Hollowed: Return to Sleepy Hollow, the Complete Duology

by Candace Wondrak

  Right now, I’d help Bones. After Bones was helped…then we could focus on her.

  The bitch.

  Wash leaned on the wall near the couch, his dark eyes on me as I got situated. No matter how I sat, what I did with my legs, I could not find a comfortable position. Maybe it was the couch, or maybe the air around me was too heavy, the situation too great. The pendant was once again around my neck, but I knew it wasn’t going to pop off again. My dad had told me everything he needed to.

  Though I refused to let this place overtake me, I swore to myself I would fight Katrina with everything I had left, I found myself meeting gazes with Wash. “If,” I spoke slowly, my heart aching with the mere thought of it, “things don’t happen how I want them to, if I ever lose…or if I don’t seem like myself, I need you to promise me, Wash, that you’ll protect Crane.” One of us should make it out of this alive, at least.

  A terrible thought, but it was one I could not fight. Because, unlike me, Katrina had years and years of practice. She was a powerful witch who’d practiced her craft for centuries. Even if I successfully called my book of shadows, there was no telling whether I’d be able to beat her. I might have a piece of her inside of me, but I was not Katrina Van Tassel. I was my own person, and that, I realized, just might be my downfall.

  I wasn’t ruthless. I wasn’t conniving. I wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch who’d do anything to get what I wanted. I was simply me, and that might not be enough to win this thing.

  When Wash didn’t say anything, I said again, “Promise me.”

  His large frame let out an explosive sigh, and he was measured in nodding.

  Well, now that that’s settled, I could focus on calling my book of shadows. Uh, how the hell did one call their book of shadows? The other book had come to me without me calling for it, at least not purposefully. Should I call for it aloud, or cry out for it in my head? Maybe a little of both, just to be safe.

  Hmm. Should I close my eyes, hold my breath?

  Okay, now I was just dragging it out.

  I sat on the couch with my legs folded under me, my hands resting on my knees. I’d kicked off my shoes; they rested at the base of the coffee table. I closed my eyes, feeling weird, knowing Wash watched me. I probably looked beyond stupid, sitting here, trying to call a book that I hoped existed. My dad had told me it did, but someone else telling me something was real versus seeing it for myself were two very different things.

  Take Wash, for example. I mean, I marched over that bridge at midnight on purpose just to prove everyone wrong, gotten the fright of my life, and now look at us. It had turned out remarkably well…and I couldn’t help but hope Bones’s possession would turn out well, too.

  I wasn’t going to lose him. I wasn’t going to let that spirit take him.

  I cleared my mind, pushing out all of my worries and insecurities over everything happening. I locked away my concern about Katrina in the back recesses of my mind, zoning out as best as I could, almost like I was meditating, like I was doing yoga…except, you know, not. I focused on my breathing, pushing out everything else as I sat there.

  My mind was empty, my thoughts gone. All I needed was my book of shadows.

  This town had brought out the power inside of me, awakened my true potential. What was a witch without her book of shadows? I needed it to appear, needed to see it for myself. I had to have it in my hands, to use it, and maybe I would finally start to get the hang of this place.

  Time was a blur—that, or it slowed to an absolute crawl. I had no idea how much time had passed, but nothing felt any different, so I kept picturing it: a book, suddenly appearing on the coffee table, its pages old and worn, yellow and crinkled. The smell that would come with it; dusty and ancient, slightly moldy with age. The kind of book you’d find tucked away in some grandparent’s house—grandparents who I never got to meet.

  Wait, I was getting off track. Back to the book.

  I pictured what I thought it would look like: leather binding, similar to Katrina’s. Rough and worn with time, as if it had always been waiting for me. Patiently waiting for me to return to Sleepy Hollow and unlock my potential, waiting for the day when I needed it most, when I called out for it, to appear before me. A book with a mind of its own, with power untold and spells I couldn’t dream of.

  Hold on, weren’t books of shadows tomes that were passed down from witch to witch? How on earth would I have my own? Wouldn’t that mean—

  No, once again, reading too much into it.

  Focus, Kat, I told myself. If you don’t focus right now, all might be lost. Can you handle that? The answer was no, so I tried to focus yet again.

  It was so very hard to focus on calling a book that might not even come when Bones sat, tied to a chair, in the other room, his soul slowly being eaten alive by whatever spirit was possessing him. So fucking hard, it was near impossible. But, by God, I was going to do it. I was going to prove everyone wrong and call my book of shadows, show them that Bones could be saved, that a spirit could be taken out of a body without killing the human soul within.

  It was too late for the old man and for Mike, my dad’s lawyer, but if I could succeed now, no one else ever had to die from a possession. No one else could find Wash’s head but me, even though I was blacked out; why not be the first one to tear a spirit out of a still-living body? Never say never. The impossible was only impossible when you didn’t have the right tools to make it possible.

  I lost myself in my own mind, sitting there on the couch as I called out for my book of shadows. It was as if, for a moment, I was no longer in my body, just an invisible force calling out to another.

  But then something warm and firm grounded me, and I was slow to open my eyes, finding that Wash knelt beside me, his mouth—God, that fucking mouth I wanted to kiss again—drawn into a worried line. His hand curled around my forearm, a look of pure concern on his handsome features.

  What? Did I start to float or something?

  I was about to make that joke aloud, because in my head it was kind of funny—and we could all use a mood-lifter right now—but I stopped the moment Wash used his other hand to point to the coffee table, where something new sat. Something that was most definitely not there before.

  I leaned closer, peering at the new object. My heart beat a mile a minute in my chest, and even though I’d never laid eyes on this particular item before, I knew exactly what it was. The strangest part?

  It…was not a book.

  I was a witch of the twenty-first century, I guess, because what sat on the coffee table was not a book of shadows. It was a tablet of shadows.

  Yes, as in a real, square and flat tablet. You know, the kind you download apps on? The things that were basically just larger smartphones? Yeah, that’s what appeared before me.

  Wash was slow to release my arm, and I nearly fell off the couch as I leaned toward it. On my knees between the couch and the coffee table, my eyes peered down at the screen. It was a flat thing, its screen off. It had a black frame, but all in all, it looked shiny and new. So not what I had in mind, but I’d gladly take it, emphasis on the gladly.

  It looked so new, like all technology did when you first bought it, that I almost hated to touch it. I reached for it, but hesitated as my hand hovered a few inches above it. What if I dropped it? What if it needed a power source or something? Honestly, I was probably way overthinking this; I should just be glad it’s here, in its strange, awesome glory.

  My tablet of shadows.

  “This is it,” I whispered, glancing at Wash. He split his stares between me and the tablet, a line forming between his brows. The Wash of a few weeks ago would’ve freaked out at the sleek black thing, but today’s Wash knew better, thankfully. Or, at least, he trusted me to know better.

  I picked it up, and almost instantaneously, the tablet came to life.

  Just as I suspected, it wasn’t a normal tablet. It was just my condensed book of shadows, locked in a more modern form. When I touched it, its screen lit u
p and a series of page flips crossed the screen. Not the same as having a book flipping its own pages, but I kind of liked this better. Seemed less creepy, somehow, and a whole lot more awesome. A tablet with a mind of its own? How cool was that?

  The coolness was mitigated by the fact that Bones sat in the other room, possessed, so I got down to business.

  I had no idea if I needed to talk to it, or if it could read my thoughts, but I just felt better saying it aloud: “I need a spell to pull a spirit from a body without hurting the human soul within.” Try saying that three times fast; bet you couldn’t. I could barely say it once, slowly.

  The page-flipping on the screen intensified, and as I got to my feet, Wash standing with me, I watched as pages upon pages of spells flipped by, all of them looking to be written by hand. Odd, how even with it being a tablet, some things stayed the same. Hell, perhaps this was Katrina’s book of shadows, just upgraded, kind of like me.

  When its page-flipping stopped, landing on a page that had some very complicated old English words, I moved past Wash to get to the kitchen. Crane sat at the table, his hands folded atop each other, a stern look on his face as he watched Bones. Bones, or rather the spirit inside of him, stared right back, grinning its dimple-less smile.

  Yeah, that fucking spirit had to go.

  “I think I got it,” I spoke, holding onto the tablet. I wasn’t sure what half of the words said—Crane would have to be my translator—but I was ninety-nine percent sure I had it.

  Crane stood, immediately coming over to me to get a look at the tablet. He said nothing as he studied it, but Bones? Oh, he had a mouthful to say, starting with, “You really think you’ll save him? His bloodline has been tainted from the beginning. She does not want him to survive. He might be her kin, but he is worthless, just as Abraham was.” A vile laugh, robotic and monotone, flowed from Bones’s chest, and I flinched at the sound.

  Crane didn’t pay him any attention though, muttering, “Amazing. I never thought…I mean, I have never heard of a book of shadows being a…”

  “A tablet of shadows?” I offered, doing my best to ignore the harsh glare Bones’s blue eyes was sending my way. “Well, apparently mine is. I’m not going to complain.”

  “Me, either,” Crane agreed. He adjusted his glasses, peering down at the page on the screen. “I’ve never been so close to a book of shadows before. I’d love to study it, afterward, I mean. This spell…” He trailed off, and I waited not-so-patiently for him to keep going. “I’ve never heard of anything like it. It is a removal spell, but from what it says at the top…you have to be in the otherworld to cast it.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, glancing to Wash behind me. “Wash can be there with me when I cast it.”

  “The only problem is I don’t think the book—the tablet—will cross over with you. You must sit across from the one you wish to exorcise, repeat the words in the spell three times, and the spirit will be pulled back into the otherworld.” Crane quieted as he thought. “If the tablet doesn’t cross over with you, you’ll need a way to remember the spell.”

  I had to be careful; I was starting to get my hopes up, and I knew that was a dangerous thing.

  Well, at least Crane believed in me now. At least he knew I wasn’t just full of hot air. This…we were really going to do this, to save Bones. Hell, I’d try anything to save the man, because I loved him.

  I loved him, and I needed to tell him that.

  Turned out, the only way we knew for sure to have the spell cross over with me was to go middle school cheater on it. As in, have Crane translate the spell into an English I could pronounce and write it on my arm. It was a strange spell, one that I hoped would be our answer to our problems, but as Crane translated it for me, as he scribbled it down on my forearm in thick, black marker, I couldn’t help but have doubts.

  I mean, I got my tablet of shadows, so why doubt now?

  It seemed a simple enough spell, though I still didn’t know what repeating these words would do.

  Blood by blood, spirit by spirit. I call upon those who can bear it, help me draw man from spirit.

  It sounded…kind of lame, really. Short, sweet, and to the point. Crane assured me multiple times that it sounded much eerier in olden English, but in today’s English? It reminded me of a nursery rhyme gone wrong.

  After I say it, the spell should draw the spirit out of Bones and into the otherworld, where Wash will be waiting to take care of it once and for all. At least, that’s the general plan. These days, plans never seemed to work how we wanted them to. These days, we were lucky if everything went right. In Sleepy Hollow everything leaned toward wrong.

  Anyway, with any luck, when Wash dragged me back to earth, Bones should be fine.

  Should be.

  I let out a shaky breath once Crane was done writing on my arm, feeling my nerves poking my stomach, making me want to be sick. Odd how I didn’t feel nearly as bad while talking to my dad in the otherworld, even considering what happened to him. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my dad—I did, in a weird way, even though until recently I’d thought he was nuts. It was more like I cared more for Bones. Bones meant more to me. Bones was here, still alive, which meant I could lose him. I already lost my dad.

  I was not going to lose Bones.

  Crane set the marker down on the counter. “Be safe,” he said, leaning down to press his lips on mine—a remarkably chaste kiss, but then again, with Bones being possessed, now really wasn’t the time for more. Try telling that to the past me in his bedroom with Wash, though. To Wash, he added, “And if anything should go wrong, you break the spell and bring her back here.”

  Wash nodded gravely.

  On the chair, Bones chuckled. “Pity that you think you can save him.” His expression morphed into one of vehemence, one of hate. It was such a strong look I was momentarily frozen; Bones had never looked at me like that before, like he loathed every single part of me. I knew it wasn’t Bones, but it hurt all the same to see the spirit wear his face and twist it like that. “You are nowhere near her strength, ya wee witch.”

  I inhaled as much as my lungs would allow before marching to stand in front of him. After a quick glance at Crane and Wash, I sat cross-legged before him, managing to meet those cloudy blue eyes and say, “Well, I look forward to proving your sorry ass wrong, then.”

  Bones opened his mouth, probably to say more mumbo-jumbo nonsense, but I didn’t wait to listen. I tore off the charm on my neck and dropped the pendant to the floor. Similar to how it happened before, only this time it was on purpose. This time Wash came to me, touching my shoulder with a gentleness you’d never know the Horseman was capable of, and brought me right into the otherworld.

  Everything turned hazy. Crane’s looming figure disappeared, as did Bones. An empty chair sat before me, positioned to face me. Wash slowly let go of my shoulder, moving to stand behind the chair, ready. His dark, pitch-black eyes were on me, an expression I could not read.

  Did he think this was a waste of time? Did he doubt me? I wanted to ask him, for he wouldn’t be the only one with doubts, as much as I hated to admit it. This stuff was all new to me. I was more accustomed to spirits than I was with spells. I’d never done a spell while conscious before.

  Katrina…had her claws in me. She was testing out the connection. That—that I’d kept from Crane. I didn’t want him knowing what I did. Bones was a distraction so Katrina could bide her time. She’d already been in my head before. After Bones was saved, I’d use the tablet to find a spell to protect my mind. I would not lose myself to her again. The bitch didn’t know who she was messing with.

  I slowly lowered my gaze from Wash, bringing it to the empty chair less than two feet in front of me. My eyes fell to the arm where the spell was written, and I smirked at Crane’s handwriting. Still regal and elegant, even though it was written on my flesh. I sort of felt like a cheater; I doubted Katrina would have to resort to writing a spell on her arm to remember it, but then again, this was life. If I
had to cheat and play dirty to beat her, I would.

  My lips parted, and I said the spell once. Then twice, then three times. Each round my voice rose in intensity, and with the repetition, I felt like something was happening. But as I finished round number three, I found the chair across from me was still empty. No spirit in sight.

  Glancing to Wash, I muttered, “I’m going to try again.” And if trying again didn’t work, I’d keep trying until something happened. This was my first spell, so it was bound to need a bit of work.

  I filled my lungs with the air in the otherworld, staring down at my arm, at the words scribbled on it. “Blood by blood, spirit by spirit. I call upon those who can bear it, help me draw man from spirit.”

  Once, twice…three times again.

  This time—oh fuck, this time it did something.

  When I finished round number three, suddenly the chair before me was occupied. I honestly didn’t know what shocked me more: the fact that it worked, or which spirit sat before me, slowly tilting up its head. I mean, it was my first spell, so I was both proud and a little nervous that it worked after only two attempts, but the spirit? Oh, the fucking spirit.

  I’d seen it before, on multiple occasions.

  The spirit’s face was bent down, but it slowly lifted its head, revealing a woman-like face with eyes of a pure, milky white. Its hair was long, practically as tall as I was, I bet, defying gravity with every turn, as if the spirit was a mermaid, caught in water, and her hair was her main beauty. The spirit wore a ratty white dress, its fabric holey and so thin you could see through it. The picture-perfect image of a nightmare, really.

  This was the spirit Wash had protected me from for so long.

  In a flash, the spirit lunged off the chair, tackling me to the ground. Such a sudden movement, I could do nothing as I slammed onto the floor behind me, the spirit straddling me, her hair seemingly whipping back and forth like snakes. Her white eyes bore down on me, like two daggers, but the most frightening part was her teeth. When she opened her mouth, she revealed rows of sharpened teeth, tiny, knife-like toothpicks that I knew would hurt like a bitch. Her sharp nails started to dig into my shoulder, and just as she lowered her face to mine, she froze.