“Do not fear, Poppet.” I stroke my fingers down her hair and smile when a shiver travels down her spine at my touch. “Soon, it will not matter.”
Kenzie turns and meets my eyes, searching. “And Crane is okay?”
“I’m here, Princess.”
She sighs and nods, resuming her studious picking apart of the muffin. I am not sure if it is a blueberry or chocolate one. The little black spots are charred beyond belief. The fact that they serve this trash to people who desperately need them revolts me. My eyes flick over to the lady behind the counter, another friend of Kenzie’s. I know she has nothing to do with this slight simply because she looks pained as she hands each tray to the patients, disgusted with herself for giving in to the demands of her employer. It is not a weakness, however. I do not see it as one. If she refused to do as they said, they would simply replace her with someone who will, and then where would all the patients be? She is just biding her time like everyone else.
“Hey, asshole. Remove your hand.”
I grin, turning in my seat to see Vic standing over us. This time, he has his power stick held at the ready, as if he expects me to attack him.
Can we kill this bastard yet? Crane scowls in my mind, and I almost laugh. Crane might not be the Horseman, but he is blood-thirsty enough to be one. I chose well.
“As you wish,” I grin, pulling my hand from Kenzie’s hair and setting it on the table. My agreeance seems to confuse Vic. He looks over us, searching for something else to criticize, but upon finding nothing, he instead reaches forward as if to take the one item on Kenzie’s tray that is edible, a bruised apple. “Stop.” One word, that is all it takes for Vic to freeze, for the room to turn icy, but I do not move. I do not attack. I smile widely at him, my powers slowly leaking from my skin to caress those around us. No riot breaks out, not yet, but most of the patients seem anxious.
Vic narrows his eyes, but he does not take the apple. Perhaps, he is not as stupid as he looks, after all. “I’ll be watching you, dipshit,” he warns, before storming off to bark orders at some other poor soul.
“What the fuck?” Kenzie growls. “You’re just gonna let him say that shit? What happened to your superpowers?”
“Patience, Poppet,” I purr, rolling my shoulders. Beneath the table, my fingers trail along her clothed thigh, gentle, careful. Later, we would have time for the opposite.
Mitzy has not said a word yet, her eyes riveted on me, and I wonder if she is seeing me how I truly am. I do not think Mitzy is as they claim, claimed by insanity. I think she sees more, that no one has understood that it is not make believe, but truth on her lips. This world does not deserve her.
“You said you weren’t a demon,” she whispers, “but you burn.”
“Hell is not the only destination full of fire, little mouse.”
Kenzie squints her eyes at me. “So . . . where does your fire come from?”
I shrug my shoulders. I do not really know where my powers originate from. I only know I have them and that I must act each year.
“I said no touching!” Vic slams his fist down on the table across from us, and I look into his eyes, seeing the person behind the asshole, and it makes me happy that he will be a target. My Poppet has made a demand, and I shall deliver her what she asked.
I hold up my hands with a placating smile, my powers curling around Vic, his muscles shivering from the touch. Oh yes, Vic would get his.
For the rest of the day, it feels like Vic follows us around, snapping if we so much as breath the same air. At one point, he tries to snarl at Mitzy, but before I can step in, Danny clamps his hand on the younger orderly’s shoulder.
“Take a walk, Vic. I got this.”
Vic shoves the kind man backward and storms off.
“You okay, Danny?” Kenzie asks, her brows furrowed in worry.
“I’m fine, kid. I can handle one pisshead.”
Is that us affecting him?
“Yes,” I reply to Crane, staring after Vic. “Our powers can have adverse effects on those around us.”
Danny glances at me but does not mention me seemingly talking to myself. After all, we are in a place of insanity. Talking to one’s self is not so odd here.
Slowly, the sun begins to sink in the sky, and with each small degree it falls, I can feel my powers grow a little bit more. When the moon is full, I will be at my full potential, and we will be free of this hell named Whisperwood.
Sitting in the communal room, I watch Kenzie play some sort of card game with Mitzy and a few other patients. Most of these ones she calls friends, and I have a feeling that this is a circle of protected people as well.
We can’t kill anyone she won’t forgive us for, Crane reminds me.
“You think I do not know that,” I grumble, flipping a card over and over between my fingers. I am calm, as calm as can be expected when so much power flows through my veins, but I cannot help the anxious action.
I can sense him before he ever walks into the room, the orderly that causes so many problems for our Poppet. Vic strolls into the communal room like he owns the place, his fancy stick hanging at his side as if he expects trouble. Perhaps, he is smarter than I give him credit for. The weapon will not do any good, however.
He looks like he’s about to start trouble.
“I agree.” I watch as Vic strides right up to our table, studies the game for a moment over the tense shoulders of the patients, before he leans down and swipes all the paper from the surface onto the floor. Kenzie bristles hard, but I lay my hand on her thigh to keep her from shooting to her feet.
Vic’s eyes go right to my hand, and all the aggression that has been building up all day rises to the surface. The corner of my lips tick up as he finally speaks. “Remove your hand, patient.”
“I will not,” I reply, narrowing my eyes on him. My own powers rise to the surface, kissing along my skin, in answer to his ferocity. A challenge is a challenge, even if it is a stupid one.
“I said,” he growls, “remove your fucking hand.”
Uh oh, he’s serious, Crane chuckles. Better watch out for his stick.
I laugh when Vic raises his stick up higher, as if he plans to hit me.
Slowly, the sun sinks lower, the final rays dancing across the sky behind Vic the dick.
Kenzie would be proud of you for that one.
I snort, the sound uncultured even in my own ears, and Kenzie glances at me in confusion. That is when Vic makes his first mistake. In his bid for power, he targets Kenzie instead.
“Back off, whore, before you get thrown in isolation!”
Kenzie gasps, and I slowly rise to my feet.
What the fuck did he just say? Crane snarls in my mind.
I grin at the orderly, standing there as if he has no care in the world, as only one ray of sunshine breaks up the night. “That was a mistake,” I warn him. “Turn and walk away.”
“Fuck you, you piece of shit. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” And then Vic makes his second mistake, and his damning one. He reaches forward and wraps his rough fingers around Kenzie’s forearm and yanks, attempting to pull her away from me.
Even though there is still a single ray of sunshine piercing the sky, even though it is not quite time, the power that has been building inside of me all day rips through me with the threat to our Poppet, our Princess.
My transformation rips through our body, green flames spreading from my toes up my legs, to my torso, until they encompass my head. I can tell the moment I change completely—when my head resembles that of the myths, the pumpkin with a terrible grin taking its place. Kenzie stumbles back a step in surprise, although I’m not sure why. I told her who I am.
But you didn’t mention a fucking pumpkin for a head, you ass.
“Not important,” I growl.
“What the actual fuck?” Kenzie exclaims, but she is not afraid. Surprised? Definitely, but she is also excited.
Mitzy stares at me in awe, her eyes wide. I watch as she pinches her ar
m, her mouth opening in a tiny gasp of pain from the action. “Fuck, this is it,” she whispers. “I’ve completely lost it. I think I need to lie down.”
“No time for that, little mouse,” I chide, turning my attention to Vic who stands frozen in front of me. “We have work to do.”
I hold out my hand, and a long axe appears, forming from my powers, the green flames licking along the wood and metal.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Kenzie groans, and I pull her into my side.
“Stay behind us, Mitzy,” I instruct, before I focus completely on Vic. “You have touched what is ours, Vic the dick.”
Nice one!
Kenzie snorts at my words and holds me tighter.
“You have hurt my Poppet. Now, I am going to relish your screams, and add your head to my collection.” I do not give Vic time to react, nor do I give him a chance to run. Seeing my transformation freezes him, and when I slice my axe across his throat, his blood splattering out in a sharp arc to coat Kenzie’s skin, he never tries to flee. His eyes open in surprise moments before his head slides free from his body.
Kenzie throws her head back and laughs, cheers going up around the room from other patients even as pandemonium explodes. Panic takes over, orderlies barking orders and trying to flee.
But the Horseman is awake. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from their sins, nowhere to beg for forgiveness.
I wipe a speck of blood from Kenzie’s cheek and grin before I hand both her and Mitzy an axe, manifested from my powers.
“Be sure to mind the heads,” I say, my voice practically a growl. With hoots of excitement, the bloodbath begins.
Chapter 22
Kenzie
My eyes rake over the . . . man in front of me. He is still a man, I tell myself. My eyes fall on the large pumpkin nestled atop his shoulders, the source of the green flames that seem to pulse in time with his emotions. Jesus fucking Christ, he is glorious. I wipe some of the blood on my face away, only serving to smear it across my cheek and my hand. It’s so warm, just like in the visions, just like Crane had described it. A small moan slips past my lips, and H turns to face me, the wicked grin carved into his face twitching as he speaks.
“No time for that right now, Poppet,” he purrs and then winks. He actually winked at me. With Vic’s head at our feet and an axe in each of our hands, the residents around us going wild, the psychopath winked at me. My core clenches, and I laugh, pointing toward the edge of the room where a few orderlies have lined up, watching in horror.
“May I?” he asks, bending at the waist gallantly. I nod, raising my chin in the air as I survey the room. Everyone is frantic. Mitzy stands beside me, gaping at the axe that H shoved in her hands.
As H marches across the room, I consider following him, but a squeal behind me catches my attention. The redheaded orderly I hate, Liam, has his arms around Mitzy’s stomach. I swing my axe into the side of his head, gasping when I feel it crunch into his skull. The curly red hair quickly seeps to a darker crimson, and he falls backward.
Mitzy rushes to my side at the same time Danny does, his eyes wide looking between and me the dead man.
“What the fuck, kid?” he whispers, reaching down for the axe. He holds it out, ready to hand it back to me, but hesitates. “What are you doing, Kenzie?”
“Getting the fuck out of here.”
“What is he?” Danny offers the axe, and I take it, wrapping my fingers soundly around the smooth wooden handle. My eyes meet Danny’s dark brown ones, and I shrug, pointing to the mayhem erupting across the room.
H has an orderly pinned to the wall by the throat, his axe sticking out of another man’s neck. It must have gotten stuck in the spine, somehow. In one deft move, he breaks the first orderly’s neck and moves to finish the second, kicking him in the back of the knee, so he falls forward. His head raises, the glowing-green eyes of The Horseman meeting mine before they slide to Danny, and he kicks the axe the rest of the way through the man’s neck.
The weapon clambers to the ground as the head goes rolling down the hall outside the community room.
“Jesus Christ,” Danny mutters, taking a step back.
“You won’t get hurt,” I promise, taking Mitzy by the hand. She looks up at me, her eyes wide as she tightens her grip on the handle.
“I’m ready!” She pushes me aside and swings her axe at one of the few female orderlies that work at Whisperwood. The woman has always been a pain, calling Mitzy crazy way too often, but she’s smart enough to stay away from us.
Until now.
Mitzy’s blade slices across her chest, leaving weeping red lines in the grey uniform. The orderly—I can’t remember her name—screams, grabbing wildly at Mitzy, trying desperately to get a hold on her. I stand back by Danny, holding onto his arm when he steps forward to interfere. Shaking my head, my eyes meet his for a moment, then go back to the fight. This is important.
Mitzy punches the woman with her left hand, the bigger girl going down with a loud wail. In one swift move, Mitzy lunges on top and drags the blade across her throat, smiling as blood gushes from the open wound. She doesn’t wait for the woman to die, no. She’s in some kind of bloodlust. I’d told people for years not to fuck with that girl, but no one listens to me. The tiny, dark-headed demon runs off on some kind of mission, and I’m left alone with Danny, surrounded by screams and death.
“Don’t interfere, and you’ll be fine,” I remind him. Across the room, H tilts his head to the side, watching me.
“What. Is. He?” Danny asks again, emphasizing every word.
“The Horseman. He’s the Headless Horseman, the one in the book about Ichabod Crane, I think. I don’t know, Danny, but he’s something, right? I’m going, please don’t try to stop me.” I adjust my grip on the axe, holding it just below the head and jog across the room, careful not to slip in the growing puddles of blood.
H holds a hand out for me, and I take it; the green flames lick across my skin, but they don’t burn. “How does it feel, Poppet?” he asks. I take in the blood-soaked shirt. Everything is blood-soaked, actually. It drips from the corners of his eyes and his mouth. For a moment, I imagine how kissing a pumpkin is going to work and laugh.
“It feels amazing. Freeing.” H drags a hand across my cheek and into my hair, pulling me firmly against his chest. The slick feel of blood tracing across my skin sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve never been so dark before. The things I’ve started liking since I met Crane are new to me, but damn they feel good. I tilt my head up and press my lips to the strange hard surface and giggle.
“Later, Poppet,” he chides. I nod, pulling away from him, and he taps me on my bottom before surveying the community room again. “Is there anyone else in here you want to die, my love?”
I can’t my head to the side and tap my finger to my lip over and over, staring at the few people left in the room. Danny stands in shock by the window. A few residents hover over dead bodies, trying to save them, no doubt. No one stands out to me, no one important other than Danny.
“Kill them all,” I whisper, excitement coating my tongue. “Except Danny,” I add.
“Of course.” H drags me behind him as he crosses the community room again. Two residents huddle near a table, staring at us in horror. My heartbeat drums in my ears, in my chest, and my nostrils flare as I watch the terror build in them.
“Please!” the man begs, holding his hands up.
H doesn’t hesitate, he slices through the man’s neck, the blood splaying across his companion’s hair and face. She doesn’t speak, she just looks straight forward, rocking back and forth. I know this woman, she called me a whore because of Derrick, too.
My hand slides up H’s arm, to his wrist, and I tighten my grip on my own axe.
“Look at me,” I demand, narrowing my eyes on the little bitch on the floor.
Her eyes slide up to mine, and a tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m sor—”
She never gets the chance to finish her apology. My blade slices
through her face and into her neck. It takes two pulls to wrench the axe out of the mass of bone and tendon it’s stuck in. I look at the dead bodies and turn for the door, dragging my blood-coated fingers through my hair, knowing it’d be bright in my blonde locks.
“Are you coming?” I call over my shoulder.
H quickly jogs up to my side, his hand sliding across my ass as he falls in step beside me. As we enter the hallways, it’s easy to see where everyone has gone. Alternating shrill wails and loud booming voices come from the cafeteria. H slows at my side as he turns toward the large room.
The room goes deadly silent as we walk in. I can’t blame them. The ones who saw what happened in the community room already know how deadly H can be, and I imagine we look pretty gruesome covered in blood and toting axes. I feel powerful, untouchable, like this is something I was always meant to do.
And maybe I was. I’d caused the wreck that killed my parents. Maybe I was built for brutality, and it just took meeting the right horseman to bring it out in me. H’s footsteps click as we make our way into the room. A scream rises somewhere else in Whisperwood, and I smile at the thought of Mitzy having her fun, finally.
“They seem so calm, Poppet,” H snickers. “We should change that.” The flames along his body burn brighter for a moment, and everyone in the room begins to move, to twitch, to scratch at their skin. Some turn on their neighbors, wrapping their hands around their throats as they let loose primal screams. The remaining orderlies try to drag people apart, but the room is utter pandemonium. There’s nothing they can do.
A resident rushes toward us, his eyes wild, screaming. H cuts him down quickly, and picks up the head, tossing it outside into the hallway. “I’ll be taking these with me later,” he informs me, and he takes a step further into the room. My eyebrow raises. Where will we be going later? I shrug and follow him when my eyes fall on the one person I hate more than anyone else in the entire fucking institution.
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