Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
The horseman lifts his other hand, an ax that gleams from the faint moonlight that comes in through the windows.
He aims to chop off my head.
I should probably move.
I scramble, going behind the desk just in time as he brings the ax down, slicing both the desk and the books down the middle.
The problem with a man with no head is that he can’t communicate with you. It’s a very one-sided relationship. I think about Kat and how she’s able to speak to the animals and wish there was something I could learn from that, but I doubt that will happen before my head is hacked off here in the school library.
“I know you can hear me, Brom!” I cry out. “I know you’re tethered to him and him to you!”
Which means the reason he’s here is because of Kat.
Because he wants me out of the picture.
“She doesn’t just belong to you,” I say as the horseman picks up the ax again and strides powerfully around the desk toward me. “She belongs to me. And I belong to you too.”
The horseman doesn’t seem to care for my blathering, his presence an unstoppable force.
“Fuck,” I swear, reaching into my other coat pocket for a vial of salt rumored to be from the lost city of Atlantis. I take it out and uncork it, tossing the salt at him just as he’s about to swing the ax again.
The white granules hit him and fizzle, steam rising, and the Hessian lets out an inhuman roar despite not having a face. He waves his arms around in distress, and for a moment, I think it’s enough to keep him at bay. He is a spirit, after all.
But then he keeps on walking as I go around yet another desk, my hands patting down my coat, trying to find something else I can use.
I have nothing but words.
Nothing but my own energy.
I put my hands out.
“Non potes me nocere!” I command.
You can’t hurt me.
The headless horseman pauses.
“Me tangere non potes!” I yell.
You cannot touch me.
He comes to a stop, raising his arms as if shielding himself.
I know that spirit words don’t last forever; it’s just a spell, a temporary bandage for the witch to get to higher ground. But here, I will take what I can. If I run now, he’ll only catch up with me. The trick is to convince him not to kill me.
“You know who I am, Brom!” I yell. “You remember, deep down in that secret shadow side of you. You remember what we had together!”
The horseman straightens up, marching toward me again, and I back up until my back hits a wall of books.
Nowhere to go.
Nothing to protect me but my magic and my wits.
The horseman stops right in front of me, the stench of sulfur overwhelming, a sense of chaos taking over. His body is so hard, his cloak and armor seeming to swallow the world with its darkness. He presses it against mine, like he aims to crush my bones first before removing my head, the wall of books unyielding.
I’m staring right at his missing head. He’s got at least five inches on me, if not more, making him taller than seven feet. The wound there looks cauterized, red and grimly glowing. The closer I look, the more it seems like something is wriggling in the stump. I avert my eyes, not wanting that to be the last thing I ever see.
One of his hands goes to the top of my head to make a fist, yanking on my hair.
“You know that’s not how this works,” I tell him, my voice shaking, but I don’t care if he knows how terrified I am. I’ll do what I have to do to reach him.
I manage to buck my hips against his with the little leverage I have, even as he keeps his fist in my hair.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I say with a sneer. “That’s why you’re here. Not to kill me. Not to have my head. Because you remember what I gave to you. Don’t you, pretty boy?”
The horseman stills at the use of his nickname.
I know he remembers.
I reach down with my hand, squeezing it between his crotch and mine, flipping my wrist around so that my palm is pressed against his cock.
“This is what you want,” I whisper harshly, my grip tightening over him. He’s extremely long and hard and huge; my hand feels small in comparison. But he’s aroused by this, pressing his hips against my hand and grinding.
“I can give you what you want,” I say hoarsely, keeping my eyes away from his missing head. “I can give you what you’ve forgotten about. What you won’t let yourself think about. I know you want me, Brom. I see it in you.”
The horseman stills again. I grip his cock tighter, rubbing faster over the leather pad at his groin.