Tales from The Pumpkin Patch (Holiday Tales Book 1)

by T S Paul

  Quickly I snapped a few more pictures of his ankle and then reached into my bag. The sheriff wasn’t going to like this, but I had a thing about leaving people and animals in pain. I just couldn’t do it. There was a small jar of salve in my bag. I’d made it myself earlier in the year. It wasn’t strong magically speaking, but it would numb the area and get rid of those bruises by morning.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Jayce asked looking concerned again.

  “Just offering a little help.” He still looked unsure, but I wanted to get out into the pumpkin patch and see if there was any evidence of a crime so I just started applying the salve to his skin before he could protest any further. I mean who wouldn’t be excited to find out if there was really a fully animated scarecrow out in the pumpkin patch. I mean that would be pretty cool. Well, as long as it wasn’t trying to kill you.

  A light rain started to mist down around us as I slipped his leg back into the car. “Can you show me where you and your friends were attacked?”

  “No way, I’m not going back out there?”

  “How about you just point me in the general direction then?”

  Jayce looked around for a moment and then pointed off to his left out toward the field. “Seriously, don’t go out there. You’re too pretty to be dead.”

  Slamming the door closed on a stunned Jayce, I looked over the car to where he had pointed. “Gramps, it looks like we have some work to do.” I opened my locket, and he flew out into the night.

  He hovered just in front of my face, hands on his hips. “Try and make this quick, ok. I’ve got things to do.”

  “You can chase the neighbor’s cats anytime, but tonight I need you.”

  “Whatever, you just don’t get me.” He flew off in the direction that Jayce had pointed us in.

  That was the last time I let Gramps sit around and watch trash tv for a few days. He sounded worse than a teenager sometimes. I let out a sigh and then remembered why we were here. Animated scarecrow that might have killed a few people. Sure, it could all just be a prank, but there was a chance it was real, and I needed to be prepared. The misty rain continued to fall, and I entered Happy Pumpkin Farms in search of something almost as unbelievable as the perfect pumpkin.

  Chapter Three

  Zoey

  The sheriff and Mr. Sizenberg looked like they might have been having an argument on the front porch of his house. Casting a quick look at the pumpkin patch to make sure nothing was coming to get me I turned in their direction. It just made sense to start from the house with the sheriff. If there really were a scarecrow out there, then the sheriff would be safer with me. I was still twenty or thirty feet away, and their conversation was coming in loud and clear.

  “No. You don’t have my permission to search my property.” Mr. Sizenberg roared as if the sheriff was standing a football field away from him instead of three feet.

  “I think you misunderstood what I said, Mr. Sizenberg. I’ll be searching your farm, I wasn’t asking for permission.” He held up a hand to stop him from saying anything before he continued. “And no, I don’t need a warrant, I’ve got a witness that says two of his friends were killed here. That gives me the right to search your property.”

  “You mean you have the word of a trespasser and a vandal.”

  “We can address those charges after we locate the two missing boys. Then you can decide what to bring up in court if you sue him for the destruction of your property. But right now, you need to back off and let me do my job.” The sheriff sounded exasperated and ready to snap.

  “I don’t have to let you do anything, and I refuse to let you stumble around my patch in the dark. More of the pumpkins could be damaged.”

  I could tell the sheriff bit back a more cutting retort like “bill me” before stomping off. Instead, he kept his face as calm as anyone could expect and brought the full situation into context for Mr. Sizenberg. “You do and you will. At least, that is, if you want to be open for business in the morning. If you don’t mind missing out on a day of sales while I have the staties out front turning paying customers away so we can process the entire farm as crime scene then you will go back inside until we’re done here.”

  I thought Mr. Sizenberg was about to blow his lid. His cheeks flushed to an unhealthy red, and his eyes narrowed to slits. With his fists clenched at his sides, he made one final declaration. “Do whatever you want sheriff, but don’t expect my help or my protection.”

  He turned and started inside, but the sheriff grabbed him from behind. “That sounds an awful lot like a threat.” Mr. Sizenberg tried to twist out of the sheriff’s grip but ended up on his knees instead. The sheriff had one arm wrenched painfully up between his shoulder blades. The sheriff waited for all the fight to go out of him before placing a set of handcuffs on him and hauling him back to his feet.

  “I’ll have your badge for this,” Sizenberg muttered as the sheriff led him down the front stairs.

  “You’re coming on a little tour of the farm with us.”

  It seemed as if Mr. Sizenberg noticed me for the first time. “What is she doing here?”

  He spat out the words with such venom that I was shocked. We’d always had a great working relationship. For the last three years, I’d purchased about fifty pumpkins from him. They made me a decent little profit when people in the city didn’t want to drive out to the farm. I even gave him a sign in my shop, so people knew exactly where the pumpkins were from. Never would I have expected him to turn on me so completely.

  I decided to just ignore the question. I was here at the request of the sheriff, if he wanted to explain that to him, then he could. All I wanted to do was get this over with. The day was starting to catch up with me, and I was ready for bed. That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon if we didn’t head out into the patch to look for clues.

  The sheriff must have been done indulging Mr. Sizenberg as well because he didn’t bother to answer the question either. He just shoved him along in front of us almost like a prisoner of war.

  I got why the sheriff was pissed. I’d only been up on the porch for the last few minutes of their discussion, and I was pissed. I couldn’t imagine how angry I’d have been if I had to listen to the whole thing. Something was obviously going on here. If it really was an animated scarecrow, then that was some heavy-duty magic. Maybe the kind of thing that even required a sacrifice to accomplish.

  That meant we had to be on our toes. I pulled a couple of premade grenades from my pocket. Well, I like to call them grenades, really they weren’t that powerful. The little grenades were just an effective way to disperse some herbs and salt in a wide pattern without getting too close to what you were trying to defend against.

  Still, these little things had some quirks. They weren’t your standard throw them and wait for three seconds before the world ended grenades, they were my own special blend of herbs and salt. They weren’t dangerous to humans unless you happened to get cut when the plastic exploded.

  I made a few versions of the grenades. What I had brought tonight was just salt and herbs, but I also had a version that included powdered silver and shaved iron. I could basically use them to stave off attacks from most of the supernatural world. I normally only traveled with the base model, though. Most of the local pack was friendly, and the iron only worked against the fae which wasn’t something you ran into that often.

  The local pack had a pretty healthy respect for my abilities. Sure, it didn’t hurt that I could talk to animals. It was a skill that came in super handy when the pack was in full beast form. I also had the slight advantage of being able to control most animals for at least a short period of time. Still, I’d never tried that on one of the pack before. The last thing I wanted to do was make an enemy where one didn’t exist. Mind controlling one of the pack was a sure way to have them all nipping at my heels in short order.

  Gramps’ golden light was flickering off in the distance. I needed to talk to him and find out if he had seen anything. That wasn�
��t possible with the sheriff around, at least not if I still wanted him to call me for help. I decided that maybe I could steer him in a different direction while I went to catch up with Gramps.

  “Sheriff, Jayce said that he and his friends entered the farm from where their truck was parked and headed in that way.” I pointed away from Gramps’ darting golden light. “Maybe you should head that way, and I’ll find the truck and work my way back to you.”

  “Sounds good to me.” The sheriff shot me a look that said he knew I was up to something, but he wasn’t sure what just yet.

  We had worked together on enough cases that he didn’t bother me for details, at least not until after everything was done. Sometimes not even then if he didn’t want to have to put anything I said in the official report. He would have time to decide what kind of incident this was later when he was tied to his desk writing up the piles of reports that made up the worst part of police work.

  I handed the sheriff two of my grenades. I hoped that he wouldn’t have to use them before I ended my quick conversation with Gramps, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “If you see anything use one these.”

  “What are those?” Mr. Sizenberg asked sounding worried.

  “Just keep it moving.” The sheriff shoved him forward, and they continued in the direction I had pointed.

  Now was my chance to get with Gramps. The light of the full moon was decreasing as the clouds covered more of the light. The gentle mist that had been falling slowly turned into fat drops of rain. Just the kind of thing a growing pumpkin needed to stay strong.

  The sheriff had a flashlight, but I wasn’t so lucky. Instead, I called on a little bit of my magic to make the necklace I kept Gramps in the glow with a faint blue light. This was the perfect place for me to call on my magic, outside of the forest, the farm was a goldmine of power to harvest. I quickly topped off my reserves and started to run ahead to meet my sprite.

  Gramps was agitated when I reached him, buzzing around in circles. It would have been the kind of thing that called way too much attention in our direction if the sheriff wasn’t more worried about finding two dead bodies. If there were any dead bodies to find. This seemed like just the thing two frat guys would pull on a new brother just to have a little fun. I mean what says fun like getting a kid drunk and making him think all of his friends died due to a killer scarecrow?

  Gramps flew in fast and perched on my shoulder. I hated when he did that because I really couldn’t look at him when he was talking without cramming my neck uncomfortably to the side. I held out my hand in front of me and waited for him to move before speaking. “What did you find?”

  Gramps stared at me, hands on his hips. He obviously wanted some kind of praise for all the work he had done, but since he hadn’t told me what he had found yet, I didn’t know how much praise to give him. Again, I just waited until he gave up.

  He let out a generous sigh and started to talk. “I found where the scarecrow used to be or at least where one should be hanging if it was still there.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. What’s got you all worked up?”

  “There is some kind of runes carved into the wood. They are very faint because they’ve been painted over to make them less noticeable, but I think they activate some kind of summoning.”

  “You mean like the kind that brings a killer scarecrow to life.” I cast a quick glance around to make sure nothing was trying to sneak up on me.

  “Yeah, that kind.” Gramps took off from my hand and started buzzing around again. “Something about calling forth the god of good harvests.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good.” I wasn’t strong enough to take on a god. This also didn’t seem like the kind of thing a god would do. I mean what kind of god wanted to slum it at Happy Pumpkin Farms?

  “Damn right, it doesn’t sound good. We need to get out of here.” Gramps flew back into my necklace and shut the clasp.

  I let the spell that I had cast on the necklace fade away. Gramps light would be enough for me to see by.

  “I’m not feeling a whole lot of you running back to your Jeep like I should be,” Gramps whined from his place on my chest.

  As much as I wanted to, there was no way I could leave the sheriff. He didn’t know what he was walking into and I wouldn’t have his death on my conscience. “Tell me where you saw the scarecrow’s resting place.”

  “Do I have to?” I tapped gently on the charm he was resting inside. The necklace pulled slightly off my chest back towards the direction I had sent the sheriff wandering in, and I started to run.

  Chapter Four

  Zoey

  My mad sprint towards the sheriff lasted all of three seconds. My feet tangled around something on the ground and I went sprawling face first into the vines. Let me tell you something, a pumpkin to the ribs doesn’t feel that good, even when you have a leather jacket on to deflect some of the blow.

  That was going to leave a mark, one of many I got in my line of work. With the number of bruises and cuts I’d healed over the years, you’d think I would have made a lot more money. Small city politics and budget constraints kept them from paying me what I was worth, but after tonight I might have to up my fee.

  Rolling off of the gooey mess that used to be a perfectly happy pumpkin, I turned over to see what had tripped me. My thoughts went to Jayce’s story about the vines grabbing his ankle. The reality ended up being much more mundane. Well, as mundane as you could get when a dead body covered in vines was slowly being pulled into the ground.

  That was just gross. Mr. Sizenberg’s secret to great pumpkins was fertilizing the ground with dead bodies. Who knew that was even a thing? Still, the body had to serve more than one purpose. It was a sacrifice, and in return, whatever was animating the scarecrow gave it back to the farm in rich soil. It was sick, it was twisted, and not something I would have expected from the man that ran the farm. The guy that served the best hot chocolate and apple cider for miles around.

  The deranged man who sacrificed people for a better harvest stood at complete odds with the smiling man that used to dote on me as a child. What happened to him? How could he have turned so evil? From the looks of his front porch, the pumpkin business didn’t bring in the kind of money that made sacrificing people to some god worth it. The world was such a strange place and seemed to be getting stranger every day.

  There was nothing I could do for the corpse being pulled into the ground. At least not now, but there was something I could do for the sheriff if I could only get to him in time. The sound of one of my grenades going off spurred me back into action. I was on my feet in seconds and running towards the sound. This time I looked down every few steps to make sure that I didn’t trip over Jayce’s other friend. That poor kid was out here somewhere.

  A second grenade went off, and I knew I had to reach him soon, or this might not have the type of ending any of us would be happy with. Using a spell, I pulled energy from the earth. It didn’t come as quickly as it should have. Something here had control over a lot of the farm's natural power. I guess that made sense when you were facing an evil scarecrow harvest deity. Still, it gave me enough to accomplish what I needed to do.

  I popped the pins on two of my grenades, and as the sheriff came into view, I tossed them as high as I could over his position. They exploded in the air effectively covering the sheriff and Mr. Sizenberg in a mist of salt dust. That should buy me the time I needed to get there. I continued to pull power from the earth as I ran to meet the scarecrow.

  Scarecrow might not have been the right name for what I was about to fight. It didn’t look like any scarecrow I had ever seen. Sure, there was a little hay poking out around the cuffs of its shirt and pants, but it almost looked like it had just gotten stuck there versus the thing being made out of hay. The scarecrow moved like a human. Its knees bent almost as if it were about to pounce as it stalked around the two men.

  The scarecrow let out a howl of rage as it tried to reach the two men and was re
buffed by the barrier I had created with my grenades. That kind of shield wouldn’t keep the scarecrow away from the two men for more than a few seconds, but that should be all I needed to get its attention.

  I was sprinting full speed and trying to think of what I could do to stop a scarecrow. I mean the thing had to be afraid of something right? Realizing the men were out of reach at least for now, the scarecrow turned towards me and started to charge. The sickle in its hand rose, and I could see the rain dripping off the gleaming edge of the blade.

  My feet ground to a halt as the vines covering the ground in front of me started to writhe as if they were alive. Stepping into the vines would only make me an easier target. I knew there was something I was missing, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Reaching in my bag, I grabbed a mixture of salt and herbs tossing it in front of me in one fluid motion. The scarecrow slammed into the barrier and slashed down with its sickle. The blade slashed through the air in front of me, and the temporary shield was broken.

  Gramps started fluttering inside of his locket. His agitation heated the setting up until it burned against my chest. That’s when it clicked. What did you do when something was made out of hay, and you wanted to get rid of it? You burned it. Just like every homecoming festival ever. You burned the scarecrow, and then you played football.

  Pulling as much power as I could from the earth, I said a prayer to the gods to aid me in my time of need and let the fire pour from my hands. First, I kept my hands down burning the vegetation on the ground around me. Mr. Sizenberg let out a scream that was echoed by the scarecrow. Neither of them was enjoying the wanton destruction I was causing to their crop.

  The scarecrow had seen enough. It jumped over the burning vines bringing the sickle down in a vengeful slash. I threw myself backward landing hard on another pumpkin or two, but my concentration didn’t break. The quick move did two things for me. It got me out of the way of the blade, and it forced my hands upwards which bathed the scarecrow in flames.