“Then why did you come to find me?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I do not know. There is something about you, Ichabod Crane. Something that draws me to you. And I decided I could not let you die out there, alone in the woods.”
“I am glad you did not,” I said softly, a warmth blooming in my chest at his words. He had risked his own safety to protect me, even after I had raised a tirade against him. “I am ready to believe you now.”
The Horseman let out an unexpected chuckle at that. “Seeing is believing. I suppose I can hardly fault you for being skeptical. You seem like a man of logic and sense.”
I snorted. “Apparently not enough sense to not run alone into the woods in the middle of winter.”
“You were stressed,” the Horseman soothed.
“I said some terrible things to you,” I admitted.
“You did,” the Horseman replied but said nothing more.
After another minute of silence, I cautiously rose to my feet, unsure if my ankle would take my weight, but with the help of the railing, I was able to step off the dais to stand in front of him. I found myself wondering if I was being rude by addressing his head only, from where it sat on his lap, which seemed a rather ridiculous thing to be considering, and hesitantly offered him my hand to shake. “I offer my sincerest apologies for the cruel things I said. I am grateful that you came to save me. Again.”
The Horseman took my proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. “Consider it forgotten.”
I hesitated, then gestured to the pew. “May I sit with you?”
In an instant, he had scooted over to give me room so we still had a respectable distance between us, his body turned slightly to face mine, and I did the same as I sat. “I am feeling more myself today.”
“The curse was no doubt working upon your heightened emotions to try to drive you into the witch’s path.”
I shuddered, recalling the monstrous, stone form of Brom leaping onto me and the swirl of black mist as Katrina had alighted from the sky, transforming from a giant bat. “I am of more sound judgement now, I hope.”
“I hope as well,” the Horseman said, sounding like he might be trying to hide a smile.
I frowned slightly as I studied him. “Were you injured?”
“No,” the Horseman said. “I am unharmed. Concern yourself not with me.” He seemed to sense my hesitancy, because he said, “You may ask whatever you wish, and I shall answer.”
I flushed at that and cleared my throat. “Oh. Well… I assume that you are… not amongst the living.”
“Correct,” the Horseman replied.
“But yet your person is… whole,” I said, with a vague gesture to his body. “Un… blemished.”
“I am a spirit,” the Horseman said. “I am given this corporeal form, but it is not my true human body.” I did not find this entirely unexpected, though I was surprised at how solid he felt for being a spirit rather than flesh and blood.
“Can you not reattach your head in your spirit form?” I asked.
“No,” the Horseman said. He lifted his head up with his hands, and my relief was almost immediate as he set it to the empty space above his shoulders. And suddenly the being was a whole man. Long, black hair was tied back from a face that was pale, with an aquiline nose beneath mahogany-colored eyes and thick brows. It was a handsome face, I realized now, unsure why I had not seen it before, though I suspected that a head disembodied from its frame was likely not going to seem attractive no matter the circumstance. “I know approaching you with head in place would have been more prudent, but if I do not hold it, it will tumble, and I suspect that would be more frightful than simply appearing as I am.”
That image was both absurd and disturbing. “I expect you are right,” I said. At least with his head currently in its correct placement, I had a much better idea of the man I was speaking to. “Though that does not seem like a comfortable position to maintain.”
He shook his head, while still holding it in place, and it was so odd to see that I nearly burst out laughing. But it felt like that would be impolite, so I only let out a single soft exhalation of fearful mirth. The thin lips curled into a smile that was not unkind, perhaps even a bit sheepish. I could see when he smiled that his right front tooth was just a bit crooked.
It seemed a rather cruel irony that the man was brought back as a spirit with his head still not attached to him after death, but I supposed that was less cruel than reviving his desecrated body from whatever place it currently resided. “How long have you been… not alive?” I asked. The question seemed rude, but of course, it was not as if I had experience making small talk with undead creatures.
“It has been a number of years,” the Horseman said thoughtfully.
I swallowed hard, noticing the awkwardness of his position. “Please, do not hold your head up on my account.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes,” I said.
