But my eyes are fixed on the scene unfolding in front of me.
The figure moves with unnatural fluidity, dark and looming atop his black steed. But neither horse nor rider are completely solid. Focussing on them is difficult, as I can see straight through them to the other side of the square. Their parts swirl and shimmer in the air as they move.
The horse picks up speed, hooves clattering against the cobblestones as they charge toward the mayor. The stirrups clink as the rider urges his horse forward. A sword glimmers in the ghostly gloved hand, held high, ready to come slicing down.
I open my mouth to scream a warning, but it all happens too fast.
The mayor turns but isn’t quick enough. He barely has time to let out a strangled cry before the blade flashes. The sword swings in a clean arc. I can’t look away.
His body stands for a fraction of a second before his head topples to the ground with a dull, sickeningthud.Blood paints the cobblestones in a violent spray. The rest of him sways on the spot before finally crumpling to the ground.
My blood runs cold, and my legs turn to jelly beneath me, Ichabod still holding me up.
The horse stops sharply beside the body, the rider twists in the saddle and I imagine he is looking down at the fallen mayor. The massive steed rears up, before slamming its hooves back onto the ground.
Ichabod gives me a small shove. “Run.”
He yanks me forward, and we sprint through the narrow streets, our feet pounding against the stones. My chest burns, fear clawing its way through my ribs, but all I can think about is getting away. I don’t look back. I don’t want to see if that thing is chasing after us.
The Horseman.
We don’t stop running until the shape of Van Tassel Manor emerges in the distance, its spires cutting into the night sky like jagged teeth. Ichabod all but drags me up the front steps, stopping in front of the giant oak doors.
He grasps my shoulders, turning me towards him. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, struggling to catch my breath. “That... What the fuck was that? It can’t have been…”
“Kat, this what I’ve been trying to tell you.” His voice is firm, steady despite the fear still shining in his eyes. “The Horseman is real.”
“No.” I stumble back and grip the cast iron door handle as if that will anchor me to reality. “No, it’s not possible.” I don’t want to believe it. I can’t. Ghosts aren’t real. Magic doesn’t exist. I shake my head violently.
But I saw it.
A second time.
And the image is burned into my mind. The shadowy figure, the sword slicing through the air, the mayor’s lifeless body collapsing to the ground.
“You saw him,” Ichabod says gently, mirroring my own train of thought.
I sink down with my back against the wide oak door until I’m crouching on the floor and put my head in my hands. “This can’t be happening,” I groan.
Ichabod brushes a hand down my arm, his touch grounding me. “I’m sorry, Kat. But it is real.”
I look up at him, searching his face for reassurance, for some kind of answer. “But why? Why is he here? What do we do?” I can hear the hysteria bubbling in my own words.
He straightens and looks back in the direction we’d come. “I don’t know.”
A shiver runs through me, but before I can say any more, Ichabod leans down, helps me to stand and presses a slow, lingering kiss against my lips. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine for a moment, his breath warm against my skin.
“You should get inside where it’s safe,” he whispers. “Lock the doors.”
I nod, my hands shaking as I reach for the door handle again. “Okay, yes, inside,” I stammer. I reach for his hand. “Stay, just for the night.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, you said yourself your father doesn’t like me.”
“You can’t go back out there on your own,” I protest.
I know my father would kill me if he found Ichabod in the house, but the thought of him going back out into the night alone makes my stomach twist in fear. Now that I know what’s really out there.
