Chapter 22
Iwake late the next morning, the pale sun falling across my pillow where I had forgotten to close the curtains last night.
Last night. It all comes rushing back, every gory detail.
My body aches with exhaustion.
I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, so I make my way down the hall to shower and change.
I’m putting off heading downstairs. I know it.
Up here, by myself, I’m hanging in a state of limbo.
I know things are bad out there, but my room remains unchanged, and I can almost trick myself into believing everything is all right.
But once I leave and descend those red-carpeted stairs, I’ll have to face reality.
I’ll have to face my father and everything I found out last night, everything I saw.
I brush my hair slowly, studying my own reflection. There are bags under my eyes that weren’t there a week ago, and my skin is so pale I look sick. Christ, if this is what just a week in Sleepy Hollow does to me, I hate to think what I’ll look like in a month.
If the town exists in a month.
If the Horseman hasn’t torn it apart.
I take a deep breath. I can’t sit up here brushing my hair forever.
My head aches from the lack of sleep, and the weight of everything that happened last night sits heavily on my shoulders as I make my way to the sweeping staircase.
The quiet of the house feels different this morning, unnerving, as if it’s holding its breath. Waiting. There’s no noise from the piano room, no whir of the coffee machine in the kitchen. Silence presses around me like a physical force.
I make my way towards the dining room, although I can’t imagine facing breakfast.
I’m both surprised and not to discover my father sitting there at the long mahogany table, head in his hands.
He usually leaves early, but the university was damaged so badly last night that I don’t suppose it’s opening today.
He looks up as I enter the room, his face drawn and pale. Paler than mine.
I can see it in his expression, but I can’t stop myself asking.
“Something else has happened, hasn’t it?”
He nods and answers slowly, his voice hoarse. “The priest was killed in the early hours of this morning. After…”
I pull out the closest chair and sink into it. The priest. That’s five. Five of the six. My stomach twists. Five members of the society created to ensure the Horseman stayed bound, all dead.
That just leaves my father. He’s the only one standing in the way of the Horseman returning to full power.
We both know it. There’s no point saying it out loud.
Just like there’s no point in me asking how he knows about the priest. If there’s anything I found out last night, it’s that my father has far more influence in this town than I realised, and far too many secrets.
The silence is broken by Meredith appearing in the doorway behind me.
She moves around the table but stops just before she reaches my father, looking between the two of us.
“I take it you’ve told her?” she asks.
So Meredith knows too. I wonder when she found out, and how much she actually knows. Her face doesn’t give much away.
We both nod.
There’s a pause.
“The Horseman will come for me tonight,” my father says with finality. Meredith makes a whimpering noise and reaches out to put her hand on my father’s shoulder, but lets it fall back down at the last moment.
“We won’t let that happen,” I say, with a confidence that I don’t feel.
My father lifts his gaze to meet mine, and for the first time in my life, I see genuine fear in his eyes. Not just worry, not just anger, but real, bone-deep fear.
“Katrina…” he starts.
“There has to be another way,” I insist, “something we haven’t thought of yet.”
He sighs, pushing his chair back, wood scraping on stone.
“It’s not that simple.” He stands and paces to the fireplace.
“I told you last night.” He risks a glance at Meredith, but she looks the other way.
“The original binding, the one that trapped him centuries ago, it required sacrifice — blood sacrifice.”
“Well, I am sorry for stopping you from killing Ichabod,” I snap sarcastically, my temper flaring.
He grips the mantle so hard that his knuckles turn white. Meredith flinches.
“Surely you agree that enough people have died? We need to stop the Horseman, but I’m not killing anyone else to do it.” I cross my arms defiantly.
“You think I haven’t tried? We all tried. The society was founded for this very purpose, Katrina, to keep the Horseman bound. And look what happened. We lost control. He’s picked us off one by one…”
“You said it yourself, you exist to keep him bound. But you never had to bind him!” I cry. “It’s only been done once, so how do we know for certain that’s the only way?”
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. The antique clock on the wall counts the silence.
Finally, he lets out a long exhale. “The only way to truly stop him is to break the curse completely. Not just to bind him, but to banish him.”
“Okay, how?” I frown.
He rubs his temples. “I don’t know. No one does.” He sounds truly defeated.
Exasperation burns within me. “Why are you so ready to give up?” I yell. “We just need more information —”
“There’s no time.” He interrupts me. “The Horseman will come for me tonight. And when he does…”
This time, I cut him off. “We won’t let him.”
He shakes his head, almost to himself. “You’re so much like your mother.”
The words take me by surprise. The hole that had slowly started to close in my chest rips open again.
“She would have fought too?” I ask, but I’m not sure it’s a question.
His expression is unreadable, but he nods.
“Okay, so we just need a plan,” I start, casting around for ideas. “We need to find out more about what happened the first time.”
“That knowledge was lost centuries ago. We only know what the Order passed down by word of mouth,” my father says.
“Not necessarily,” Meredith interjects slowly. “The town museum has archives, doesn’t it? Records dating back to the 1600s? I remember them mentioning it when I did a tour there once. Maybe they have something from when the Horseman first appeared.”
My father and I both look at Meredith. I can’t believe he hasn’t asked for her help before now. Typical.
“Well, it’s a long shot,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Let’s go.”
We need to get moving, and fast. If we don’t, my father might not be here tomorrow morning.
And Sleepy Hollow will be doomed.