Page 19

“It’s paint.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“Would it help if I promised not to murder you?”

“No.”

“Good. I hate making promises I can’t keep.”

A shadow crosses the path behind me. I spin. Nothing. The chain saw abruptly stops. Silence crashes over the maze. My breathing sounds obscenely loud. Two ribbons flutter against my pulse. Red for Dante. Gold for Callum. The Devil and the Scarecrow. I back away from the place where I last saw movement. A wooden sign swings from the corn.

Wrong Way, Little Rabbit

Something catches my ankle. I shriek and stumble forward. A black-gloved hand shoots from beneath the stalks and grabs my boot.

“Fuck!”

I kick free and scramble to my feet. Dante’s laughter erupts from the dirt.

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You were lying beneath the corn?”

“I’m committed to my craft.”

He rises from the stalks. Moonlight catches the curved horns of his mask and the grotesque grin painted across its red face. His black shirt clings to his shoulders. The sleeves are pushed to his elbows, exposing tattooed forearms. I retreat. Dante advances.

“You enjoyed what the Reaper did to you.”

It isn’t a question.

“Were you watching?”

“Every beautiful second.”

Heat creeps up my throat.

“That’s disturbing.”

“You checked the box beside exhibitionism.”

“I checked being watched. I didn’t check being spied on through a hole like some haunted Peeping Tom.”

He presses one hand over his heart.

“You wound me.”

“I can try harder.”

His painted grin seems to widen.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

I run. Dante catches me within three steps. His arm bands around my waist and lifts me from the ground. I kick and twist, laughing despite my attempt to sound outraged.

“Put me down.”

“No.”