Page 26 of Hollowed

“Tellme,”Idemanded, leaning forward.

“IfItell you, you would be agreeing to help.Itwould mean you have to stay inSleepyHollow.”

“Forever?Orjust until we have dealt with the fog?”Inarrowed my eyes.

StayinginSleepyHollowwas not an option, but ifIcould at least know what the threat was,Icould get word toHenryandCiaraand, at the very least, get them to safety.Perhapsthis would push them to leave with me.Wecould all leave theHollowbehind.

TheDullahancontinued to look at me.

“Tellme.”

Heleaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Iwill not waste my breath on explanations to someone who will not stay to help.Ihave answered all your questions and then some.Ihave told you about the reality behind yourHollow.Now, will you save it and the people who live here, or will you leave and save only yourself?Thatis the question you must answer now.”

Iblinked at him. “Thatis…”

“Quitea bit to digest,Iknow.”

“Youmake me sound selfish for wanting to leave this place,”Isaid, my heart splintering. “Ihave known only pain here.”

“Onlypain?” he asked, a frown pulling at his lips.

“Mostlypain,”Imurmured.

TheDullahanstood from the table and picked up his gloves, tucking them into the pocket of his coat. “Youcan stay and fight for the town and all of its residents, orIcan send you on your way to another haven where you will be free fromSleepyHollowlike you wished.”Hepaused. “Justknow that there will likely be noSleepyHollowfor you to return to.”

Mystomach clenched.Therewas too much to think about, too many conflicting emotions warring in my chest.Thethought ofHenryandCiaraalone would make me stay and fight until my last breath.Butmy mother, my father,Ichabod,Brom, theCiallmhar—did they deserve to live?WhyshouldIhave the right to choose?

Oilyshame curled in the pit in my stomach and my cheeks flushed.Icouldn’t stomach the thought of being the cause ofSleepyHollow’sdestruction, but at the same time,Icouldn’t help but hearHenry’svoice telling me they didn’t deserve my empathy.

“MayIhave some time to consider my options?”Iasked, carefully controlling my voice despite the raging tempest in my soul.

Henodded, motioning toward the room whereI’dchanged clothes. “Ofcourse.Takewhat remains of the night to rest and consider it.Ishall need your answer in the morning, though.Weare running out of time.”

Withnothing left to say, the silence moved in, covering us like a thick blanket.

Helooked at me for another moment before turning to walk toward the door along the far hall across from my own.Pausingat the door with his hand on the knob, he turned back to me. “Ifyou stay out here much longer, please remember whatIsaid earlier about not touching things.”

Theclick of the latch as he closed the door behind him echoed through my chest.Islumped into the chair, suddenly exhausted.Thiswas all too much for one day, and my mind was spinning faster than the potter’s wheelIused at the shop.Rubbingat my temples,Idebated whatIshould do.

Thistown was the only homeIhad ever known, but both my parents and theCiallmharwere so quick to condemn people to death in a needless sacrifice that apparently did nothing.WhyshouldItry to save them?

ThemoreIthought about it, the more my blood boiled.OtherthanCiaraandHenry, no one else inSleepyHollowhad done anything to help me after being namedRoghnaithe.Myonly other almost-friends,IchabodandBrom, had knowingly pushed me over that embankment, sending me plummeting to my death.Eventhinking about them made my fists clench, itching to strike the smug smile fromBrom’sface and see blood pouring fromIchabod’snose.

Theydeserved none of my kindness and none of whatever refuge my powers could supposedly provide.Theydeserved whatever was coming to theHollow.Justas my mother did.

Mymind turned back toCiaraandHenry, who did deserve my kindness.EvenCiara, whose words had stung deeply.Thepractice of theRoghnaithehad upended her life, butIknew that despite it all, she cared for me in her own way, with what remained of her heart.Andthe children and other townspeople inSleepyHollowwere too innocent to know better.Theydeserved my kindness as well.

Isighed heavily and stood, walking into the room theHorsemanhad directed me to.MaybeIshould sleep on the decision.Perhapsrest would make the decision easier.Againstthe far wall was a small bed with a ragged quilt across it.Pullingthe quilt back,Iclimbed into the bed.

Thesilence was overwhelming, andIfelt lonely once more.Tearsburned at my throat asIturned to lie on my left side, my hearing ear pressed against the pillow to block out the world with the thumping of my heartbeat.Isqueezed my eyes shut, ignoring the tear that streaked down my temple and into my hairline.Therewas no place for weakness in theHorseman’shome.Iwould not give him any reason to thinkI’dbe better off dead.

Twelve

Thenext morning,Isat across the small table from theDullahan, sipping my tea while my stomach was a ball of knots.Iwaited—impatiently—for him to speak as he prepared his tea and breakfast.

“Didyou sleep well?” theHorsemanasked, spreading jam across his bread.

“Idid,”Ireplied quickly, althoughIwas not foolish enough to tell himI’dcried most of the night.Despitehis words the night before,Istill didn’t trust him, and certainly not enough to share my emotions. “Thankyou.”

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