SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (29 page)

He dropped his
arms to his sides. “You Van Tassels think you’re so high and mighty. When
Baltus returns, I’ll be paying him a visit. His money will be lining my pockets
and you’ll still hang.” He kicked the water cup, sloshing most of it onto the
floor. “You got five minutes before I come back and collect what’s left.”

I turned back to
the wall. Once he was gone, I hurried over to the bars and stretched as far as
I could to reach the mug. I set it and the bread on the chair, then dragged it
close to the bed. If Fallon planned to collect them, he’d have to come inside.
I’d burn him with the candle as a distraction, and then smash the chair into
his face. All for pure satisfaction. But then I’d have no choice but flee. What
he’d do to me would be far worse than the demons that surrounded me now. I
reached under the mattress and touched the cool porcelain of my makeshift
lance.

Fallon never
returned. The man was nothing but lies.

* *
*

I awoke to the sounds of the
Hollow, seeming livelier than before. Or perhaps it was my impaired state. If
anyone had come to bring me food, I’d slept through it. But last night’s bread
and water still rested on the chair. Why would they offer more? And why would I
care?
Around an hour later – so I guessed – a handful of walnuts blasted against the
window. Even though time was lost on me, I knew it was way before noon. I
placed the chair under the window and raised the pane. Leta stood in the cold,
hopping foot to foot. Her face was screwed into a knot, and tears tracked down
her cheeks. “Miss Katrina.” Her chalky lips trembled like an injured bird.

I held tight to
the window’s bars. “Leta, what’s wrong?”

She sniffled,
continuing to bounce. “That tavern owner came up to the house.”

A cold panic swept
over me. “Peter Bottoms.”

“Yes, ma’am. And
he brought out a whole passel of town folk. They was hollerin’ and throwing
rocks, and yelling that you was a witch, making their hens to stop layin’ and
their wells dry up.”

Peter’s turned
everyone against me.

“They was
demanding for Mr. Van Tassel to pay up for their troubles.”

“My Father was
there?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She
wiped her nose on her coat sleeve. “He and that lawyer man come back late last
night.”

“Well, what happened?”

Her face hitched
again. “It was the most terrible thing. Even though the door was barred, the
tavern owner barged in. He hollered all kinds of nasty things, then he and Mr.
Van Tassel started fighin’. They tussled for a bit, then Peter took out a
pistol and shot him in the face.”

My knees buckled
and the chair wobbled beneath me.
Oh, my lord.
“Is he dead?
Leta
,
is he dead?”

Her tears spilled
onto her lips. “I don’t know. He just laid there at first, but after Peter went
to tearing up the house, he started crawling on his elbows toward the kitchen.
His whole face looked like an open sore. Simon sent me to fetch the doctor. And
I don’t know nothing else cause after I got the doctor, I come straight here to
tell you.” She began bawling again.

The image of
Father’s blood-soaked face made it impossible to swallow my own tears. How had
this all gone so terribly wrong?

The clamor of the
village grew stronger. I couldn’t allow Leta to remain.

“Listen to me,” I
said. “It is too dangerous for you to come back here. If you can, ask the
doctor to relay word of my father through one of the Councilmen.”

She rubbed an eye
with her fist. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And one more
thing,” I asked, quickly. “What happened to the lawyer?”

Her lip quivered.
“He hightailed it back to the city after that swarm of people showed up.”

I rested my head
against the window’s cold bars. “Thank you, Leta. Be safe, dear.”

She glanced up
with wet almond eyes. “Bye, Miss Katrina. I hope you’ll be all right.”

I sank into a
silent sob.
No matter what happens, I won’t be.

* *
*

I stayed at the window, long after
she’d left, letting the cold air numb my senses. But heavy scuttling and
clatter roused me. There were shouts as the echoes of hammers clip-clopped
against wood. I pressed my cheek hard to the bars, straining to see. But my
only view was the tangle of branches and the butcher’s stone wall.

What’s
happening out there?

I slammed the
window and dropped off the chair. Thoughts flooded my mind.

They’ll come
for me. They’ll come for the witch.
I paced, wondering, worrying. Minutes
passed like hours. Then the jail room door unclicked. Reverend Bushnell bustled
in, short of breath.

I hurried over.
“How is Father?”

The Reverend held
up his Bible as though to ward off my next words. “I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

“He’s dead?” New
tears fell as I clutched the bars.

“As you may well
be soon,” he said, refusing me a moment to grieve.

I snapped my eyes
to him. “Don’t you think I know that?”

He placed a hand
over mine. “The Hollow is in a fever, my dear. Peter Bottoms has incited an
uproar. He is preaching against you, blaming you for all the misfortune in
Sleepy Hollow. Anyone with failed crops or diseased livestock is crying witch.
And now they are taking matters into their own hands, erecting a scaffold.”

My mouth went dirt
dry. “Where is the Magistrate? Is he not trying to stop them?”

The Reverend’s
downcast expression hung loose. “What can he do, Katrina? We are outnumbered.”

“Do something! Can
I trust that they’ll not get in?”

He withdrew his
hand, a gesture that spoke volumes. “We’re keeping the doors locked and have
brought in an extra guard.”

“Please, Reverend,
let me go. I’ll leave the Hollow and never return.”

My hopes rose as
he considered it, but then he fervently shook his head. “Out of the question.”

I slammed the side
of my fist against the bars. “And you call yourself a man of God? What are you
going to do when they drag me out? Stand in the corner and pray? Will there be
any guilt on your part? Any remorse?”

“As much guilt as
you feel over the death of Marten Piers.”

My body trembled
with frustration as I held back a piercing shriek. As much as I wanted to lash
out, I knew it would only satisfy him.

Sensing my fury,
he took a step back. “I’m sorry, Katrina. I wish I could do more. But here.” He
offered his Bible through the bars. “Perhaps you’d like to keep this.”

I backed away, my
chin high. “No, thank you. I find it a useless weapon.”

He brought it
back, clutching it to his chest. “Yet I fear the lack of it is what put you
here. I’ll pray for you, Katrina.”

“Don’t waste your
prayers on me, Reverend. Pray for those outside, erecting the gallows. They are
the true murderers.”

* *
*

Once he’d gone, I was left to my
thoughts, and the sounds outside the window. The sawing and the hammering were
no louder, yet deafening to my ears. And even though my heart had been
completely ripped away, I did not want to surrender.

I took my shoes
off next to the mattress, then hurried to the bars. “Fallon!” I screamed,
banging the chair against them. “Fallon! Come quickly! Hurry!”

The man was
incapable of haste. He pranced in, baring his crooked brown teeth. “What you
wailing about in here?”

I wrenched my arm
through the bars and clutched his sleeve. “I don’t want to hang.”

His eyes glassed
over as though my grip were a sexual gesture. “Don’t worry. It’ll be quick.
You’ll drop fast and…” He snapped his fingers.

“I don’t want to
die. Please, help me.”

He plucked my
fingers from his sleeve, wallowing in my desperation – something I was counting
on greatly. “Know what I did with those coins Baltus gave me?” I waited for
whatever snide answer he’d cooked up. “I used them to buy the chance of
slipping that noose around your neck myself.” He reached through and squeezed
my cheeks. “And I’ll be kissing them rosy lips just before you drop.”

I waited until he
released me, then said, “So the money’s gone?”

His face twisted.
“Not for long. With you and your papa both dead, I’m sure I can find some
valuables in that fancy mansion of yours.”

“But the villagers
may have taken most of it already.” I kept the anguish in my eyes. He had to
believe I was completely at his mercy. Which, as loathsome as it felt, I was.

“Then maybe I best
get out there and pick the place clean.” His eyes crawled over me before
settling on my breasts. “And while I’m there, is there a particular dress you
want me to bring back for you? I think you’d be pretty all laid out in blue.”
He chuckled and turned to go.

“Wait!” I gripped
his sleeve again. “Fallon, you don’t understand. My family is far richer than
appearances.”

His ears and
eyebrows perked. I had him.

“A good deal of
the Van Tassel money is invested. Father owns piles of bank shares and
government bonds. If you get me out of here, I promise, they’re yours.”

He clutched my
hand and squeezed. Raw pain pulsed up my arm. “Supposing that was true, am I to
believe you could just legally hand them over?”

I winced against
the ache as he crushed harder. “After my mother died, it was I who tallied the
ledgers. And since Father was away much of the time, I was left to deal with
the money issues as well. My signature is as good as his on any business
transaction.”

Fallon opened his
hand, dropping mine. His mouth twitched as his mind rolled it over. He was
buying into my lie.

I lowered my voice
to sound more convincing. “We’ll go to the city together. Just the two of us. I
promise you, every share that was ours will be yours. You’ll have wealth like
you’ve never imagined.”

He studied my
eyes, wanting it to be true. “And what’s to keep you from running off after we
leave here?”

I tossed him a
puzzled look. “You own a pistol, don’t you?”

He considered it a
moment, then reached through and placed his trigger finger to my temple. “And
what’s to keep me from firing it into your precious little head?”

“I’ll take that
risk. I’m dead either way.”

He glared a
moment, then jangled the keys. “We’ll go out the back.”

I placed my hands
to my chest. “Oh, thank you.”

A click. Then the
squeak of the iron door. I lifted my skirt, exposing my filthy bare feet. “My
shoes.” I hurried to the corner. As I’d hoped, Fallon sauntered in.

Kneeling with my
back to him, I slipped my shoes on my feet, and the pitcher handle into my
hand. I paused, panting, heart thumping. Taking my time.
Careful. Just
injure him enough to get away.

“Let’s hurry,
woman,” he sneered.

“I’m sorry, it’s
just that…” – I pretended to struggle – “conditions here have caused my feet to
swell.”

“Then just bring
‘em along. Once you sign over those bonds, I’ll lend you the money to buy new
ones.” He cackled a laugh that nearly rattled the window.

“I’ve almost got
them.”

“Almost ain’t good
enough.” He loped toward me. I spun, ramming the porcelain blade on the inside
of his left thigh. His face registered both shock and pain as he stumbled to
the floor.

I broke around
him, but only made it a few steps before he clutched my skirt, bringing me
down.

“You filthy
bitch!” He grabbed a huge wad of my hair as he reached for the handle that
protruded just inches from his groin. “To hell with the Hollow, I’ll kill you
myself!”

Blood coursed as
he worked the weapon from his flesh.

I clawed at his
hand, trying to free my hair, but he held it too close to my scalp. My eyes
fixed to the cell door, and the keys still hanging from the lock. If I could
only get there I could lock him in. I squirmed and kicked, but he rolled on top
of me, the pitcher handle held high.

I moaned, gripping
his wrist to keep him from bringing it down on me.

“Should I take out
your eyes first,” he sniped, “or just ram it into your throat?” Using his legs,
he pushed my knees apart and bucked his pelvis against mine. “Or maybe I should
have my way with you first.” He ran his wet serpent tongue up my neck.

I closed my eyes,
grimacing against the struggle and repulsion. Then his tongue traced the
outline of my lips. “Like that, missy?”

He continued
pressing his groin against me, but now, with a slower rhythm. I could feel the
heat steaming from his body, and the taste of spiced pork on his tongue. My
stomach curled. Then he brought his mouth down fiercely on mine, trying to
burrow his tongue inside. This was my only chance. I opened my mouth to take
him and as soon as he crammed his tongue in, I clamped my teeth upon it,
refusing to let go.

His eyes popped
wide as he fought harder to bring the porcelain weapon down upon me. But I
kicked and fought as his coppery blood rolled down my throat. He finally pulled
his head upward, somehow freed. I then realized, I still had part of his tongue
in my mouth. I spit it into his face.

His eyes darkened
with hatred as he raised up, eager to finish me. Blood sheeted down, dropping
on me in great gobs. I did not want mine mingled with his. Bringing my foot to
his chest, I kicked him off, then rolled onto my hands and knees. But he
lunged, grabbing me before I could get away. I turned to fight, amazed that he
still had strength.

Grappling for the
handle, we fought again, his darkened blood oozing from his mouth. At last, I
wrested the weapon from him. When he sprang at me, I brought it up and into the
flesh of his neck, just above his collarbone.

We both glared,
heaving. I waited for him to drop, but with fingers splayed, he slowly placed
his hands to the sides of my face. Then with the quickness of a deer, he lifted
my head and slammed it to the hard floor.