Page 5 of Hollowed

Myheart pounded asIstarted to run once more, barely stopping whenIreached the covered porch of the manor.Ipushed open the door and slammed it shut behind me in a single breath.Pantingagainst the door,Igave myself one heartbeat, two heartbeats, to catch my breath.

Icouldn’t risk staying here.Mymother would find me and question whyIwas out so long after my workday ended, and whyIreturned home out of breath, sweaty, and drenched in fear.Ididn’t have the energy to deal with it right now, soIforced my feet to move, climbing the stairs to my room.

Onceinside my room,Ilocked the door and slid to the floor.Itook a deep breath and thought about the day, combing through every detail in my mind and searching for answers, for anythingIcould have missed that might have explained this.

Mymagic was unique in that it didn’t need a spoken spell or incantations to activate.Itresponded solely to my will, or at least it was supposed to.Buttoday, it hadn’t respondedat alluntilIchabodhad grabbed me.Usually, my fear, anger, or sadness would set it off, but todayIhad been frozen in fear and not so much as an ember had escaped.

Movingto dress for bed,Istepped past the window and froze at the touch of icy fingers wrapping around my throat.Fogsurrounded the edges of the garden down below, forming around what looked like a person.Thephantom fingers squeezed tighter, cutting off my air as the room spun slightly and the figure blurred.Myfeet froze against the floor.Icouldn’t quite make out the features, butIknew in my soul that the figure in the fog was looking right at me.

Abreeze blew through the trees, shaking the branches as the figure vanished.Thehand around my throat disappeared, andIslumped forward, rocking the breath back into me.

Dressingquickly,Iclimbed into bed, leaving the candle on my desk lit asIpulled the quilt tightly around me.Turningto roll on my hearing ear, so that only the wild thumping of my heart filled my head,Isqueezed my eyes closed and tried to sleep.

Ifyou don’t look at them, they won’t notice you.Irepeated this, over and over and over, never daring to open my eyes until sleep claimed me.

Three

Itwas raining outside, the heavy drops hitting against the glass with a sharp tapping before sliding down the windowpane like tears.Myeyes tracked over the trees through the dining room window, searching for the figure that had been watching me last night, searching for anything unusual.

“Katrina,” my father said from his place across the breakfast table, rapping his knuckles on the wood.Reluctantly,Ipulled my attention away from the rain outside, allowing my gaze to linger a second longer before turning to meet my father’s.Hesighed deeply, no doubt irritated by having to wait for my attention. “Thetown is in danger.”

Ifroze.Didhe know?Washe talking about what was in the forest?Studyinghis face,Itried to figure out what he meant, but without more information,Icouldn’t know.Accordingto my parents,SleepyHollowwas constantly in danger.

Myfather likely expected a reaction showing my immediate concern, but without knowing what danger he spoke of,Icouldn’t bring myself to give any reaction.

Icouldn’t fake a reaction this morning as the sleepless night lay heavily across my eyelids.Chewingon my lip,IknewIhad to give him some response, though, orI’dregret it once my mother joined us.

“Indanger from what?”Iasked, feigning interest with a tilt of the head and a widening of my eyes.Droppingmy hand from my necklace,Ileaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table to move this conversation along.Ineeded to leave theVanTasselmanor and return to my kiln atHenry’s.Butpretending would only work for so long.Eventually, both my parents would see through my apathy, like always.

“Mundanes, of course,” he replied, turning up his nose in the air as if the word smelled foul to him.Ifinally exhaled, the air pushing out of my lungs as the words settled over me.PerhapsIshould have predicted his answer, given that my parents continually blamed all our hardships on the humans surrounding our town.Hewasn’t speaking of the forest, but rather of the usual argument they often made against humans. “Thebarrier seems to get weaker with each passing year, and if we do not act soon, we fear the town will be exposed to the human world.Thatwill surely bring our ruin.”

Itried not to roll my eyes at his words, thoughIadmittedly didn’t try very hard.Myparents were dramatic about most things, though this was their favorite topic.Thehumans surrounding us had nothing to do with the supposed challenges the town faced, especially givenSleepyHollowwas far better off than the surrounding human towns.Yet, it was a continual discussion—a blame placed on those around us rather than taking responsibility for their own mistakes.

Asmall sigh escaped my lips.Now, there was an actual threat, something in the forest, but he only focused on the humans and the natural barrier of magic that had been here long before my mother foundedSleepyHollow. “Father, you and mother say this every year.Nothinghas ever happened.Thebarrier is safe.Thetown is safe.TheDullahanand the veil protect us.”

Acup slammed down beside me on the wooden table.Flinchingat the sudden vibration against my hands resting on the table,Ijerked my hands back, butIwas too slow to avoid the steaming liquid that sloshed over the side of the dainty teacup and sprayed onto my skin.Theburn stung, butIdidn’t dare let it show.

Ilooked up at my mother’s face.Despiteher skin being as smooth as the porcelain of the cup by her hand, her expression twisted with rage, painted on like the twisting vines that decorated the teacup she’d nearly shattered.Herlip curled as she snarled at me, stooping to bring her mouth closer to my hearing ear. “KatrinaVanTassel, donotspeak to your father like that.”

Mycheeks burned hotter than the tea could ever hope to, andIducked my head, my shoulders hunching asIslid down into my chair to avoid my mother’s wrath.Rollingmy eyes had been a foolish move, but allIcould do now was apologize and hope she moved on from my indiscretions as quickly as possible.Icleared my throat, my eyes still fixed on the table in front of me. “Yes,Mother.Iapologize.”

Abeat of silence passed, and dread crawled up my spine with each passing tick of the clock in the corner.Therewas no way of telling if my words would appease my mother or anger her further.GiventhatI’dalready angered her yesterday morning by asking her to repeat herself at breakfast,Iwasn’t hopefulI’dmake it out of this encounter unscathed.

“Thistown is the only sanctuary our kind has left.Ifthe barrier falls, humans will expose paranormals and hunt us down like they did to the witches inSalema century ago,” she snapped.Shestraightened and exhaled, adjusting her hair and smoothing her hands down over her pristine apron as if that would take away the violence that whirled around her like a cloak of death and anger. “Onlythose chosen asRoghnaithecan keep us safe and keep the barrier alive.TheDullahanrequires a sacrifice to continue protecting the town.Itis anhonorto be given to him.”

“Whowill be chosen asRoghnaithethis year?”Iasked beforeIcould stop myself, my stomach churning in anticipation of who they would sacrifice to theDullahan—theHeadlessHorseman—this year.Whichunfortunate soul would my mother turn loose in the woods to wait for theHorsemanto whisper their name and lead them to their death?Toooften, it had been someone important to the town, and too often, it was someoneIknew.

Accordingto my parents, it was the only way to appease the gods who determined our fates, and the only way to protectSleepyHollow—and the supernaturals who lived here—from the mundane world.Itwas a heinous practice and one that should have never begun, but in the decades following the war of independence, staying protected had been the town leaders’ only concern.

Andso began the deplorable practice of condemning a random citizen to death at the hands of theDullahanonce a year, and it had remained unchanged for the last century.

Overone hundred people dead.Sacrificedin the name of protection.

Ifroze in my chair as a realization tingled down my spine.Thestories said theDullahanwhispered the name of those he killed.HadtheDullahanbeen the one to whisper my name in the forest?HowwasIstill alive?Mybreathing quickened, andIdug my nails into my palms to ground myself and keep my fire from erupting as it warmed my chest.

Mothersnapped her fingers at me, but beforeIcould react, she grabbed a fistful of my curls and pulled my gaze up to her once more.Mystomach lurched when her long fingers curled into the strands and tugged sharply.Itried not to wince, forIknew showing her pain would only spur her on.Thedread that coiled in my spine snaked up, wrapping around my throat asIrealized the gravity of my situation.Onlymy father made an effort to ensureIwas looking at him when he spoke.Mymother much preferred to speak and then berate me for not hearing her.

Thatshe’d ensured my focus was entirely on her now… the words that followed could not be good.Shepushed my head away, releasing my hair as she wiped her hands on her dress.Isat up, fighting back the tears from the pain radiating through my scalp.Ipulled my hands into my lap and took fistfuls of my dress, twisting the heavy fabric asIwaited for her to speak.

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