I cast a look around at the two other men. “Who iswe?”
“We don’t have a name. But we’re part of a society formed in the early 1800s, sworn to spend our lives protecting Sleepy Hollow and to keep the Horseman at bay.”
I don’t know what to think. “And you’re all in on this?” I ask the police chief incredulously.
He clasps his hands in front of him and nods. “Every leader in this town has been since our founding. We’re what’s left.” He glances at my father, who is clearly the head of this operation. “There were others,” he finishes solemnly.
My head is spinning. “So, what’s this? Why the sacrifice? What about the town murders?”
My father sighs. “The Horseman must have a sacrifice. Every year, a sacrifice is made to appease him. A life is given so that he remains bound. It’s the only way.”
I feel dizzy. The air in the room feels too thick and there’s a sickly, cloying scent coming from the burning candles. I swallow heavily.
“So every year, you kill someone and then just… cover it up?”
“No, no, you misunderstand.” My father raises his hands. “Yes, we believe it took a human sacrifice to bind the Horseman in the first place. But over time, we came to realise how barbaric a practice it was. By the mid-1900s we — well, actually your great-grandfather — had implemented animal sacrifice instead. That was enough to keep the Horseman bound.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right then,” I mutter darkly.
“It’s a necessary evil,” the priest interjects. “Until this year, when everything went wrong.”
I’m afraid to ask, and thankfully, the police chief picks up the story. He shifts on his feet. “The doctor was one of our Order. We didn’t think he would ever… But he was reckless.”
The doctor was part of this?I’m starting to see where this is going.
My father’s expression darkens. “He tried to raise the Horseman to do his bidding.”
Ichabod moves uncomfortably at my feet, and from the corner of my eye I see him attempting to loosen the ties around his ankles. He’s working quietly, trying not to draw attention.
The priest nods grimly. “We don’t know what he was thinking, just that he wanted to use the Horseman’s power. He thought he could control him.”
“He miscalculated.” My father looks away. “And he was the first to die.”
“The Horseman killed him,” I say. It’s not a question, but my father nods.
“And once the Horseman had broken free, there was no controlling him, nothing we could do. He has been killing members of our Order, one by one.”
The doctor, then the lawyer. The mayor. They were all members of this secret society. All hunted down by the Horseman. It’s starting to make sense.
“And now the veil between our worlds is breaking down,” the priest continues. “The more he kills, the more powerful he becomes. At first, only those he hunted, those of us in the Order could see him. But now as he slaughters us, he becomes corporeal. More real.” He folds his wrinkled hands together in prayer at the centre of his chest.
Ichabod has freed his ankles and now kneels beside me, looking too exhausted to stand.
“We’ve tried to contain the panic,” the police chief says. “In the beginning, we thought it best if everyone believed it was an accident, whilst we tried to get the Horseman back under control. But now, the town is changing…”
I think back. The morning I arrived had been clear and crisp, a perfect autumn day. But quite quickly, it had grown darker, the mist had settled in, the town had taken on an eerie atmosphere.
A realisation hits me.
“But then you tried to pin it all on Ichabod! And what, you thought by sacrificing him, you could get the Horseman back in his cage?”
The three men exchange an uncomfortable look, but it’s the priest that answers.
“The Horseman was first bound by human blood. The animal sacrifices were enough to hold him, but we believe that only another human sacrifice can bind him once more.”
I stare at my father. “Why did you choose Ichabod?” I’m shouting again. “You knew that we…” But I trail off, unable to put into words what we are, especially in front of Ichabod himself, my father and his two cult members.
My father’s expression hardens. “I had to think of the town, and of you.”
