Beauty and the Horseman's Head

by Holly Kelly

A thunderous crash came from the front door, causing Hope’s heart to take off in a sprint. She grabbed Conall from out of the bag and rushed to find a place to hide. Looking around the cabin, she found nothing. It was one room, with a small table and chair, one bed, and kitchen cupboards too small for her to climb into. The best she could do would be to crawl under the covers—like that would not be obvious. Instead she sat down on her bed with Conall pressed against her chest.

  The silence that followed was almost as frightening. “Was that Lavinia?” Hope whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “But the salt will keep her out, right?”

  “It should.”

  “What do you mean, ‘should’?”

  “Lavinia’s a powerful witch.”

  At those words, there was another booming crash, but this time against one of the shuttered windows. Hope was shocked it did not break. Again and again, each of the windows rattled as if an angry bull rammed them.

  “You cannot stay in there forever, Hope,” Lavinia’s voice screeched like an owl on the wind. “And I am sure you know by now who and what I am. I could kill you, make you suffer a long and horrific death. But I am willing to give you a chance. Give me the elf’s head, and I will let you leave town and live your simple, pathetic life in peace.”

  “Ask her to swear an oath in the name of Morrigan,” Conall said.

  “I am not going to ask her that,” Hope said. “And I am not going to turn you over to her. I am sorry, Conall, but you are stuck with me.”

  “You don’t understand, Hope. This woman is dangerous. She already killed Ichabod Crane and who knows how many others since she imprisoned me here.”

  “I am not afraid to die,” Hope said.

  “If she swears an oath and you turn me over, you won’t have to die.”

  “Yes, but then I would be afraid to die. I could not possibly meet my Maker with that kind of sin on my conscious.”

  “Do it and then repent later,” he said.

  “That is not how it works,” Hope said.

  “Dammit, Hope,” he bellowed. “I cannot watch her kill you.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I don’t know. I have faith.”

  “Well, I don’t have faith.”

  “No one is perfect.”

  “Have you made your decision?” Lavinia shouted.

  Hope took a deep breath, walked to the door, and shouted, “You cannot have him. You are an evil woman, and I will not be a part of any of your wicked designs.”

  Lavinia laughed. “We’ll see how long before you change your mind. There are a lot of uses for the crushed bones of a saintly woman. Of course, I had better kill you quickly. If Conall corrupts you, I will have no use for you.”

  “And what happens if I convince Conall of the error of his ways?” Hope shouted.

  Lavinia’s laughter bellowed. “Now that would be a miracle. Though if you can accomplish it, your bones would be priceless. There’s a big difference between a saintly woman and a true saint. Of course, it would also break the curse I have on him. Though the benefits would definitely make it worth it.”

  Ah ha! I know now how to break the curse! The beginnings of a plan began to form in her mind.

  “Hand Conall over to me, and I will let you live. Don’t give him up, and I will slice you from sternum to pubic bone and make you both watch as I remove your organs one by one until you die. You have three days.”

  Silence followed. It seemed Lavinia had gone.

  Hope felt a bit sick as Lavinia’s words played in her mind. But still, there was hope.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Conall finally said, his voice low.

  “What are you talking about?” Hope asked.

  “I can tell what’s going on in that mind of yours. Lavinia’s right. There’s no way I am changing—especially not after eight hundred years. And you gambling your life on me—”

  “But you’ve ready begun to change,” Hope interrupted. “I am sure with my gentle prodding, you could become a proper Christian in no time.”

  “You, my dear, are delusional. You might think Lavinia is bluffing, but I know her well enough to know she’s not. She will kill you in the most heinous way and not lose a moment of sleep over it.”

  “I think we should start tomorrow.”

  “You are not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” Conall asked.

  “I hear you,” Hope said. “But I have my own mind, thank you very much.”

  “Unfortunately,” he said.

  Hope sighed. “It seems she has gone. It’s getting late. We have a big day tomorrow. We’ll both need a proper night’s sleep. It’s a good thing I won’t be going to church services. I refuse to go to a church where the minister is wicked and his wife is one of Satan’s harlots. So tomorrow is the perfect day to start your lessons.”

  “You shouldn’t be leaving the house any—Wait a minute, what kind of lessons are you talking about?”

  “Well, we will have Bible study, and then I have some lessons I used in school that teach about honesty, charity, faith, and other topics like that. I am sure I can adapt them to you.”

  “Is there any convincing you to turn me over to Lavinia?”

  Hope was surprised at his expression. Conall looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. “You would rather go back to that witch than endure a few Sunday school lessons?”

  “I don’t think you want me to answer that question honestly.”

  “Honesty will be a key component in your rehabilitation.”

  “Can I offer another suggestion?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Just shoot me now. At least then my misery will be over quickly.”

  “Now’s not the time to joke.”

  “I am serious.”

  “Now be quiet while I change. I am truly feeling dead on my feet.” Hope lay him on the bed and covered his face so she could get ready for bed.

  “I have a feeling,” Conall said from under the blankets, “that no amount of sleep will prepare me for tomorrow.”

  Once Hope was dressed in her sleeping gown, she retrieved Conall, blew out the candles, and lay down with him.

  “Um,” Conall said. “How is letting me sleep with you teaching me to be a good Christian?”

  “We are not sleeping together. Well, technically we are. But we are not. This is completely platonic.”

  “With my cheek pressed into your breast? I am sorry, but my thoughts are not platonic in this situation.”

  “You are just trying to bait me. You are not thinking anything of the sort.”

  “Believe me, I am, and without my body, it’s beyond frustrating.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “You can sleep in your box.”

  “I don’t want to sleep in a box. If you would just turn me so my face isn't pressed into your bosoms, I would be able to control my thoughts more easily.”

  Hope sighed. “Fine.” She turned him away so that the back of his head was pressed against her. “Is that better?”

  “That is a hard question to answer. My thoughts are more chaste in this position, but I would not say it’s better.”

  “Oh, just hush yourself, or I will put you in the box.”

  He did not say a word after that. It seemed he really did not want to sleep in the crate. Well, truth be told, Hope did not want him to either. She’d become rather fond of snuggling up with him. She settled in place, and sleep soon overtook her.

  Chapter 16

  “That makes absolutely no sense!” Conall scowled at Hope as she tried to garner more patience. “If anyone were to beat me with a lash, spit on me, and then deliver me up for execution, I would feel nothing but pure hatred towards that person.”

  “That is because you are human.”

  “I am not.”

  “You know what I mean. You are not perfect. None of us are.”

  “I will tell you what I would do. I would gather my brother’s ar
my and lay waste to Jerusalem.”

  “But . . . that is not the point.”

  “Are you trying to tell me those murderers would not deserve it?” Conall asked.

  “They probably would, but—”

  “No buts, that is exactly what I would do.”

  “And what of the children? What of those who were not at his trial and did not shout for him to be crucified? Would you kill them too?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How would you know who is guilty and who is innocent? Wouldn’t it be better to give them the benefit of the doubt and let God judge them?”

  Conall seemed to consider her words. “Alright, if I can trust He would exact justice against the guilty parties, I might consider it. But how am I to know He would?”

  Hope sighed. “It’s called faith.”

  “And you lost me again. A person who claims to have faith is a fool.”

  “Gawh!” Hope exclaimed as she stood and paced the floor. “I was the fool to think I could convert you to Christianity.”

  “I tried to tell you.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said as she continued to pace. And then she stopped and looked him in the eye. “But you are a good man. I have seen glimpses of it.”

  “Just because I am not pure evil does not make me a good man. Now you, Hope, are definitely one of a kind—honest, gentle, selfless, virtuous. . . . If anyone deserves mercy, it’s you. If your God is so all-knowing and all-powerful, why did he allow a troll sucker like André to drive you from your home and threaten to take your life?”

  Hope’s chest tightened as she blinked back a tear. She had never allowed herself to articulate those accusations against God—even in her thoughts. She simply could not go there. Her faith was everything to her. She would not—no, she simply could not lose it! “God’s ways are not our ways. I trust that someday I will understand. But for now, I must continue to exercise faith in Him.” She stood, unwilling to discuss this further. “I think you’ve had enough lessons for today. Now I have a few things I need you to teach me.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Why did salt keep a witch out of my home?”

  “Salt is a pure substance,” Conall said. “Purity repels evil.”

  “Is there something I can wear to keep her away from me?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sprigs of rosemary, the foot of a rabbit—”

  “Ew.” She scrunched her nose. “You want me to sever the foot of a rabbit and wear it like a trinket?”

  “You asked. You also want to make sure you don’t make direct eye contact with a witch. They have a way of seeing into your soul. Don’t give her that advantage.”

  “But I have already looked her in the eye.”

  “Don’t do it again.”

  “How do you know so much about witches?”

  “Witches are supernatural creatures. Some have been known to travel between your world and mine. They’ve wreaked havoc in both our realms.”

  “What is your realm like?”

  Conall sighed as a sadness settled like a shadow across his countenance. “It’s beautiful. Where you have winter, spring, summer, and fall, in Faery it is always spring. Flowers bloom year-round, everything is filled with life. In the forest surrounding my home, the trees are tall enough to reach the clouds, and colorful pixies flit about like shooting stars beneath the canopy.”

  “Pixies?”

  “Yes, little creatures that look like humans, the size of a small bird with wings not unlike dragonfly wings, and they glow in various colors of the rainbow.”

  “If you catch one, will it grant you a wish?”

  “Hardly. It would most likely bite you.”

  “I wish I could see one. Do you think I could visit your world?”

  Conall’s expression darkened. “That is out of the question.” His tone was sharp and completely unexpected.

  “Why?”

  Conall pressed his lips into a fine line. He scowled as if he were livid. And then he looked her in the eye. A jolt caused her heart to pound.

  He was afraid.

  “What is it? What would happen to me?”

  Conall frowned, and silence stretched out behind him. Finally, he spoke. “The humans in our realm are treated little better than play things. Used only as passing entertainment. And when they no longer prove entertaining, they are discarded.”

  “Discarded?”

  Conall sighed. “Killed.”

  “That is awful! But what kind of entertainment do we humans provide?”

  “Hope, my dear, you are so innocent.”

  Confusion clouded her mind for a moment until she realized what he was talking about. “Do you mean they would take advantage of me,” she said, disbelief thick in her voice. “But,” she began, her mind going back to the time when Conall saved her from Eli, “You are not like that.”

  “No. I am not.”

  “There have to be those in your world that think like you. Ones that would not harm an innocent man or woman.”

  Conall raised an eyebrow. “If there are, they are not many.”

  “What about your brother, the king. Couldn’t he do something?”

  “My brother hates humans. He doesn’t even bat an eye to a human being gutted like an animal and then roasted and eaten at a troll’s feast.”

  Hope’s eyes widened in horror as her stomach sickened. “Do they really do that?” His silence was his answer. “Have you ever. . .? She could not bring herself to finish her question. She wasn’t even sure exactly what she was asking. Still, Conall seemed to understand.

  “Humans are too intelligent and look far too much like Elves for me to take part in that.”

  “Did you ever attempt to intervene? Save an innocent life, like you did for me?”

  Guilt clouded Conall’s features. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I think you have garnered enough information to protect you from witches. This conversation has grown tiresome. You need to gather your supplies while you can. Church services will be over soon, and then Lavinia will be free to return.”

  “She gave me three days,” Hope said.

  “And you think she’s not above lying to get what she wants?”

  Hope shook her head. She could not help asking one more question. “Why have you been so protective of me? A lowly human?”

  Conall blew out a quick breath and paused. “I truly don’t know. But just the thought of anything marring one as innocent and sweet as you. . . .” He seemed to struggle to find the words. “It’s simply unacceptable.”

  Hope’s heart ached for the pain she heard in his voice. She was taken aback at what that meant. He cared for her.

  * * * * *

  Conall was an insufferable ogre.

  “I will not leave,” she said for the hundredth time as she stitched the hem of his trousers. She was nearly done sewing him a set of clothing. He’d need them when he was reunited with his head. The clothes the horseman was wearing were worn and tattered.

  “I agreed to let you bring me with you. What more do you want, woman?” Conall growled.

  “I won’t rest until you are whole again. My father did not raise me to be a coward.”

  “He also did not raise you to be sliced from pelvis to sternum and have your organs removed, dried, and put into a witch’s potion.”

  “There’s no call for being so gruesome.”

  “I am just telling you the truth!” Somewhere along the way Conall’s tone changed from angry to desperate.

  Hope put down her sewing and sank into a chair in front of him. She placed her hands on either side of his head, weaving her fingers in his hair as she brushed over the points of his ears—a physical reminder of how different they were.

  “I get that you are afraid for me,” she said.

  “Damn right I am,” he growled, avoiding eye contact.

  “Conall,” she said. “Conall, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, he did. His eyes widened as she leaned down, pr
essing her forehead to his. She closed her eyes.

  She could not guess whether her intrusion was welcome or not. But her heart was telling her he welcomed the contact. “Conall,” she said. “I know that this whole situation is crazy.”

  “You don’t know how desperately I want my body back,” he said.

  “I am sorry. I cannot even imagine how broken you must feel.”

  “That is not the reason why. It kills me to know that I cannot protect you,” he said, his voice defeated.

  “Maybe you are the one who needs protection,” she suggested gently. “I know that must be hard to accept. But you don’t really have a choice. I wish you did. But I feel compelled to tell you. I care for you. Very much. I have never felt this way about any other man. And I will do all I can to see that you have a future.”

  “Hope.” Conall breathed her name with such reverence, her heart pounded harder in her chest. “You need to know. There can be no future for us. If you think you’ll save me and I will carry you off to some happily ever after, you need to know it won’t happen.”

  Hope nodded, her head still pressed against his. She could hear the pain in his words. He did care for her. But there was nothing he could do about it. Fate would always be their cruel warden.

  “If, by some miracle,” he said, “my body is returned to me, eventually I will have go back to Faery. Your best hope at a happy life is to leave me behind and forget me.”

  “And if I agree?” She asked with no intention of leaving him. She was simply curious as to where his mind was going.

  “I will be able to accept my fate,” he said, “happy in the knowledge that you are safe.”

  As if I would leave him to die. But perhaps she was going about this in the wrong way. Maybe she needed to let him know what he had to live for. That he did not have to play the martyr. In that moment, a plan hatched.

  “I would ask one thing of you,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t. But I also know I cannot abide another minute without this one request.”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Kiss me.”

  He closed his eyes, his expression stricken almost as if she’d asked him to cut out his own heart.

  Her heart sank. He did not feel the same way she did. In fact, he seemed repulsed by the idea. Why did she not think this through? She was no siren; he would not be making life and death decisions based on his attraction to her. Or lack of. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, if you don’t—"