A delicious aroma wafted up to my nose, and I inhaled deeply. It’d been forever since I had a real breakfast. Crane was more of a crepe man than anything, but I liked my meals hearty.
“And don’t worry,” Bones added, “I brought enough for Crane too. Figured it’d be rude to bring breakfast just for you and me.” He began to unpack the bags, pulling out a few Styrofoam containers.
Crane bounded into the kitchen the next moment, practically gliding over the floor as he moved in between us. Yes, right between Bones and I, like he was trying to pry us apart. “What’s this about rudeness? Whatever it is, I’m sure you’re right. You know all about being rude, don’t you?”
I elbowed Crane’s side, and the man scooted away from me, going to make tea.
Bones tossed a half-assed glare his way, saying, “Make some coffee, will you? I can’t take that tea stuff.” Crane looked like he was about to drop dead from a heart attack at that, and they exchanged icy stares.
All the while I slid into a barstool along the island, holding back my laughter. These two…what was I going to do with them? Don’t get me wrong, there were a lot of things I wanted to do with them both, but in the long run? In the long run I…fuck. In the long run I was screwed.
People didn’t settle down in threesomes. Not really, not usually. I couldn’t have them both, even if I wanted them both. Life would not let me have them, and that was assuming I got out of this alive.
Bones set one of the to-go containers before me, and his hand was back in the bag, trying to find something else. “I don’t think they packed me any silverware.”
“Then I guess I shall be the gentleman here,” Crane said, pausing in his tea-making to pull me out a fork from the silverware drawer. “Do you need a knife as well?”
I opened my container and spotted a nice stack of French toast. Holy shit. I hadn’t had French toast in years. It was my go-to breakfast during the summers. Loaded with butter and powdered sugar, and these bad boys were heaven on earth.
Since I was too busy eyeing up my food, Bones said, “Yes, she’ll need a knife too.”
Crane handed one to me, and within ten minutes, we were silently eating. Crane sat to my left, Bones on my right, and even though the two men hated each other, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Nestled between them, it somehow felt right, as if this was always where I was meant to be.
Stupid, because even the original Katrina Van Tassel chose one.
The French toast was gone far too fast. If I could rewind time just to eat it again, I so would. There were few things better than food in the world—sleep and sex were two of them, but that was about it. Once we were finished eating, we made our way up to the library.
It was not the first time Bones had entered the library room in Crane’s house, but nonetheless, he had his hands on his hips as he inspected the bookcases along the wall. “I still can’t get over how many books you have,” he muttered.
“Acquired over a lifetime,” Crane said, returning to his desk, his chosen seat when we were in old-fashioned research mode. I always sat near the chair by the large windows—these windows were too large to open, luckily, so no strange occurrences like this morning. That left Bones to sit on the floor, or try to squeeze in beside me, which Crane never particularly liked.
“If I had all the money in the world,” I said, “I’d have my own library, too.”
“Full of those sex-filled books you read as a kid,” Bones chuckled.
“What?” Crane glanced at me, shocked at my younger self’s choice of reading material.
I shot Bones a look. “Hey, I had my sex-filled books, you had your Playboys.”
Crane’s cheeks turned pink as he looked between us. “Oh, dear. I did not need to hear that, I assure you.” He reached for his glasses, taking them off to wipe them with the bottom fabric of his shirt. A gesture he often did when uncomfortable.
Such a prude.
Bones would not let it go. He turned his dimpled grin to Crane, saying, “Come on, Crane. I bet you had some inappropriate stuff when you were younger, too. What was it? Did you fall down the rabbit hole of porn?”
Crane’s skin flashed an even deeper pink, and he hurriedly put on his glasses to meet Bones’s stare from across the room. “I most certainly did not,” he shot back, sounding annoyed and an ungodly type of embarrassed.
Letting out a skeptical noise, Bones moved beside me, whispering in a loud voice—so loud that Crane could definitely hear him— “That would be a yes to the porn, I bet.”
I giggled, and Crane turned his glare to me. “You do not find this funny, do you? It’s crass—”
“Might be crass,” I said, grinning, “but still funny.”
We continued like that for a while, Bones making funny comments, me trying not to laugh and failing immediately, and Crane doing his best to ignore us and get his full research mode on, for hours. It was the same thing we did every day, ever since being cooped up in this house. Going through books page by page took time, and there was no telling we’d even figure anything out.
We knew the spirits wanted me, but we didn’t know what they wanted me for. Bending me over a rock and decapitating me wasn’t enough to open the veil. A spell had to be included, and according to Crane, if we could figure out the spell, we could also figure out ways to counteract it.
Sounded easy enough, right?
As it turned out, Googling things was so much easier. A pity none of these books had online copies.
It was well after our lunch break that Bones leaned back on the side of the chair I sat in. He was on the floor, his legs sprawled out before him, his wide shoulders slumped. “My eyes feel like they’re going to fall out,” he muttered. This was his first full day of research with us. To that I could only say: I know.
Oh, wait. I know and Try being the one the spirits are after. So two things.
“You could always leave,” Crane suggested, a note of hope in his voice. If Bones agreed to leave, I was pretty sure he’d leap up and do a dance on top of his desk. Seriously. The man would be that happy.
I heard a rumble come from Bones’s chest and knew he was about to say something mean and snarky back, so I sat up, swung my legs off the chair, and asked, “Why do you guys hate each other so much?”
Both men were quiet.
“Seriously, why? You’ve both warned me against the other, and honestly, as a third-person party in the middle of this feud, I don’t understand it.” It was kind of funny to watch their bickering, but not constantly. If it was constant, it was tiring. “Is it because of your ancestors?”
I pointed to Crane. “Do you hate Bones because Abraham got the girl? Do you think he’s going to automatically claim me like some prized horse?” Next I jostled Bones’s shoulder; Bones turned his head, staring at me with warm, blue eyes. “And you,” I said, “do you hate Crane because you’re worried that, for once, he’ll get the girl? Is your feud literally all about me and what happened centuries ago, or is there a real reason you guys hate each other?”
Silence overtook the room. It was not an overly sweet sound. Now was not the time for them to remain silent; now was the time for them to admit what jerks they were being toward each other. Was it that hard? Were their egos that large?
“I’m not a prize,” I told them. “You don’t automatically get me because Abraham did way back when, and you—” I glanced to Crane. “—don’t get me because this is a second chance for a Crane to win. We are our own people with our own feelings. Don’t you guys understand that?”
I let out a muffled sound, running a hand through my hair. “I like you both, but not if you’re going to act like bickering children all the time. I mean, I can handle some teasing, but constantly? Aren’t you guys better than that?”
Bones got to his knees before me while Crane got up from his desk. Bones took my hand, his strong fingers curling around mine. “Kat,” he said. “I don’t think that. I never once thought that I’d automatically get you. I just…” H
e paused, glancing to Crane, who now stood near us.
Crane’s jade eyes spotted the way Bones held onto my hand, and before the tall man could say anything, I extended my free arm toward him. He measuredly took my other hand, moving to sit on the edge of the chair beside me, his ass barely on the cushion. He held my hand much lighter and softer than Bones did; he was less sure of himself.
Cranes never won.
“We are…” Crane trailed off, his gaze on my hand, which rested on his lap inside his. “…fundamentally different people.”
As I sat there between them, each man holding onto one of my hands, I couldn’t have said it quick enough: “No.” They both stared at me quizzically. “No, you’re not fundamentally different. You might have different hobbies, you might come from different families, but you’re not different. You’re the same. You’re both kind and generous and…and you both care about me.”
I waited for them to argue. I didn’t know why I half expected them to argue, because then they’d be arguing against liking me, but neither man did. They both stared at me in their own ways. Bones held a heavy expression, his blue eyes a deeper azure than before, and he was biting the inside of his cheek, as if fighting himself not to smile at me. Crane’s expression was serious, but pensive. Out of the two of them, I knew Crane was the one who would question me the most. He never thought he’d get the girl, so why get his hopes up?
Bones squeezed my hand, causing me to meet his stare. “You like us both?” Out of everything I said, that’s what he chose to focus on? Oh, dear God. Help me. Pray for me not to strangle these guys. They tested my patience at every single opportunity.
“I’m certain she didn’t mean—” Crane started, probably about to explain to Bones what he thought I meant, but that was the thing.
I got up, pulled my hands from them both, setting them on my hips as I walked a few steps away before spinning to face them. “No, you know what? I did mean it like that. You both feel drawn to me like fucking magic? Well, here’s a bit of news for you: I have feelings for you both, too.”
Bones and Crane were slow to glance at each other, though their stares did not remain on one another for long. It was mostly me they stared at. Neither one of them spoke, as if both men didn’t know what to say.
“Well?” I asked, “Aren’t you guys going to say something?” The silence. Holy fuck, I couldn’t take it much longer. If neither of these guys started talking, I might have to leave the room to cool down.
I mean, if they just stared at me like I’d grown a third eye, of course I was going to feel awkward. Of course I was going to regret saying what I did, even if it was true.
Why weren’t these two saying something?
I groaned. “I’m going downstairs.” I spun, turning to walk out of the library room, and I heard them both get up. The nerve of them. Near the door, I stopped, tossing a deadly glare over my shoulder. “Do not follow me. If you can’t respond to me, then clearly you have nothing to say, so please just let me stew for a while in peace.”
Bones and Crane glanced at each other, then must’ve instantly realized they stood too close together, for the next moment they stepped apart. Not wanting to catch cooties from one another, I guess. With them, who knew.
Neither one of them followed me, which was good. If they knew what was good for them, they’d let me calm down in peace. As I walked down the hallway and the stairs, I couldn’t help but want to smack myself. What in the ever-loving fuck was I thinking? Telling them that…of course they were going to be gob smacked. Of course they were going to stare at me strangely, wondering if they heard me correctly. I’d just confessed to them both at the same time that I had feelings for them.
One didn’t have a two-for-one situation like that every day.
Ugh. Why on earth did I think it was a good idea to go confessing my feelings? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Bones and Crane hated each other, some words from me wouldn’t be enough to mend whatever bridges were burned between them. How else should they act when told I liked them both? They would want me to choose, expect me to choose between them like I was the freaking bachelorette handing out roses.
But I wasn’t the bachelorette. This wasn’t a TV show. This was my life, and as messed up as it was, I knew one thing: I didn’t want to choose. Choosing was the last thing on my mind.
Chapter Nineteen
I found myself in the kitchen, making some food. There was no better thing to do than stress eat when you’re stressed, right? Okay, there might be some healthier options out there, but I didn’t give a single shit about what was healthy right now. Being stalked by spirits wasn’t too healthy, but here I was anyway.
Sleepy Hollow and healthy didn’t belong in the same sentence together…except that one.
I sat on a barstool, a jar of peanut butter on my lap, spoon in hand. Okay, so I wasn’t so much making food as just eating whatever was available to me. I drew the spoon slowly from my mouth, getting a nice mouthful of creamy peanut butter. Both Crane and Bones remained upstairs, which was good. I didn’t want them to follow me. I wanted to clear my head without looking at either of their attractive, handsome faces and getting sidetracked.
What was I thinking? Hmm. Maybe I wasn’t thinking. Maybe I threw caution to the wind because, hey, I just might die here. With the threat of my death looming, telling the two men I had feelings for that I liked them suddenly didn’t seem too bad, even if they hated each other and only tolerated the other because they were with me.
And then, because things weren’t complicated enough for me, my mind thought about someone else. The Headless Horseman. He was a killer, yes, but he’d never outright hurt me. That was no excuse, I was aware, but still. Everything he did, every menacing appearance he’d made—it had all been to try to convince me to help him. No haunting, no trying to murder me. He kept the spirits away when he could. I owed him.
I owed him, and I’d pay him back by helping him find his head.
I was about to shove the spoon back in the peanut butter, but something caught my eye a few feet down the island. Something that I knew for a fact hadn’t been there two minutes ago.
The same spell book as this morning, opened to the same page, too.
Getting off the stool, I inched closer to the book, the spoon hanging in my mouth, free of peanut butter. I ran a hand along the old parchment, feeling a kind of sizzling, invisible electricity tingle my fingertips. The book held power, that much I could sense, and it was old, too. Smelled musty.
My eyes scanned the page, and even though I knew I should call for Crane and Bones, I didn’t. Eh. Everyone had the right to make a bad decision or two in their life, right?
Hell, I wasn’t even sure I could read what was written on the damn page. An old form of English, one I remembered from high school, being forced to read in and not really understanding.
A breeze blew by, and I was thrown from my own mind.
I stood in the center of town…although, strangely, it wasn’t the center of town that I knew, that I grew up with. There were no tall buildings, and the road below my feet was made of dirt. All the people walking around me wore old clothes, the kind of clothes actors wore in century pieces. Ye olden days.
The sun was crisp and clear overhead, no milky white haze anywhere to be seen, so I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t in the otherworld. This place was somewhere different. This…this was the past.
A group of people stood in the center of the road not too far from me, maybe thirty feet. They huddled together, watching as two men traded words. Insults, from what it sounded like. One man had blonde hair, its lengths slicked back. He wore a light blue coat, white trousers that were only a little dirty, and brown boots that blended in with the dirt road below. The other man had brown hair, brushed backward into a low ponytail. He held his hands behind his back, an aura of refinement about him.
It wasn’t the clothes or the hair that startled me though—their faces did, because they were Bones and Crane, stuck in an ol
d time. The original Abraham Van Brunt and Ichabod Crane.
I was not the only one who was a doppelganger, apparently.
The Bones lookalike scoffed, “Your words are pointless, Ichabod. Katrina will not be fooled by your eloquent demeanor, and neither will this town. You should leave.” An invitation that did not sound too welcoming, mostly because his voice dripped venom. He didn’t sound like the town hero at all.
Ichabod glared. “Your intimidating demeanor will not sway me. I will not leave Sleepy Hollow until I have wed the lovely—”
I rolled my eyes, not wanting to listen to the men go on and on about her. Yeah, she was great. I get it. Amazing and pretty and…standing a few feet behind Ichabod and Abraham. She wore a clean dress, looking quite regal compared to the others around her. She stared squarely at the two men before her, and I was momentarily struck by the weirdness.
I was staring at myself.
Katrina Van Tassel literally was my doppelganger. Knowing it and seeing it for myself, in person, were two totally different things. It was almost as if I stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone when I wasn’t looking. Just too weird, too…
My thought trailed off when I watched Katrina slowly turn her head, gazing off behind her. I followed her field of vision, trying to picture the town. If we were in the center of the small grove that made up Sleepy Hollow…well, theoretically she could be looking anywhere, since I wasn’t sure which way was north, but somehow—call it a freaky intuition—I knew just where she was looking.
Even though it was not in sight, even though it was a good ways away, I knew exactly where Katrina’s eyes wandered—the bridge. His bridge. The Headless Horseman’s bridge drew her attention more than the two attractive men before her.
“Why?” I spoke, utterly confused in every way.
The arguing between Ichabod and Abraham stopped, and through the crowd of onlookers, I was able to watch Katrina’s neck turn, ever so slowly, until she gazed right at me.
Hollowed: Return to Sleepy Hollow, the Complete Duology Page 17
