Everything about this was a want, and it made my lower gut warm in all the right places.
I lost myself in his pitch-black gaze, in the squareness of his jaw and the way his thick eyelashes framed his eyes. I lost myself so much that I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a bump in the wall, coming from the hallway.
“Don’t worry,” Crane’s voice came from the hall, “I have it all under control—” It sounded as if he was struggling, and not a moment later there was a crash, a dozen or so bumps as something sounded as if it fell down the stairs.
I pulled myself off of Wash, and the man’s arms were measured in letting me go. Wash obviously didn’t want the moment to end, but I had to make sure it wasn’t Crane himself who took a tumble. For a man who acted so regal and refined, he could be a bit clumsy sometimes.
Crane stood at the top of the stairs, looking a bit sheepish. “Turned out,” he said, working to pull off his gloves, “I didn’t have it under control.”
Peering down the stairs, I saw exactly what fell all the way down: the headboard to my dad’s bed. My guess? Crane couldn’t get a good grip on it with his gloves on and it slid right out of his hand and put a pretty decent sized dent in the drywall at the base of the stairs, since the wall was the whole stopping force behind it.
Wash exited my old bedroom, standing tall behind me and able to see over my head with no issues. Yes, the man was that freaking tall. You can understand why I wanted to climb him like a mountain.
I met Crane’s gaze, noticing the man was only a little embarrassed, and I did the only thing I could—I laughed. I laughed a full, hearty, deep laugh, because this whole thing was just ridiculous. And the look Crane gave me once I started to laugh? Even more priceless.
“It’s not that amusing,” Crane remarked, glancing to Wash for backup. “Is it?” But Wash wasn’t Bones, so Wash said nothing, preferring to keep silent once more.
“It is,” I said, still laughing. “It totally is.” I was about to say more, but my phone rang. After snaking it from my back pocket, I answered it when I saw it was Bones calling me. Strange, because the man should be working near the festival set up. I’d told him I wasn’t going to accompany him every single day—it was bad enough practice for the damned play started up soon. One day at the festival, one day being ogled like some character at a freak show, was more than enough.
Also? Wash would only be playing the Headless Horseman in the play over my dead body.
“Hey, what’s up?” It was an odd time to be calling, not quite lunchtime yet, so I really didn’t know what he could be—
“Help” was all he said. One word, and it sounded…robotic, almost. Mechanical. Like Bones wasn’t himself. Like, and I really hated to think this, he was possessed. He said that one word, and then he hung up.
When I tried to redial him, it went straight to voicemail, like he’d either turned off his phone or broke it.
It wasn’t possible. Bones was fine yesterday, and he wasn’t a weak person. He was strong, mentally and physically. It wouldn’t be easy for a spirit to possess him. From what Crane told me, spirits only went for the weaker ones—which was why the spirit inhabiting my dad’s body had resorted to hurting me, to try to weaken me so it could slip inside me instead. Just enough to inflict pain, but not enough that it would’ve killed me. My soul would’ve been a wasted meal.
“Kat,” Crane called out, breaking into my thoughts. My mind raced a mile a minute, so it was difficult for me to pay attention to what he said next: “You look, well, forgive my use of the phrase, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It was Bones,” I said, glancing between the two men hanging on every word. “He didn’t sound right. He needs our help.” At this point, if he was possessed, I didn’t know what kind of help we could give him…other than Wash’s ax.
So not happening. I was not going to lose Bones to these hungry spirits.
I raced down the stairs, Crane and Wash on my heels. “We have to go to him, make sure he’s okay.” Although, Bones being okay might not be possible. He didn’t sound like himself at all—he sounded like Mike had, right before the Horseman appeared and killed him.
No, no, no, no.
This could not happen.
As we hurried into Crane’s car, Crane asked, “How did he sound?”
“He sounded possessed,” I muttered, a sinking feeling in my gut. If I lost Bones to this place, I would never forgive this fucking town. I’d—well I wasn’t too sure about what I’d do, but I’d definitely do something.
Crane said nothing else as we drove to the center of town, where everyone was doing the final touches. The festival ran for a while, with stands and games and all that, like a mini-fair. The local schools were already in session, so the busiest times were the late afternoons and weekends.
Most of the decorations had been set up, and today everyone was working on setting up the stands. I saw the old florist, Bernice, who wanted Wash to play the Headless Horseman, along with a bunch of other people I recognized but didn’t care to know. My eyes scanned the area, but I could not see Bones anywhere.
“There,” Crane spoke, pointing near one of the shops across the street from the square.
A woman stood in a dark blue uniform, her badge just as golden as Bones’s was. She was a cop, but she was definitely not the man we were looking for. I recognized her as the one I’d seen flirting with him at the station. His pretty coworker. The selfish part of me was happy that I had him and she didn’t—but now wasn’t the time for pettiness.
Now was the time for oh, shits and intense worry.
“Didn’t Brom say he was working at the festival again?” Crane asked, turning his green eyes to me. In the back seat, Wash was silent, staring at me, too.
“Yes,” I answered quickly. “But he’s not here, which means…” I trailed off, wondering what the hell it meant. Did he ever get here? Was he taken? No, if he was taken, the townsfolk setting up would’ve seen. There’d be more of a police presence here if something happened—which led me to believe he was never here. “Go to his house,” I whispered, hating the feeling of my heart breaking.
I couldn’t lose Bones. Not yet, not so soon. Hell, I couldn’t ever lose him. He was mine, and I was going to do my damnedest to keep him here with me, even if it meant going against every single spirit haunting the otherworld.
Chapter Eight
Bones’s house was a few minutes away. He lived in an older part of town, one with houses that were nowhere near the size and ridiculous luxury of Crane’s. He was a descendant of Abraham, but it was clear their money hadn’t lasted. It was still a nice house, more than I ever hoped to get on my own. Although, now that I was here, getting a house and moving out of my apartment was the last thing on my mind.
First and foremost? Saving one of the men I love.
If he was in danger, he was in danger because of me. He was one of my weak links, but I would not bend over and let the spirit have him.
I flew out of Crane’s car before it was stopped, ignoring Crane as he called after me as I rushed inside. The front door wasn’t locked, so I was able to go right in and witness the mayhem inside. Immediately, I knew something was very, very wrong here.
Furniture had fallen over, picture frames on the wall hanging crooked, as if someone had slammed into the wall near them and got them off-balance. Crane was behind me, Wash behind him, and it was only with their presence that I felt comfortable enough to head inside further. I glanced at Wash, whispering, “Whatever you do, do not hurt him. I don’t care if he’s possessed.”
“Kat,” Crane started, but I cut him off with a harsh look.
No. Bones would not die today.
Together, we headed deeper into the house. A noise came from the kitchen, and after a shared look, we rounded the corner to the kitchen and saw…let’s just say what we saw was something that made me dizzy.
A body lay on the floor, that of an older man. In his eighties, maybe? Either way, with how
his body was crumpled and his grey, thinning hair was coated in blood, he wasn’t going to live to see his next birthday, because he was already dead. A corpse littering the floor, but that wasn’t even the worst part.
Bones stood near the counter, wearing one of his uniforms, though his shirt was not buttoned, as if this had started while he was trying to get ready for work. His blue eyes were a bit cloudy, but every so often it was as if the irises did not exist. Every few blinks, his eyes flashed white.
I felt it like a thousand-pound weight on my shoulders: he was possessed, just as I thought. But suspecting it and seeing it for yourself were two totally different things.
And Bones was not alright. His body, I meant. He was bleeding, a dozen cuts littering his body, not too deep, but deep enough I could see the red underneath his skin, deep enough and numerous enough to weaken him. The spirit had piggy-backed on the old man to bring him here, used his body to weaken Bones’s, and then when Bones was ready for possession, the spirit jumped.
“I’ve been waiting,” Bones spoke, his voice mechanical, jarring to my ears. Goosebumps rose on my flesh as I listened to him speak, knowing the thing talking was not Bones but a spirit.
Was Bones in there? Could he hear us, could he see us? Or was he already gone? My heart weighed heavily in my chest when I thought that last thought, because if he was already gone…God, what would I do? I never thought something like this would happen. So stupid. Of course the spirits would go after those I cared about. Of course they’d try everything to get to me.
Oh, Bones. I’m so sorry.
Bones smiled, but it was a twisted and deceitful thing. An ugly, hideous grin that made the skin on my bones start to crawl. He had a cut on his cheek, right along his jaw, and the blood pooled into a drip on his chin. “You’re supposed to see this,” he said, immediately reaching for something I didn’t see on the counter near him until now.
A knife.
A knife covered in blood, probably the same knife the spirit had used to weaken him.
I was supposed to see what? I was going to ask, try to distract the spirit, but I couldn’t. I watched in horror as Bones lifted the knife to his throat, as if he was about to cut himself. To slit his own throat and end his life, but not the spirit’s life. Bones would die, but the spirit would be free to possess someone else.
Bones, thankfully, did not get the chance to cut his throat, for suddenly Wash appeared behind him, stepping out of nothing, having traversed through the otherworld, invisible to us all. Wash grabbed the arm holding the knife, twisting it aside, slamming it on the counter and causing Bones to drop it. Without hesitation, Wash picked Bones up and threw him against the far wall, hitting his head so hard he did not get up again.
Tears prickled at my eyes, and I fought them. If I started crying, I knew I wouldn’t stop. It would be an endless thing, just a waterfall of tears. This life? It sucked. It sucked majorly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would ever get better. Right when I thought things had settled down, those same things had risen up to prove me wrong.
Sleepy Hollow wasn’t safe. It was never safe. These spirits were still after me.
Crane was at Bones’s side, kneeling and pressing a finger against his neck to get his pulse. “Still alive.” He glanced to me. “If we can restrain him…we can at least clean the wounds.”
I noticed how he didn’t say save him or help him, and I bit back what I really wanted to say. I did not tell him that we were going to save him. I didn’t say that over my dead body I’d let him die.
Wash went to pick him up, tossing Bones’s body over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. He brought him to the kitchen table and set him along a chair, holding him there to stop him from sliding off in his unconscious state.
“What about him?” I gestured toward the body of the elderly man.
“We’ll figure out where he came from and go from there. Right now, our main focus should be Bones,” Crane spoke, hurriedly correcting himself, “Brom.” Crane must’ve been upset too, for he never used the nickname. It was always Brom with him, never Bones.
I didn’t know why, but hearing him say Bones made the first tear fall down my cheek, tickling as it went.
As I turned away to hide it, Crane added, “I’ll see if I can find something to restrain him.” He searched the kitchen cabinets first, disappearing in other parts of the house to look further when he did not find anything.
Once I’d wiped the tear away and did my best to dry my eyes with the tips of my fingers, I moved beside Wash, staring down at Bones’s crumpled body. He looked so…beaten. So weak, with all the cuts on his arms and face. I hated that this was all because of me.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Wash, meeting his dark eyes. “For not killing him.” The expression he returned was not one that made me feel good. It was one that asked me, wordlessly, what we would do now, what we could possibly do to make this situation better and turn it around.
The answer to that was…I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know if there was anything we could do to make this easier, to make it better. This, I realized, just might be the end of everything I’d known these last few weeks.
Crane finally returned with, of all things, duct tape. Yes, a roll of duct tape was all that stood between Bones being safely restrained to the chair and Bones trying to kill himself because the spirit inside of him dictated it. Fucking duct tape.
Crane used the roll up, taping Bones’s legs to the legs of the chair and his arms behind him, keeping his wrists together behind his back. Lastly, he used the duct tape to tape Bones’s wide chest to the back of the chair, to keep him rooted in place. Layers and layers of duct tape, strung around so thickly I doubted anyone would be able to escape if they were in a similar situation.
“Let me check to see if he has a first aid kit,” Crane muttered, once again leaving us.
As I stared at the blonde, bloodied head hanging low before me, I replayed what the spirit had forced Bones to say. I’ve been waiting, you’re supposed to see this. The spirit was waiting for me, that much was obvious. It knew Bones was close to me, but any spirit who spent time watching me would know that. But the latter part of it? How it said I was supposed to see it? That…that almost made me wonder if the spirit wasn’t working by itself, if someone or something had told it what to do.
Supposed to see this.
I doubted a spirit who wanted to make me suffer would use language like that. They would’ve said something else, surely.
“This,” I spoke, my voice quiet, “this isn’t right.” That was the understatement of the whole fucking year, but I didn’t care. We were in Bones’s house, with a possessed Bones and another body. It didn’t get worse than this.
Crane returned and started to clean him up, getting a bowl of water and a towel to wipe him off before using anything on the wounds themselves. I couldn’t watch, so instead I wandered into Bones’s room and sat on his bed. It was a simple bed, white sheets with a light grey comforter and a bedframe that he probably got at some department store on clearance. I couldn’t judge though, because at the apartment, most of my furniture was bought from a second-hand store. Or a lightly-used store, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Mom always said she’d help me if I needed help, but I wanted to show her I was capable of living on my own. I was an adult, and I could do it. I wouldn’t be a burden to her like Dad was.
Maybe I was wrong all along—after all, Dad was only a burden because of this place, because of me.
Fuck. Why did I have to look like Katrina? Why did everything have to revolve around me? Yes, it was nice having two, maybe three men who cared about me, but besides that, I did not need anything else. I didn’t need the world to revolve around me; I was just happy to live in it.
I closed my eyes, sinking down on the bed. I buried my face against Bones’s pillow, inhaling his scent. I did not want it to end like this. I’d much rather break up than have him die. Anything. I would do anything to keep Bones alive and her
e with me. That fucking spirit and whoever was working with it needed some payback.
Someone else came in the room; I knew it before I saw him. I could feel his presence, the pull I felt toward him. Whatever our connection was, it was most definitely supernatural. Wash. Wash was here, with me, and not with Crane and Bones. He really should stay with them, just in case something were to happen, but duct tape was a bitch to deal with, let alone escape from when it was wrapped around you two dozen times. Crane would be fine, and if Bones started to escape, he’d holler.
Wash carefully sat on the bed near me, setting a strong, warm hand on my back. I didn’t turn to look up at him, didn’t tear my face away from Bones’s pillow. I lay there for what felt like forever, trying to get ahold of myself, not wanting to fully break down. I had to be strong, but sometimes it was impossible. Sometimes being strong wasn’t easy. If it was easy and effortless, everyone would be strong.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered into the pillow. “I can’t lose him.” At that, I finally tore myself away from the fluffy white pillow and looked at Wash. “I can’t do it.” My voice wavered, and I knew I sounded weak.
Weak. I was weak.
I was only weak when it came to my guys, but still. That was enough of a weakness, apparently. Enough space for a spirit to squeeze in and shatter me completely. I would never be whole if I lost Bones today.
The hand on my back moved, pulling me up. Wash wrapped me in a hug he knew I needed, and I closed my eyes when I felt his strong arms surround me. This day, so far, was on track to be the worst day of my life. If I lost Bones…I honestly didn’t know what the hell I’d do. I’d be a wreck. I’d be easy pickings for spirits.
Spirits had killed my dad, and now they’re going after the men I love, too.
I felt like crying, like giving up and losing it, but a hand tilting my face stopped me. Wash’s fingertips were so gentle, such a stark contrast to how he was when I first met him. Yes, he was just as intimidating now as he was then, but here on this bed, in this moment? I never would’ve imagined we’d be here. I never thought he’d be able to hold me so firmly and yet so tenderly. Wash was just what I needed.
The Blessed Undead (Return to Sleepy Hollow Book 2) Page 8
