Page 1 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
1
The rider has absolutely, positively, and unequivocally no head
BELLE
When youknowchanting that old spell from your grandmother’s antique book is a terrible idea—but you’re Belladonna, a girl who lives for pumpkin spice, Halloween, tragic Gothic romances, and a little thrilling chaos.
What could go wrong?
I toss the end of my red scarf over my shoulder. A gift from Mimi. She passed a year ago. September is hard. But October? It blusters in with promises of renewal, harvest, and the dark, eerie aesthetics that come with living in a small town on the edge of the Appalachian Mountains.
Twirling on my brown vintage leather boots, I trigger a little whirlwind of fresh autumn leaves and the delightful crackle of acorns.
Nine years of building my wardrobe from frumpy to fabulous—after a childhood trapped in itchy, boring dresses, skirts, and turtlenecks to avoid “tempting” the boys. Now, I dress for me. A lovely palette of autumn cottage-core, romantic boho, dark academia, ruffly chic, and all the cozy wool pieces I’ve hand-knit.
Basic or not, my fashion comes with a “look but don’t touch.” And if the boys have temptation issues, they should take it up with Jesus, who had some choice advice about cutting off offending appendages.
After fiddling with my necklace of citrine, moonstone, and rose quartz, I clutch the open book, mouthing the words of the haggard pages.
Fall brings visitors, sure, but after I close the bookshop that doubles as my vintage, witchy emporium, the twilight hours are mine to hike the familiar paths around my home…and read by book clip light.
I take a deep breath, ready to chant. October 1st is the perfect night. And if I summon something haunted, I’ve got sage, salt, and garlic in my pockets. Mimi’s black tourmaline ring and my obsidian-amethyst bracelet should help, too.
“By night’s embrace and shadow’s thrall…” I open in my melodic voice, “I conjure thee, come heed my call.
From hauntedgrounds and graves unmarked,
Let the Horseman now embark.
Rise from death, through mist and mire,
Bound to me by ancient blood and fire.”
Hmm…
I look around, pursing my lips, eyeing the thick foliage around me.
What did I expect? Some tingling chill to sweep up my spine? A sudden cold gust rustling the trees to crack their branches? A mournful gull’s call?
With mischief in my veins, I go for broke and use my ring to cut the tip of my finger and weep a few drops of my blood upon the pages. Why not?
Pressing the wound till the blood stems, I tuck a few of my long mahogany red curls behind my ear, secure my sunshine yellow beret, and shrug. Oh, well…it’s getting darker. Guess I should get home anyway.
I take the long way. These woods are mine. I’ve walked these paths for nine years. Even if I were to get lost, I know how to survive in the forest. Of course, I’ve thought of exploring more. Maybe find some mystic hollow with a ring of mushrooms, or a haunted cemetery, or maybe an abandoned, Gothic mansion. But Mimi raised me to have a good head on my shoulders. She said she didn’t need to fret over my too-big heart. She simply nurtured it after it was neglected for far too long. It aches for her every day.
As I make my way down the trail winding back to the bookshop, a slow, strange fog curls through the trees like it has a mind of its own. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, praying to the heavens. My breath leaves in short gasps—less from fear and more like a dark, ominous thrill.
It’s like I’ve completely forgotten that I have a heart syncope!
The ground beneath me trembles, and then I hear it: a deep, rhythmic pounding that grows louder. Hoof beats.
My heart picks up like it’s timing to the hooves, wondering if it will drive itself to a telltale-like madness.
As the hooves get closer with a sudden gust of wind tearing across my back, I clutch the crystals at my throat and slowlyturn?—
—and choke on terror and awe.
Out of the fog, a massive, shadowy stallion appears, a rider upon its back. He looks like he’s stepped right out of a Gothic novel—clad in a vintage steampunk three-piece suit, complete with a black leather jacket that screamsdark, mysterious, and maybe a little bit deadly. Like a more modern version of Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights.
