Beauty and the Horseman's Head

by Holly Kelly

  “I just cannot believe it was so easy to convince them,” Conall said from inside the burlap sack. His face pressed against Mr. Henry’s side. “Especially her husband. I thought he would have given us more trouble.”

  Light flashed through the fabric, and seconds later, thunder rumbled.

  “I don’t think that t’wer anythin’ I said. I have seen that man’s eyes wanderin’. This gives him an excuse to seek greener pastures, if you know what I mean.”

  “And I thought elves were heartless. How long do you think before they execute her?”

  “Oh, that’ll be a while. They’ll want to torture her first. I would say, let’s give it three days. If she’s not dead by then, we will help them along.” Mr. Henry jerked to a stop. “Tarnations, it looks like every candle in the cabin is lit. Is Hope afraid of a little thunderstorm?”

  “Are you kidding me? That woman isn’t afraid of anything.”

  Conall heard the door slam open and looked toward the cabin.

  “You are back,” Hope exclaimed as she rushed outside. “Thank the heavens! That is Conall, right? Bring him inside. We have to hurry!”

  “What are you talking about?” Conall said. “Get me out of this infernal sack.”

  Her frantic face came into view. “I have your body! It’s lying on the table, ready to go.”

  Conall was rendered speechless. How in the world did this slip of a woman get the headless horseman here and on the table?

  “How did you accomplish that?” Mr. Henry asked.

  “I have got the talisman controlling him. Now, hurry up. We don’t have much time. We have to save Lavinia and her baby!”

  “Lavinia’s what?” Conall asked, confused.

  “Lavinia has been arrested and they think she’s pregnant with the devil’s baby—which of course is completely absurd. I mean, the devil doesn’t go around impregnating women.”

  “Hope,” Conall growled, gaining her attention. “What were you saying about my body?”

  “Oh,” she said, looking toward the house. “He’s in there.” She took Mr. Henry’s hand and dragged him toward the door.

  “Stop,” he snapped. “Mr. Henry, you go in before and make sure it’s safe.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have been waiting in there with him for hours. It’s perfectly s—” Hope came up short as the horseman’s figure filled the doorway.

  “What are you doing off the table?” Hope said as if speaking to an errant child.

  Mr. Henry pushed Hope behind him, and the horseman took a menacing step toward them.

  “Don’t,” Hope said. “If he perceives you are a threat to me, he’ll try to protect me.”

  “Protect you?” Conall said, not daring to take his eyes off his body.

  “Yes.” Hope stepped out from behind Mr. Henry and took the horseman’s hand. “Now, everyone will follow me inside. I need to sew your head back on.”

  “Do you think he’ll let you?” Mr. Henry asked.

  “Oh, yes. He’s been searching for Conall for a long time.”

  Moments later, the horseman lay down again on the table. Hope took Conall gently from Mr. Henry’s grasp and turned him to face her. Conall was shocked to see a glimmer of a tear in her eye.

  “If this doesn’t work…” She could not continue.

  “It’ll work,” Conall said. “If I were human, it would be impossible. But I am not. I have a tremendous ability to heal, remember?” He sure hoped he was right. If he wasn’t—He did not want to even consider the possibility.

  Hope nodded. “I am going to sew everything together before I break the amulet. I’m not going to take any chances.”

  “Alright.” Conall felt Hope’s hands tremble as she placed him on the table above his body. It felt strange having his neck pressed against the horseman’s body. He thought when they were reunited, everything would just come together naturally. But the body below him felt foreign. Separate.

  And then, pain hit him like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  Hope screamed, and he knew in that moment, they were too late. He was a dead man.

  * * * * *

  Blood squirted from the horseman’s neck, drenching the table in seconds. Conall’s mouth gaped open over and over like a fish out of water. He was trying to breathe!

  “Oh, please God, no!” Whatever spell Lavinia had cast keeping Conall alive was gone. Hope knew the clock was ticking. If she wasn’t quick, he would die. Blood poured from his neck as he thrashed around.

  “Mr. Henry,” she shouted, “hold him down.”

  He threw himself on top of Conall’s body and pinned down his arms.

  Hope looked at the openings of his esophagus and the bones from the spine and carefully lined them up before pressing them together. If she was off, even by a bit, it would not work. Truth be told, it would be a miracle to work at all. Her heart pounded.

  “Oh, please don’t die, Conall,” she said as she pressed the two sides together.

  Conall gasped in a mighty breath of air, and his body stopped thrashing.

  “You better work fast,” he rasped. “I am not feeling so well.”

  Hope removed one of her hands to retrieve the thread from the table, and the two halves gapped apart. She gave a surprised shriek and moved to press them together again. “I need to hold you in place.” She pressed her stomach against the top of his head to keep it wedged together. He gasping for air again. “I don’t have it lined up right.”

  Conall’s body went limp, and his eyes closed. He’d passed out.

  Or died.

  No! She would not even consider that possibility. He had to be alive!

  “Oh, dear heavens,” Hope gasped as she pulled him apart again, her hands shaking.

  Conall’s eyes stayed closed, even when she pressed him back together. She was sure it was right. Well, she was mostly sure. But Conall did not have time for her to keep adjusting him. If she pulled him apart again, he would surely die.

  At once, she began to stitch quickly—long, tight stitches—as she pressed her stomach against him to hold him in place. She could not afford to skimp on the job. These stitches had to hold about ten pounds of weight.

  It took a painfully long time to accomplish the task, and Mr. Henry had to turn him onto his side in the process—which was extremely difficult to do while Hope kept him in place. Finally, she’d stitched completely around his neck. She did not know if his veins, arteries, and spinal cord would bind together on their own. If he were human, this would definitely not work.

  But Conall wasn’t human. He’d healed from wounds that would kill any other human she’d known. Who else could recover from having their skull bashed in? But still, that wasn’t nearly as devastating an injury as having his head cut off.

  No, he would recover. He had to.

  Once again, she could not tell if he were breathing, but when she pressed her fingers into his neck, she felt the hint of a pulse. She truly hoped she wasn’t imagining it. It was too faint to be certain.

  Hope covered Conall in a blanket and sank into a nearby chair. A warm, withered hand patted her on the shoulder.

  “You did good, lass.”

  “If it isn’t enough . . .” her voice cracked as tears leaked out of her eyes.

  “It’s enough,” Mr. Henry said. “I did not think it possible, but he’s alive. He just needs to heal.”

  Hope took a shaky breath. “I’m assuming since the spell wore off, Lavinia is dead.”

  “Most likely,” he answered. “You sad about that?”

  She nodded as exhaustion overtook her. “She really wasn’t as bad as we thought, and her babe was innocent,” she mumbled. She lay her head down on Conall’s arm, took his hand, and fell asleep almost immediately.

  Chapter 22

  Hope awoke to a pounding on the door. Her eyes flew open as she shot up in her chair. Looking down, Conall was still completely out and covered in blood. She ran her hands over him to reassure herself that he was just sleeping and ha
dn’t slipped away during the night.

  He felt warm to the touch, and his chest gently rose and fell.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive. In fact, his coloring did not look half bad.

  “Hope,” a frantic voice called out, “it’s Rebekah, please open up!”

  “Oh, dear heavens,” Hope gasped. She searched around for a way to hide Conall. Desperate, she pulled the blanket over his head. But, now his feet were showing. “That’ll never do.” Rushing to her trunk, she grabbed another blanket and quickly covered the rest of him.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door flew open. Like a frightened child, Rebekah rushed in. “Hope. I am sorry to—” her voice dropped off as her eyes widened. “What happened to you?” She took Hope by the shoulders. “Are you hurt? Should I call on the doctor?”

  “No,” Hope shook her head and looked down to see her dress covered in blood. “I am fine. It’s not my blood.”

  “Then whose blood is it?”

  “That is a difficult question to answer.”

  Rebekah’s brows scrunched as she caught sight of the table. Hope turned to look at it and cringed. Why did she ever think a couple blankets would hide Conall?

  “Who is that?” Rebekah asked. She turned an accusing eye on Hope. “Is that. . . ?” Fear washed the color from Rebekah’s face.

  She thinks I murdered someone!

  “It’s not what you think,” Hope rushed to assure her.

  “Then you tell me what I am seeing.”

  Hope hesitantly stepped over to Conall and pulled down the blanket. Rebekah gasped. Hope studied what Rebekah saw—Conall, lying down, pale with harsh splashes of red blood on his skin, black stitches sewn all around his neck holding together newly healed pink flesh.

  And then there were his ears.

  “Is he alive?”

  Hope nodded. “He almost did not make it.” The corner of a piece of paper peaked from under the blanket. Hope pulled it out.

  Miss Hope,

  I have gone to garner some help for you and Conall. I expect I will be back sometime tomorrow.

  Your favorite crotchety old man,

  Mr. Henry

  Rebekah looked over Hope’s shoulder. “Conall? Is that his name?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Mr. Henry knows about him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is he? Where did he come from?”

  “He’s Elvin. He comes from Faery.”

  “Like the land of the Fae? But that is only a faery tale.”

  Hope shook her head. “It’s real.”

  Rebekah’s eyes widened. “He’s the Headless Horseman, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Hope answered. “Lavinia cursed him and took his head.”

  “Lavinia,” Rebekah gasped as her worry increased. “She’s who I came to tell you about. I need your help. Matthew has accused her of being a witch.” She gave a harsh laugh. “Well, I guess that one is true. The evidence is lying in front of me. But still, she’s pregnant. Most women who are pregnant are spared until after they deliver. But her husband has convinced everyone that her baby is a devil’s child. They’re trying to kill it. They’ve given her herbs to rid her of her baby. So far, they haven’t worked, but they’re bound to eventually.”

  “Lavinia is still alive?”

  “She was when I left.”

  “What can we do?” Hope asked.

  Rebekah shook her head. “We have to convince them. Victor is there now, but perhaps we can help.”

  Hope rushed to grab her cloak.

  “Um, I think it best if you wash and change,” Rebekah said.

  “Oh, right,” Hope said, looking at her hand caked with dried blood.

  It only took ten minutes for Hope to wash and dress in clean clothes. After all, she was on a mission to save a mother and her child. She took one regretful glance at Conall and then tucked the blanket around him. She truly hated to leave him, but she simply had to. As they neared the place of interrogation, an oppressive darkness descended over them. It was so thick Hope could almost touch it. They kept to the trees, not wanting to reveal themselves until they knew what they were walking into.

  Just beyond the break of the trees stood a mound of firewood, and then to the right, they could see the backside of a man locked in the stocks. Blood smeared the wood planks where his wrists and head were locked. He’d obviously been struggling. There was something familiar about him.

  When Rebekah stepped around Hope to get a better look, she gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth.

  Hope looked at Rebekah and mouthed, “Victor?”

  Rebekah nodded. They had a lot of nerve, locking him in there. He owned half the town.

  Hope gestured for Rebekah to stay put and crept forward. When the stock was close, she grabbed hold of the side and peered around to get a good look at Victor. His face was swollen, and purple bruising blossomed on his cheek. His eyes were closed—he appeared to be sleeping, though she didn’t know how he possibly could be.

  “Victor,” she whispered.

  His eyes flew open. “What are you doing here?” he whispered back. “Is Rebekah with you?”

  Hope nodded.

  “Both of you need to leave now.”

  “I have to free you first,” Hope said. “Do you know where the keys are?”

  “No. Leave me. I will be all right. There’s nothing they can do to me.”

  “It looks like they have already beaten you.”

  “And you think I want my wife to be beaten too, especially when she’s carrying my child?”

  “They won’t beat us.”

  “That is what I thought walking into this. But you see how far I got. All I did was argue with them. They’ve lost their reason. They’re completely ruled by fear.”

  Hope examined the stocks and found a weakness. The nails holding the hinge were starting to work their way out. She looked around and found an old horseshoe lying on the ground. She immediately snatched it up and started tapping away at the nails, attempting to loosen them.

  “They’re going to catch you trying to free me. You need to leave.”

  “I will not leave you here to suffer at the hands of those men,” Hope said.

  The first nail loosened up easily, and she was able to pull it from the wood with her fingers. The second one took more time, but she finally worked it free. She used the hinge itself to pry the other two free.

  Finally, all the nails were out. Hope lifted the plank and freed Victor.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” she said.

  “That is not the hard part, but I thank you for setting me free.”

  “And now we need to save your sister.”

  Shouts and cheers arose from somewhere across the camp. Someone shouted, “The creature is dead!”

  Victor led Hope into the safety of the foliage. As soon as they neared, Rebekah threw her arms around Victor and sobbed.

  “I cannot believe they did that to you!” she cried. “You are not a witch!”

  “I lost it when they would not see reason. It’s unfathomable, that they would kill my sister’s baby. They say it’s of the devil, but it’s not true.” He shook his head. “I just cannot believe that Pastor Goodwin would kill his own child.”

  “He’s an evil man with a black heart,” Rebekah said. “And you did nothing wrong.”

  “I am the witch’s brother. I guess that earned me some pain and humiliation. I kind of see their point. I did not see what was so obvious. I ignored the signs in Lavinia that something was seriously wrong with her. She was never the same after little Johnathan died. And then she disappeared, and when she came back, she was a different person. If only she had confided in me, perhaps I could have helped her.”

  “Blaming yourself will not help her baby,” Hope said.

  “I am afraid we may be too late. If the cheers are any indication, I fear they’ve already killed her child.”

  “What do they have planned for Lavinia?”
Hope asked.

  Victor swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “They say every freckle, every mole, every blemish on her body, is a mark of the devil. They plan to rid her of them by flaying her skin from her.”

  Rebekah gasped. “No.”

  “We have to save her,” Hope whispered harshly.

  “She is guilty,” Victor said. “She admitted it to me herself. She’s responsible for the headless horseman. She’s responsible for many deaths. And despite her regret, there is a price to be paid for what she’s done.”

  “Yes,” Hope said, “but what they have planned for her . . . it’s too much. Why won’t they just hang her? Why do they have to torture her so?”

  “It’s Pastor Goodwin,” Victor said. “To him, the fact this whole time she was right under his nose, sleeping in his bed, and he did not know what she was—It’s an embarrassment to him. He’s making her pay for his humiliation.”

  “But she’s his wife,” Hope said.

  “That just makes for an even greater betrayal,” Victor said.

  “So,” Rebekah said. “What do we do now?”

  “You and Hope need to go back to the house,” Victor said. “I have unfinished business here.”

  “No,” Rebekah whispered harshly. “Absolutely not. You are not sending me away so you can die and leave me a widow!”

  “Rebekah,” Hope said. “Listen to reason. We came to save Lavinia’s baby. We cannot risk you losing yours. I will stay and help Victor in any way I can.”

  At first Hope thought Rebekah would continue to argue, but she sighed, looking defeated as she rubbed her swollen belly. “Alright. I will go. But please, both of you. Don’t do anything stupid. If either of you die, I will be extremely upset.”

  “We’ll be just fine,” Hope said.

  Rebekah gave her a quick hug. “You had better be.” She turned to her husband, threw her arms around him, and pulled him in for a kiss. Hope turned away. Then she heard Rebekah say, “If you die, I will never forgive you. Do you understand?”

  “I will be fine.”

  Once Rebekah had left, Hope asked, “Do you have a plan?”

  “First,” Victor said, turning to her and pinning her with an intense look, “I need you to understand something.”