Chapter 21
The sound of hooves thudding against the ground outside sends a shockwave of fear through us all.
I freeze, every muscle in my body seizing up as the rhythmic snorting of a horse comes closer.
Ichabod grips my wrist in his bound hands, his fingers tight around my skin.
My father and his two men exchange tense glances, standing rigid as the realisation of what’s coming crashes over us.
Everything hangs still in a moment of ominous silence.
And then the tall, arched windows explode inward, glass raining down, and a cold blast of night air floods the room as the Horseman comes crashing through.
The force of it sends me stumbling backward, my ears ringing with the sound of the shattering panes and splintering wood.
I barely catch myself, my boots slipping on the smooth stone floor as I scramble to stay upright.
My heart pounds so violently that it drowns out all other noise.
The Horseman lands with a deafening thud, his monstrous black steed stamping its hooves, crunching fragments of glass beneath its weight.
The red glow of the candles flickers wildly, shadows warping and twisting against the walls like living things.
Then the light is snuffed out. The moonlight pouring through the broken glass is now the only source to see by.
The man atop the horse is even more real than before. No longer just swirling shadow, the leather of his uniform is now darker, more solid.
Someone lets out a strangled scream, and the room erupts into chaos.
“Run!” my father yells, his voice raw with urgency.
We scatter.
Ichabod grabs my hand and pulls me away. His grip is firm as we sprint towards the doors at the end of the hall. Behind us, the horse stamps the ground and lets out a long snort.
The Horseman charges. His steed’s hooves clatter against the floor, and I hear the air part as he swings his heavy sword.
I risk a glance over my shoulder and see the blade strike where the priest had been standing just moments before, but the old man has already fled, his robes whipping behind him as he bolts out of a side door.
The Horseman veers diagonally, forcing us to abandon our sprint for the main doors and move sideways instead.
We’ve been herded into a corner. He halts abruptly, the stallion rearing back on his hind legs.
I can feel the Horseman’s attention burning into me, and my legs turn to jelly as I look at the place where his head should be. Does he see me?
But the Horseman doesn’t move, doesn’t attack. He looms above us, his blade lowering slightly.
“Kat, move!” Ichabod shouts, snapping me out of the trance.
I dive to the side as the Horseman urges his horse forward again. But he isn’t coming for us. He pulls his mount around sharply and gallops toward the corridor where the police chief has disappeared. I lean back against the wall.
“What the hell was that?” I ask breathlessly.
I can see Ichabod thinking. “You heard them. The Horseman must only be after members of the Order, so he can return to full strength. Until then, he isn’t interested in us.”
In the corridor outside, there is the wet, sickening sound of a blade cutting through flesh.
The police chief’s scream is short-lived, cut off with a horrible gurgling noise. I don’t need to see it to know what has happened. The Horseman has taken down the fourth member.
Still, I run out of the ruined hall and into the corridor beyond.
As I turn the corner, I feel the air thickening, an undeniable surge of power as the Horseman grows stronger after taking another life.
He’s galloping away, but even from a distance, he looks more solid than before.
The heavy sound of hooves fades, swallowed by the night.
Silence settles over the building once more.
What remains of the police chief lies sprawled across the floor. Blood is still gushing from the gaping hole where his head used to be.
I stand there, breathless, my mind racing to process what I just saw, what I just survived. “So, it’s all true,” I whisper.
Ichabod is panting beside me, twisting his wrists in an attempt to loosen the ties.
“Which means he won’t stop until all of them are dead,” he says. “And there are only two left.”
It’s only Ichabod and I left in the building. My father and the priest have disappeared. If the Horseman won’t stop until all members of the secret society are dead, then that means my father is still a target. With every person he kills, the Horseman is getting stronger.
I meant what I said, I don’t want anyone else to die. Despite his warped sense of protection, I can’t stand by and let the Horseman hunt down my father. But I also refuse to let anyone else be killed in an attempt to bind the Horseman back where he belongs.
“We have to stop him, before it’s too late.”
I don’t particularly want to hang around the university, but my legs still feel weak, so Ichabod guides me to a nearby classroom and we slip inside. The room is dark, but thin light streams through the windows, giving us just enough to see by.
He heads straight for the desk at the front of the room and begins rummaging through the drawers.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“These,” he replies, holding up a pair of scissors and pressing them into my hands. “Little help?” he asks softly.
I finally free his bound wrists. We stand together for a moment, close, hands held between us as I look up into his grey eyes. I could stand here, looking into those eyes forever, but tiredness overwhelms me. We break apart, I sink into the closest chair.
He collapses into the chair next to mine. We sit in silence for a moment, both trying to process what just happened. I’m not sure I ever will.
“Thank you,” he says. “For saving my life. I think they really would have gone through with it if you hadn’t shown up. But you could have been killed tonight, you shouldn’t have come for me.”
“You clearly don’t know me at all, Mr Crane,” I say, sarcastic but weary from the events of the night. “And you know you would have done the same for me.”
“I would tear this town apart for you, Katrina. But how did you know where to find me?”
“Oh, I followed you after you were arrested. It isn’t as mad as it sounds, I promise.
” I laugh. “Something just didn’t feel right, and eventually, they led me here.
” The adrenalin can’t have left my system yet, because recounting my chase across the town is suddenly the funniest thing to have ever happened.
Soon, we’ve both descended into fits of laughter, tears of mirth rolling down my cheeks.
Finally, we manage to catch our breath. I cough and wipe my eyes.
“Oh god, we shouldn’t be laughing like this. Ichabod, what are we going to do?”
He sighs. “Well, I can’t say I’m that opposed to letting the Horseman take down your father, personally.
” There’s no humour in his voice. Seeing my expression, he carries on hurriedly.
“But obviously, we can’t let that happen.
I don’t know, I’ve been researching the Horseman, but I’ve never come across anything about stopping him.
As far as I know, it’s only been done once.
” He runs a hand over the back of his neck.
“If your father says that was done by human sacrifice, well…” He trails off.
My shoulders sag and I feel a pang of guilt.
Ichabod’s shirt is still ripped open from where my father and his strange secret society had tried to kill him, and here I am asking for his help in saving their lives.
But my father was right. This is bigger than any one of us.
We can’t let the Horseman come to full strength.
"There has to be a way to stop him before he kills anyone else,” I say, hoping I sound more convincing than I feel.
Ichabod nods. “If there is, we’ll find it. But there’s nothing that can be done tonight.”
He takes my hand, his thumb trailing along my knuckles. He leans down and kisses my hand, turns it over, and kisses my wrist.
“You really did save my life,” he says, his voice husky. “How can I ever repay you?”
“I’m sure you’ve already thought of some ways,” I reply coyly.
He leans across the space and kisses me hungrily.
Even at a time like this?
“Ichabod,” I smile against his lips. “Don’t you think we should get going…”
“Out into the night?” He cuts me off with another deep kiss. “You’re much safer in here with me.”
He stands, lifting my hand in his and pulling me to my feet.
We’re so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. It’s still slick with sweat from running through the dark halls in fear.
The contrast with the cold classroom makes me shiver.
He brushes my tangled braid aside with one hand, exposing my neck and my pulse, which has quickened considerably.
He dips his head and his lips brush the sensitive skin at the base of my throat.
“But we should get a head start on stopping the…” I begin to argue weakly but trail off as he continues kissing up and behind my ear.
“You’ve given me a second chance at life, and I need to thank you properly,” he interrupts headily.
My mind is stuck on the Horseman and our need to stop him.
“I’m serious,” I start to say again.
“So am I.”
His mouth finds mine and he kisses me intensely, backing me up until the sharp edge of the desk hits the back of my thighs.
“You looked so hot, charging into that room to save me,” he murmurs. “Although I think I would have preferred it if you were the one with your hands tied together.”
He kisses me again and I moan into his mouth, my resolve weakening.
Ichabod makes quick work of removing my jumper and then my top, kissing across my chest while his lithe fingers work on undoing my jeans. He pushes them down and I step out, kicking them away. The cold pebbles my nipples. I feel so exposed, standing almost naked at the head of the classroom.
He cups my face with one hand, lips firmly pressed against mine, his other hand trailing down my stomach, until he finds what he’s looking for.
Slowly, he massages small circles through my panties, sending a throb of pleasure into my lower stomach.
I ache for more of him. I run my hands over his stomach, his chest, grateful that wicked blade never touched him.
We break apart and he lifts me slightly onto the edge of the desk, spreading my knees and standing between my thighs.
He sinks to his knees gently, kissing across my collarbone and down my chest to my stomach as he lowers himself to the floor.
He runs his lips up my leg, delicately, steadily.
I tremble in anticipation, the feather-light touch trailing goosebumps in its wake.
His tongue flicks out to caress the crease of my inner thigh, drawing ever closer to what he wants.
What I want. One hand grips my calf, the other tugging my panties to the side.
He pulls back slightly, pausing before he takes me, gazing up into my eyes.
He leans in, I feel his hot breath as his tongue slowly runs from the base of my opening to the top.
I shudder. He keeps his attention there, sucking and nibbling, and I buck my hips into his waiting mouth, pulling him closer in as my legs wrap around his back.
He laps at me until my thighs tremble. I gasp when he delves a finger inside me, curling it and stroking firmly inside.
I hear how wet I am as he works me with precision.
A pot of pens tumbles from the desk as I lean back, giving Ichabod more access, and it hits the floor with a clang and rolls away.
I quake as he adds a second finger and begins to work it in and out, tongue still swirling over my swollen clit. The intensity swells inside me.
He moves his fingers faster, rhythmically curling and pressing as I clench around him. I can feel myself getting close. I let out a small whimper and put my hand over my own mouth to stop myself from crying out into the silence. His fingers closes around my wrist, pulling my hand away.
I arch my back, grinding into his mouth impatiently, searching for release. My hand brushes through his hair, wanting to grab it and pull him against me harder still. But Ichabod gently removes his fingers and stands to unbuckle his belt.
I look down as he pulls out his thick cock, pre-cum already beading at the tip. I slide my hips closer to the edge of the desk and tilt myself, ready to take him. He positions himself at my already soaking entrance.
The threat of the evening’s events heightens every sense, I smell the sweat and dirt on his skin, my heartbeat pounds in my chest, there’s a savage desire to have him, to feel alive.
He thrusts in without hesitation. I cry out.
He pushes further inside, filling me, stretching me. Almost painful.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.
We cling to each other, kissing, grabbing, wild and animalistic. Both alive. He fucks me quickly, roughly, holding me to him.
His strokes get deeper, harder, and soon we’re both moaning, on the edge. He winds his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and grips me, forcing me to lift further into him. I moan as the pressure inside me builds and the base of his shaft pounds into me with each thrust.
He moans with me, the noise rising like a symphony.
Writhing against each other, he pounds into me, relentless. With one final thrust, we finish together. I buck uncontrollably over him as he continues to push into me. The table rocks, my thighs shake, our moans echoing in the empty classroom.
I lean back, panting, my palms supporting me on the desk. Ichabod takes a step back, his glistening cock sliding out of me, cum dripping out and onto the floor.