Page 28 of Midnight Companion
“I love you too,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze back. And then he nudged the steed over the final steps onto the path.
Nothing came for us. No monster swooped down from the sky or burst from the bushes. The wind did not even change. It was just us and Daredevil, trotting through the woods, as peaceful as if we were out for a romantic evening ride. Reiter turned the horse into the trees, and we followed the stream north through the foliage until we reached the border of Sleepy Hollow. We then turned west, toward the Hudson and the Van Tassel estate, silent as shadows amongst the trees. I could feel my strength waning the closer we got to the house, and I imagined I looked quite the sight, with sunken eyes and cheeks. I probably looked more corpse-like than Reiter himself. Hopefully my awful appearance would spook the townsfolk even more upon my arrival.
We had laid out our plan in advance, though we knew it nearly all depended on chance and luck. Reiter would go to the room below the root cellar to grab his skull, which, we hoped, would give him the power to strike at Katrina. Meanwhile, I would enter the party, with all of the village present, and tell them what the Van Tassels had been doing to them. With luck on our side, the townsfolk would be outraged and turn on Katrina and Baltus, and Reiter could strike them both down, perhaps in full view of the town so they would realize he was not their enemy.
It was not an elaborate plan, nor even a great one. If it all was to succeed, we would need a miracle from Heaven above for us both to come out unscathed. I was sure that at least one of us would not live to see the dawn. That made my heart grow even heavier in my chest as we drew near to the Van Tassel farm, where light glowed from every window, and laughter and music hid the evil that lurked within.
We halted at the edge of the trees, and Reiter jumped down before helping me off of Daredevil. He lifted his head from the pommel and held it out to me so I could take it in my hands. The kiss we shared tasted of salt tears.
“Be strong, sweet one,” Reiter said, cupping my cheek in his gloved hand.
“I will, my Horseman,” I said, wrapping one arm around him while holding his head with the other. I did not want to let go, to have him whisked away from me forever. I wanted to stand there in the moonlight for all eternity, under the creaking trees of Sleepy Hollow.
“I will come for you,” he promised, his voice low and even more ragged than usual.
“I know,” I said, pressing my forehead to his. “I love you, Reiter.”
“I love you, Ichabod Crane,” he said. We shared a last kiss before I surrendered Reiter’s head back to him. He swung up onto Daredevil’s back and snapped the reins, and then he and his ink-black steed melted like shadows into the trees once more.
The back door of the house to the kitchen was open so the servants could easily go to the well and probably to let the cool evening breeze into the stifling room. I crossed the flat land from the forest to the doorway quickly, feeling Reiter’s eyes on me the entire time. I reached the door, took a deep breath, and then stepped inside the kitchen as if I owned it.
It took a moment for someone to notice me in the busy space, but one of the maids looked up from where she was wiping clean some of the silver utensils. She screamed, and the forks fell to the floor with a clatter. The next moment, everyone in the kitchen turned to look at me. A few shouted, one fainted, a few made hasty warding gestures, as if I was a spirit from the grave. I ignored them all, striding through the kitchen and into the large living area where the majority of the guests were gathered.
The band was playing, some of the villagers dancing by the firelight as others stood around and talked. It looked as festive as it had last year, though now I could see it for the death celebration that it was. Those closest to where I entered stopped their conversations. Someone screamed, and within seconds, the entire room had gone silent, every set of eyes trained on me.
I knew the importance of not running. If I left the safety of the eyes of the townsfolk, Katrina and Brom could transform into their beastly creatures and easily take me down. As long as the villagers were there, Katrina would hopefully not be able to use magic against me. Visibly, at least, I reminded myself. Of course, we were dealing with an unknown force, and I was taking a massive gamble.
My skin crawled and itched with the weight of dozens of gazes, but I forced myself to pretend I was entirely alone, crossing over to the table and picking up one of the sweet cakes there, taking a bite, as if my presence were entirely welcome. I glanced around and spotted Katrina across the room, standing with a group of young women and children. Brom was by the fireplace, a cup of ale in his hand, and Baltus was sitting in a chair in the corner, a pipe forgotten in his hand and curling long whisps of smoke into the air.
Madam Von Brussett stepped forward. “Master Crane!” she gasped, and she sounded less than pleased to see me. “We thought the Horseman had killed you!”
“Oh no, I am very much alive, thank you!” I said, giving a gracious bow toward her.
I watched Katrina and Brom exchange glances across the room at each other, and I knew what was about to come, steeling myself to hold my ground and speak before either of them could. “I do have quite the tale to tell. Of curses, and horsemen, and witches,” I said, saying the last word directly to Katrina, whose smile didn’t falter for an instant. The firelight flickered over her hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks, making her appear more wraith-like than human.
Brom suddenly stepped forward, giving me a harsh glare. “We’ll have none of your fairy stories here, Ichabod Crane! The Horseman was supposed to take you for his blood sacrifice so the town would thrive. Because of you, Sleepy Hollow is struggling.”
I glowered back at him. “The Horseman is not the one who controls the prosperity of the town,” I said, making sure my voice was loud enough for everyone to hear, as if addressing a room full of misbehaving children. “He is simply the scapegoat for the one who does.” I turned to look at her. “The dark witch, Katrina Van Tassel.”
A muffled murmur ran through the crowd, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Katrina just gazed back at me. “That is quite the accusation against my daughter, Master Crane,” said Baltus suddenly from the corner, rising from his chair. “What proof do you have that Katrina is a witch?”
All eyes were on me again, and I felt like I had swallowed a sharp bone that had lodged itself in my throat. “The Horseman told me,” I replied firmly. “I have seen her magic for myself.”
“Oh, have you?” Baltus said, stepping forward a few paces. He spread his arms wide to encompass the room. “I see no Horseman here now. I see only a troubled, young outsider, standing amidst us, accusing my daughter of a most heinous crime. Give us some evidence, good sir, or be exposed for the consummate liar that you are.”
“Do you not think it strange, that no one in this town has ever died, except by the Horseman’s hand?” I asked. “That the years pass, but Annabelle never grows in her adult teeth, or that Dirk never gets any taller? That your skin does not wrinkle, your bodies do not age, you do not fall ill? That no new babies are born? Everything remains the same, including you.”
A few glances were exchanged amongst the partygoers before Ezra Brouwer suddenly turned to me. “Let’s say ye be tellin’ the truth, Master Crane. Why should that concern us? We live here, we’re safe and healthy, we never die. Isn’t that what anyone should want?”
My guts clenched inside of me at the murmured assent that seemed to go around the room. “She is killing people to do it,” I protested.
“Outsiders,” someone commented.
“But when there are no outsiders, she has killed your family, your friends, your children! Someone must die each year.” I looked around desperately at the villagers. “You all are under the thumb of the Van Tassels. They do not care about you. You are but sheep for slaughter!”
“The Horseman killed them,” Brom said firmly. “He chooses who lives and who dies.”
“Katrina chooses,” I shot back. “She is the one who curses the victims and kills them. Cursed me. She and Brom chased me through the woods last Halloween to try to murder me. The Horseman saved me.”
