Chapter 32
Istand in the grand entrance hall, cold and quiet.
It feels strange to have walked through the front doors this time, knowing my father never will again.
He spent so much of his life at work here, even when I was young — early mornings, late evenings, some weekends.
He spent his life within these walls. And yet, I had never been here until just a few days ago, when everything I thought I knew about him changed.
I can imagine him sweeping through this vast space, striding down the corridors, preparing to lecture on his latest research. He’ll never walk these corridors again.
Ichabod hangs back, sensing the weight of my thoughts, or perhaps he’s lost in his own, of the last time he was here. Neither of us speak for a moment.
I’m startled by the front door opening behind us. I spin around, and Ichabod steps protectively in front of me. But of course, the Horseman wouldn’t use the door handle. I sigh with relief as Brom steps into view.
“I see you’re waiting for me to get this search party started,” he laughs, just slightly out of breath.
“Thank god you’re okay,” I say, stepping forward and giving him a quick hug.
Ichabod claps him on the back. “Impressive. How did you manage to outrun him?”
“I was on the cross-country team at school, I’ll have you know.” Brom peers out the door, checking he really hasn’t been followed, and then closes it firmly. “Anyway, I risked my neck out there and you two haven’t even started looking yet! Let’s get a move on.”
I nod. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if the bones are here, they’ll be in my father’s office. That’s where we should start.”
“Okay, if you say so. Lead the way,” Brom says.
I turn to Ichabod. He realises my hesitation.
“This way,” he points to the staircase on the right. “Second floor.”
At least we don’t have to walk through the destruction on the ground floor again. I’m not sure I could bear to see the spot where Ichabod was almost sacrificed. Or the place where the police chief was killed.
We begin to climb. I trail my fingers along the smooth banister, trying not to think about how many times my father would have climbed these stairs.
The second floor is one long corridor, lined with doors.
Each bears a brass plaque, and a different professor’s name glints in the dim light thrown by the half-moon wall sconces.
Ichabod leads us to the headmaster’s office right at the end of the hall.
There’s my father’s name, engraved in elegant script.
“Are you sure about this?” Ichabod could be asking many questions wrapped up in just one.
I hesitate. Entering his office at home was one thing, but this?
We need to find those bones, but they’re hardly going to be sitting in a display case on the side.
Who knows what else we might unearth as we dig?
Taking a steadying breath, I push open the doors.
I suppress a laugh. This office is almost identical to the one back at home, bookcases lining the walls, the large mahogany desk. The air is filled with the scent of large leather-bound books. Typical Philip Van Tassel.
Ichabod gives my shoulder a squeeze as he steps past me and heads towards the desk.
Brom moves towards the bookcases. I linger near the doorway, looking at the gallery of certificates my father has hung on the wall.
So much knowledge. So much that I’ll never learn from him. I swallow a lump in my throat.
Focus.
“Uh, look for anything that could, I don’t know… disguise a hiding place?” I say unhelpfully. This is the most bizarre scavenger hunt I’ve ever taken part in.
Brom is pulling out books, flicking through the pages and replacing them again, while Ichabod rummages through the desk drawers.
I’d better get stuck in too. I step further into the room, scanning the walls, the shelves, the cabinets.
I try to put myself in my father’s frame of mind.
Where would he have hidden something so important?
We work silently as the minutes tick by, and I’m acutely aware that the Horseman could appear at any point. Every sound the old building makes has me pausing, straining to hear more.
“There’s a false panel over here,” Ichabod says, his voice low but filled with excitement.
He’s on his hands and knees, leaning into the fireplace behind the desk.
There’s a soft click. Brom and I immediately cross the room to join him, and I crouch down to get a better look.
Ichabod sits back on his heels and points with a soot-covered hand to the side of the fireplace, near the back.
Whatever he’s done, a small opening has appeared.
We all look at each other, the tension palpable.
“Are they really in there?” I breathe.
“Only one way to find out.” Ichabod leans forward again, reaching into the fireplace and the small hatch. Slowly, he pulls out a wooden crate, about the size of a large jewellery box. It’s dark, with simple iron hinges but no other markings.
Ichabod places the box in my upturned hands, and a shiver runs down my spine. This is it.
With a glance up at them both, I steel myself and then lift the lid — just a little at first, and an old, dusty smell hits my nose. I open it fully and there, nestled inside dark velvet, lies a collection of aged and brittle-looking bones.
“Holy shit,” Brom bursts out. “That’s actually them. You found them.” He reaches down and pats Ichabod’s shoulder, who then hides his flinch.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the remains in the wooden box, my throat tight.
A wave of emotion crashes over me as I hold them in my hands.
These bones belonged to a man from centuries ago, a soldier who fought bravely, who loved my relative Katrina so deeply that he vowed to run away with her and start a new life.
A man who was violently executed, was cursed to become the Headless Horseman, and who terrorised the town of Sleepy Hollow.
If I’m right, he’s spent all that time waiting, searching for the woman and child he lost.
“What now?” Brom breaks through my thoughts.
I close the lid softly and get to my feet. “We lay them to rest with Katrina.”
Ichabod also stands, using the desk for support. “Back to the cemetery, then?”
I shake my head. “She won’t be there. She’ll be in the family mausoleum, back at Van Tassel Manor. It’s on the edge of the grounds.” I realise at some point, we’ll need to add a plot for my father, but best not to think about that right now.
“Back to the manor it is.” Ichabod nods.
“We’d better move fast,” Brom adds. “The Horseman knows we’re out here. I doubt he’s going to just let us stroll leisurely over there.”
“Keep your guard up, look out for any movement, and be ready to run,” Ichabod says.
The wooden box in my hands feels heavy, figuratively and literally, and I clutch it to my chest like a lifeline. Van Tassel Manor is all the way across town from here, but if we succeed, we could end this nightmare once and for all.
With one last glance around my father’s office, I turn toward the door. “Let’s go.”
As the headmaster’s office door closes gently behind us, I can feel Brom’s eyes on me.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you really think this is going to work?”
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brom.
“I don’t know,” I admit, tightening my grip on the box. “It’s more of a hunch, but it feels right. Like it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
We reach the staircase and make our way back down. I glance nervously over the banister, but everything is how we left it, quiet and still.
Brom goes ahead, but Ichabod takes my hand and gently pulls me around to look at him.
“If the Horseman comes, take that box and run. Don’t look back,” he says, looking down at me from the step above.
“But what if you’re the one he’s aiming for?”
“Then you’ll be the last thing I see.”
Once again, the realisation of what’s at stake, who is at stake, thrums behind my sternum.
Without another word, we cross the entrance hall and push through the front doors. It can only be mid-afternoon, but it already feels like night has fallen while we were inside the university. I pause, taking in my surroundings, but there’s no movement, no sign of the Horseman. Yet.
A crow caws, making me jump.
“Let’s not stick around,” Brom mutters, also scanning the darkness. “The faster we get to the mansion, the better.”
The doors to the university slam shut behind us, the echo reverberating across the empty lawn. My breath puffs out in front of me, ragged even though I haven’t started moving yet.
We make our way down the long gravel drive, and we’re only about halfway before we hear it.
There’s the sharp strike of hooves on stone, as if the Horseman has been waiting for us to emerge.
Despite myself, I stop dead in my tracks, heart hammering against my ribs.
Brom curses under his breath and Ichabod moves closer to me, his body tense.
“We need to move. We’re too exposed here,” Ichabod urges, placing a hand in the small of my back.
We can’t see the Horseman yet, but the menacing rhythm grows louder.
Calmly, with no sudden movements, we continue to the large gates and peer out into the darkness. We can hear him, but we can’t see him.
The gates creak as Ichabod opens them just enough for us all to slip through.
We pause for just one more moment, and then he gestures. “Let’s move.”
We break into a run.
From the dark shadows, the black stallion appears, nostrils flaring, hooves striking the ground with deadly purpose. Atop the beast sits the Headless Horseman, rigid, heavy sword already in hand.
He knows what we have.
Fuck.
We sprint for home.
With a savage yank on the reins, the Horseman rears his steed and turns him towards us, surging forward with terrifying speed.
The box is awkward to hold, its edges digging into my palms, but I clutch it even more tightly. I can’t let it fall.
“He’s gaining on us,” Brom shouts.
We’ve reached town, and we veer sharply down an alleyway, barely dodging the sword as the Horseman swings in a deadly arc.
The blade hits a lamppost, and I hear the horrible clash of metal on metal.
We don’t stop. Turning another corner, we burst out into the open street.
But the clatter of hooves announces the Horseman just before he appears, blocking our way.
“How are we going to get past him?” I shout.
Ichabod grabs my elbow, and we double back, down the alley we just came from. I can hear the Horseman bearing down on us. We’re out onto another main street, but our opponent is faster.
We all dive in opposite directions as he brings the sword swinging down again.
The box tumbles from my grasp as I hit the floor and roll. I stagger to my feet and see Brom snatch it up as he rights himself.
The wind howls and the stallion rears once more. I back up against the closest wall. Trapped. The demonic horse is staring me down. The Horseman tightens his grip on the reins, raising his sword. I freeze. My legs refuse to move no matter how hard I will them to.
The horse stalks towards me, crossing the short distance with menacingly slow, taunting steps. I can’t tear my eyes away. I feel the fear of everyone who has stood in this spot before me, certain death advancing, glinting in the Horseman’s sword.
Ichabod cries out, and before I can react, he throws himself at the horse, slamming into its great head with everything he has. The horse staggers, throwing its head and stamping. It’s been knocked off course, and the Horseman grapples to right it.
“Go!” Ichabod shouts to me.
I hesitate. I can’t just leave him. The horse retaliates, striking him with a flick of its head, sending him crashing to the stone floor.
“Now!” he yells.
“Hey, over here!” Brom shouts from the other side of the street, holding the wooden box high in the air with both hands. “I take it you’re after this?” he goads the Horseman.
“Brom, what are you doing?” I cry.
But as the Horseman changes course and begins advancing on Brom, he pulls one arm back, holding the box and tossing it like an American football. It sails towards me. I unfreeze and leap forward, receiving it with bent arms.
“Go!” Brom repeats.
“We’ll hold him off. Get to the manor!” Ichabod shouts, staggering to his feet.
Panic flares in my chest. I can’t leave both of them here. If something happens to either, to both, I’ll never forgive myself. But we need to reach the mausoleum and end this. It only takes one of us, and they’re giving me a chance to get away.
I make my decision. Hugging the box tightly, I turn and run in the direction of Van Tassel Manor.
I’ve only made it around one corner when I hear Ichabod’s cry pierce the air, closely followed by a pained grunt from Brom. My breath catches. I’m still torn, but my feet carry me forward. Away from Ichabod and Brom, away from the Horseman. I have to finish this.
Tears blur my vision as I bolt forward, legs burning, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I can’t stop. I can’t go back.
It’s my job to end this, even if it means losing everyone I love.