Page 15 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
This time I protest, “I don’t know how.”
“The book,” he asserts . “There are all manner of spells bound in its pages. You will find and complete the appropriate spell needed to give me a visible form. Third, you will perform the same spell once more to give Horace a natural body as well.”
“ Horace?”
“My horse.”
The horse stomps its feet, releasing a huff of annoyance. Horace the horse. A bit ridiculous of a name for a demon’s pet. I would have expected something ferocious-sounding. Bloodletter or Night Terror. Horace feels somewhat human and gives me a glimpse of the stallion he may have been before darkness stripped him of his braided mane and fuzzy muzzle.
I mull over my options. I’m not interested in having my blood drained for him to drink or my body butchered for him as payment.If there were some other way. Something else I could offer.
He cuts off my thoughts before I can speak them. “All three requests are non-negotiable.”
Chapter Seven
The Horseman
What shining star sits before me, illuminating my world of hell with her strange light? She’s beautiful. Without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her hair falls down to her hips in waves as yellow as the ripest ear of summer corn and as shiny as a meadow of ribbon grass beneath the midday sun. Wide, fretful eyes that are a mix of honeyed brown and spring green have me mesmerized. The need to move closer, to discover the exact ratio of green to brown as her pupils blow wide, has me toeing my boots to the edge of the summoning circle. Her beauty slices like a sword through the veil of darkness that has trapped me for so many years. Awe spills from between my ribs like a spool of poetic wonder that wraps me up and has me near weeping amongst the fallen leaves.
A womanly figure with lush curves and velvety-looking skin begs for my touch. The imprints of my hands along her hips and neck are the missing pieces to her near perfection.
Naked. This dove, this starry mortal with the voice of a nightingale, kneels bare before me. Magic seeps from her pores, the essence pure and bright. She’s not yet been tainted by corruption or greed.
I wonder, is this her first spell? First intentional spell, maybe. Magic has a habit of finding its way out. Even if she did not know she was gifted, she’s likely released her powers a few times. At twenty years or more, it’s unlikely those abilities remained hidden her whole life. Now that she’s performed such a spell as the one required to summon me, there’s no going back to pretending.
The still-weeping gash on her palm makes me desire her all the more.
I’vebeen deprived of human contact for longer than I know. Time loses all meaning whenyou’relocked in a dark box without sun nor moon. The isolation, the scent of putrefaction on the air, the endless screaming. It would have driven me mad but for Horace by my side. He does not deserve to suffer my fate, though I’m glad to have him with me.
The woman has not responded since I laid out my terms. Her golden hair falls over the front of her body as she shifts forward on her knees, shielding most of her form from my sight. She has her bottom lip worried between her teeth.
“What is your name, nightingale?”
She sighs, eyes sparkling. “I’m Emeline.”
Emeline. How desperate I must be to feel such rapturous delight as the word bounces through my thoughts. I can already hear myself screaming it to the heavens as she rides my cock beneath the All Hallow’s moon. The veil is thin, I can feel it. Samhain must be close.
“Do you agree to my terms, Emeline?”
A blush spreads across her cheeks when I say her name. I nearly rip off my gloves just to press my fingers against that heated pink flesh.
“You will help me? If I give you those three things, you will help to banish Itrimort, punish those who have helped him, and rescue the women of Sleepy Hollow?”
“Indeed. That is the agreement. For my help tonight, I desire only to taste you.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m afraid you will forget yourself and devour me. Leave me in the woods disfigured and bloodless.”
I chuckle, and she frowns. What exactly does she think I have planned? I am no vampire thirsting for blood. No undead thing seeking to stuff my mouth with bits of muscle and fat.
“Just a taste. I assure you.”
She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “How will you taste me with no mouth to do so?”
I cluck my tongue. “What leads you to believe I have no mouth?”
She looks at the book, then back to me, uncertainty filtering through her hazel eyes. “No tongue or teeth. No head.” She swallows. I track the movement. ”You’re headless.”
I grin. She can’t see it of course. “Do you or do you not agree to grant me a taste in exchange for my help tonight?”
