Page 56 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
I laugh softly because I can imagine her like that as a girl. It makes perfect sense that my grandmother was a bold and defiant little girl, stepping beyond the life she’d known.
“What happened then?”
“We became fast friends,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Everychance we got, we’d meet in those woods, always at the same old oak tree on my family’s property. We’d play for hours, pretending to be queens of a hidden kingdom or witches brewing potions. We even buried a little box there, filled with our greatest treasures—some pebbles, a broken locket, a feather we swore was from a magical bird. I reckon the box is still there, somewhere beneath those roots.”
My heart swells with the image, a pang of longing and wonderment mixing in my chest. “I never knew she had a friend outside the Covenant…”
Her smile falters, her eyes lost in a distant memory. “She wasn’t supposed to. The rules were strict—cult folk weren’t meant to mix with us ‘outsiders.’ But Lizzy was different. She was hungry to learn, to live. My family…well, we were the kind of folks who lived off the land and knew every herb and root in those woods. My mama and her mama before her taught me the secrets of the forest—the plants that could heal, the ones that could harm. I taught Mimi all I knew. She soaked it up like sunlight, and it wasn’t long before she could name every leaf and berry just as well as I could.”
My lips part in awe, knowing my grandmother’s midwife history in the cult. Throat tightening, I ask, “That is why she was so good with herbs and remedies. It was you…?”
“Yes,” she says, straightening in her chair, pride evident in her voice. “That’s why she became the midwife she was—helping all those women, even when others turned their backs, believing some were beyond saving. She was a healer, through and through. But when she reached marrying age, everything changed. It was a novelty, but your grandfather was a good man. She loved him fiercely, you know? And between her own children and those babies she brought into the world—they became her life. For a long time, she was lost to me.”
“But then her husband passed…” I utter softly, hardly noticing my steeping tea.
“Yes. And once the children were grown, she found her way back to me. We picked up where we left off, just two old girls laughing in the woods again. I was a widow by then as well. Andwhen she had this idea for a bookshop…” Her lips tug into a knowing smile as she appraises me. “I may have helped her take out a loan. She poured her heart into this place. Made it a refuge for all the misfits, the wanderers, and those looking for a bit of magic in the everyday.”
Tears rise in my throat, burning my eyes. “You helped her start Belladonna’s?”
“I did.” Mrs. Cassie reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Because that’s what friends do. And before she passed, she made me promise I’d look after you, Belle.”
I lower my head, studying her hand in mine, inhaling the scent of her—rosemary oil with hints of sage. That’s when I notice the familiar herb nestled alongside the chrysanthemum in her bun. “Why didn’t she ever tell me?” My voice cracks with my emotion.
“I asked her not to. It was…for both our sakes. And yours. I can’t go into all my reasons, but your grandmother asked me on her deathbed to watch over you, Belle.”
“And the book?” I circle back.
“It’s a book that has been in my family for four generations, handed down from grandmother to mother to daughter. What you have, dear Belle, is the original. I recently lent it to Lizzy. Your grandmother made her medical notes in the copy, which is buried in our little treasure box. But I was hoping to bury both and unite them again…” she hints, her shoulders lifting.
My pulse thuds when I remember how I dripped that blood right onto the summoning spell page. And Mrs. Kravitson is intelligent and cunning enough to put two and two together when it comes to the “mysterious stranger with a knit pumpkin head”. Regardless of her promise to Mimi, since she likely knows of the criminal act, would she be duty-bound to tell the Council that I am harboring a vigilante? Or worse, she would be so protective and concerned for me, she could tell Jack to stay away or expose him.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Kravitson,” I straighten in my seat, folding my fingers, “now that I know about the book’s history, I would love the opportunity to study itmore.” I hold my breath, knowing I could replace the page. I have all the tools for it.
She tilts her head, scrutinizing me before nodding her consent, and relief fills my lungs with oxygen again. “Of course, sweet Belle. And rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure you do not fall into the hands of the Covenant again. And if that pesky sheriff comes back to confront you, or that sorry asshole for an ex-husband, call me. I will inform the Council immediately. And I have a proper pistol for said situations.”
She cursed?
Oh, it can’t be helped. I get up. She draws her brows low in suspicion over her intelligent eyes. In seconds, I’ve closed the distance between us and thrown my arms around her neck.
“Bless my soul, child!” she exclaims, but I hear the affection in her voice. With a soft laugh, she strokes the back of my hair. “Now, now, don’t you go about fussing. You truly have your grandmother’s spirit.”
She stands with me, and I shrug, squeezing my shoulders. “I’ve always wanted to be as bold and strong as her, but my heart isn’t up to the task, which is why I’ve trained my mind so much more.”
“Belladonna Holloway…” Mrs. Kravitson says sternly while cupping my shoulders. “Your heart is stronger than you believe. It may have scars, but it beats with a courage your grandmother always saw in you. Strength isn’t just about muscle or bone, child—it’s about how you keep going, even when the world tells you to stop.”
A shiver courses up my spine at the thought of Thaddeus coming here. Mrs. Kravitson’s words wrap around my wounded heart like a protective blanket. “But what if it’s not enough?”
“That’s why I’m here.” She smiles at me, the lines around her eyes softening. “To remind you that you never have to carry the weight alone. You have roots now, just like the ones Mimi planted, ones you have nurtured. You will not wither if the storm comes, our dear Belle. Your roots will strengthen you when the time comes. Trust in that.”
I may not know quite what she means, but my heart is bursting. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
Mrs. Kravitson’s eyes glisten for the first time I’ve known her. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s been my pleasure.” She tucks a few curls behind my ear. “Your grandmother would be so proud of you. And I’m proud to keep my promise to her—because you’re as fierce and wonderful as she ever was.”
Once Mrs. Kravitson departs, I rush back to the kitchen in a fluster, hopeful that Jack and I can figure out what to do about the book together. I’m eager to see what he thinks of the conversation.
But when I swing the door open, fear slams my heart against my rib cage. He’s gone. Where did he go? Bolting for the stairs, I hurry up to my bedroom, praying he is there. I can picture him waiting in the darkness with his riding crop, ready to lower my body on the bed, gather my skirts up, and turn my ass red.
As soon as I see the note left on my pillow with a pink rose, I practically lunge for it, unfolding it. My eyes race over the words.
