“Alright darlin’s, fancy havin’ yer knickers scared off yer?” Jeb called out to a couple of girls in their early twenties who were passing by his ride. They both half-turned and waved him off, too engrossed in their conversation to hear what he was saying over the noise of the fair.
Business had been quite brisk that Saturday, but as yet he had not found any more victims to be sent down below. Although the fair was busy, Jeb knew that he was expected to balance his duties between ensuring the creatures were properly fed, and making sure that he selected his victims carefully, so as not to bring down any suspicion on the clan.
Peter Cranville was not a man to be crossed, as he had proved before on many occasions. Even though he put the clan first, he had no time or respect for anyone who
