Page 92 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
Let it be said that I love you, Belladonna Moore, with all that I am. My long-lost heart. And my soul.
I love you, my Jackass.
Bound, in life, in love, in death. Always here. And nothing can tear us apart.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER - OCTOBER 1st
BELLE
The sun is setting, casting the shop in that perfect amber light just before dusk. It’s my favorite time of day. I will see his head soon. It’s a blessing in the curse. When we make love, and he comes to life at night…I canseehim.
I smile at how the twilight brushes the walls until they seem glowing and alive. In a way, it’s true. Mimi said there was magic in Belladonna’s Bookshop. Hardly any damage was done to the front of the shop last year…as if she sucked away the fire before it could hurt her precious books. My precious books.
Turning to my right, I smile at the new knitted jack-o-lantern my Headless Horseman wears as he leans down to scratch Mortimer’s cheek. There’s magic in that cat, too. We owe him a lot.
Jack and I have been cleaning the shop for about an hour. As usual, it’s spotless…my perfect haven and gem of the town.
As I move behind the counter and look up at the glass display case housing myWuthering Heights, I laugh softly at how Jack rescued it during the fire. And yet, I meant the Summoning book. Even then, when the stakes were highest, he still thought of me and what I love first.
After a few weeks of healing from Thaddeus’s circle brand, I went to a tattoo shop as soon as I could. Jack stayed at my side at night with his head intact, of course, while the tattoo artist turned the circle into a pumpkin head mirroring my knitted ones. I now wear it proudly on my shoulder.
The small chest next toWuthering Heightscatches my eye. Mimi’s chest. After the restoration of the bookshop, I placed the chest on the shelf next to my beloved Brontë classic. It’s battered and weathered, but vintage like everything else here. An ache invades my chest at the sight of it. A bittersweet ache because of its history.
Feeling nostalgic, I take the chest down from the shelf, place it on the counter, and slowly open it, reminiscing. There is my grandmother’s lace shawl, letters to her husband, her pieces of the past. But beneath the lace shawl, my fingers collide with a package I don’t remember. Curious, I reach inside. It’s wrapped in simplebrown paper, tied with twine. There’s a note sitting on top, written in that unmistakable, looping script.
Mrs. Kravitson.
My heart skips a beat, but my throat also tightens with sorrow and gratitude. She’s gone now—passed not long after the Covenant was raided and broken apart. They shut it down. Like her days of protecting me were done, and with the curse broken in a way, she knew she could leave this world with peace. And reunite with Mimi in the spirit world. I imagine they must have turned into young girls again, running through the woods and sharing treasures.
Sometimes, I imagine she will waltz into the shop with her flowery peasant skirt sweeping along the floor and her maternal but authoritative voice calling out to me. I smile wistfully, remembering her as she was, strong and resolute.
Another memory fills my thoughts. I close my eyes for a moment, and I’m back there—on the manor grounds, twilight falling all around us. That sacred day….
The wind is cool, and the lanterns are flickering as Mrs. Kravitson joins my hand with Jack’s. I’m in my grandmother’s white dress, clad in the divine, feminine history. But all I feel is him. Jack, standing beside me, headless and yet more alive than ever.
We said our vows that day, bound ourselves together in ways no curse could sever. Then, Jack tied me to a tree, took his riding crop to every sensitive place on my body, and fucked me until his head returned.
The memory fades as I feel Jack’s presence behind me. He’s silent, but I know he’s there—always. His arms slip around my waist, his chest pressing into my back, solid and warm. I smile as I lean into him, assured of our bond. I tear open the package carefully, hands trembling with anticipation.
And then, I gasp. “Jack…”
He reaches around me and touches the book with reverent fingers as they trace the delicate leather. It’s the Summoning book. Theoriginalone. My mind spins as I hold it, feeling the worn leather beneath my fingertips. Emotion gets stuck in my throat, knotting there.
“I thought…Thaddeus burned this.”
He must’ve burned the copy,Jack says, his voice rumbling through me like it always does, like it’s part of me.But this…this is the original.
I flip through the pages, heart pounding as my fingers find the one—the Summoning spell. The page is stained with my blood, a reminder of that day, that moment when everything changed. I trace the dried scarlet marks, my mind racing, and I can’t help but shiver.
Jack’s arms tighten around me, his voice low and full of that deep affection I know so well.
You never need to summon me again, Belle. I am here. I will always be here. If I had a thousand lifetimes with my head and no curse, I would trade them all for the one I have with you now. My world. My heart.
I close the book and hold it to my chest, leaning into him, feeling the truth of his words wash over me. He’s right. We’ve been through hell and back, and in this moment, I know—nothing can break us. No curse. No spell. Nothing.
“My heart,” I whisper, resting in the certainty of him. Of us. I clutch the book a little tighter, knowing that whatever the future holds, Jack is here. And he always will be.
After I place the book in the chest and return it to its place, Jack fucks me on the counter before making love to me all night long until I become Jackson Elias Moore, and he becomes Belladonna Claire Moore.
Forever together.
