Page 71 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
How can he be so calm?
SAMHAIN DAY
BELLE
Ihand Jack another pumpkin head with a proud smile.
Since he seems to wear them out so quickly, I’m knitting more every day.
Tonight, we will go on a lantern walk to honor the spirits of nature. Last night, we carved pumpkins together by candlelight before I introduced him toThe Nightmare Before Christmas, and he got a good chuckle over my initial laughter at his name.
Our pumpkins sit on the bookshop’s front display. I’m still dumbfounded by how his is so much better than mine despite how dark it was. He reminded me how good he is with a knife. He proved it when he used that knife to slice off all my clothes and fucked me on that counter between our pumpkins.
Jack also helped me with an organic altar near the graves of his family. He put stumps together, and I placed a framed picture of Mimi in the center with a few apples, mini pumpkins, and a cameo necklace from her jewelry box. Jack left similar offerings. A few tokens from his wife and children. I baked Samhain bread to feed any visiting spirits, and I couldn’t resist adding a few slices of pumpkin bread. We lit a candle, and I said a prayer to every spirit, begging them to let us find his heart.
I closed the shop multiple times over the past week so we could look more. We even searched the grounds that once belonged to the Diviner. The house was nothing but a crumbling foundation of stones.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid, terrified. I’ve felt Jack’s unease, too. We’ve swapped it back and forth. I’d let him hunt me for eternity if it meant we could stay like this. If he goes back, if we can’t speak to each other anymore, I don’t know how I’ll survive the year.
I’ve fantasized more than once about sharing the holiday season with him, baking gingerbread cookies, taking chilly strolls through the winter woods, and sharing hot cocoa before the fireplace in the room where he first fucked me. I’d readA Christmas Carol to him. AndKidnapped by the Krampus, of course…maybe see if I can change pumpkin spice to eggnog. Then, Jack will wrap me in twinkle lights.
Will we still be able to touch one another? Communicatewith the thumbs up and thumbs down? Will he even be able to hear me?
All the thoughts stir unease to pulse through me, making me more fidgety.
I drop a book for the third time in a few minutes while trying to put it back on the shelf.
Jack tilts his pumpkin head slightly, and I feel his softening but protective energy through our bond.
He picks up the book and touches the back of my hand from where I stand on the stepladder. Heat floods my face at the memory of the stepladder…and his cane.Belle.Lifting his hand, he captures my chin. Firm but also gentle and comforting. My nerves are fried. How can he be so calm?
Because I have faith,he says, his voice low but steady. I should be used to him reading my thoughts by now.We will find my heart. It’s no coincidence, Belle. You summoned me on October 1st by the magic in your blood and soul, he reminds me. You belong to me, and I to you. Always.
The warmth of his words competes with the cold dread gnawing at my insides. But the warmth ultimately wins. There’s still so much uncertainty, and the fear of losing him forever feels like needles pushing into my spine.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Maybe we should look at the book again,” I say, trying to distract my mind. “Maybe there’s something we missed.”
Jack nods, his thumb brushing my chin one last time before he moves back to let me descend the ladder. I love how he touches my waist as I step down, as if he knows how much I need him to be my anchor. He may not see it now, but I chose a Halloween-print dress with a black, lace-up corset bodice with a skirt of subtle glowing Jack-O-Lanterns. Stockings and practical ankle boots as usual.
A voice in the back corner of my mind preys on me with the daggered question. What if these moments are the last time he touches me?
Shaking off the thoughts, I head to the bedroom upstairs, my steps quicker as if I can outrun the weight pressingdown on my chest. My fingers fumble with the leather-bound book on the nightstand, which we’ve been poring over for weeks. It’s old, worn with time, and filled with cryptic symbols, spells, and fragmented notes, but I can’t help but feel we’ve missed something.
When I come back down, Jack is already in the back room, waiting. I follow him. One of my seasonal assistants will watch the shop along with Mrs. Kravitson, who keeps vigil, on the alert for any Covenant movement. She’s become a fixture ever since our last encounter. The Council is a breath away, as she’s said.
The low hum of customers browsing fills the air, but we’re far enough away, so it feels like a separate world here. Safe. For now.
I set the book on the table, flipping it open to the beginning. My hands tremble, and I force myself to breathe evenly. I press my lips to a tight seam, reading over the Summoning page again, the one stained with my blood.
Jack traces the spine, following the outline with his thumb and index finger.
Belle,he summons me, tapping the inside of the hard portion of the book.The binding—it’s thicker than the rest.
My breath catches in my chest. “How did we not notice this before?”
He leans over, inspecting the edge of the pages with his fingers. Without hesitation, he reaches into his coat and pulls out his knife.Perhaps I needed to be deprived of one of my senses. When my head is gone, I rely on touch far more. The difference is minute and thin. Let’s see what’s hiding.
I nod, considering how he’s examined every inch of this book with his head intact. I watch as he carefully traces the rectangular outline at the beginning of the book with the tip of the blade, his movements precise, the steady hand of someone who’s done this a thousand times. The leather binding peels away, revealing an envelope tucked inside. I tear it open in a hurry, gasping at a possible miracle.
