Chapter 22
Kat
The next morning, I wake up with a heavy heart, anger and shame settling over me like the low fog outside my window.
The first thing I remember is fighting with Brom in the stables, the last person on earth I want to fight with.
He had been so cruel and callous, but I had lost my temper.
I know it’s not his fault that he doesn’t remember anything, and I know that’s also why he’s not himself, why he’s become so rough and volatile. I should have been more understanding.
But then again, I didn’t deserve for him to compare me to a dirty rag. I didn’t deserve his jealous outbursts. I’m trying to help him, and it feels like I’m the only one who is.
Except for Crane. I have to talk to Crane. When we left his class yesterday, he had promised us he would read up on any magic or spells that could work to reverse memory loss. I thank God that I have him, the only other person who seems to care as much as I do. For once, I feel like I’m not alone.
I get up slowly, looking around my bedroom, at the stack of books on the desk, the dried flowers in a vase, my stack of tarot cards that I now feel brave enough to leave out in the open.
On the wall is a framed picture of rudimentary art, wet leaves pressed onto canvas until they left colored outlines, but I had done it with my father one autumn afternoon, sitting outside on the porch, not realizing I was creating a moment in time that would live forever.
Will I be able to take it with me to the school?
How much of myself am I allowed to bring?
Where the idea of living on campus thrilled me weeks ago, now I feel sick to my stomach over it.
Because it isn’t my choice, and I don’t know why my mother wants me to be there.
Is it truly because she wants me and Brom to be closer because she—and everyone else—still thinks we’re going to get married?
Or is it something else? After what Famke told me and after Brom confirmed my own secret beliefs, I know my mother doesn’t have my best interests at heart.
With that in mind, I get dressed for the day.
When I head out to use the washroom, I smell a hearty breakfast of fried pork and eggs mingling with the rich scent of freshly ground coffee and chicory, and hear Famke and my mother speaking in Dutch in the kitchen.
I wish I could understand what they’re saying—my parents didn’t bother trying to teach me their mother tongue—but I at least know from their tones that they’re having a disagreement over something.
When I’m finally ready, sticking the final pins up in my hair, I make my way to the dining room table, where my mother is seated reading the weekly newspaper. She glances up at me but doesn’t say anything. I take my seat across from her as Famke comes in and gives me my breakfast.
“Thank you,” I say to her, and while her smile is warm for me, she turns frosty again as she glances at my mother and heads back to the kitchen.
After my altercation in the barn with Brom last night, I stayed with Snowdrop for a while.
Her energy had changed after him being there, becoming anxious and pawing at the ground.
It took time to calm her, and I was in no hurry to go back inside and face my mother and the Van Brunts.
By the time I did go back in the house, the Van Brunts had left, my mother had already retired to bed, and Famke was cleaning up.
I wanted to talk to her more about our discussion earlier, but I was tired, and she seemed a little closed off, like she’d already said too much.
“They’re having the annual bonfire this Friday,” my mother says as she scans the newspaper, her pair of spectacles held at her eyes. “If we move you to the school on Saturday, it would be a nice way to spend your last night here. You could go with Mary.”
Mary. I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve neglected her ever since I started school.
In the beginning, she would often be waiting by the fence to meet me and Mathias on the way home, and after Mathias stopped riding with me, I saw her only once or twice.
I should reach out to her and soon. She’s the only thing in my life that is relatively normal, and I’ll be even further removed once I start living at the school.
“I’ll make sure to ask her,” I say. Then against my better judgment, I say, “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
My mother lowers her glasses and gives me a small smile. “It’s quite all right. I know things are overwhelming right now. In time, everything will make sense again. Just focus on your studies and on Brom.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Her expression stiffens slightly, wary of what I’m going to ask. “Of course.”
“Why do you want me to marry Brom so much? Why did you and the Van Brunts promise us to each other at such a young age?”
She lets out a laugh. A nervous laugh. “Oh. To be honest, it was all your father’s idea.”
Lies. She’s lying right to my face.
“Why?” I press. “We were wealthy. We had far more money than the Van Brunts. Why would he want me to marry someone lower-class?”
“Katrina,” she admonishes me. “Lower-class? Just because your father had a lot of money when I married him doesn’t make us any better than them.
Really, after the way you treated them last night and now these haughty thoughts, I think you should be directing these questions at yourself. Look inward for a change, hmm?”
And at that, she gets up in a huff, placing her glasses and paper on the table.
I watch as she goes over to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.
Shutting me and any of my questions out.
I let out a growl of frustration, and the coffee cups on the table start rattling violently, the dregs of coffee spilling over the edges, even though I’m not touching anything.
Goodness me. What the devil is happening?
Famke comes into the dining room and eyes the mess.
“Did you do this?” she asks.
“I guess so,” I say.
“Your magic,” she says, lowering her voice, her eyes darting to my mother’s room. “It’s coming out in times of duress. It’s unfocused.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about magic,” I say.
“I said I’m not a witch,” she explains in a hurried whisper.
“But as I told you, I listen, and I watch. I know what magic looks like when it’s waning and when it’s coming into power.
If I were you, I’d bring this up with your teacher.
Professor Crane. Him and no one else. I think he’ll know what to do with you. ”
Another thing for me to worry about, I think as I get to my feet and try to help clean up, but Famke shoos me away and tells me to get on with my day.
I glance at the clock. I wanted to get to Crane’s class early so I could talk to him, which means I’m going to have to rush.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long for me to tack up Snowdrop and lead her out of the stable, but then I see Brom mounted on Daredevil outside the house, talking about something with my mother.
Shoot. I really thought if I left early enough, I’d also miss having to ride with Brom. I’m still not sure what to say to him. Do I apologize? Do I stay mad? Is he still the friend I always had? Is he someone else now?
With a heavy sigh, I mount Snowdrop and guide her toward them.
“Good morning,” Brom says, as if last night never happened, as if the past four years never happened.
And yet, seeing him wearing a black suit and coat astride that magnificent black stallion, I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach, especially when the corners of his mouth lift just a little, bringing the slightest bit of light to that stony gaze.
“Good morning,” I say with a nod, my smile matching his, though perhaps a little less forthcoming. Especially with my mother staring at us like we’re two prized cows on the auction block.
“Well, you better not be late for class,” she says, a smile plastered on her face. “Are you both in the same one this morning?”
Brom shakes his head. “History, if you can believe it.”
“Energy manipulation,” I say.
She looks crestfallen at that. “Oh, well, I hope—”
“Excuse me, Ms. Van Tassel?” a deep Bostonian accent rings out from across the lane. The three of us look over to see Constable Wesley Kirkbride riding up on his horse, a grim expression on his face.
It’s not every day that the police want to have a word with you. I immediately get a sour taste in my mouth.
“Yes?” she says with a wary expression. “What can I do for you?”
The constable pulls his horse to a halt right in front of us and nods at both me and Brom before facing my mother. “I’m investigating an incident that happened around midnight last night. Do you know of your whereabouts at that time?”
“I was asleep,” she says. She looks to the two of us. “I’m sure we all were.”
He looks at Brom. “And you?”
“I was asleep,” he says. “You can ask my parents.”
He sighs. “I believe you, boy.” He runs his hand over his face before straightening up, a look of weary horror on his face. “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life, even up in the cities.”
“What happened?” Brom asks.
The constable stares for a moment, gauging us, then shrugs. “You’re going to hear about it sooner or later. This will make news all over the state, maybe the country.”
My stomach drops, ice filling my veins with dread. “What?” I whisper.
“A Sleepy Hollow man was murdered last night.”
My mother and I gasp in unison.
“Where?” Brom asks.
“Meeks farm. Found in the middle of the cornfield. All the stalks around the scene trampled like someone running from a horse.”
“Meeks?” I repeat, my heart going cold in my chest. “Who was murdered?”
“Joshua Meeks. Had his head chopped clean off him.”
The world seems to fall out from under me, and I lean forward, clutching Snowdrop’s mane. My mother proclaims her shock, and the constable describes the scene further, but I’m not even listening.
Joshua Meeks. The man I had an affair with last summer. Always had a smile for me, kind green eyes, hair like the sun. A man with gentle hands who made me discover things about myself, what I liked and what I wanted, who helped me come into being a proper woman.
He was dead. His head sliced off in a cornfield after being hunted by a man on a horse.
Why him? Why Joshua?
And why after I happened to tell Brom about it?
The sour pit in my stomach gets bigger. I look over at Brom, and he meets my gaze.
He knows what I’m thinking, but he just gives the faintest shake of his head. His dark eyes gleam. I didn’t do it, they say. It wasn’t me.
And I believe him.
But I’m not sure for how long.