“God (hic!) damn it! (hic!) Where are you (hic!) when I need you (hic!), Jason Crane? (hic!)”
Hadewych dropped onto the cellar steps and brushed dirt from his clothes.
So the Osorio fruit has a Gift as well.
The revelation didn’t surprise him much. He should have guessed, really. The creature had been in a coma last October, and that usually meant a new Founder—a new supernatural bloodline. Hadewych had learned that much at his grandmother’s knee. A new Gift, to pass on to your son.
He broke into tears. Zef would never have the Van Brunt fire Gift, would he? Zef had rejected his Van Brunt side. Zef was a telepath, like his mother. Like Jessica.
Jessica.
Hadewych snarled and unleashed his flame, setting all the boxes afire. He’d botched his chance at killing his ex-wife. He should have done it months ago—had intended to—had lured her to Sleepy Hollow in the first place only to murder her. But oh, she had played him. Seduced him all over again, kept him close, under telepathic control, while she divorced him at last. If only he’d squeezed harder last night, after he’d discovered it all, when his hands had been wrapped around her throat. Just an extra twist, a few more seconds of pressure, an extra jab of his thumbnails to punch a hole in her throat, a pretty little tracheostomy hole like Valerie Maule’s.
Now Jessica had won. Zef had chosen his mother, had run off to save her. And had he succeeded? Yes. Probably.
“Good,” he whispered.
Hadewych puzzled himself. Why “good”? Was he pleased the bitch had lived? Yes. He was actually pleased, somewhere deep, down in some mental sewer he didn’t care to examine. He was pleased that he’d failed last night, just as he was pleased that he’d failed just now. He didn’t want to murder the Osorio boy. He didn’t want to murder anyone. They just kept—making it necessary. Why did they keep doing that? Why did they keep pushing him into actions he didn’t want to take? They left him no choice. What could he do? Allow the Van Brunt line to end? Let that little wetback pervert turn his son into a flaming fairy? Watch Zef and his boyfriend parade down Main Street, swapping spit on a gay pride float? Accept that? No! No good father would.
And could he step aside and pass up the Pyncheon fortune? When he’d worked so hard for it? He deserved to be rich. He’d been poor long enough. Let somebody else be poor. What was wrong with the world? Why did it thwart all his ambitions? Hadn’t he suffered enough? A hundred and twelve million dollars didn’t even begin to balance the scales of his disappointments and dissatisfactions.
The storage boxes had charred and guttered and were throwing embers, like fireflies drifting around the room. Smoke collected like mist on the moors. He blew at it, watched it billow.
It’s not like I’m a bad person.
The smoke irritated his lungs. He pushed the iron door open, but immediately wished he hadn’t. He sat staring at the place where Eliza Merrick had fallen on the night…
… on the night you killed her.
“I’ve never killed anybody,” Hadewych said, chiding himself. He hadn’t. Oh, he had spoken Eliza’s name into the reliquary, sure, but he hadn’t expected that to work. It had been… an experiment, to see what would happen. The old woman might have tripped. He wasn’t there when she fell. Anything could have occurred.
No. He couldn’t convince himself of that. He’d summoned the Horseman, and the Horseman had killed the old woman. But… the Horseman had free will, didn’t he? The ghost had committed plenty of murders on his own. He’d attacked Jason several times despite Hadewych’s strict orders. And if the Horseman had free will, then… then the Horseman should have refused to kill the old woman. It was the ghost’s choice to do it. The Horseman should have said no. And if the Horseman had no choice… well, that was Hadewych’s ancestors’ fault for bewitching the ghost’s severed head and forcing its obedience. Yes. It was Agathe’s fault for bringing the power into the world, for putting the Horseman’s Treasure in Hadewych’s path to tempt him. Really. How could he resist using her reliquary? After all he’d been through in life? How could he not be tempted by that kind of power?
He’d once seen an episode of The Twilight Zone where a man was offered a box with a single button. If he pressed the button he’d be given a million dollars, but a stranger would die somewhere, distant and unseen…
Anyone would push the button, wouldn’t they?
He glanced again at the spot where Eliza had lain. She hadn’t been a stranger. She’d been… No, not a friend. He’d barely known the stupid hag. Hell, she would have been dead in a few years anyway, probably from some debilitating stroke or cancer. He’d saved her from wasting away in a nursing home. He tried not to think of her sunny smile, her easy laugh, or how she’d treated him like a son.
He was blameless! None of it had been for him. His motives were pure. He’d expected no reward. He’d done it for Zef, for his own handsome, intelligent, remarkable boy. Zef deserved that money. He was a Pyncheon too. Was it Hadewych’s fault that three lives had stood in the way of Zef’s just inheritance? The old lady, Jason, and Jessica? Had he created that situation? It was just the luck of the draw, a bad hand they’d all been dealt. It was inheritance law that had dictated his actions. The old lady had to die, then Jessica, then Jason.
It’s just how life works. You do what you have to. You take what you deserve. Or you end up a failure.
I’ve been a failure.
I didn’t like it.
The smoke dissipated. He frowned, recapturing the context of the day. He had so many errands still to perform, despite his exhaustion. If Jessica lived, she might go to the police, though he doubted the Osorio boy would. He’d put a good hard scare into that one. Was Valerie dead, or had he failed there too? So much to consider—wheels within wheels within wheels.
He shouldn’t be here. The house wasn’t safe. People might be coming. He’d have to be clever now. Things stood at the precipice. He might lose everything. But he still might win. He had power. He had the reliquary. The Horseman’s Treasure. The Devil’s Lantern. Hidden in the lighthouse. No one would find it there. The place was boarded up, the windows blacked out. He was trustee of the Crane Foundation. He held the purse strings. He controlled every landmark in town. Yes. The lighthouse was a safe place—far from everything, completely under his control.
This gave him a terrible idea. Yes. He still had a way to win. If he could pull it off.
He listened to the world beyond the cellar, half afraid he’d hear sirens approaching, half hopeful that the police would come, that they’d arrest him before he went any further. Before he did what was next. What was necessary. The work ahead was overwhelming. Complex and… evil. But if evil was required, then he would do evil. For his son. His willingness to do evil for Zef’s sake was incontrovertible proof of his love. He would sacrifice anything for Zef, even his own soul. And Zef would understand that—once these horrors were finally over. Yes. Zef would understand. Hadewych Van Brunt would suffer and struggle and ruin his own life, greet the madhouse or electric chair, knowing it had all been… for love. He was a good father.
A good father provides.
His eye fell on a charred cardboard box near the stairs. He could barely make out the writing on the side: “Baby Clothes and Mementos.” With a cry he fell forward, slapped away the remaining embers, and pulled the box open. The precious album inside had burned to ash—pictures of Zef in middle school, Zef in kindergarten, Zef’s first baseball game, Zef’s first haircut, Zef’s first Christmas. All gone. All burned. All black. The next loss was worse. Zef’s tiny blue jumper lay alongside the album, scorched and tattered, the jumper he’d worn for his very first step. Hadewych lifted the album and jumper and set them aside. Beneath those… still smoking…
No.
This was worst of all. Zef’s little jacket had burned, too. The Davy Crockett-style fringed jacket he’d worn for their only trip to Disneyland, the summer before the factory closed, before Jessica left and their family fell apart. Hadewyc
h lifted it out and held it. He tousled the black-tipped fringe and caressed the smoldering leather. All gone. All lost. Limp and charred, sleeves dangling lifelessly, as if he’d burned away the child inside, had burned his baby boy to ash, leaving behind only this soft and weightless husk…
Hadewych sobbed for a long time, then returned to the album. Only one photo had survived. Hadewych tore it out and held it up to the light: Zef’s first high school dance. Homecoming. Freshman year, when he’d first begun to date Kate Usher.
Look at him.
His son, newly a man, in a borrowed suit and blue tie, with a pretty girl at his side. Grinning as he tied pink roses to her wrist. A perfect vignette of middle class wholesomeness. A boy and his girl. Just as it should be.
And look at his smile. Zef was happy with Kate. He’s not… like that. He never was. Zef’s confused, that all. Zef needs guidance. Zef needs help.
Zef needs his father.
Hadewych wiped his eyes. He reverently folded the fringed jacket and re-boxed everything but the homecoming photo. That he kept. He slipped it into his shirt pocket, just over his heart.
It’ll be okay, Zef. Shh. You’ll see. Daddy’s coming. Daddy’s coming to bring you home. Daddy’s going to find you, and then…
… he’ll straighten everything out.
CHAPTER THREE
“Missing Persons”
“This is (hic!) a nightmare! (hic!)”
Joey hiccupped all the way to Patriots Park, driving on autopilot, mind revving, heart racing. Every few seconds his phone would ring. Zef called, over and over, but Joey couldn’t answer. Zef had a Gift? For sure? Should he tell Zef about himself? What if Zef didn’t have a Gift? What if he cursed Zef too? Should he tell Zef what happened in the cellar? Did Zef know about Hadewych’s Gift? Did Hadewych kill Jason? Or did Jason run away?
Maybe Kate Usher would know. He tried to call her, one-handed, feeling guilty and remembering every no-smartphone-while-driving PSA he’d ever heard.
An unfamiliar male voice answered. “Usher residence.”
“Is Kate there?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Um—” Joey panicked. “What was that? I can’t hear you! CHHHHH!” He hung up. The man on the other end must have hit star-69, because the phone rang. Caller unknown. Then Zef called yet again. Then Joey got a text from his dad:
You’re in big trouble!!!
“Who invented these things?” He threw the phone aside.
Okay. If Kate and Jason weren’t picking up, the only other Gifted person he knew was Valerie Maule. If she was home, which Joey doubted. Last he’d heard, Valerie was boxing up her house, running back to Salem, leaving Sleepy Hollow never to return. But maybe… maybe Jason was at Valerie’s house.
He swung onto College Avenue, skirted the north side of the park and—
Valerie’s house was gone.
In its place stood a house of cards, all clubs and spades, black and charred. Rooflines without support, doors without walls, beams shriveled like used matchsticks. Four metal shutters hung in a row, black eyes battered by smoke and flame, pressed tight as if irritated by the soot. Yellow police tape surrounded the yard, rippling from bush to mailbox to tree.
“What the (hic!) is going on?”
He brought Ladybug to a halt and killed the engine. He rolled the window down and gaped up at the ruin, trying to guess what had occurred. Anything to do with fire was Hadewych’s doing, probably. Had he gone after Valerie? Why would he? They hated each other, sure, but they’d broken up months and months ago. Why would he attack her now when she was leaving anyway?
His phone rang again. He hesitated but picked up. “Hi, Zef.”
Zef’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d been crying. “Thank God! Are you all right?”
Joey bit his lip. Better to learn what Zef knew first. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I had a—bad feeling.”
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital. Phelps Memorial.”
“Why?” Joey’s voice sharpened. “Is Jason okay?”
“Jason? Something happened to Jason?”
Joey relaxed. “He’s missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?”
“Missing. Unable to be found. Why are you at the hospital then?”
“Slow up. Haven’t you checked your messages? My texts?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Zef sounded hurt now, which was annoying.
“Come on. We’re in a weird place.” It was true. Last night Zef had declared his love at the fireworks display and Joey had rejected him for being a closet case.
Zef’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I came out to my dad.”
Joey hesitated, unsure what to say. The sun shone through the windshield, bright as an approaching fireball. “I know.”
“How do you know?”
Joey fished for a lie but gave up. “Hadewych just tried to burn me to death.”
“He what?”
“Yeah. He’s taking it really well, don’t you think?”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m… singed. He thinks I turned you gay or something.”
“Oh, God. I am so sorry.” Zef’s voice grew deadly. “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”
“Drop it. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“So who’s at the hospital?”
“My mom’s got smoke inhalation. Her apartment—”
“Burned down?”
“Last night.”
“Above Valerie’s place?”
“Where I used to live. You saw?”
Joey looked up at the ravaged house. “I’m parked out front. Your dad did it, right?”
“Yeah. He tried to kill my mom and—” Zef sounded strung out, all his emotions raw and right at the surface. “He’s lost it.”
“No kidding.”
“Promise he didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine. So, what? Should I come there, or…”
“Yes. No.”
“Which?”
“Yes, I want you here, but do something for me? Check on Kate?”
“Why?”
“I just—last night I had a feeling she was in trouble.”
“Let me guess…” Joey took a deep breath. Someone had to take a risk. “The Pyncheon Gift?”
Zef didn’t answer for a long time. Finally, he mumbled, “You know?”
“Your dad kind of outed you to me.”
“No. You can’t know that…” Zef sounded oddly worried. “Forget you know that!”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” Zef’s voice became edged with panic. “How did he try to burn you? What did you see?”
“Calm down.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I do. Chill. He used his Gift in front of me, but I’m not cursed.”
“What?”
“I’m not cursed. I… can’t be.” He waited for Zef to understand, prayed that he hadn’t set another disaster in motion.
“You too?” Zef said, his voice full of wonder.
“Yeah. Me too.”
They listened to each other’s breathing. Joey pressed his ear to the phone as if to climb through it. He should have told Zef in person. It felt wrong, somehow, to reveal his Gift over the phone. Not for fear of cursing some eavesdropping operator but because… they’d missed a moment. Some shared moment of vulnerability and honesty that would never come again.
Joey cleared his throat. “Still there?”
“Still here.”
“So. You’re a telepath, right?”
“Yeah,” Zef whispered. “I got it from my mom. What did you inherit?”
“I didn’t. My folks are normals. I’m a Founder. Since the Horseman attack at Halloween. Remember my coma? My Gift came at New Year’s.” After you punched me in the nose, he wanted to add suddenly, but didn’t.
“What can you do?”
Joey leaned back in hi
s seat. “Move dirt with my mind.” He closed his eyes and waited through a long silence.
“What a lame Gift,” said Zef.
“It’s not lame. It’s cool.”
“Seriously?”
“Don’t diss the dirt.”
“Sorry. It’s… a surprise. I knew about Jason, but—wait—did you know about each other?”
“Yeah. All year.”
“Holy crap. So, three of us?”
“Four.” Joey sighed but pressed ahead. “Kate sees the future. Used to. But her Gift is gone. Long story.” Another long silence. “Zef? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m a little… and she never told me?”
“You know why she couldn’t. The Curse.”
“Yeah. I guess. I’m just… So we both hid what we were.”
Joey hugged the steering wheel. “You dealing?”
“Yeah. It kind of makes things… better. Kate and I are even, I guess. I should be more freaked out, but I’ve had a long night. Nothing can shock me. But, yeah. I’m okay. It’s just…” Zef gave a grim chuckle. “Sleepy Hollow, man.”
“I know.”
“This shit doesn’t happen in Newark.”
They laughed. This was good. They’d get through this somehow. As long as they could still laugh about it. “Okay then. I’ll go to Kate’s house and—”
“Wait. So we belong together. You and me.”
Joey frowned. “Not now, Zef. Okay?”
“I know you’re with somebody else, but…”
“I’m not.”
“You said—”
“I wasn’t at the lighthouse with a date. I said that to make you leave.”
“You did? Then…”
“Not now. Really. Where’s Jason?”
“Well, he’s part Pyncheon. Maybe he felt Kate was in trouble and went to help her.”
“Yeah. Maybe he’s still at her place.”
“Still?”
“They were planning to hook up last night.”
“Hook up? Really?”
“Jealous?”
“No. I’m glad for them.”
“Me too. Aren’t straights adorable? You should have heard them making out in Valerie’s music room yesterday. They almost broke her piano. Where is Valerie?”
SLEEPY HOLLOW: General of the Dead (Jason Crane Book 3) Page 3