The dark eyes watched me for a moment before it spoke again. “I know my appearance is frightening, and for that, I offer my profound apologies.” The words were so formal, in their slight accent, that it almost made me laugh despite the panic reeling through my body. But I knew if I started to laugh, I would not be able to stop, and I did not need madness to carry me away in this moment. “I promise you again that no harm shall befall you at my hands,” the head said again, its eyes solemn as a prayer.
I swallowed and pushed myself up to a seated position on the ground, though my back remained pressed to the wood behind me. This put me nearly eye-level with the head held at the chest, for the Horseman was still on his knees from tending to me. The head cocked just a bit on its stump of a neck held in its own hands, which almost made me laugh again at the absurdity of the motion.
“I wish you to be comfortable. I will remove the gag if you swear you will not scream.”
I blinked at the statement. Screaming was still an option, trapped in my throat as it was, but the ability to swallow and not feel so vulnerable outweighed it, and I slowly nodded my head. “I will undo it,” the Horseman said, setting the head aside on the ground once more before the hands reached toward my face. I gave a startled gasp, and the hands drew back. “Shall I untie your hands, and you can remove it yourself?”
Somehow, the idea of turning my back on this figure once again was not more reassuring, so I just shook my head and tipped it a bit for better access to the knot behind me. The pale hands moved past me, the chest close to my face. I inhaled, expecting the smell of rot and decay, but there was nothing more than a faint, earthy smell, like newly-turned dirt in a cornfield. The knot loosened, and the gag fell away from my mouth. The urge to scream was renewed, but I forced myself to close my lips around it, swallowing it back with a mouthful of saliva. I licked my lips, and the Horseman pulled back.
“I will get you some water,” the head offered, and I watched in fascinated horror as the body rose from the floor and walked back to the table by the window to pour a cup of water from a pitcher, leaving his head sitting next to the lantern, where it studied me curiously, as I studied it.
I had a thousand questions, unsure which was the most important, so I choked out the first one that I was able to form into a coherent sentence. “Your body can see without your head?”
The Horseman’s head laughed. Genuinely laughed, the sound surprisingly pleasant despite its rasp, the eyes closing in mirth for a moment. “In a manner,” he said. “It is more of a sense of things around me than actual vision, but I have lived here for a very long time.”
“Where is ‘here?’” I asked, licking my lips again.
“The old church,” the Horseman said.
“Am I dead?”
“No,” the Horseman reassured quickly, in a tone that was much gentler than I would have expected. “No, you are not.” Movement caught my eye, and the headless body returned, a goblet in its hand. “I will untie you if you promise not to run,” the head said.
Despite every fiber of my being telling me to throw myself to my feet and dash as if the very devil were after me, I merely nodded and shifted uneasily to present my hands to the figure. Fingers carefully undid the rope that held my wrists together, and the relief in my shoulders as it fell away was immediate. The body drew back, inclining its chest a bit at the goblet at my feet as it scooped up its head once more and sat down on the floor a few arms’ lengths away.
I picked up the goblet with caution. My gaze did not leave the figure as I lifted it to my lips and swallowed the fresh, cool water inside. I drank the entire cup in a few swallows before putting it down by my feet again. And then, we stared at one another, silent as predator watching prey to see who would move first.
The silence stretched on for so long, no sound at all breaking it, that I almost wondered if I had gone deaf, before I finally forced out, “Are you going to kill me now?”
The Horseman stared at me in surprise, as if the question baffled him. “No.”
“Then, why am I here?” I asked, feeling irritation start to rise in my chest.
“I saved you,” the Horseman replied.
“From what?” I asked, feeling like I kept aiming for a bullseye and somehow missing the entire target.
“From her.”
“Her who?”
“The witch.”
These short responses were not helpful to either of us. I let out a long, frustrated sigh through my nose. “What are you talking about?”
The Horseman frowned, then lowered his eyes to stare at the wooden floor under us. “You are not dead. But you are also not entirely alive.”
My chest tightened in further irritation. “Will you please speak plainly? I have no patience for mind games right now.” My words came out sharper than I meant them to, surprising myself. I very rarely was so ungracious. Even moreso, it seemed foolish to rattle my mouth to a supernatural being whom I had every reason to assume was going to cut my head off.
“I am sorry. It has been so long since I have spoken with anyone.” The crestfallen look on his face and the slump of his shoulders seemed to show genuine apology. “Let me start again. A powerful curse has been placed upon you.”
I raised a brow at that. “A curse?” The Horseman’s chin bobbed solemnly. “Who would place a curse on me?” I was nothing but a simple schoolmaster.
“Katrina Van Tassel,” the Horseman said.
My breath left me in a snort of laughter. “What?”
“The Van Tassel family, Baltus and his daughter, are witches.”
