait on this ridiculous outing.

I walk into the farm, spying the Apaloosa, Kenneth gifted me. It’s running around the corral, as Snatch is in the adjacent corral, staring at him from the metal gate.

“Did you ever name the younger horse?” Tilly asks, as she walks beside Marcus and I. I’m the only one wearing jeans and farm clothing. Tilly looks beautiful in her flowing burgundy, dress and Marcus has a dashing, gray, tweed suit.

“I did,” I say, and continue walking towards the younger horse. “Don’t forget to grab Biscuit and teach Tilly how to shoot,” I order Marcus, reaching into my pocket I pull out a snub-nose pistol, handing it to Tilly. “This is for you. Keep it on you always and go shoot the shit out of things.”

She nods her head giving me a dashing smile. “You still haven’t mentioned the name of your new horse.” She retorts.

Marcus begins chuckling, bringing his fist to his mouth and biting his knuckles.

“Marcus knows and I don’t? Not fair!” she exclaims, slapping my rearend .

“Biscuit let me know, before he left your house for groceries,” Marcus retorts, wiping his hand over his face, then through his locks.

“Spunk,” I state calmly, as I place my riding gloves on.

“You did not!” she shouts, then Marcus places both hands over his face, erupting in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Kenneth walks up to us at the corral entry, Biscuit beside him. He eyes the cowboy hat on my head and purses his lips. I’m surprised that he isn’t taking the piss out of me.

“Bobby. Bobby named. He named. Oh fuck. He named the fucking horse...” Marcus can’t even breathe, let alone speak the name in between laughter. I don’t see what the big deal is. Snatch is snatch so this one is named Spunk. It matches.

“Spunk, he named his horse spunk,” Tilly replies.

Kenneth deadpans, as Biscuit begins cackling, his belly jiggling with delight.

Opening the gate, I walk into the corral, as Spunk trots up to me. I hold out some cut carrot chips, as I hear Snatch neighing in the corral next to us.

“You had your chance, jackass!” I point at him. Snatch snorts at me, his hoof stomping on the ground. I climb up onto Spunk’s saddle, adjusting the hat on my head and gripping the reins. We begin to sprint around the corral, gaining speed and getting closer and closer to the barrels.

“Go Bobby!” Roger shouts, as I see everyone else crowded around the corral watching with him.

We run past the first barrel, but I pick up some more speed and realize the angle we need to cut the turn.

Taking another sprint around the edge of the gates, we approach at the perfect angle.

Then we make it around the first barrel. A little too wide, but we did it.

I finally did it, like a real fucking cowboy!

Roger is hooting and hollering, jumping up and down on the corral gate, as Tilly and Marcus begin shouting.

Marcus pumps his fist in the air and Biscuit is whistling like a mad man.

I ride past my brother and find Kenneth actually cracking a smile.

Spunk and I trot around the circle. Then I dismount from the saddle and feed him some sugar cubes.

Snatch angrily whinnies, slamming his front hoof against the grate of the metal gate.

“What? I’ve tried that so many times with you! I don’t want to hear it!” I yell at the brute.

“Are you seriously arguing with a horse, I’m out of here, we need to make plans for the hunt. Baba will be here soon so figure yourself out!” Kenneth hollers my way, then trudges off to the barn.

Climbing over the gate into Snatch’s corral, I show him the sugar cubes.

“Want ’em? Then work for ’em.” I swear he narrows his eyes at me, then peers back at Spunk who is lingering by the gate.

Snatch snorts in his direction like a warning, as I climb atop the saddle.

We begin galloping, then the breeze grazes my neck as we gain momentum.

Every corded piece of my muscles is tense, as I get ready for the potential moment for Snatch to fling me off his back or be terribly disappointed, like all the other times I have ridden him.

To my goddamned surprise, he goes around the first barrel, swifter than wind and sleeker than silk. Then he makes my heart skip a beat as we round the next one with precision and then the next.

This fucker could do it all along but was messing with me. All it took was a damn young buck to get his ass into gear. I jump off his back, shouting my triumph, but peer around to find the only person there is Roger. His hands are in his hair, mouth agape, as he stands stunned on the gate.

“You see that?” I exclaim knife handing in his direction, excitement thrumming through my veins. “Finally! You fucking see that?” Reaching into my pocket I give Snatch all the sugar cubes and rub his snout. “Just needed to get you motivated, huh? Bastard.”

He snorts into my hand, lapping up the rest of the sugar cubes. Spunk whinnies, tossing his head in the air. “I’ll be back to ya. Pipe down.” I laugh. “Let me go check on Tilly and the gang.”

I hear the thunderous roar of a motorbike come around the horse barn as gravel crunches beneath my boots.

The bike has a brilliant matte black color that takes my breath away.

A short, stout woman sits atop it. She is wearing leather riding gloves, a brown jacket, riders’ goggles and a matte black helmet to match.

She pulls up to park next to my bike, and I nearly fall on my ass, for I see the Loki staff strapped to the back of it.

Baba ?

“No fucking way,” I mutter under my breath.

When she gets off the motorbike, her hands clutch either side of the helmet, pulling it off and tousling her long, white hair. My strides are quick to reach her, for I have never seen her ride and I am intrigued.

“Where the hell do you even store your bike, Baba?” Coming up to her, I pet the side of the gas tank, then feel a quick slap on my hand.

“Ask permission before you pet Rita,” she demands, then unbuckles her staff and begins walking towards the barn, where Tilly is learning to shoot with Biscuit and Marcus.

“You really not going to tell me?” Following her into the barn. The echo of a gun firing, ricochets off the wooden walls. Baba nods her head in Tilly’s direction, a look of pride spreading across her features as she watches her take aim and shoot at the cans and other makeshift targets before her.

Not a bad shot either .

“Alright, everyone!” Baba motions for us to come to the table on the far side of the barn. “We have two days until the hunt. We need to ruin them, I want ideas.” Sitting back in a wooden folding chair, she reaches for a pen and paper and begins scribbling down notes .

“Tilly! I want you to use the shotgun next, figure out which guns you prefer and then I’ll buy whichever you like best, darling,” she yells over in her direction.

I turn the chair around. Straddling it and sit beside Baba, as Kenneth stands against the wall. Marcus and Biscuit continue shooting with Tilly, the cocking of a shotgun is heard in the distance.

“So, the rich prick is Marcus’s dom and the lanky bellend is Tilly’s ex?” Baba asks.

I nod, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface of my skin.

“I think we should just shoot them in the head, be done with it and bury them on their farm. Or burn the bodies in the bonfire during the hunt,” Kenneth remarks as he pulls out a cigarette.

“Too boring,” Baba replies, then gazes up at me, her eyes hopeful.

“Well, they want us to hunt on their land and spend the night in some tents, yeah? We can fill the tents up with adders. That would be fucking hilarious.” I respond.

Baba shrugs her shoulders. “Good, but I want more. We also need to think of how they are going to retaliate. No way they are letting this be a regular hunting party. I have a feeling the lanky bellend is going to get his friends or brother involved to try and harm you.”

Kenneth snorts, “They can’t fucking harm us.”

“Can’t have that arrogant thinking. Always be ready for an attack. Always have a plan. Never be too confident that you aren’t vulnerable. All it takes is one diseased rat to kill a town.” Kenneth rolls his eyes at Baba and she flicks something off the table and it hits him in the forehead.

“Do the camping but stay alert. We arrive in the evening and are supposed to hunt in the early morning, so, why not hunt before they do. They will not expect us to be unleashing our plan the moment we get there.” Baba explains.

I lean in towards her. “What do you mean?”

A wicked smile crawls across her face.

“I’m going to bake them some goodies. Cupcakes, cookies, a nice parting gift as I bid you ‘good luck’ on your hunting trip.

They will think I have gone, but I shall stay behind.

I've got someone stalking the land as we speak, creating vantage points for us.” Baba picks up her pen and begins scribbling down more items .

“You’re fucking terrifying,” I say. Her words make my own heart race as an eerie feeling crawls down my skin.

“I’m not done yet.” Her eyes flash with malice, as she holds up a finger.

“The cupcakes and baked goods will be laced with hallucinogens, drugging anyone that eats them, so do not fucking eat them. Tilly and Marcus will hide in the shadows with me, stealing their weapons as you all have a dick rubbing party around the bonfire.”

Kenneth turns up his face in disgust. “Fucking hell. I’m not rubbing my dick on—” Baba interrupts him, “Shush, don’t interrupt my plan!”

Then she continues writing down her thoughts, as she conveys her monstrosity of a mind.

“We hide the weapons, except for yours. You’ll have yours on you and at the ready.

As they are losing their minds on drugs, fuck with them!

It will be utterly hilarious and poetic.

For they have never been truly fucked with.

They have never lost control of anything, let alone their own state of mind.

As they are roaming around envisioning Odin-knows-what, we will be torturing them with sounds, makeshift ghosts, stab them a little here and stab them a little there.

They will be in such a vulnerable state!

” Then she lets out the most devious laugh, as I nearly piss myself.

I hope to God I never get on this woman’s bad side.

“You are fucking mental,” Kenneth says, as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“And you’re so lucky that I’m your Baba.

So, respect your elders. After they have been running around, losing their minds and a little bit of blood.

The drugs will start to metabolize faster since their fight-or-flight will have kicked in from panicking.

Thus, you have your fun with them. Rich prick dies by Marcus.

” She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe strangling him and Tilly lobs off bellend’s dick.

Or!” She peers over to look at Tilly who has fired the shotgun off, several times now.

“Tell her to shove the shotgun up bellend’s arsehole and ‘boom’. ”

I can’t help but rub my backside at the thought.

“Sounds like a good plan, then I’ll clean it all up at the end with the twins.” Kenneth stomps out his cigarette and then throws it in the bin. He points at Baba and I, “I’ll gather supplies, you start cooking.”

Biscuit comes over to the table. “Oi! We cooking something? May I try it?”

Baba gives a wide-toothed grin .

“No! No, you do not want to try this recipe,” I warn as he looks confused, but I shout, “Risotto!” Then he takes the hint and turns his face up in disgust.

Looking back to Baba I ask, “You think we can give them chocolate cupcakes, or cookies but mix some of the horses’ shit in there?”

Her fingers twiddle together at the maniacal plan. “Oh, I love the way you think. I have just the thing to mask the scent!”