Hadewych skirted the corpse and staggered in, cupping his mouth, shouting, “Zef? Zef!” The sound made him wince. He was the one with a hangover—a four-alarm magical migraine, like a throbbing balloon in a Bayer commercial.
LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M.
LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M.
LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M.
“I’m here! I came! Make it stop!”
It’ll never stop till I find the stone. The sister-stone. The stone and Zef. But which of them first? The stone, then my son? My son (my rock) and then the stone? LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M. Do I fix the headache or the heartache? Which would deliver more pain relief? Which would four out of five doctors recommend? Four out of five doctors always know best. Where’s number five? Where did he go? Somebody burned the fifth doctor, didn’t they? LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M. One of the four out of five doctors burned, but it wasn’t my fault. No, it wasn’t my fault. That was a… knee-jerk reaction, I swear. I couldn’t help it. I’m the real victim. I’m the one suffering. Shine a light in my eye and look. Can’t you see how much pain I’m in? LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M.
He began working methodically through the house, seeking the stone, seeking his son, scared of what he might find…
… and what he might not.
Jason and the others searched the rooftop, looking for a way down, crouching low behind the various marble railings, ducking into the shadow of a turret or chimney whenever a plague mask or vampire wig dummy came whipping overhead.
“Anything?” said Kate.
Zef shrugged. “Let’s go back through the hole Joey made and try to fight our way through the house.”
“Hate to tell you this,” said Jason, giving a nod in that direction. A trio of scarecrows were staggering through the hole, searching the roof.
“Then we’ll go the other way,” said Joey, pointing to the southern end, where the roof rose to its highest point. “Let’s get up top and see what’s on the other side.”
Zef looked worried. “We’ll be sitting ducks up there.”
Kate spit hair out of her mouth. “I don’t see another way.”
“On three,” said Jason. “One—two—”
The quartet sprinted across the rooftop, reached the steep slope, and began climbing, bracing their feet on the old shingles. Joey was quickest. He reached the topmost peak and beckoned for the others to join. He looked excited and was giving a thumbs-up. Had he spotted a way down on the other side?
Kate paused to peer through an angled skylight. Her eyes went wide and she pointed. Jason went to her and looked down through the rainy glass. Scarecrows flew about below, tearing up the bedroom that Kate had occupied, flipping the four-poster, searching the closets. A Tiffany lamp went flying. A priceless mirror shattered.
“They’re looking for me,” said Kate.
“Just keep moving,” said Jason.
Zef had already reached Joey at the summit. He looked hopeful too. He reached down and helped Kate heave herself up. Jason was last.
“What do you see?” Jason called, pulling at Joey’s leg.
“There’s a ladder at the southern end,” said Joey, beaming. “Right down to the roof of the veranda. We can jump from there, no prob.”
“Hallelujah.” Jason extended a hand, trying to dig fingers into the shingles and achieve the summit. Zef tried to help him. He grabbed Jason’s wrist and yanked.
Jason cried out in agony as all his weight went to his injured right shoulder. His cry startled Zef, who lost his grip. Jason went sliding backward down the roof, tumbling end over end, and—CRUNCH—landed hard on the skylight.
He froze, scared to move. The glass began cracking under his weight. He carefully rose to all fours. Cracks radiated outward and, worse, his glowing palms had attracted the attention of the manifests ransacking the room below. They turned their button eyes in his direction and reached.
Jason raised his head and looked to his friends, who still clung to the rooftop above, not yet realizing how bad his situation was.
“Uh… little help?”
The skylight broke.
The floor of Kate’s bedroom flew up to batter him. Shards of glass splashed to either side. The heavy rain poured in and the wind whipped the long floral curtains. He’d barely managed to rise, woozily, when the scarecrows attacked. A black-suited thing with a burlap face and red button-eyes gave a maniacal half smile and began knotting its arms around his calves. He kicked it away and swung his arms at anything that came within range. He rose unsteadily. A Casper mask tried to attach itself to his face. He grabbed the fallen Tiffany lamp and swung, batting the too-friendly ghost aside.
A skeleton mannequin clacked its teeth. A straw-bodied stormtrooper lunged. A vampire minister brandished his bible. Jason kept swinging, but there were far too many monsters.
They were everywhere.
And more kept shuffling in.
“Jason!” Kate threw herself down the shingles and caught the edge of the skylight. “I’m going after him!”
“No!” Zef crabbed down to her. “You’ll break your neck!” He looked down into the room. “It was my fault! I’ll go.”
“No way!” shouted Kate.
“Guys!” said Joey, pointing from his perch.
The commotion had caught the attention of the scarecrow trio on the roof. They were shuffling toward the group now.
Jason cried out below. A scarecrow had him by the waist. He was struggling, trying to tear free. He saw Kate and Zef and waved for them to go on without him. Kate’s mind raced as she searched for an answer.
“Come on!” said Zef, eyes on the approaching monsters. “We’re no good to him dead!”
“There must be something we can do!”
I’m going to lose Jason, she thought. I might actually lose him.
She’d been fighting their relationship for so long, holding him at bay, protecting herself, that it had never occurred to her that Jason might actually… go. She’d assumed he would always be there, chasing her, and that she could turn around and chase him whenever she was ready. The fact that he carried her Gift inside him was secondary. He could have it. He could have anything he asked for. Anything. If he would just promise to… not go.
Her fingers trailed to her throat, and in a flash, she saw a way to save him. But there’d be a cost. There’s always a cost. She’d have to trade her safety for his.
She ripped the talisman from her neck.
“Jason!” she screamed, dangling the talisman through the skylight.
Jason realized what she intended to do. “Don’t!”
She hesitated, terrified to part with her only protection. But she heard Eliza in the receiving vault, saying, “If a man loves you enough to fight for you, do yourself a favor, sweet thing, and let him. Let him fight your battles. And you fight his. That’s what ‘together’ means.”
Kate became determined and serene. Why was she just discovering now, here in this moment, that vulnerability wasn’t weakness? She could either choose to be safe, and risk losing him—or risk her own safety and try for happiness.
“You’re worth it!” she shouted.
She opened her hand… and dropped the talisman.
Jason caught it and briefly pressed it to his heart. Kate disappeared above. He thrust the talisman into the burlap face of the manifest attacking him. The scarecrow went limp and dropped to the floor. He shoved it into the chest of the clacking plastic skeleton, and the thing crumpled into a pile. Jason kept Casper at bay and stumbled to a southern window, throwing the curtains aside and heaving up the sash.
It was too far of a drop for him, but from here he could see the exterior ladder. Joey was almost down. Kate and Zef were above him, halfway from the roof. Kate saw Jason peering out and smiled with relief. Zef was holding off a batch of scarecrow attackers. He hooked his arm through the rungs of the ladder, grabbed one of the things by the throat, and beat it against the sid
e of the manor until all its stuffing blew away. Joey jumped down to the first floor veranda, ran to the edge, square-toothed like the wall of a castle, and looked over. He cupped his hands and shouted up to Jason, loud over the storm. “We’ll be okay!”
Jason waved. “I’ll meet you!”
Jason ran from the bedroom, followed by Casper, turning frantically in the unfamiliar lightless halls. He had to get the talisman back to Kate. He found a set of stairs and ran down them. He heard the clop of horse hooves on marble, which raised all the wet hairs on the back of his neck. He sprinted for the front doors, slipped on a piece of stone from one of the shattered busts, recovered, and ran out, batting aside two plague masks, a plastic Ringwraith, and the skeletal Mrs. Bates from Psycho, leaping through the jagged vestibule glass and out into the night. Casper gave up the pursuit and flew back inside.
Ghosts filled the yard. He raised the talisman with his good left arm—making a path through them—and dashed around to the side of the house, where he crashed bodily into Joey. They fell over together, losing their balance on the steep slope of the ground, and tumbled end over end, landing in a tangle at the bottom of the hill, near the parking lots. They rose—blinking, cold, and wet.
Jason looked up. Back at the house, Zef had braced himself on the square teeth that lipped the veranda. He was lowering Kate to the ground as if pouring oil on invaders. She dropped expertly to the grass, but the moment she did so, the windows behind her blew open as if someone had set off a bomb inside the manor. She fell to one knee…
… and every monster of Lyndhurst came at her at once.
Kate had known this would happen, deep down. She knew that, the instant she became vulnerable, Agathe would take her again. This was the price she’d have to pay for saving Jason’s life. She’d been prepared to pay it, and now the bill was due.
Down at the bottom of the hill, she saw Jason’s face flood with anguish as he realized what was happening. He struggled to his feet and came running up the hill to save her. He was in slow motion, though, and wouldn’t reach her in time.
But that was okay.
This was her choice, and she was cool with it. Things might still work out. Jason Crane had her strength inside him as well as his own, and no monsters on earth could last long against that combination.
Scarecrow arms flew around her body. Tendrils of fabric engulfed her. She stood at the center of a whirlwind of straw and Halloween masks and plastic bones. She felt her feet leave the ground, felt the rush of wind as the scarecrows pulled her back into the house, back to Agathe, back to possession and oblivion.
Kate Usher waved to Jason Crane and yelled, “Run the other way, you idiot!”
CHAPTER SIXTY
“Into the Dark”
“Run the other way, you idiot!”
Kate vanished as the monsters dragged her into the house. Jason cried out, desperate to rescue her, but Zef tackled him halfway up the slope, covered his mouth, and pulled him behind a tree, hissing, “Horseman!” Over Zef’s shoulder, the Horseman rode slowly through the rain, patrolling the grounds. Zef down the hill. “Joey’s behind that fountain. When I say go, we go. Don’t worry. We’ll save Kate somehow.”
“But Agathe’s got her. Shit. Shit.”
“Hey! Are you with me, man?”
Jason forced himself to concentrate. “Yeah. Sorry. Say when.”
They waited until a linden grove shielded them from the Horseman’s line of sight.
“Now,” said Zef.
They ran as fast as they could down the slope. Jason kept the talisman high. Joey fell in step with them and they ran together through the parking lot and into the woods. Jason’s heartbeat was loud in his ears and neck. The trees clustered around him, hiding him from view. That was good. He didn’t want to be seen by anyone. He’d failed Kate. Oh, God. He’d failed her. She’d saved his life, and he’d failed her.
His hands had begun to glow again. He was out of the Dead Zone.
He turned, realizing he’d lost Joey and Zef. He leaned against a mossy tree, allowing himself to feel the sorrow, to honor it but push through. He collected himself and stumbled onward, using his left hand for light, searching for the clearing where he and Kate had hidden the Horseman’s Treasure. He found the two walnut trees with the hollow between—where a teenaged Dylan Van Brunt had once kept his liquor. He reached inside, found the edges of the reliquary, and pulled it out. Raindrops pattered its glass, like flicks of a fingernail against a crystal goblet.
Jason’s hands illuminated the lantern’s contents. He held his breath for an instant, wondering if the head inside—fully human now, and as handsome as if chopped from its neck a moment ago—would open its eyes and growl, “Jason Crane!” giving him away. But the head kept silent, maybe thanks to the proximity of the talisman.
“I hate you so much,” Jason whispered to it.
He gathered the thing to his stomach and turned, wiping his cheeks, calling out telepathically. Zef didn’t answer, and Jason wondered if his friends had abandoned him, disgusted by how badly he’d failed Kate.
“Is it you?” said a voice.
Jason turned and gasped with relief. Kate stood at the far end of the clearing, just behind the two walnut trees.
“Is it you, Ichabod?”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. This was not Kate. This was a ghost. The ghost of a beautiful blonde. A lump rose in his throat. Dylan’s mother had been buried here, hadn’t she? Here, between the once-future site of Knoll, and Woolfert’s Roost, Irving’s Sunnyside, just to the south of these woods.
And Jason knew: here stood the ghost of Katrina Van Tassel.
She wore a simple white dress—like the White Lady of Raven Rock—and she was truly lovely. A silver necklace encircled her throat. Jason wondered if that was some acknowledgement that her head lay elsewhere.
“Why did you leave me, Ichabod?” Katrina cried. “Where did you go?” Her face filled with bewilderment and pain. “I could have been a schoolteacher’s wife. Tell me why why why…”
Jason approached her, wanting desperately to explain that his ancestor had had no choice, that Ichabod had indeed loved her, that…
Katrina’s face filled with fear. She pulled back, pointing to the severed head in his arms. “Ichabod, what have you done?”
“Don’t go!” Jason raised a hand, coming forward. But that hand held the talisman, and at its approach, Katrina evaporated into a tear-fall of rain. He had failed again, had lost another chance to tell someone how much they were loved.
“No. No. No…” Jason left the dark clearing, feeling even more miserable than before, which he’d thought impossible. He took a glance back, hoping Katrina’s spirit would find peace. “Ichabod loved you too,” he whispered, and felt a little better, though he had no idea if the ghost had heard. He pushed on through vines and dripping branches.
Jason? Zef called, telepathically.
Where are you? Jason replied.
Behind the gift shop. We found the aqueduct.
On my way.
He pushed through the thickets and found the Lyndhurst gift shop. He kept a careful eye on the shadows, watching for the Horseman.
KATE! HELP! DANGER! COME!
He whirled, looking up at the dark house.
Oh no. Oh no.
Someone touched Jason’s shoulder, and he jumped. Zef was near tears himself. “Did you feel that?”
Jason didn’t trust his voice. He whispered telepathically, Agathe’s taken Kate again.
I know.
Jason pressed his face to Zef’s shoulder, and the cousins held each other until the psychic alarm faded away.
LYNDHURST. DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. 9 P.M.
“I can’t take this!” Hadewych cried, shaking out the drawers of Mather’s desk. “Where is it? Where?” He kicked the scattered paperwork and set it on fire. He twisted and poured flame into the face of a child’s portrait, glad that Agathe had protected him from the Dead Zone. He scalded the ancient woodwork, scream
ing like an animal caught in a cage. He rushed out and found the control room, searched every inch, but found no sister-stone. He melted the consoles and monitors to slag. He searched and searched, leaving scorch marks and burning drapes behind him to mark his progress. “Where is it?”
“Poor Hadewych,” someone said.
Kate Usher stood in the hallway. No. Not Kate.
Hadewych tensed. “You’ve recovered her, I see.”
Agathe curtseyed. “A girl should always wear the latest fashions.”
“Where’s my son?”
She beckoned and led him into the music room. She’d lit lanterns there. The floor ran with blood. The drapes twisted crazily. Usher’s guards, possessed, stood in a group. A dozen or more possessed Gifted stood slack-jawed and vacant around the perimeter of the room. Valerie was among them—Valerie who had once loved him. He saw Jessica, too, the woman he had once loved.
Hadewych glanced up and cried out.
The corpse of Mather had been made into a scarecrow. It dangled from the ceiling, twisting in the wind, its child-drawn burlap face grinning happily. Its rigid left arm brandished Mather’s original head, speared on a fire poker.
“I can’t take this,” Hadewych feared for his sanity. For his soul. He sank to his knees.
“We’ll find your poor Zef!” Agathe said. “I promise. And the sinochitis.”
“Please. Make me another potion.”
“Of course, but…” She crossed her arms. “You must help me first.”
“God! Haven’t I helped you enough? I want out!”
“My blood is in you! You will never be out!”
A drop of blood from Mather splashed Hadewych’s cuff. He darted for the door, but Agathe’s minions stopped him.
“Don’t run,” Agathe cried. “You will be rewarded, child!” She gestured to blank-faced Jessica and Valerie. “These women betrayed you. And soon they will die screaming.”
SLEEPY HOLLOW: General of the Dead (Jason Crane Book 3) Page 61
