Chapter 6
Kat
When dawn broke over the elm trees, turning the yellow leaves to gold, I woke up to find Crane’s room empty.
He’d left me a note that said he and Brom survived the night and that they’d gone to check out the damage to the library.
At least that’s what I thought it said—Crane’s poor penmanship still amuses me.
I didn’t think I’d sleep at all last night, but while they were in the bath I guess I fell into deep slumber. I didn’t even hear them come back in, I’m not sure where either of them rested—I feel bad if it was the floor—but I assume they didn’t sleep at all.
But even with a few hours of shut-eye, I still feel groggy.
I get up and slide open the window a crack, letting the cold morning air waft in with the sweet scent of overripe blackberries and the earthy smell of decaying leaves.
Though the trees are glowing in shades of yellow, orange, and red, the morning sun is starting to fade already, obscured by a slow-moving fog.
I stand there at the window and watch as it comes over the narrow finger of the dark lake, taking in the view from Crane’s room until the mist has covered everything in gray.
It feels like it was only yesterday that Crane and I attempted the ritual in the veil standing by the shore of that black lake.
I have to wonder if it was my fault that the horseman went after Brom.
I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about Brom in the void, trying to conjure him forward but instead what I conjured was the horseman.
All this time, had the horseman been looking for Brom, unable to find him, until my energy led him to me, like a hound on the scent?
I hold that thought for a moment, watching as the mist obscures the dark water.
If it hadn’t been for me, would Brom still be out there in New York or some other place, still on the run, still hunted?
Would that have been better for him, to deal with that feeling his whole life, to never feel at peace or feel he could return home?
Or is it better that he’s here now, albeit under the control of a murderous spirit?
I don’t have the answers. I just know that, selfishly, despite all he’s done and what he’s going through, I’m glad he’s here with me.
I know Crane and I will fix him, will expel the evil from his body.
It’s just a matter of when. There’s a ticking clock somewhere—I just don’t know what it’s counting down to.
I sigh, taking in the sight of Crane’s room.
He doesn’t have a lot to peruse, just a big doctor’s-style bag filled with jars of potions and tinctures; a few more jars on a shelf along with what looks like a rat’s skull, a couple of crystals, a stack of tarot cards, and some freshly cut herbs; and a stack of books on the floor that were probably on the desk until they were knocked off.
But even so, I feel like I’m glimpsing parts of him that he keeps private, like it’s a privilege to be here alone.
But I can’t spend all morning looking around, so I go into the bathroom and draw a bath. I’m able to heat the water again, but not as hot as last night, and when I’m done I feel drained. It’s like whatever energy has been built up inside me is now being rationed.
While in the tub I let my mind wander. There’s too much happening at once, and it feels good to just let my thoughts go where they want.
I know I have to think about facing my mother today and what I’ll say to her.
The questions I have about her involvement with using the Hessian to retrieve Brom, why she wants him to bed me on behalf of someone called Goruun.
And I know that I’ll have to start picking up the pieces of what happened between Brom and me and how my feelings about him may have changed.
But my mind goes back to Crane.
It goes back to magic.
I believe the source of this newfound power is connected to him.
And if not him in particular, connected to sex.
Perhaps a ritual isn’t even needed for this exchange of energy.
When I orgasm I can feel my body being filled with light, all that tension building up inside me finally releasing.
But it doesn’t just shoot out from my core, instead I feel it in my toes and my fingertips, like the energy is expelled but some is bounced back inside me.
That’s the source of it all.
Sex.
I can’t help the tiny smile on my face. I’d been told that witches were sexual beings, but now I know the truth.
Maybe it’s not the same for everyone—I have yet to make a real witch friend here and I’m not sure Paul would appreciate the conversation—but I suspect my coupling with another witch is what is creating this power.
Specifically, Crane. The fact that we can already exchange energy with each other, to a degree, must help. But is it more than just an orgasm, a biological drive, a need to release? Is there something more to it? Emotions? Deep feelings of attachment?
Is it love?
I sigh, sinking deeper into the tub, and this warm, tender spot forms inside me, akin to what I used to feel for Brom when I was younger. I just don’t know what it means. I could be falling in love with Crane. Is he falling in love with me?
Sometimes the way he looks at me tells me he is, when he stares openly at me in a way that’s more than just lust and desire, but some kind of hunger for my heart, my soul, for all of me.
Then there’s the way he acts around me, the sweetness that often catches me off-guard and hits me right in the center of my bones.
But love seems impossible right now. He is still my teacher, I’m still his student, and that’s not even the biggest obstacle we’re facing.
There’s my mother, hell-bent on making sure I marry Brom, and then there’s Brom himself.
Once upon a time Crane told me that he would respect my past with him, but after what happened last night, I’m not sure that’s still the case.
And can I fall in love with Crane if I still love Brom?
Can I fall back in love with Brom if I’m in love with Crane?
Can I love both men?
Will they let me?
There are too many questions and my heart and body feel too exhausted to tackle any of them.
I settle farther into the tub so that the water is at my chin.
The bathroom window shows the gray mist flowing past, the light dulled, and I feel my eyes flutter closed.
The warm of the bath slows my pulse, lulling me into a state of deep relaxation.
There’s no sound at all except for the sound of my breath.
The faint beat of my heart.
The sound of the water splashing gently against the tub.
Rhythmic, constant splashing.
Why is the water in the tub still moving when I’m staying completely still?
“You let my husband touch you here,” a voice hisses.
My eyes fly open to see a woman’s head between my legs, dead white eyes staring right at me.
I scream but hands come up from underneath me in the tub, wrapping around my mouth and chest, and start pulling me down into the water. With sickening clarity I realize that I haven’t been lying on the bottom of a copper tub but instead on a woman’s spongy body.
Water goes up my nose as I’m held under the surface and I’m thrashing back and forth, pure animal panic surging through me.
She’s trying to kill me.
I’m going to drown here.
With a surge of flustered power I bite the fingers she holds across my mouth. The bones snap with a sickening sound, blood flowing into the water, tasting like foul pennies as it goes past my lips.
“He read my memories and used them against me,” the voice says as if she’s at my ear now. “Do you know what kind of man he is? Do you know what he did to me?”
Somehow I manage to elbow her, her hand slipping away from my mouth, and then I’m scrambling over the side of the tub, water rushing over the sides, and then dropping down onto the floor in an awkward heap.
A hand reaches out and grabs my ankle, trying to pull me back in, nails digging into my skin.
I scream, twisting around to see the woman, her gray hair hanging off her in ropes, her decaying skin flayed open to show maggots underneath, the empty hole for a mouth and white eyes that seem to consume me whole.
“You cannot love a man like that,” she hisses. “Ichabod will never let you leave!”
“Marie?” I manage to say, remembering Crane’s late wife’s name.
She drops my ankle in surprise.
Then smiles, that gaping black hole spreading across her face until all her features are swallowed by it.
She slowly stands up and starts stepping out of the tub.
Heaven help me.
Just then I hear the door in the bedroom open and Crane’s faint voice, “Kat?”
“Crane!” I scream. “Help me!” I get to my feet just as the door opens and Crane and Brom come running inside. I collapse into Crane’s arms and look over my shoulder but the bathroom is empty. The bathtub is still. The water on the floor is the only sign there’s been any disturbance.
“What happened?” Crane asks.
“Th-there was a woman,” I stutter, unable to catch my breath. “A dead woman. She was right there, I swear to you.”
“I believe you,” he says, running his hand down my back. “I believe you.”
I stare up at him in horror. “It was your late wife.”
Crane’s jaw flexes.
“You were married?” Brom asks incredulously, a hint of betrayal in his voice.
“It’s a long story,” he says, his eyes glimmering darkly.
“And a story I think we ought to hear,” I tell him, straightening up. I’m suddenly aware that I’m naked once more around these two, but Crane grabs a towel and wraps it around me.
“And you will,” Crane says, holding my hand and giving it a squeeze.
But I don’t find any comfort in it. “Both of you will. I promise you that. But right now we need to get you dressed and out onto the grounds. It may be the weekend, but soon everyone will be up and your mother will be here and the last thing we need is trouble from the coven. We have our own shit to figure out first.”
I can barely think, my heart is still beating too fast, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I close my eyes and try to take in a deep breath while Crane whispers, “I’m sorry we left you alone for so long. We had to go to the library first thing, and you looked so peaceful sleeping.”
“Did you find the head?” I ask warily. I’ve been trying not to think about that head, knowing it was the drunken fellow who was pawing at me at the bonfire.
Mary did a good enough job getting him to leave me alone, there was no need to murder him in cold blood.
I suppress a shiver at that, knowing his murderer is standing in the room with me.
“The head is gone.” Crane says this so easily, as if we’re discussing something trivial. “I cleaned up the mess we left in our tussle but the head is gone. And no, Brom has no idea where it went.”
I glance at Brom but he seems lost in thought, that hurt expression in his eyes, and I know he’s still thinking about the fact that he didn’t know Crane was married before.
I swallow uneasily and look up at Crane. “I think your wife was trying to kill me.”
He gives me a tight smile. “I’m sure she was. She has a lot to be angry about.”
I squint at him. What did you do to her?
But I know that question will have to wait for later. I tuck it away with the million other questions I have, knowing it’s probably futile to expect answers anytime soon.