Chapter 15
Kat
How quickly things went from a dream to a nightmare. One minute, I was being pleasured by Crane’s fingers atop my horse; the next, we were about to be killed by a horseman with no head.
The most frightening, mind-twisting thing about all of this is that I’ve seen him before. Inside the void, in that place between worlds and dimensions where I was searching for Brom. I saw the headless horseman, this entity of evil. And now he’s here.
In this life.
In my life.
And yet, just like it happened in that black, empty space, he didn’t hurt me. It seemed like he wanted to, but he didn’t, like he wanted someone else instead and couldn’t be bothered with me.
“I fear he wants my mother,” I shout to Crane after I explain what I saw in the void. We gallop on the dark trail heading toward Sleepy Hollow, Snowdrop with her head down, going as fast as her hooves will take her.
“What makes you say that?” he says, his mouth close to my ear.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just have this feeling that the horseman is after someone I love. Like it’s looking for them.” I don’t have anyone else left that I love. Though lately, I worry I’m falling in love with Crane. Which leaves my mother, the only family I have left, plus Famke.
“And you’ve never seen him before tonight?”
“I think I’d remember if I did,” I point out. “This is the first time I’ve heard of a headless horseman, let alone seen one.” And still, that horrible feeling of dread won’t go away. Come on, Snowdrop, I urge her silently. Go faster if you can, please.
My mare snorts in response and somehow manages to pick up the pace, and it’s not long before we’re thundering past Wiley’s Swamp and out of the woods and going across the covered bridge that spans Hollow Creek, her hoofbeats echoing like a thunderstorm.
We gallop down the lane past Mary’s farm, all the lights in her house off.
Beyond the heavy snorts from Snowdrop and the sound of Crane’s ragged breath in my ear, I don’t hear anything else.
No screams, no sounds of another horse or anyone being bludgeoned to death with an ax.
Finally, we make it to my house, the white siding bright under the pale moonlight, a few windows glowing from the inside. It feels like a safe place despite everything.
“Mother!” I yell at the house as Snowdrop comes to a skidding halt, dirt flying. Crane practically jumps off the horse before reaching up and snatching me off the saddle by the waist and placing me on the ground.
The front door swings open, and my mother comes flying out, pulling a scarf around her shoulders. “Katrina!” she exclaims. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” She looks over at Crane, bewildered. “Who is this?”
“I’m Professor Crane,” he says, extending his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Van Tassel.”
She frowns at him and then turns back to me, ignoring his hand. If I wasn’t so upset already, I’d be angry at her for being so rude to him.
“Did the ritual go all right?”
The ritual. I pause for a moment, wondering if the ritual caused the horseman to appear.
“It was fine. Nothing happened, but…” I glance at Crane, and he gives me an encouraging look. “We saw something on the trail when we were riding home.”
Her frown deepens as she looks at him. “Why did you go with her? You know you’re not supposed to leave the school.”
Crane opens his mouth to say something, but my mother turns back to me.
“You shouldn’t be breaking so many rules.”
“There’s no rule against it,” Crane says stiffly. “For teachers, it’s merely discouraged. At any rate, I didn’t feel comfortable with your daughter riding home alone on a night like tonight, and you should be glad I went with her.”
“We saw a horseman,” I fill in. “A headless horseman.”
“The Hessian,” Famke’s voice rings out, and we turn to see her standing in the doorway to the house, wringing her hands together. “It’s the Hessian.”
“Who is the Hessian?” I ask.
My mother holds Famke’s gaze for a moment, something unreadable passing between them.
Then she looks back to me, her forehead wrinkled.
“The Galloping Hessian of the Hollow. He’s a ghost, a spirit of a man who died during the Revolutionary War.
Was decapitated by a cannon. He’s the legend of Sleepy Hollow. ”
“I’ve never heard of him before now,” I say. I glance at Crane briefly. “Neither has he. Doesn’t sound like much of a legend.”
“He hasn’t been seen in fifty years,” my mother says. “There were stories about him aplenty when I was growing up.” An odd look comes over her face. Her eyes seem brighter, like this whole thing excites her. “I’ll have to tell the sisters.”
Strange that she calls them the sisters and not her sisters.
“Why?” Crane asks. “Because the horseman came from the direction of the school?”
“Yes,” she says, pressing her hands together. “Perhaps you opened a window with your ritual. The sisters should know. If the Hessian starts to kill again, they may be the only hope to put him back where he belongs.”
“Excuse me?” Crane says incredulously, his brows shooting up. “Kill again?”
I look to my mom with an equally bewildered expression. “What do you mean kill again? He’s killed before?”
“Ja,” Famke says, still hanging by the door and looking around nervously. “They say he cuts the heads off people he meets in the night.”
“They say, or he actually does?” Crane asks. “Because fact over speculation is of the utmost importance here.”
“And he didn’t chop off our heads.” I push at mine as if to demonstrate it’s still on my neck.
“Speculation,” my mother says patiently, giving Famke a warning look. “Don’t listen to her.”
“No, but it’s true,” Famke refutes. “I was a child when it happened. You wouldn’t remember, Sarah.
You were too young.” She looks to me and Crane.
“It happened when my family arrived from Holland. I remember that one of the clergy at the church had gone missing. No one knew what happened to him. And then the killings started. Two of the other clergymen were discovered with their heads missing, one in Wiley’s Swamp, the other in Hollow Creek beneath the bridge. ”
Crane makes a face. “Charming little town you have here. You left that out of the brochure.”
“So then he’s back,” I say. “What does that mean?”
“It means the both of you will stay here tonight. Crane”—she nods at him—“you can have the guest bedroom. Katrina, you’re sharing my bed tonight.”
“Whatever for?” I say as she puts her hand on my shoulder and ushers me toward the house. I would have been a baby the last time I slept with my parents.
“This whole thing has me frightened,” she whispers. “And I am feeling weak. I don’t wish to be alone.”
Oh. Well, I can’t refute that. I look at Crane over my shoulder, but he’s staying behind with Snowdrop, stroking her neck.
“I’ll put her away in the stable for you,” he says, and starts leading her along the side of the house, and I mouth my thanks.
“You could have been nicer to the professor,” I whisper to my mother as we step into the warmth of the house. It smells like honey, woodsmoke, and spices.
“Why should I? He’s the one who broke the rules. Be glad I’m not making him sleep in the barn.”
“What happened to all the things you said last week about being intimate with him? You were encouraging it.”
She gives me a sharp look. “Do you need the tea?”
“No,” I hiss at her as I start taking off my coat. “I haven’t…we haven’t…there’s no need.”
She leans in and peers at me closely, then grabs my chin and moves my face around. “Are you certain? Because there’s certainly a change in you, Katrina.”
“I’m certain.”
“Good,” she says in a clipped voice, letting go of my face. “Time to adjust your expectations about him. He’s your teacher, nothing more. A ghoulish fellow too, at that, with those haunting eyes and cheekbones and skin like a ghost.”
I don’t know what to say. How quickly she’s changed her tune about him. “I don’t understand.”
She stoops down and unlaces my boots. “There’s someone better out there for you.” She looks up at me and winks, which is most unnerving. “You’ll see.”
“I’ve put on the kettle for some tea,” Famke says, coming out of the kitchen. “I’ll go make sure the guest bedroom has everything he’ll need.”
Moments later, Crane comes in, smelling like frost. “She’s all settled and happy,” he says to me, taking off his coat. “She’s a good horse.”
My mother just stares at him before she walks off into the kitchen.
Crane comes over to me, leans down, and whispers, “I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking around to make sure no one is watching before I reach up and place my hand on his cheek. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”
“She’s just looking out for her daughter,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t trust anyone around a man like me either.”
I’m about to tell him that there’s nothing wrong with a man like him, but then again, I am his student, and he did just ravage me with his fingers while on the back of my horse.
“A cup of tea before bed?” my mother asks, coming out of the kitchen holding two steaming mugs. “I picked it from herbs in the garden. They’ll help calm you down and sleep. I can’t imagine the nightmares you might have after such an ordeal.”
Crane and I take the mugs from her. I sniff mine. Crane does the same. It smells warm and soothing, cinnamon and orange rinds. It’s not the tea I was thinking of.
“Smells like nettle,” Crane says before blowing on it. “One of my favorites. Alleviates pain. Soothes the nervous system.”
“You seem to know a lot about it,” my mother says tritely.
“He went to medical school,” I speak up, but Crane gives me a look, wishing for me to stay quiet.
“Oh?” she says, looking a little more interested now. “And why did you go the teaching route instead? You preferred to be poor?”
Crane chuckles at that. “I preferred being able to help people in whichever way possible.” He blows on his tea again and has a sip. “So, is this your witchcraft? Herbal teas and tinctures?”