Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
My hair stands on end.
On the desk, on top of a torn white cloth, is another dead snake with sewing needles stuck through it, pinning it in place, shaped like an S.
There are no words this time, no warning written in blood.
But underneath it, just like the emblem at the gates of Sleepy Hollow Institute, there is a single long key.
Chapter 26
Kat
“Are you ready?” Brom asks me, bringing Daredevil over to where I’m mounted atop of Snowdrop.
I pat the necklace that I have safely tucked away in the small pocket on my dress and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
The last few days I’ve been wearing the cross-and-moon pendant around my neck, believing in what Famke said about its protection, but since she went to the trouble to sneak it out to me in a piece of pastry, I figure that it’s best I keep it on me but out of sight. I don’t want Famke to suffer if my mother sees it.
“Return as soon as your supper is over,” Crane barks at us as he leans against the stable door. “I want you both back here before dark.”
I roll my eyes at that, while Brom twists in the saddle to face Crane. “Yes, Daddy.”
I burst out laughing. The flustered expression on Crane’s face is priceless.
“You deserve a spanking for that, pretty boy,” Crane growls. “You too, Kat.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” I protest.
“And I didn’t say you deserved it,” he says.
I shake my head. Any excuse for you to bring out your ruler.
Then I coax Snowdrop to follow Daredevil down the path and through the center courtyard. For a Saturday, it’s awfully quiet, not a soul about the campus, despite the weather being mild, the grey clouds higher than they usually are, and the air calm.
But things seem to have shifted in the last week, since both Lotte’s and the constable’s death. The classes are more subdued, the students seeming to shrink in on themselves. Some of them look just as sick as Ms. Choi, all gaunt and pale with darkened eyes and bruises, and I wonder if her illness (if you can call it that) is spreading. It’s enough that only about half the students are even showing up for class.
I voiced this to Crane and Brom the other day, and of course Crane thinks it’s all connected. He’s probably right, too, though we can’t figure out how or why. But they’ve been wrapped up in the bigger mystery of who left the dead snake and key on Crane’s desk in the middle of the night. That key goes somewhere, and we’ve spent the last few days trying it on every door we’ve come across, to no avail.
“I really hope my…” Brom begins as the gates swing open to let us through. He trails off as we go through the wards, the pressure in my ears ringing until they finally stop. “My parents,” he continues, giving his head a shake, “for lack of a better word, aren’t there for dinner.”
“For lack of a better word?” I question.
He gives me a cold look as we ride side-by-side down the trail. We’re a little early for supper, so there’s no use rushing.
“You know my parents aren’t who they say they are,” he says matter-of-factly. “They aren’t my parents at all. Sister Sophie told you I was related to her.”
“But that doesn’t mean your parents aren’t your parents,” I point out.
“Nah,” he says, looking ahead. “I know they aren’t. Ever since I was a child, I knew they were only minders of mine. Think about it, Kat. Think of how they’d always act around me, from day one.”
I fall silent, mulling that over as we ride through the autumnal woods, the horse’s hooves rhythmically plodding over the damp ground. Brom’s parents were always indifferent and distant, yes, but I figured that’s how they were. I never for a moment thought that they weren’t his actual biological parents.
Then again, I had felt like they acted more like cousins towards him at times. Maybe everything that was once far-fetched is now a distinct possibility. Everything I once thought and feared as being impossible might very well be real.
Even the things I’ve been too afraid to think about.
Like what really happened to my father.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say quietly. “But then, who are your real parents?”
He shrugs. “Does it matter? They aren’t here. All this time I was afraid I never had a real family, and it turns out that I was right. I never did. I never will.”
“You know I’m your family, Brom,” I tell him, my chest aching at the tired acceptance on his brow. “Crane and I, we’re your family now.”
He glances at me, longing in his gaze, but doesn’t say anything.
“This kind of family is the one that counts,” I tell him. “This is the one that’s chosen. Not by blood, though I reckon we’re bonded by blood now anyway, but by choice and with purpose. The three of us, we have chosen each other, and that counts for everything.”