Chapter sixteen
When Katrina appeared at his cabin to return his pumpkin, a sense of unease clenched the Horseman’s stomach. Her conversation about the witch had stirred a deep-seated dread he could not explain, but she raced up to him like an excited hummingbird.
“Do you think your name is Willem?” she asked, breathless. “Willem Van den Broek?”
He stepped back, stunned by her blunt greeting. A wave of emotions—the despair he felt seeing the woman at the café—crashed over him.
His heart lurched at the name as if beating a resounding yes to claim it. Yet he shied away, fear clenching inside him. A shadow of doubt made him hesitate.
What if the name was wrong despite the way his soul sang at the sound? Perhaps his nerves ate through his core because of the question festering in his mind: Could he handle the truth?
Yet Katrina stood before him, her eyes shining bright and expectant. She’d spent all this time trying to help him find his identity, and when the answers lay bare before him, he faltered.
His voice refused to work, but after several moments, he forced out an answer. “Perhaps.”
Katrina handed him the pumpkin and clapped. He was unsure why she’d be delighted at his noncommittal answer.
“I’m almost certain it is,” she said, beaming up at him.
“How can we be sure?”
She reached into her skirt pockets and retrieved a small tin compact with a mirror inside. Opening it, she turned it toward him, and a sharp inhale froze in his chest.
A silver, gleaming outline of a face materialized above his neck.
His pulse roared under his skin, and he was torn between wanting to draw closer and running away.
He could almost make out the shape of a nose and eyes staring back at him.
The face was like a stranger, and his mind refused to accept the image, even if something deep inside him whispered it was his own.
As if pulled by a supernatural force, he raised a hand to touch the face in the mirror, but as soon as his fingers brushed against the outline, the face disappeared in a shimmer of dust.
A tremor ran through him as he stared into the small mirror. Darkness hovered over his neck—only the monster remained.
Katrina frowned. “But… I thought for certain I’d discovered the answer. You’ve drawn pictures of the town even though you said you’ve never been before.”
He turned to the drawings she mentioned.
Some were half-drawn because his memory had failed him, but he spied a drawing of the market he’d seen today.
He hadn’t known what had possessed him to draw these shops and stalls other than the strange desire to capture the fleeting images before they disappeared.
For years, he wondered where these places could be and what they could mean, but little did he know they were in Sleepy Hollow all along.
“It might still be true,” he said, even when his stomach clenched with fear.
She put a finger to her mouth in thought. “You felt the most emotion being at the café, correct? You led me to that place. Do you not recognize Charlotte Van den Broek? Would you not be able to recognize your own mother?”
The question struck an invisible wound he didn’t know he had.
Would he be unable to remember someone as important as his mother if she stood before him?
If Charlotte Van den Broek was family, why wouldn’t the floodgates open and the memories pour from his soul?
Why would he be left feeling nothing but anguish?
“I did feel a connection to her,” he admitted. “I felt as if I recognized her.”
A smile bloomed on her lips, and her eyes rounded in delight. “See, there it is! I believe you must be Willem because every time I say the name, your face appears. See?”
Katrina held up the mirror, and the same outline shimmered before his sight.
A nameless emotion welled up inside him, paralyzing him.
All this time, he knew he had a life he had forgotten, but misery wormed into his heart.
He hadn’t considered he’d forgotten people who had loved and missed him—how could he forget them? And how much pain had he caused them?
Katrina’s lips pursed as the image disappeared once again. Her blonde brows pinched. “I thought you would be happier.”
“It’s not that I’m unhappy,” he said. “I’m… afraid of what I’ll find if this is true.”
She put her hand on his arm reassuringly, and a shiver ran through him at her innocent touch. “It’s all right. No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you. You’re not alone.”
As her eyes sparkled up at him, he cherished the sight. Katrina was right: For the first time in a long time, he was not alone.
“However, I think we should find the witch,” she said, removing her hand.
His insides coiled into a knot.
“No,” he said. “A woman lives there, but I’ve dared not cross into her abode.”
She tilted her head, and her voice lowered in a teasing tone. “You, of all people, are afraid to go near her? She must be terrifying indeed.”
“There’s something about her that I cannot explain, something troubling, and I cannot cross the area she has claimed for herself.”
“Then all the more reason why we should investigate her,” Katrina said. “Maybe she is the reason why you are here.”
“That is not worth the risk,” he said firmly. “I cannot cross into her territory. There’s magic that prevents me from crossing. You would have to go alone, and I cannot allow that. Something in my gut warns me she is not worth trifling with.”
For several moments, she considered him with a faint frown. “But I think it’s worth discovering who you are. This could be our only chance.”
Something sparked in his chest at her genuine desire to help him.
“Not if it involves your safety,” he protested. “I wouldn’t be able to carry on in this existence if anything happened to you.”
Color spread over her cheeks, and he wondered what he had said to inspire the lovely shade of pink. Something about the flush of her skin made him want to cradle her face in his hands.
He begrudgingly refrained, but to his surprise, she sought out his hands instead. His breath caught as her brilliant blue eyes peered up at him.
“Please,” she whispered. “We are so close to the truth—I can feel it. Let me do this one thing for you. If anything happens, I’ll run right back.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I cannot in good conscience agree to this.”
Her cool fingers wrapped around his hands, and his heart lurched. Whatever protests and fear he had silenced under her pleading gaze.
For a moment, he wondered if she possessed magic, for he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d bewitched him.
“I understand your concern,” she whispered. “But I want nothing more than to know who you are. I will do anything, even if that means going to the witch without you. So, you may accompany me, or I will go alone.”
The stubborn glint in her eyes told him she would not hesitate. She would find a way to go to the witch’s abode without him, whether he liked it or not. At long last, he sighed.
“All right,” he said, “let us seek out the witch together.”