A swarm of flies whipped from around the Horseman’s body and danced above Jason, enjoying their freedom.
Jason tried to grab the leg of the bed but missed.
He kicked but the Horseman had him in a powerful grip.
His shirt rode up his back and the threshold of the closet scraped his spine.
His fingers brushed metal and something… silver… fell from the corner of Zef’s room. With a gasp of hope, Jason’s left hand closed on Dylan’s sword.
He drew it and it sang as on the night of the Spirit Dance, when Zef the Horseman had driven him off the stage.
He was face to neck-hole with the Monster. The veins of its neck were cauterized but the black hole of the trachea quivered with each breath. The Horseman took Jason by the throat, squeezing. Jason felt himself blacking out. He braced his knees against the Horseman’s chest and pushed, desperately tearing his sword-arm free.
Jason aimed for the Horseman’s heart but missed. He thrust the sharp point into the Horseman’s shoulder instead, leaning into it. The Horseman roared like a lion. Jason wrenched his right hand free and brought both hands to the hilt, forcing the blade through sinew and bone and out the other side. They clinched and the Monster’s hot breath hit Jason in the face, as if he leaned over the pit of a volcano. It bellowed, flecking Jason’s cheeks, and reared back.
The pipe below gave an answering groan.
The metal snapped and the Horseman dropped away, pulling Jason along. Jason caught himself on the verge of falling in himself. The Horseman caught Jason’s leg. Pain wrenched Jason’s hip as the Monster hung from his ankle. He cried out and kicked, the weight disappeared, and the Horseman fell with a crash, far below. Jason dangled helplessly for a moment, breathing hard. He pushed away and rolled out of the hole. He collapsed onto the floor of the bedroom, kicking the doors closed, clutching Dylan’s bloody sword across his heaving chest.
He had survived.
He was out at last.
Out of the darkness…
…and…
Out of the closet, thought Zef, staring at the taillights ahead. Out of the darkness. Out at last…
He turned at looked at Hadewych.
Just tell him. Tell him now. You’ll survive.
He hesitated. He was determined but so damned terrified. Zef wished he carried his flask. He needed some kind of fortification, anything.
“Can I have a cigarette?”
“No.” Hadewych scowled. “You know I don’t like it when you smoke.” He threw his own cigarette butt out the driver’s-side window.
The traffic clustered ahead like a funeral procession running out of gas. Holiday traffic. Zef thought his father looked odd, desperate somehow. Hadewych leaned on the horn.
“That won’t make them move,” Zef said. “They’ve got nowhere to go.”
Hadewych shifted into park. “Fine. You drive.” He climbed out. Zef exited and they crossed each other in the headlight beams, trading places.
“Are you okay?” said Zef, climbing behind the wheel.
“Perfectly.” Hadewych slammed the passenger-side door.
“What the hell happened to your nose?”
“Never you mind.”
“Did somebody punch you?”
“Zef… just drive.”
Zef stared at the taillights again. They seemed to be shouting, “Stop. Brake. Don’t.” But he had to say it. He had to come out to his dad. Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? Do it now, in the car, with people on the road, when you can run if you have to.
Hadewych turned on the radio, twisting impatiently through pop music and political analysis. He settled on some country song about dirty women who cheat. Zef snapped it off.
“We need to talk,” Zef said.
Hadewych stabbed the A/C. Cold air hit their cheeks. The fog on the windshield dwindled and disappeared. “I’m not in the mood.”
“It’s important.”
“Teenagers think everything’s important. But nothing is. The light’s changed.”
The road cleared. The swarm of cars bumbled forward.
“It’s about me and Kate.”
“Stay away from that girl.”
Zef frowned. “Why?”
“Stay away from that snake Usher, too.”
“What’s wrong with Paul?”
“Don’t say his name.”
Zef dropped the subject. He drove on. “Then you’re glad I’m not with her?”
“Ecstatic.” Hadewych raised his arm, flicking his wrist. “Let’s go somewhere. You and me. Somewhere public. I had a reservation. Head towards the Bridgewater.”
Zef turned onto a side street. The road opened and he plunged ahead. “I want you to know why we broke up.”
Hadewych sighed. “Was there another girl?”
“No.”
“Another boy?”
Zef turned, startled. Did Hadewych already know? “What made you say that?”
“Kate always looked like a slut to me.”
Zef breathed. He wanted to defend Kate but… “What about Joey Osorio? What do you think of him?”
“All fags are sluts. Everyone knows that. I’m not in the mood for sewer-talk.”
Zef’s voice sharpened. “I think Joey is a good person. I think…”
“Spare me,” Hadewych snapped.
Zef hit the brakes. The wheels screeched. Zef whirled. “He’s a good person and you need to get over your bigotry.”
The car sat in the middle of the road. This was a dark stretch. The houses on either side were vacant and empty. No streetlamps hung overhead. Suspicion glowed in Hadewych’s eyes. “What is this?”
Zef turned on the hazard lights. They clicked like a metronome. A car came up behind, passed them, drove on. Zef turned in his seat. “There’s something you need to know about me.”
“All right. What?”
Zef took a deep breath…
HELP! DANGER! COME! NOW!
The psychic alarm shouted it over and over, like the flashing hazard lights. Adrenaline shot through Zef’s body. “Mom!” he gasped.
“What?” Hadewych said, looking equally alarmed.
“Mom’s in trouble.” Zef killed the hazards, put the car in drive, and took off at high speed.
“What are you doing?”
Zef tapped his temple. “She’s in trouble! I can feel her!”
“That’s impossible!”
“We’ve got to get to her.”
“You shouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“It’s my Gift. You know that.”
“But that would mean she’s alive!”
“What?” Zef gaped at his father, one eye on the flying road. He came to Broadway, to the red light at the northern foot of the Headless Horseman Bridge.
“Turn around,” said Hadewych.
“What you mean ‘she’s alive?’”
“Stop the car.”
“But—”
“Zef, I’m your father and I’m telling you to stop this car.”
The light changed. Zef turned into the parking lot of Philipsburg Manor. He pulled alongside the millpond, letting the engine idle, impatient to get going again.
“Turn off the lights.”
Zef shook his head helplessly but obeyed. “Daddy—”
“Listen to me.”
“Daddy, she’s dying.” He could feel his mother, her panic, her fear…
“Good.” Hadewych said, his voice implacable. “Good.”
“How can you say that?”
“You have to see the bigger picture.”
“Don’t you love her?”
“She’s a lying bitch, son. She was playing us. She doesn’t love us. She never did.”
Zef drew back. He brought his right knee up, defensively, between himself and his father. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A terrible certainty grew in him. “What have you done?” he whispered, dreading the answer. Hadewych glanced away. Zef’s hand went to the gear.
&nbs
p; Hadewych killed the engine and snatched away the keys. “It’s all for you. Everything I’ve done. Everything was for you.”
“I don’t understand.” Zef was shaking now, really terrified.
Hadewych’s eyes gleamed. “The Pyncheon Legacy.”
“What about it?”
“A hundred and twelve million dollars, for God’s sake. With your mother… gone… You’re next in line.”
“That’s Jason’s money.”
Hadewych closed his fist on Zef’s shirt. “Listen to me. If Jason dies with no children the Legacy ‘shall be given to the closest Pyncheon relative.’”
Tears were in Zef’s eyes. “Let me go. Mom needs me.”
“Forget her.”
Zef felt sick. No. He hadn’t heard it. He couldn’t think it. Not my daddy. Not my father.
Hadewych sat back, looking away. “I always knew she’d have to go first. Well, second.”
Zef’s eyes widened. “The old lady…”
“She had to go. For you. For the Legacy. But if Jason were to die, it would go to Jessica. That’s why I brought her here. Your mother has to die first. You understand? If she dies, then Jason, it all goes to you!”
“You tried to kill her—at New Year’s—and all those people—”
“I did it for you. I didn’t know it would turn out that way. Don’t look at me like that. She deserves it. She abandoned us. She screwed Paul Usher, behind our backs. Oh, yes. She admitted it. She had a seven-year-old son at home and she was screwing Paul Usher. No. She’s getting hers.” Hadewych closed the space and took Zef by the elbows, trying to embrace him. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
“You think I want this? You’re going to kill my mother? And Jason? For me? They’re going to lock you up.”
Hadewych smiled, like a martyr facing the scaffold with salvation in his heart. “I don’t care. I don’t care what happens to me. I have to set you up in life. That’s a father’s job.”
“No.”
“Yes. For you and your children. For all the Van Brunts to come.”
“Oh, Daddy…” Zef shook his head. He punched the roof of the car. “There won’t be any more Van Brunts.”
“Of course there will. Forget about Kate. You’ll have lots of kids. That’s your job. You’re the bridge to the future. For all the Van Brunts. For all the Bones.”
“No.” Zef’s voice was harsh. “No, Dad. This family ends with me.” He opened the car door and got out.
“Where are you going?” snapped Hadewych.
“To save Mom. There’s time.”
“No!”
“You can’t stop me.” Zef slammed the door. Hadewych climbed out and slapped his hand on the roof, pointing. “If you lift a finger for that woman, don’t you ever darken my door again.”
“What?”
“Choose. Me or her.”
“You want me to choose? Like Dylan chose?”
“It’s not a hard choice. I’m your father.”
Somewhere deep inside Zef, the old demons woke, clawing at the cellar door. He imagined the door swung aside, that the demons emerged, blinking at the sunlight, so that he could see their faces at last. And every one bore the face of his father. Zef nodded, understanding. “I’ve always thought that I was a monster…” he whispered. “That I should be ashamed of who I was… And you let me feel that way. You made me feel that way. You pretend to love me. But you don’t, do you?” Hadewych glanced away. “What do you know about me? What do you care to know? I’m not your son. I’m just… your heir.” Zef’s voice became simple and clear, as if discovering the solution to a problem. “You’re the monster, Dad. You always have been. You’re the monster. Not me… I’m just gay.”
Hadewych scowled. “What?”
Cool night air kissed Zef’s forehead. He spoke firmly and with growing confidence, looking his father in the eye. “I’m gay. It was my magazine, not Jason’s. I’m in love with Joey Osorio, not Kate. And I love my mom. I choose my mom. Not you. I choose her. And you can go to hell.”
Zef turned and ran, fast as he could, towards Patriots Park and the rising clouds of jet-black smoke…
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
“Fireworks”
THWIP! Whistle… (Wait) BANG! Crackle… shhh… Applause…
Joey had never seen a fireworks display from this close before.
CRACK!
He had snuck away from the kids at the lighthouse, wanting to be alone, and had found himself sitting on a pile of dirt, less than a hundred feet from the firework launching area, by himself under flashes of blinding red and white and green.
POP POP POP!
They were literally just over his head…
BOOM!
…filling his vision from one side of the sky to the other. Strings of flowers spitballing into the heavens, disappearing, cracking and twisting like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
THWIP!
Thumping and sizzling, reflected in the windows of the parked trucks, casting a red glare across the concrete, where smoke gathered like a shifting fog. The smell of gunpowder hung heavily in the air, like a field of battle.
(whump!) A flash of sparks near the ground. A moment’s wait and then… The sounds were incredible. Breaking the sky just a moment after each FLASH…
BANG!!!!
Like a universe exploding, like a bursting of stars, like popcorn kernels in a microwave… RAT-A-TATA-TATA! And the echoes… The reports hit the retaining wall behind Joey, the hard concrete at his feet. They echoed back from the Jersey Palisades, breaking across the Hudson a second later, and from the Sleepy Hollow Hills, like men shooting birds in the distant wood. RAT-A-TATATA-TATATA! The echoes accumulated and intensified, creating a cross-rhythm of insane complexity and beautiful harmony, like a vast ensemble of passionate beating hearts, overlapping and intersecting across this tiny patch of Westchester… RAT-A-TATATA-TATATA-TATA-TATA-TATA-TATATA-TATATA-TATA-TATA-TAT!
Oh, Dave would have loved this. It’s like a drum solo with the whole world to play on. Everyone’s missing this! No one’s sharing it with me! Jason should be here. Kate even.
Joey’s hand brushed the pile of dirt… as if reaching for someone. I should have let Zef stay…
The light intensified, blurring in Joey’s wet eyes.
BANG!!! BANG!!! BANG!!!
Jason heard the sounds and glanced up. Fireworks rose above the Hudson, lighting his back yard. Charley yipped in the garage, startled. The display was beautiful but Jason ignored it. He looked at the ground and kept digging, scratching away the dirt between the roots of the persimmon tree, trying to find his other kilo bar of gold. It was time to go—to get the hell out of the Hollow—fast as he could, as if all the demons of hell were in pursuit, because they were.
He was marked.
He was the seventh generation.
He was the descendant of an evil shit who had murdered a man in cold blood.
And that sin would be visited on his head.
On his neck.
His tourniquet throbbed. He should go to the hospital. He would. In another town. He would never be safe here. He had to run, to escape the Horseman’s range. He had to find allies and assistance, somewhere. Salem, maybe. Valerie’s people. He couldn’t do this on his own, not anymore.
But where was the gold? He’d need money. Where was the damn bar? It was a big kilo bar. Hard to miss and he hadn’t buried it very deep. He dug frantically, one eye on the shadows, expecting the Horseman to leap from the cellar or from Zef’s window above. Through the pane of glass he could see Zef’s Horseman costume hanging on the back of the bedroom door, watching him. He shuddered. His fingers raked the dry soil, searching. The fingers of the persimmon tree raked the window screen, throwing crazy shadows as the fireworks broke the sky. He had buried the gold here, under this tree. He was sure of it. Had Hadewych found this other stash? Had he—
No.
Jason felt something hard under his fingers. He relaxed, felt for the edge, got his
left hand under it and pulled. A face lurched from the ground—his bare hands closed on the temples of a scorched skull.
His Gift engaged. He saw a flash of Agathe, hands held high, pouring flame at him, heard himself scream, a high woman’s scream, saw the flesh melt from his hands, his arms…
He threw the skull aside with a cry.
The servant girl. The one Agathe burned to death. This is where Dylan buried her. Here, beneath the persimmon tree. He looked up. The tree clawed at the side of the house as if to scream, “I’m here! I’m here! Shame… shame…!”
Jason was numb to further terrors, though. He dug on the other side of the tree. He’d almost given up on the gold when he saw a glint of yellow by the light of the distant candles. He wrenched the gold bar from the ground, hesitated, and nudged the skull back into the hole, covering it with loose earth. The poor girl would have to wait for a better grave.
He ran across the lawn and up the steps, crept warily into the house and turned on the lights. He jumped at the headless dress dummy in the living room. He crashed through his bedroom door, grabbed the silver owl talisman and hung it around his neck, pulled a windbreaker over his shivering wet body, stuck the gold in a side pocket, grabbed a bag of clothes and the car keys, and ran down the thirteen steps again, past the spot where Eliza had lain and across the yard to the garage. Every shadow wielded a hatchet. Every tree concealed a Monster.
He threw open the RV and collected Charley. He hesitated. The Gatewood Guide lay on the bunk. He remembered his vision of Eliza in the cemetery, of the day they had made the William Crane grave-rubbing.
“You have to pull the weeds to know your roots,” Eliza had said. “You may not like what you find, though—”
Jason nodded solemnly. He stared at the red ceramic cookie jar on the shelf.
“Every family has bad apples,” he whispered.
He whirled away. He carried Charley to the Mercedes, climbed in, and backed up the drive. The fireworks haloed 417 Gory Brook with wrathful flame, as if the house were on fire. Jason sped away, hoping he would never see the place again.
He thought of Kate and winced. He’d been too afraid of the cellar to retrieve his phone. He had to call her first chance, let her know what happened, why he hadn’t come. She would understand. Besides, it was ten o’clock. She would be leaving for Boston by now, anyway. That was good.
Sleepy Hollow: Bridge of Bones Page 57
