Katrina walks over to the chair in front of August and sits down while I sit opposite her. “I can’t leave. I have tried,” she pauses and then continues. “I already know you two are not from around here, and there have been others like you that have come and gone. When I have tried to follow them, something always keeps me here.”
I rest my hands on the chair arms and grip the edges. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes appear not quite sad but like she has given up and knows that her future lies in this place. “If you continue following the field and pass through the graveyard, I believe you can cross through. When I have tried to do the same, a force pushes against me, and I’m unable to pass.”
August leans forward with his hands on his knees “Have you seen the Taker?”
Katrina runs her hand against one of the lace edges of her dress at her elbow. “I have. It is true that he is without a head, but as others have asked, I have never personally seen him take a head. My true love, Ichabod, was the first to be taken. I was with him that night, and we saw the Taker come out of nowhere. He told me to run, and I deserted him. That was the last I ever saw of him. After that, the Taker has come when it pleases him and picks us off one by one.”
Her eyes grow distant, and I shudder at the idea of being taken by this thing. Maybe there is a way to get all of us out of here at the same time?
“Could you show us the way to the crossing where others have been able to pass?”
She nods. “I can show you two in the morning since he resides in the graveyard. The morning will be the best possible time.”
My eyes go wide, and August is frowning. “We have to pass where he lives?”
Katrina’s lips are pursed, and she slowly nods her head. “He is not always there out in the open. I’m not sure where he goes, but that is your best chance. When he decides to come back, you two do not want to be here again.”
“Can you come with us?”
She shrugs her shoulder. “I can try. In the meantime, would you two like something to eat? After, I have an extra room that you two should take rest in before morning.”
Exhaustion hits me at that moment, and I have no idea when we will eat next, so I agree.
Katrina heats up some food that she already had prepared in a pot, and while it’s cooking, I decide to tell her the truth.
August and I take turns explaining to her where we are from, the date, and the Glass Museum. She takes it all in stride and doesn’t seem that surprised. In a place where a man with no head kidnaps people, it doesn’t seem that farfetched to be able to believe something that seems out of the ordinary.
In the bowl that she hands us each to eat, there is a mixture of some type of meat and vegetables in a soupy liquid. I take a small bite, and it tastes good. I’m surprised. The bread she hands us is a little stale, but I eat it anyway, and it isn’t that bad.
Yes, I’m determined to get her out of here. Katrina reminds me a little bit like Maisie. She isn’t quirky like Maisie, but she has that sweetness and gentleness to her.
She leads us to the room where we are going to sleep and opens the door for us. I’m worried that she may disapprove of August and I staying in the same room, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.
I have no idea what the morning is going to bring, but we are going to get out of here.
Chapter 12
After Katrina leaves August and me in the bedroom, I walk around the small area. There isn’t much of anything in it. The room has a small writing desk with several blank sheets of paper sprawled across it in the corner with a wooden chair tucked in. Against the wall, is a set of dresser drawers, and in the middle of the room against another wall is a decent sized bed with what looks to be a handmade quilt spread over the mattress.
August goes to lie down on the floor. “What are you doing?” I ask.
His lips pull up to one side. “I was going to let you have the bed.”
I walk over to the bed and pull the covers back. “August, just because we are in a different century doesn’t mean you have to act like the perfect gentleman. Even though I know you are one. Just get in the bed and be quiet. There is plenty of room for both of us.”
He doesn’t think twice about it and slides right into the bed. He removes his jacket and boots before lying down.
I do the same with my boots and leave on the dress that isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I lie down beside August.
He’s on his back, looking at the ceiling with his hands propped up behind his head.
“What are you thinking?
He rolls over to face me. “I’m thinking about tomorrow and hoping that I can get us out of here and back home.”
“What about Maisie and Neven? Do you think they are in here somewhere?”
He thinks about it for a second, as if he doesn’t want to say anything. “I honestly don’t know. They aren’t in this village, and unless they are hiding in the graveyard, I’m going to say no.”
I think back to Katrina’s words. “Wait. Katrina did say that there are others that have come into Sleepy Hollow and tried to get out. Maybe they did?”
I’m trying to be positive, but then I think that maybe they didn’t even come to the museum. People go missing every single day, and what if that is what happened to them?
August reaches over and pulls me to him, and I lay my head against his chest. “Let’s think about one day at a time. Tonight, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow we will get the hell out of here, and then we can think about everyone else.”
Honestly, I don’t think they are here in Sleepy Hollow unless the Taker took them, but I have a feeling that isn’t what happened. If it did, there would be no helping any of them. I wonder if Dad, Aunt Krista, and Uncle Jaron have discovered that I’m missing now, too. They are going to be frantic.
I place my hand on August’s chest. “Thanks for coming with me tonight, August. I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad you’re with me and that I’m not alone in this. If you weren’t here, I would’ve been back at the beginning curled in a ball and crying myself into insanity.”
His lips brush my forehead, and I draw in his scent that reminds me that I’m safe and protected. “I wouldn’t want you to be alone here either. Hell, I wouldn’t even want to be alone here.”
I break into a wide smile and look up at him, and he is smiling too. “Good,” I say. Then I lie my head back onto his chest unable to control my smile.
“Goodnight, Perrie.”
“Goodnight, August.”
I fall asleep easily, which I can’t believe I can do in this situation. My body can’t compute anything else, and the exhaustion creeps in and takes over.
The dream, or rather nightmare I have feels as if it’s slow motion. I’m at my house running from someone, and there are no lights on. I go to my room and try to turn on the light, but it will not turn on.
I flick it up and down, and nothing happens. I run into my closet and hide. When the door swings open, a person is standing there. I squint my eyes to see in the darkness, but nothing is visible. This darkness has a life of its own that swirls and twirls around me. It envelops me, until I’m a part of it.
The person grabs me, and I still cannot see him. He pulls me from behind and drags me while I kick at the floor and buck to try to lessen his hold on me. I try to scream and barely any sound escapes. The volume of the scream is so minimal that no one would be able to hear it except for him.
I know it’s a man by the touch of his strong hands, and the feel of his large body. His hands smell of something putrid and decomposing. I begin to gag, but nothing comes up.
Screaming is getting me nowhere. When we reach my doorway, there is a horse outside. The road is lit up from the beams of the street lamps.
He hauls me onto the horse with him while I continue to scratch and claw. Then I finally get a look at my captor. He is swathed all in black and cocooned in a cloak of obscurity, but where his head should be, there is nothing. Only a v
oid.
I’m stunned and locked in place at that moment, until a cold brush of metal rubs against my neck. The thing has me on my side, and he raises his arms to pull back what looks like a long sword. I close my eyes tightly, hoping and praying I won’t be able to feel this. The wind roars against the blade as it begins to fall.
I wake from my dream, eyes flying open, and at first, I have no idea where I am. This is not my bed, my room, or my house. Everything starts rushing back to me. I bolt up in bed, and August is turned on his side facing the other way still asleep. I have to catch my breath. When I lie back down, August turns over and trails me to him.
I close my eyes and try for the longest to fall back asleep. I finally drift off, and this time no dreams or nightmares creep in.
***
Something brushes across my face, and I’m barely coherent. I bring my hand up to swat it away. A few seconds later, I feel something tickling my cheek, and my eyes fly open. I knock August’s hand away. He’s holding one of my long, brown curls and is brushing my face with it.
He laughs that deep, rumble of laughter, and I shove his shoulder which only makes him laugh even more.
“I think Katrina is already up in the other room. I hear her moving around, so I thought I should wake you up to get ready. Although, I don’t mind watching you sleep.”
“You were just sitting here watching me sleep?”
“Well, in reality, I was watching you sleep because your snoring woke me up.”
I kick his leg softly with mine. “I do not snore!”
He leans his head into my shoulder and laughs. “Sure, you don’t, Snoring Beauty.”
The fact that he calls me beauty makes all the embarrassment go away. “Whatever.” I smile.
We lie there while reality soaks in. Then we get up and put on our shoes. August slips his jacket back on.
We join Katrina for breakfast. She hands us some fruit and more bread. That is all she has left, and I tell her thanks for everything.
I put my hand on Katrina’s arm. “Are you ready?”
Katrina nods, and her arms are folded in front of her. “There is nothing left for me here. I only hope I can follow.”
I hope so, too. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to get out of here, and I have no idea what we’re going to do if we can’t.
As we walk out the front door and onto the porch, the day looks just as it did yesterday. Fog covers the ground, and it’s hard to see in the distance with it enveloping everything. My stomach begins to sink.
The stairs creak as we walk down them, and the grass is covered in dew. We haven’t walked that long when I see a graveyard in the distance. The headstones go a long way, and there seems to be no end. As we get closer, I’m beginning to get a bad feeling about this whole idea.
Katrina slows to a horrified stop as we grow closer. She drops to her knees, and her hand goes to her mouth. The scream she holds back is anxiously trying to dig its way out.
My insides drop, and August guides me to him. It isn’t just headstones covering the graveyard. There are severed heads sprinkled everywhere like seeds waiting to be planted. The bodies are nowhere to be seen, just a never-ending realm of heads scattered.
I close my eyes and count to five, and then open my eyes. They are all still there. My eyes go to Katrina who is still on her knees. August bends down next to her and says the words that I wish I could get out. “There is nothing that we can do Katrina. They’re all gone. We have to be strong and get out of here.”
I kneel next to them on the ground. “He’s right. We’re going to have to run through there. As hard as it is, I avoid looking down and don’t focus too much on anything except what is ahead.”
“Okay,” she says breathlessly. “We are going to have to run.”
That is a start. Now, to get myself under control from this ordeal.
We begin to sprint through the graveyard and avoid the heads the best we can. From my peripheral, I can see the color red sprouting where the heads are resting. The headstones are mostly old, broken and cracked. I don’t have time to read names; I brush past everything.
The trees have been rustling the entire time from the wind, but they slow to a stop—frozen in their own dimension. I make the mistake of looking toward a spot where a tree has quit moving, and that draws Katrina to do the same.
She looks down and screams with despair. “Ichabod!” She runs to a head that is on its side under the tree. The dark-skinned head has a hollowed-out expression, charcoal-colored hair, and eyes the color of ebony. She reaches out to grab it, and August drags her back.
Tears flow down her cheeks, but her strength is taking over. “We can’t stay here. Let’s go. Now.”
From behind us, the sounds come alive. The same hoof beats from the day before begin to approach. I can’t see through the fog and don’t want to. We don’t look back. We run.
The beats are getting closer and closer. There is no way that all three of us are going to be able to outrun a horse.
August is ahead, and Katrina is in the middle. I glance back, and to my horror, there is a rider on the horse with no head. It isn’t that I’m shocked by the fact that the Headless Horseman does exist, it’s that he looks exactly as he did in my nightmare. The clothing is an exact replica of what he was wearing.
I try to pump my legs even faster, but I have never been a good runner. He is coming up beside us, and he is holding the same blade he had when I saw him in my dream.
August is still ahead, and he sees how the Horseman is trying to cut us off. The blade is going to be coming for me. I just know it.
As he comes nearer and my legs are growing tired, he begins to lower the blade. I decide I’m going to dive to the ground, but I won’t be fast enough. Katrina gives me a hard shove to the side that keeps my head on my shoulders.
Somehow, between me hitting the ground and looking back, Katrina is in his grasp. Her wails are excruciating. I try to grab her and pull her back, but I miss.
I’m going to attempt again when her eyes lock with August. “Run! Both of you get out of here before it is too late,” she yells.
Two arms grab me from behind, and I shriek because all I can think about is the nightmare.
“It’s just me,” August whispers, and I relax slightly.
The Horseman is holding Katrina with one hand, and with the other he begins to raise his blade again.
August pulls me forward, and we run like never before. I don’t even know where we are running to, but then there is a suction like when we first came to Sleepy Hollow. There is a breeze yanking at my entire body. August shoves me from behind in hopes that this is our escape, and I don’t look back.
I reach for August’s hand and grasp it, but as we glide through, I lose my grip on his hand.
Chapter 13
I open my eyes, and I’m lying on the floor of a room. There is a bed covered in silky sheets and a small dresser in front of it.
Katrina is gone.
My eyes drift around looking for August. “August?” I stand up, walking over to the bed and don’t see him anywhere. I even look under the bed, but there is nothing there.
My dress hits the side of the bed. It makes a crinkling sound, and I look down at it. It’s a different one than I had on before. This dress is a vibrant green, the color of the brightest of emeralds. The sleeves come all the way down and stop at my wrists.
There are layers and creases at the bottom, and I have no idea what is going on with that. There are buttons that start at my waist and end between my breasts. What is happening here?
On the wall, there is a single oval mirror. I hurry to it and look at the dress. I’m showing a ton of skin and cleavage, more than I have ever shown in my life. Aside from a bathing suit, which the last time I even wore one of those was in junior high before I developed.
I pull the skirts aside, and a heeled shoe protrudes. Heels again? This time they are ankle length and lace up at the front.
My hair is still
curled, but instead of hanging at my waist, it’s now just below my shoulders.
I need to get out of here. I thought that we would be back at home, and now we are somewhere else. I don’t know where August is, and I have to find him.
There is a door by the dresser. I walk over to it, slowly pull it open, not knowing what will be on the other side.
A small breath releases from my chest, there is no one there. I pull the door open all the way and almost make a small step outside into the hallway, when a gruff voice speaks with an English accent. “Not so fast, Mary.”
My eyebrows crunch forward, and I take a step back. I look at whose deep voice said that. He is tall, dressed in a black suit and gloves, with a wooden cane in one hand. His hair is gray, and he is older, maybe in his fifties. He appears to be in great physical shape underneath the suit, which I don’t ever want to see.
I take another step back and look into his dark, brown eyes. His expression is filled with an intense hunger. “Sorry, you have the wrong person. I’m not Mary. Maybe you could try another room down the hall?”
Apparently, I have an English accent here like this man, which isn’t any stranger than anything I have experienced so far.
He is looking at me, as if I’m out of my mind. I know Mary rhymes with Perrie, but I’m not telling him my real name. I have never seen this man before in my life.
He steps forward, and I take another step back. He waggles his index finger in front of my face, as if I’m a naughty little child. “Oh, Mary, Mary, Mary. I didn’t know tonight is to be our role-playing night. I believe we only do that on Fridays.”
What is this freak talking about? “I told you. My name is not Mary, so I think you need to leave, or better yet, I need to leave.” I try to take a step around him, but he grabs me by the arm. He pushes me back toward the bed, and I stumble.
His expression is all predator, and I’m about to vomit on his face if he puts his hand on me one more time. “What should I call you then, Mary? How about Helen?” His head falls to the right. “Or Margaret?” He rubs his right hand over his left that is currently squeezing his cane. “Or maybe Rose?”
Quinsey Wolfe's Glass Vault Page 8