Sleepy Hollow: Rise Headless and Ride

by Richard Gleaves

  Jason hesitated. Was Agathe’s diary the book he’d found in the tomb? He had no doubt, and he wished desperately that the faded thing could be read somehow. He returned to the letter.

  “Luc Fontaine died so that your grandsire might purchase the Quarry land. Uncle James died for challenging Agathe in her widowhood. My rival, poor Ichabod, was driven away in terror so that I might marry well. Katrina’s father, our own merry Baltus, fell beheaded so that your mother might inherit early. And fear of her own husband’s kin drove my Katrina to her early grave.

  “My life is not as I believed. ALL has come by my mother’s evil design. How many lives were sacrificed to strengthen Agathe’s phantom lover? How much midnight blood has blackened the waters beneath my mother’s home?”

  This chilled Jason. He had to pause a moment before continuing. Agathe had sacrificed people down in the aqueduct tunnels beneath Gory Brook? She’d spilled blood in service to the Horseman? But – she was still in the house. He had seen the ghost of Agathe, and –

  Valerie rubbed Jason’s back.

  “Why did you stop?” she said.

  – and he knew. He knew, with certainty, the answer to one mystery, at least.

  Agathe had possessed Fireman Mike. And Valerie’s mother. And whoever killed Darley. Because Agathe is still spilling her midnight blood…

  Brom Brom… there’s bleeding in the waters…

  Jason stood silently, looking at Eliza’s grave. His grandmother had been such a wise woman, in so many ways. But she’d been mistaken, so mistaken, when she’d made her pronouncement at the Bridgeport cemetery. Jason’s field of vision expanded beyond Eliza’s grave, to include the rows of headstones that marched up the hill in every direction…

  “The dead do not stay put,” Jason whispered.

  “What?”

  His head shot up. “And you let Eliza buy that house?”

  “I didn’t know,” said Valerie.

  “Did Hadewych?”

  “Yes. He had this letter – from the start. Probably before I – even met him.”

  Jason shook his head.

  “How much midnight blood has blackened the waters beneath my mother’s home?” Jason read, “And you, my son, you would claim these swevens and nightmares for yourself? You would summon the Horseman, yoke yourself to his service that your enemies may fall and your name be raised high? You would feed his spirit and see your hands burn?

  “Hist! Admit your action [against] Crane. You claim innocence, but what motive other than your vengeance would drive our servant-ghost to target Ichabod’s son? I know my Dylan and his flaring anger. You answered Crane’s insult with murder. You did this thing. The man was our guest. And so I deny you the Treasure forever.

  “I choose to finish the tale. I choose to entomb the truth behind marble. I reject my inheritance. Let the Horseman be confined to Legend. Let him dwindle and weaken. Let the waters of Tarrytown run clear again.

  “Raise a family ignorant of evil, my Dylan, if defense of kin is your true desire. Safeguard the Van Brunt name by saving the Van Brunt soul. Look to Family, my Son, and to your God.

  “Obey me in this as in all things, else forfeit my favor and fortune.

  “Signed, Abraham Van Brunt”

  Valerie took the paper back.

  “And now he has it,” Jason said. “McCaffrey told me. He said it was big and gold. Hadewych took the damn Treasure.”

  “No. That would mean that – Hadewych could – summon the Horseman. Like Brom thought – Absalom did.”

  Jason felt another realization growing within him, coming up in waves, like something being born. Something breech and bloody and too painful to endure.

  “That’s how he did it,” he said.

  “What?” Valerie said. Jason pointed to the grave. Her eyes grew wide and he knew that the thought had been born in her as well. She put a hand to her heart. “Oh, Jason. I am so sorry… I’m so, so – ”

  Jason didn’t hear the rest. He tore away, marching up the slope. He pushed past Kate and Zef. He pushed the minister aside. He made a fist, drew it back, and popped Hadewych in the mouth.

  35 JASON’S CHOICE

  It was a good punch. The satisfying, gratifying punch of the nerd bullied too long. The punch of the underdog who snaps after a long string of abuses and bloodies the lip of his tormentor. Jason felt his body behind it, his soul behind it. His knuckles found the man’s teeth. Hadewych’s head snapped and twisted and his hands came up in fear. He stepped backward, his foot caught a headstone, and he fell right on his slick, lying, murderous ass.

  Zef cursed. He tackled Jason and threw him to the ground. The minister screamed like a woman. Kate shouted something that Jason didn’t hear. Zef punched Jason in the ribs, twice.

  “That’s my father!” Zef shouted. He lost control. He kept hitting Jason. Jason scrambled backwards, up the pile of dirt alongside the grave. The Astroturf slipped under his feet as he climbed. Zef grabbed his leg.

  Someone stepped between them and struck Zef’s shoulder with the heel of one hand, knocking the boy back and away from Jason. Zef snarled and raised a fist.

  It was Joey. He stood between Jason and Zef and raised a shovel.

  “Go ahead,” said Joey softly. “Hit me. Come on. Hit me while defending your father.”

  Zef’s red face went blank. He blinked. His jaw dropped slowly. His raised fist sagged. His hand opened. He backed off and turned away, his face full of torment. Kate went to him.

  “You okay, Jase?” said Joey. Jason nodded. Joey offered a hand. Jason stood and sat on the dirt pile, holding his side.

  “Leave him alone, everyone,” said Hadewych. “Everything’s fine.” He dabbed a bit of blood from his split lip. “The boy’s upset. It’s been a painful – ”

  “Shut up,” Jason said.

  “It’s been a painful day and he’s projecting his grief on me.”

  “You killed my grandmother.”

  Hadewych shook his head. “We’ll get through this, Jason. Together.”

  “You did,” said Valerie. “You killed her.”

  Zef pointed a finger. “Shut up, you witch,” he said. “I was with him that whole night.”

  “He used – ” Jason said, trying to find oxygen. His side really hurt. “The Horseman. He summoned the Headless Horseman. That’s how he did it.”

  A high laugh pierced the air of the cemetery. The group turned toward the sound. The minister covered his mouth and pulled his face back together into a mask of grave concern.

  “Now, now,” said Hadewych. “I’m sorry you had to witness this, Reverend.” He took the minister by the elbow.

  “He used the Horseman!” Jason said. But even Valerie looked a little embarrassed now that it had been said out loud.

  “Well, aren’t we in the Halloween Spirit,” said Hadewych.

  “This isn’t helping, Jase,” Joey whispered.

  Kate looked at Jason with puzzlement and more than a little disappointment.

  “You believe me, though, Kate?” said Jason. Kate couldn’t meet his eye. She turned away.

  Zef lit a cigarette, muttering something about crazy genes.

  “Zef,” said Hadewych. “Why don’t you take Kate to the car.”

  “I’m not leaving,” said Zef.

  “I don’t think Jason will be punching me again, will you Jason?”

  “No,” said Jason. He would be dreaming about that one punch for years. It had been quite satisfying.

  “There,” said Hadewych, “it’s fine. See the reverend to his car. Apologies again, sir.”

  The minister muttered something about family counseling and gave Hadewych his card. Hadewych offered his hand and Jason spied a square of folded bills in his palm. It wasn’t there when the handshake ended. The minister hurried down the hill, trying not to giggle again. Zef scowled and followed. Kate did not look back. Valerie came to Jason’s side and took his hand.

  “You. Osorio boy,” said Hadewych.

  “You kno
w my name,” said Joey.

  “You can leave, too.”

  “No way.” Joey shook his head.

  “It’s okay,” Jason said.

  “Leave,” said Hadewych. “Unless you want me to tell your father that you threatened my son with a shovel?”

  Joey turned to Jason. “I’ll be down by the truck,” he said. He handed Jason the shovel. “Just in case.”

  He left, joining the workers who still waited below. Waited to do the dirt work.

  Hadewych, Valerie and Jason stared at each other across Eliza’s grave. The wind bent the cemetery grass.

  Valerie’s hand came up to her valve. “Oh, Hadewych,” she said, softly. She sounded scared and, oddly, a little sorry for the man.

  “McCaffrey told me you took it,” Jason said. “Come on. No one but us can hear. Don’t you want to brag?”

  Hadewych folded his arms.

  “And it summons the Horseman, right?” said Jason. “Brom thought Dylan used it on Halloween to kill Absalom. That’s why he locked it up.”

  “Who told you that?” Hadewych looked startled and angry. “That’s a preposterous slander.”

  Valerie produced the letter. She held it up by two fingers, like a woman with a dead rat.

  “Where did you get that?” said Hadewych, his voice measured and deadly.

  “I’m still your – landlady. With my own – keys.”

  Hadewych nodded. “When?”

  “When you were – with the lawyer.”

  “You had no right.”

  “I had every right. By the way – you’re evicted.”

  “Is that so?” Hadewych reached for her, but Jason stepped between, raising the shovel. Hadewych stepped back. Jason glanced down the hill, hoping Zef didn’t see and intervene, but Zef was bickering with Kate in the car. Joey had seen, though. He looked worried. Jason raised a palm.

  “And, dearest Hadewych,” Valerie said. “Don’t expect – your cleaning deposit back.”

  “Give me that paper,” said Hadewych. He held out a hand. It was shaking. Shaking with – what? With fury?

  “I’ll help you, Jason,” Valerie said. “I’ll help you – fight him. In any way I can. Lawyers, investigators. I’m rich, you know. He will never – be your guardian.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re wrong about me, Jason,” said Hadewych. “Did Valerie mention that I dumped her only four days ago? Hell hath no fury. I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything she says. She’s unstable. Everyone knows that. Unstable and vindictive.”

  Valerie faced Hadewych and raised her chin.

  “You’ll see how vindictive I can be,” she said.

  “I look forward to it.”

  She turned and walked away.

  “Give me the letter, Valerie,” said Hadewych.

  Valerie stopped.

  “Give me the letter,” he said. His voice became husky and pleading. “Please. If I ever meant anything to you.”

  Valerie stared at Hadewych. She looked astonished.

  “Please,” said Hadewych, his voice rising. “My papers are all I have from my mother.”

  Valerie’s hand went to her valve. She touched the little ‘X’ and ‘O’. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. “This – is all I have from my mother. Thanks to your ghost.”

  She raised the Brom letter and tore it to bits.

  Hadewych’s cry was small and childish. He clutched at the pieces as they fell among the graves. Valerie shook her head, looking down at the pathetic man she had once loved.

  “You can’t control the Treasure,” she said. “It’s an evil thing. Nothing good can – come of it. You’ve doomed yourself.”

  Jason noticed that her voice had softened as she’d spoken. She’d exercised her vocal cords today. Her voice had smoothed and had become lighter, more feminine – a husky but graceful voice. Hadewych tried to snatch the ripped pieces from the grass. The wind had begun to take them. He slipped to his knees.

  “I pity you,” said Valerie.

  Hadewych’s face darkened, a vein stood out on his neck and Jason felt sure he was about to leap on Valerie. He stepped between them again.

  A horn blew.

  “Dad,” Zef yelled from the car. “What’s the holdup?”

  Hadewych collected himself.

  Valerie shook her head sadly. “Leave something better to Zef,” she said. “Jason, do you need a ride?” Jason shook his head. She walked down the slope, turning back once again as she reached the road. Her voice could be heard clearly across the distance.

  “By the way, you didn’t dump me, Hadewych,” she said smoothly and without break. “You stopped deserving me. There’s a difference.”

  Valerie climbed into her car and drove off.

  “Help me,” said Hadewych, down on all fours, snatching at bits of paper.

  Jason considered killing this evil man, right there in the cemetery. Here was Hadewych kneeling at his feet. He could raise the shovel, swing it down, and kill him. He could see the scene clearly. The satisfying whomp of the metal on Hadewych’s skull, the brains on the grass, blood splattering the headstones. In his mind he brought that shovel down a dozen times. But, no. He would spend the rest of his life in jail. Zef would grieve. Kate would hate him. And it wouldn’t bring Eliza back.

  It would feel good, though…

  But, even now, he couldn’t believe that anyone could be so evil as to murder his sweet trusting grandmother. Like all young men who have a conscience, Jason expected others to have a conscience too. He shrank from the sight of evil, denied it, because he had to live in the world – and how can you live here if monsters are real? How can you stand to live on Earth if men like Hadewych can exist and thrive? No. Better to give people the slightest benefit of the doubt, rather than accept the existence of such mad, unnecessary horror.

  He made his choice and tossed the shovel into the grass. No matter what happened now, at least he would be able to live with himself.

  Hadewych had snatched up most of the fragments, holding them to his heart. A few, however, caught in the wind, slipped through the chain link, and vanished into the forest. He calmed and tucked what pieces he had into his jacket pocket. He wiped his cheeks and returned to the graveside.

  “No,” Jason said. “Stay the hell away from us.”

  Hadewych smiled. “So you and Valerie are an ‘us,’ now?”

  “Not me and Valerie. Stay away from me and my grandmother.”

  Jason and Hadewych looked down at the coffin. Jason wondered what she’d say now, and her voice spoke clearly in his imagination: “Honey, I would have swung the shovel…”

  He and Hadewych glared at each other across the hole. Hadewych shook his head. “If you really loved her,” he said, “you wouldn’t have ruined her funeral.”

  Jason stood dumbly, shocked and horrified and unable to speak.

  Hadewych reached beneath the Astroturf. He took a fistful of dirt and held it over Eliza’s coffin.

  “Don’t you dare,” said Jason.

  “If one tenth of what you think of me were true,” Hadewych said, “and if I really can summon the Horseman and kill whomever I like, whenever I like – ” Hadewych tightened his fist, squeezing the dirt into a ball. “ – would you really want me for an enemy?” He dropped the ball of dirt, contemptuously. It hit the coffin with a thump. “Goodbye Eliza,” said Hadewych, brushing his hands. “Thanks for all your help.”

  Jason felt immobilized by fury.

  “The guardianship hearing is on Monday,” Hadewych said. He had regained his swagger. “Be there.”

  Hadewych walked down the hill and slipped casually into his car, the picture of nonchalance. But he slammed the door. Kate raised a hand and pressed her palm to the rear window. The car disappeared and the sound of hoofbeats clattered up from the bridge.

  The ball of mud with Hadewych’s finger-grooves sat on the lid of the coffin. Jason fell to his knees, wetting his slacks in the grass, and reached for the clump.

 
“Careful, Jase,” said Joey, appearing at his side. He took Jason’s arm so he wouldn’t fall in.

  “Get it – get it off please,” Jason said.

  Joey produced a second shovel. Together he and Jason fished the clump from the coffin lid. Jason dropped it on the grass and stomped on it. He brought his knee high and stomped on it over and over, until not a spot remained to dirty the grass. His breathing came sharp, his face reddened, his knee hurt with the violence of the act. But he won, at least, that one small victory. The terrible thing was gone. Forever.

  He stood staring grimly at the place where it had lain.

  I could have borne anything, anything, but that clump of dirt.

  36 MONSTERS

  Wind poured through the broken windows of Gory Brook Road, pushing aside the plastic that Jason had taped over the holes on Tuesday morning. The wind rustled the curtains and curtseyed up the stairs. In Jason’s room, it found a dancing partner. A grave-rubbing slipped from his dresser and into the air, accepting the wind’s invitation to waltz.

  Charley saw the paper spiraling, rising, doing somersaults. The rubbing whirled with abandon and tore through the air like an escaping ghost. Charley barked at the thing and the rubbing clutched at the railing of the second flight as if startled. It trembled there a moment and fled upwards. Charley whined. Those stairs led to the attic. The poodle ran and hid beneath the davenport.

  At the threshold of the attic, the grave-rubbing paused, exhausted. It slipped to the floor. The dipping sun cast a shadow through the octagonal window. The shadow of a telephone wire fell across the beams like a thread of black spider-web that dipped across the room.

  The spirit of Agathe Van Brunt stood shimmering at that window, looking down upon the village of Sleepy Hollow. She’d loved this view in life – the Hollow spread beneath her feet. Her dominion. Her realm. They had ruled here once, she and the Van Brunt family.

  She concentrated herself, drew herself together by an act of will. She felt her mind clearing. It was difficult. Sometimes she would lose herself in her memories.

  Brom… Brom… Brom… she called, though he never answered. The Van Brunts are coming home. I have seen. His name is Hadewych. Yet he is weak. He needs his Agathe. You weak men have always needed Agathe. Agathe and her Horseman.