“Katrina…” he starts.
“There has to be another way,” I insist, “something we haven’t thought of yet.”
He sighs, pushing his chair back, wood scraping on stone. “It’s not that simple.” He stands and paces to the fireplace. “I told you last night.” He risks a glance at Meredith, but she looks the other way. “The original binding, the one that trapped him centuries ago, it required sacrifice — blood sacrifice.”
“Well, I am sorry for stopping you from killing Ichabod,” I snap sarcastically, my temper flaring.
He grips the mantle so hard that his knuckles turn white. Meredith flinches.
“Surely you agree that enough people have died? We need to stop the Horseman, but I’m not killing anyone else to do it.” I cross my arms defiantly.
“You think I haven’t tried? We all tried. The society was founded for this very purpose, Katrina, to keep the Horsemanbound. And look what happened. We lost control. He’s picked us off one by one…”
“You said it yourself, you exist to keep him bound. But you never had to bind him!” I cry. “It’s only been done once, so how do we know for certain that’s the only way?”
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. The antique clock on the wall counts the silence.
Finally, he lets out a long exhale. “The only way to truly stop him is to break the curse completely. Not just to bind him, but to banish him.”
“Okay, how?” I frown.
He rubs his temples. “I don’t know. No one does.” He sounds truly defeated.
Exasperation burns within me. “Why are you so ready to give up?” I yell. “We just need more information —”
“There’s no time.” He interrupts me. “The Horseman will come for me tonight. And when he does…”
This time, I cut him off. “We won’t let him.”
He shakes his head, almost to himself. “You’re so much like your mother.”
The words take me by surprise. The hole that had slowly started to close in my chest rips open again.
“She would have fought too?” I ask, but I’m not sure it’s a question.
His expression is unreadable, but he nods.
“Okay, so we just need a plan,” I start, casting around for ideas. “We need to find out more about what happened the first time.”
“That knowledge was lost centuries ago. We only know what the Order passed down by word of mouth,” my father says.
“Not necessarily,” Meredith interjects slowly. “The town museum has archives, doesn’t it? Records dating back to the 1600s? I remember them mentioning it when I did a tour thereonce. Maybe they have something from when the Horseman first appeared.”
My father and I both look at Meredith. I can’t believe he hasn’t asked for her help before now.Typical.
“Well, it’s a long shot,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Let’s go.”
We need to get moving, and fast. If we don’t, my father might not be here tomorrow morning.
And Sleepy Hollow will be doomed.
23
The Sleepy Hollow Historical Museum appears before us, its stone façade weathered by time.
We move quickly, our footsteps echoing against the empty pavement. I texted Ichabod as we left the house, and he met us halfway. He walks beside me now, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. The atmosphere in our group is tense, but the two men have agreed to be civil, at least until we banish the Horseman. Meredith follows close behind us, glancing over her shoulder every so often, as if she expects the Horseman to come charging out of the midday mist.
