Chapter 6 #2
We walk back through the town, our steps scuffing rhythmically through the narrow streets.
The buildings around us loom high, their facades a patchwork of aged stone and ivy.
Windowpanes glint faintly, the glow of candles or gaslights casting uneven shadows even in the daytime.
I catch the woody scent of a bonfire on the air.
Sleepy Hollow doesn’t just look old; it feels it, as though the town is suspended in time.
I hesitate slightly before asking, “You don’t happen to know Professor Crane, do you?”
“The piano teacher?” He shrugs. “Not really, no. Why?”
Our brief encounter in the music room has left me intrigued and wanting to know more.
“I met him yesterday. He’s been giving Toby music lessons apparently,” I say simply.
Brom gives me a look I can’t decipher.
“Really? I know he’s very talented. Moved away for a while to play piano professionally, but came back when his dad died. But he keeps to himself mostly.”
Huh, a similar story to my own.
“Always strikes me as a bit… strange.” Brom finishes.
It’s not what I’d expected him to say, and I feel thrown.
“He didn’t seem strange to me.”
“Speak of the devil. There he is,” Brom mutters, nodding toward a figure approaching from the opposite direction.
I’d been watching my step, but now I look up. Ichabod Crane is hard to miss. Tall and lean, his figure has an almost spectral quality as he moves towards us. His coat flares slightly with each step, and his hat is tipped forward at an angle that obscures his eyes until he’s much closer.
“Katrina Van Tassel,” Ichabod says as he nears, his voice warm and almost musical. He stops in front of us. “And Brom Bones. Taking Katrina sightseeing?”
“Something like that, Professor Crane,” I reply, tilting my head back to look him in the face.
My irritation at the cold seems to evaporate under his gaze.
There’s something about the way Ichabod carries himself that demands attention — a confidence that borders on theatrical without tipping into arrogance.
“You on your way to the university?” Brom asks, folding his arms across his broad chest.
Ichabod nods. “I am. I have a quick lecture on the composition of Bach before I head over to your house, Miss Van Tassel. Another lesson with Toby this afternoon. He’s improving quite quickly.”
“He does seem very excited about the recital,” I say, a genuine smile breaking through my usual guarded expression.
Ichabod’s gaze lingers on me for just a moment longer than necessary. “And how are you finding Sleepy Hollow?” he asks. “The way you were storming along there, you look like you have other places you’d rather be.”
I shrug quickly to cover the fact that he’s read me so well. “Very different from London. Very… quiet.”
“Quiet can be a good thing,” Ichabod says, his tone thoughtful. “Though I know it must be an adjustment. If you need another tour guide, I’m happy to be of service.”
Something tugs low in my stomach.
“Careful,” I say before I can stop myself. “I might hold you to that.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he replies.
Something shifts in the air between us for a moment, and then Brom clears his throat. “I wouldn’t say the town’s been that quiet lately, what with Dr Larpin’s death.”
Talk about killing the mood.
“Yes,” Ichabod says. “A terrible tragedy.”
“Did you know him well?” I ask Ichabod.
“I try not to make too much of a habit of frequenting the doctor’s surgery,” he chuckles. “But yes, we crossed paths on occasion. I know he did a lot for this town, and he’ll be missed.”
My brow furrows. “They’re saying he had some kind of accident. It sounds awful.”
Ichabod’s expression darkens slightly. “Yes, I imagine it was,” Ichabod says finally. “But it’s best not to dwell on such things. Darkness has a way of creeping in if you let it.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but Brom interrupts.
“Speaking of moving on, I’d best be going.
I need to get back to work before the old man misses me too much.
” He claps me on the shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you later, Kat.
” He nods toward Ichabod before striding off, his heavy boots striking the cobblestones with purpose.
I watch him go for a moment before turning back to Ichabod.
“I hope I’m not that obvious — about not wanting to be here, I mean,” I say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Only to those who recognise it,” he replies with a sad smile. “I’ve worn the look myself often enough. But you and Brom seem close.”
“Well, we go way back,” I reply, and Ichabod raises his eyebrows questioningly. “We were friends as kids, when I lived here before. It’s nice to know someone in this town.”
He nods.
“Although,” I continue, “he tells me this town has a ghost problem.”
“Does he now?” Ichabod chuckles. “And what do you make of that?”
I go to laugh but he seems to be watching me seriously, his piercing grey eyes searching mine. A crow takes flight behind him, startling me and pulling my attention away. I flicker my eyes back to his and he’s still watching me, unmoved.
“Well, obviously, I don’t make anything of it. I don’t know how that doctor died, but I think we can safely say it wasn’t a ghost.”
He pauses for a moment before nodding again and then glances down at his watch. “I am sorry to leave you, but I must run to my class. Literally.” He chuckles. He gestures down the street. “Will you be all right getting back?”
I roll my eyes. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”
“You should be careful out here on your own.” The way he says it makes me feel uneasy.
“And why is that?”
“Things in this town are not always as they seem.” He says at last. But then, more lightly, “I might see you later, if you’re around during Toby’s music lesson?”
“You might,” I reply simply, but the corners of my lips lift, betraying me.
As he turns to leave, I feel his absence almost immediately. It’s as if the temperature drops a few degrees.
I start home, wrapping my jacket more tightly around myself. The streets seem even quieter now, the shadows longer and deeper. Sleepy Hollow holds its secrets tightly, and I have the feeling that I am only just scratching the surface.