Dr. Yoon.
“Mackenzie,” she pleads, as I take a step toward her. Her eyes bounce from me to H as he quickly realizes who our newest victim is. I shake my head, a feral snarl on my lips as I get closer to her. “Kenzie, please. I don’t understand what’s happening!” She holds tight to her white jacket, though it’s no longer pristine. It’s smeared with someone’s blood, so it would seem the good doctor Yoon has already had to defend herself. I smirk at that.
“There’s nothing I can do for you, Yoon,” I coo to her as H steps closer. He drags the blade of his axe across the pants that seemed to have manifested when he changed. Funny, I hadn’t noticed the wardrobe swap, but I was probably distracted by the massive fucking pumpkin on his shoulders. “Your hands are far more stained than mine. And besides, he does what he wants, what can I say?”
“Who?”
“H.”
“Who is H?” she screams, cowering away from my lover, rushing to the other side of the table. H wraps his hand around the meticulous bun that Dr. Yoon is known for and drags her around the side of the table, holding her face a few inches from mine.
“Me,” he growls by her ear.
Yoon’s eyes well up with tears as he gently traces the blade of the axe across her neck. He doesn’t cut her, not yet. I don’t think he will until I tell him to. “What did you do to my Poppet to make her so angry?” he asks, wrenching her head to the side.
Before I can stop myself, I slap the woman across the face. A red welt in the shape of my hand starts forming almost immediately, and her hand rushes to cover it, her mouth gaping. “What the fuck, Kenzie?” she hisses, trying to wrench herself out of H’s grasp.
“She’s been threatening to send me to a prison institution for years. She knows I didn’t belong here but kept me here, anyway. She could have let me go ages ago.” I shake my hand, the sting on my palm still burning. I’d always wanted to hit that woman, and it feels really fucking good now that I’ve finally done it.
“You won’t get away with this,” she whimpers, her fingers scraping at H’s hand in her hair.
“We will,” I whisper. And then I nod. Before I’m even through with the gesture, Yoon’s blood splashes across my neck and chest, and I whimper, licking my lips. There’s something so fucking sexy about him killing for me. The visions had been one thing, but this is amazing. My thighs clench together, trying to stop the building ache.
“Unh,” a garbled sound from H draws my attention, and I see two orderlies wrapping their arms around him from behind. In the scuffle, one of them hits him in the head with something, and the large pumpkin head tumbles to the ground, away from the fight. I blink, looking from my headless boyfriend where he swings his axe wildly at the men attacking him, to the pumpkin head rolling across the cafeteria floor.
I shake my head, laughing as I chase after the damned thing. When I get to it, my fingers slip in all the blood coating the hard surface, and I nearly drop it. With my newfound grip, I rush across the room again, picking my way around a body—not one of ours, this one looks like someone gouged his eyes out—and quickly make my way to my man’s side.
I push the pumpkin up onto his shoulders and wait for the flames to fill it again. H winks at me and turns, slicing the heads off both orderlies in one fell swoop. He bends down, pressing his ‘lips’ to mine, and I kiss the slick flesh of the pumpkin like my life depends on it. I don’t give a fuck, this is everything. “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t for me,” I point out, impressed with my own joke.
“Let’s go, Poppet,” H laughs, and the deep, throaty sound sends a shiver down my spine. I still have no idea where we are supposed to go, or how we are going to get there, but I trust him. He bends down, picking up two heads and walks toward the door. I pause by Yoon and slip my fingers into her hair, pulling until her head pops off. The slice in her neck is deep enough that it doesn’t take much effort, thank God, but that bitch’s head is coming with me.
As we make our way down the hall, a few stragglers under the effect of H’s influence run past us. H cuts one down, just for fun it seems as we step around the bodies of the dead and dying in Whisperwood. This place will never be the same.
I cast a glance over my shoulder toward the destroyed community room where Danny still stands, in shock it would seem, surrounded by blood and gore. The Halloween decorations seem more fitting, now, at least.
My grip tightens on Yoon’s head, and I watch H pick up a few more of the ones he’d tossed into the hallway earlier. The rest, he begins kicking down the hall toward the door as we make our way to freedom. I join him, kicking any stragglers toward the door.
H pushes the door open and cool, October air hits my skin. It’s chilly, especially since I’m mostly soaking wet in blood. H continues making his way toward the gate, kicking heads as he goes. I roll my eyes and follow him, when a loud whinny catches my attention.
Just outside the gate, the biggest black horse I’ve ever seen waits. His hooves glow with the same green flames as H’s head does, and I swallow hard, meeting the creature’s gaze. He snorts, pawing at the ground as H gets closer.
“Come, Poppet,” he growls, slamming his axe against the lock keeping the gate shut. It sparks as he breaks it, and I rush toward the gate as he swings it open. The horse backs up, his legs prancing high as he avoids the metal.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, taking my first step outside of Whisperwood since I was a child. Tears spring from the corners of my eyes, and I drop Yoon’s head to swipe the tears away. “I’m free.” I can’t believe I’m really going to get to leave this place. Finally. After all these years, I’m really going to be free. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for someone to rush after us, someone H can’t kill. But no one comes. A happy sob slips past my lips, and I shake my head, covering my mouth.
“You’re free, love,” H whispers as he bends to pick up the head I’d abandoned. He whistles, and the horse trots up to our side. Then H starts stuffing the heads into the saddle bags. Yoon’s head, though, he does something special. Untying her bun, he takes her long black hair and ties it in a knot at the stirrup, letting the head hang freely for everyone to see. A shiver of excitement zips through me as H’s hands come around my waist and he lifts me onto the back of his horse.
“Now, to Sleepy Hollow,” he commands the horse, and it takes off at a canter. My arms fly around H’s waist, and I hold on for dear life as the beast surges beneath us. The constant rock of the saddle against my core definitely isn’t helping ease the arousal I’ve been trying to ignore.
H pats my hand where it clings to his chest and mumbles something I can’t make out over the wind whipping against my ears. The moon high in the sky, soaking everything in moonlight, we make our way toward town. Toward Sleepy Hollow.
Free.
Chapter 23
H
Riding on my black steed, Demon, again feels as if coming home, but that is not the only thing that rushes through me as he thunders down the asphalt toward the unsuspecting town of Sleepy Hollow. Every year, my powers take over whatever body I am inhabiting, and every year, I ride through the streets of this town stuck in the past and punish those who deserve to be punished. Maybe a few innocents get taken as well, but it is a side effect of my ride, and while I do not go out of my way to punish innocents, it happens.
That seems fucked up. Think you can tone that down a bit?
“No, Crane. I am who I am. I cannot change that.”
Well, maybe you can try. I can stomach slaughtering assholes, but not innocents. You’re capable of it, or else Kenzie wouldn’t be riding behind us.
I clench my jaw. “Very well. I will try to restrain myself.”
That’s all I ask.
“How’s Crane?” Kenzie asks behind me, her fingers clenched tightly in my jacket.
“Insufferable.” I glance behind me and meet Kenzie’s eyes. “But, otherwise, he is well.”
Kenzie nods, her hips thrusting against mine with the rhythm of Demon
beneath us, driving me to insanity even as I focus on the task at hand. Tonight will be far more difficult with the thought of her thighs behind me, with the glorious bloodlust in her eyes. I want to fuck her in the blood of our destruction. I want to claim her completely. But not yet.
No, not yet.
“You didn’t tell me your horse’s name,” Kenzie says, her voice barely heard under the thundering hooves.
“Demon.”
Kenzie snorts. “So, Mitzy was right. She just called the wrong one Demon.”
Our steed throws his head back in a ferocious whinny, belying his supernatural origins, the green flames bursting from his muzzle like a dragon. Grinning, I pat his neck in reassurance. Silly beast always demands a little more affection during this time of year.
Sleepy Hollow rises before us, the old-style buildings unchanged from decades gone by, some fool deciding that nostalgia made more money than modernity. I hope the leaders would be out on the streets, but they were never so careless. No, they know to lock their doors and seal themselves inside their vaults when the Headless Horseman rides.
Just because the town’s inhabitants know to avoid the streets does not mean that there will not be people to punish. Every year, the myths and hysteria that falls over Sleepy Hollow attracts all sorts of characters. A festival of sorts takes place, bringing tourists, fanatics, idiots. They either knew they would die or thought that the rumors were nothing more than fiction. That was always their mistake.
Demon slows to a trot as the sounds of music filter through the otherwise empty streets, the green flames licking along our bodies as we prepare. The full moon is high, the bright stars twinkling, as I twirl the bloody axe between my fingers.
“Are you ready, Poppet?” I ask as the festival comes into view. Caricatures of my likeness stand tall between the crowds in all manners. I try my best not to be offended by such monstrosities. I come every year. You would think they could get the depiction correct. One such giant artwork has me riding a small horse, completely headless, holding the pumpkin high above me. Why in bloody hell would I remove my head on purpose and swing it around like a boomerang?
I like it, Crane teases. Really makes you look cuter.
“I am not cute!” I growl.
Kenzie laughs behind me. “Well, I mean, the artwork is pretty cute.”
I turn in the saddle and look Kenzie in the eyes. “You’ll pay for that later, Poppet,” I threaten. “You will scream our names for all of Sleepy Hollow to hear and fear.”
She shivers against my back, her lips tugging up into a vicious grin. “I’m looking forward to it, Pumpkin Daddy.”
I snarl at her teasing but let it lie for now. Later, I can make her pay for such remarks. Now, I want to see her covered in blood.
Did she really just call you Pumpkin Daddy, Harold?
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl just as the first partier sees our approach. The sound of a trumpet goes up in the air, spreading the word.
“The Horseman is here!” they call, the sentence repeated over and over again until there is nothing but a mass of excited shouts.
Demon rears onto his hind legs, and Kenzie clutches to my waist with strength she should not be capable of. The crowd shouts and crows, and I revel in the worship.
When the black steed’s hooves slam into the ground, the crowd goes silent, waiting for the decree that comes every year, that the rest of the world believes is nothing more than a myth, that never seems to scare the ones who have come here to die.
“You come to witness your destruction,” I begin, my voice booming around the area. “Some of you have come to die. I will be your salvation.”
Behind me, Kenzie shifts in the saddle, grinding against me, amping up the tension in my bones. The green flames flare brighter around us, and my next words come out with a purr.
“Be sure to mind your heads.”
Demon whinnies and shoots forward into the crowd.
* * *
/-/-/-/
Chapter 24
Kenzie
A shudder of excitement rockets through my body as we surge into the crowd of people. I don’t fully understand what’s happening here. Why are so many people having a festival in H’s honor? I get that he grew up in Sleepy Hollow, the birthplace of a legend and all that . . . but if these people knew he was real . . . why would they come?
The answer is made clear when I spot the first truly panicked face. Like every legend, there are people who believe, and people who want to see if it’s real. Demon snorts and green flames illuminate the faces close to us, some even braving to touch the horse’s side as we pass. H growls and swings his axe into the crowd. A scream starts but falls short as blood splashes against my leg. The horse never slows down.
Slowly, the crowd begins to change around us. The once tranquil, cult-like gathering is descending into chaos. People run into one another as panic sweeps through them.
“Are you doing this?” I ask.
“Yes,” H answers, hacking a head off someone as we pass. He doesn’t stop to collect it.
“Why?” I can’t help but wonder why he’d want to rile them up. They were waiting for him.
“It shows the guilty, Poppet. Only those who don’t deserve to die will be spared from the effect, though they’ll still be scared, I’m sure. It shows what they keep locked away in their filthy minds, so I can take the heads that are mine.” He reaches back with his free hand and grips my thigh, pulling me close. “Do not fall off this steed, no matter what.”
I nod, pulling my axe from the little niche in the saddle that I’d slid it into. I grip it hard, watching as the men and women in Sleepy Hollow attack one another. The innocent ones that H mentioned are easy to spot. They’re standing still, clutching their chests as they watch the unfolding riot.
“Horseman!” Someone screams, rushing toward us. H’s head turns slowly, grinning as the idiot takes one step too many toward his Demon. The horse turns, pawing at the ground as the man continues running to us, and H swings his axe, lopping the head off in one easy stroke.
I’d love to know how he does that. My axe kept getting stuck at Whisperwood. I reach out into the crowd, dragging my blade across a few necks as we pass. Blood splatters against my arm and leg, and I shiver through the excitement.
I need H inside me. Every time the saddle bounces, every time H touches me, I need him more. The ache between my thighs has been growing all night. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the slick feeling growing in my core.
H raises his axe above his head, growling as a man cowers away from his blade. I look behind us at the path of dead bodies we’ve trailed through the festival. So many heads lay feet away from their owners. Demon rocks beneath me, and I quickly slide my free hand around H’s waist again, holding on tight. A quick look to the side shows me the problem. Several of H’s fans have started pushing against the demon horse, trying to knock us over. I swing my axe out but miss. H follows suit, the green flames surging along his body and down his axe as he lodges it in a woman’s skull. She falls away, and H’s axe falls with her.
He reaches over his shoulder, and I hand him mine without question, wrapping both arms around his stomach, hoping this horse doesn’t tip over on top of us. With a primal yell, H takes the head off another man, and then something knocks the wind out of me.
I’ve always hated that feeling you get in your stomach when you’re falling. My arms fly up, my fingers grasping for something, anything. I feel the worn leather of the saddle slipping beneath my fingers as I careen to the ground. It takes me a second to get my bearings. Rubbing my head, I scramble to my feet and search for H. He’s a few feet away, on his feet beside Demon, kicking a paper-thin man in the chest. Demon fights right alongside him, as if they’d done this hundreds of times, and I guess they have.
H bends over a body at his feet and rips an axe from the head of the woman I watched him kill only a few moments before. The green flames flash bright, stunning everyone around him—including me—as
he marches toward me, slicing into the crowd with both hands.
“Poppet?” he asks, looking down at me.
I stare up at him, silent, my chest heaving as he throws an axe directly behind me. The sound of flesh tearing and bone crunching is music to my ears. I lick my lips and turn around, prying the axe from the large man I hadn’t even heard approach. As I right myself, wiping the bloody axe handle off on my shirt, my eyes meet H’s. The swirling flames call to something inside me.
“I’m fine,” I finally answer, panting in the middle of the chaos.
H looks up at the sky. The moon isn’t in the same place it had been, but that means next to nothing to me. It seems to mean a lot to him, though. “Stay here, Poppet. Stay here, just like that. I’ll bring a present for you.” Before I can answer, H stomps away, shouldering through a few people who must be innocents because they don’t seem nearly as crazed as the rest of the crowd. Well, what’s left of the crowd.
I spin in a slow circle, taking in the mayhem. Bodies litter the street. One of the massive horsemen meant to be H has been toppled over near the bonfire. Flames lick at the straw and wicker, and I bounce on the balls of my feet. I’ve always loved a good fire.
There aren’t many partiers left. A small crowd on the other side of the bonfire surrounds H, but they slowly fall, one by one to his axe. I drag a blood-soaked hand through my hair, biting my lip as the last scream dies on the chilly night air.
A few innocents meander around the fire, looking around at the destruction, at their friends. This is what they came here for, right?
Sleepy Hollow is nearly silent as H crosses our personal battlefield, holding a head in each hand as he approaches me. He tosses them at my feet, and I grin up at him, holding the axe with both hands behind my back and batting my eyelashes.
“For me?” I giggle.
“Always for you, Poppet,” he snarls, gripping my hair with more force than he ever has. He tugs on my scalp until my back arches, and I’m forced to meet his burning green eyes, just as the sky begins to lighten.
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