Page 12 of Headless Over You
I press my forehead of sorts to hers, wishing desperately that I could kiss her.
One day.
One day.
One day.
EIGHT
Iris
The achebetween my legs burns with the memory of everything the Headless Horseman did to me last night. I’d never been fucked with such brutality. He told me in not so many words to go to the church, and I rack my brain over how I’m going to search it.
Part of me wants to go to the Van Tassel estate, too. But Kurt will not stand for that and will probably hinder my cause. I wish that he would just listen to me about Brom. Whatever has been passed down through his family is lies, but I worry he isn’t willing to see the truth.
I decide to start at the church, but this time I don’t wait for nightfall.
It’s Sunday,and the town is out in full force as they attend morning service. I dress in my best dress and cardigan that I happened to pack with me for a nice occasion. It would be scandalous in the most modest eyes with the way it hugs my curves, but it’s a passable length by many standards. Hopefully attending service will ease some of the locals' distrust of me.
The bells toll eight times, signaling everyone to move inside, and I walk down the sidewalk behind the crowd that is funneling into the grounds. The hallowed grounds that Brom can’t enter. Whatever lies here is important, but will I know when I see it? Will it be in plain sight? Is this a waste? I shake the thought from my head and put my trust in Brom.
“Iris,” Kurt cuts through my rambling thoughts, and I stop walking just in time before I physically run into him again. When I look up, he has a stern face on, and over his shoulder I see his parents walking hand in hand from the other direction.
“Kurt, pleasure to see you.”
“I want to say the same, Iris, but I don’t think you’d fault me for being wary of your presence.” He’s right. I don’t fault him for distrusting me, especially after I damaged it at his parents’ house the day before.
“You have a right to be upset with me, Kurt. But I ask that you think over hearing me out. I have an explanation for everything if you find yourself willing, or even just curious.” I don’t need him willing to change his mind from the get-go, but curiosity opens a lot of doors that would otherwise remain locked.
“If it’s about the Headless Horseman?—”
“Iris!” Karen’s voice piques with excitement. “I wasn’t aware you’d be attending service today.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve had an interest in the church’s history since I first got here and figured there was no better time than now to immerse myself in it.” Kurt gives ahumphto my explanation, and it takes a lot to ignore him.
“Well, please come sit with us.”
“Mom,” Kurt tries to derail her invitation, but she has none of that as she takes me by the arm and starts walking me forward. I look back to Kurt, who is falling into step with his father. They’re wearing matching looks as they gaze upon me. No doubt, Mr.Van Tassel is not a fan of mine despite the act he puts on for his wife.
If Karen knows of his displeasure with me, she doesn’t show it. She instead delivers the history of the church in brief snippets—when it was founded, the renovations it’s undertaken, and even letting me know that the stained-glass panes are from the original church that was here during Sleepy Hollow’s founding.
It makes sense that a puritanical town would erect a church first and foremost.
We walk up the steps and into the gathering room as we file into line to find our way to the pews. The church smells old and damp. I’ve never been the religious sort, not when so many magnificent tales of magic and otherworldly life abound. That’s what drew me into folklore, and it’s what inspires many of my fiction novels. There’s more to life than sitting in a pew. You just have to seek it out in the extraordinary.
Church service isuneventful and boring, as nothing stands out to me in the pulpit. But I imagine they wouldn’t want to display anything of the Headless Horseman in such a public manner.
Part of the sermon leans toward casting out demons and banishing devils before a tirade is given about Brom as he plagues the town. They mention the passing of a community member and my ears perk up. The preacher, Kurt’s father, is talking about how he was cruelly hunted down and beheaded by the Horseman, but that isn’t what happened. I can’t exactly stand up and defend Brom without making it known that I was there and thus potentially making me a suspect or an accomplice. So instead, I look to Kurt. He looks back at me with a warning. He knows this is all fabricated lies, too. He gives me a subtle shake of his head.
I clench my jaw and face forward. This is bullshit and it burns me up inside.
Service concludes and people leave. There are rooms just beyond the pulpit that beckon me to explore them, but I can’t, not with so many witnesses and after such a hatefully charged sermon. I want to hope for better from the townspeople, but as they’re actively fed lies in such a manner, it’s dwindling.
NINE
Iris
Night has fallen,and while part of me longs to meet with Brom, another part knows that I must set out to do right by him instead. The bells chime and they send an eerie shiver down my spine. I’m sure what I’m about to do is sacrilege, but I can’t think about that. There’s been injustice for centuries. All over love. The heart can’t help who it wants, and no love is deserving of such a punishment as death.
