Page 1 of Bewitched By the Headless Horseman (The Bewitching Hour #1)

And there goes her pristine bun. Oh, he’s really going at it.

Stevie laughed under her breath—this was the ultimate opposites attract.

She sat outside the seafood restaurant on the second floor at a table for two, waiting on a supplier for the comic book store where she worked as her semi-sometimes job.

Not only that though, the guy arriving just so happened to run one of the largest comic conventions in New York City each year.

Her brother, Gideon, should’ve been at the restaurant for the meeting since the store was his after taking it over last year, but the torch had been passed to Stevie two months ago when he’d offered to give her two hundred dollars worth of vintage stamps along with regular pay.

A deal she couldn’t refuse, and after tonight, she would get those stamps to finish one of her bird collections.

Owning antique things was a hobby she’d been clutching onto dearly for years.

She continued to observe the four translucent white ghosts around her.

A loud bang struck the window in front of her, and her gaze locked onto the two ghosts who were getting mighty frisky on the opposite side of the glass.

The woman’s dress was now off somewhere on the floor, her body pressed to the window while a table of four steadily ate their meal, not noticing the action that was taking place before them.

Their moans and groans were loud enough that Stevie was sure even ghosts lingering in the parking lot could hear them.

And there goes her corset . Stevie smirked to herself and flicked her stare away, not wanting to be too much of a peeper. But they were literally right there, her chair facing them!

She glanced at her phone, seeing Reese was already ten minutes late.

Little monsters clawed at her stomach in nervousness—she’d made a grave mistake a few weeks ago when she’d snooped on the convention’s website to reveal what he looked like after liking his witty back-and-forth emails.

He was pretty much the spitting image of Evan Peters in American Horror Story —the Coven season.

Hard to find a con there. She prayed it was one of those cases where the picture was better than the person so her fingers wouldn’t fidget when he arrived.

Stevie set down her phone on the table and peered at one of the other two ghosts not getting freaky—a woman from possibly the 1950s with a tight polka-dotted bodice and a flowing black skirt, her hair in pinned curls.

She weaved around the six outside tables in figure-eight movements, the click of her heels echoing, all while chattering to herself about the items she needed to buy at the grocery store.

How humdrum. If the ghosts could see the living world, Stevie would’ve already coaxed the woman into the nearest grocery store and told her to have at it so her unfinished business could be checked off her list.

As she focused on her phone once again, Stevie’s leg bounced up and down.

If he stands me up and Gideon doesn’t give me those stamps, I swear I’ll kidnap my brother’s precious pet plant for a day or two .

She brought a piece of the complimentary bread to her mouth and chewed slowly while studying the one remaining ghost near the stone balcony. The one missing his head. Poor sap .

But it wasn’t as if this was the first headless ghost she’d ever seen.

When night gobbled up the day, a vengeful spirit, the Headless Horseman, rode his mighty steed through Sleepy Hollow and collected ghosts’ heads.

How often did he confiscate them? That was a really good question.

And what he did with the heads? That was an even better question since every time she’d spotted him on horseback he was still headless.

He probably added them to his secret stash or smugly fiddled around with them during the day when he wasn’t out and about.

If he ever found his original head, then maybe he would finally pass on and quit pestering the other ghosts.

But with centuries having slipped by, his missing prize had to be long gone by now.

“After I finish this bite of bread, I’m leaving,” she muttered, trying to ignore the woman’s moans of ecstasy from inside the restaurant.

Stevie had been seeing ghosts for as long as she could remember, most likely ever since she left the womb.

No psychic abilities for her though— too bad .

However, a seer’s blood held magical properties such as necromancy and healing to name a couple. So at least she had that going for her.

“Stevie Rourke?” a melodious voice asked from behind her.

She hurried and chewed the large piece of bread as her eyes locked onto dark brown irises, a pretty smile, and dirty blond curly hair brushing his brow.

Reese wore a button-up shirt, the sleeves neatly at his wrists.

Her stomach dipped at the sight of him. After the meeting she would throttle her sister-in-law, Lucia, for telling her he so didn’t look like Evan Peters in person because he so did.

Stevie choked on her bread, looking like an idiot. She chugged half her glass of milk once she got the food down. “Sorry about that.” She sobered and smiled, getting into non-seer mode by blocking out the surrounding ghosts since it would be an awkward first meeting otherwise. “Reese Braun?”

“That’s me. Sorry I’m late. The traffic leaving the city was terrible.” He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his chest heaving and his cheeks flushed, while he sat across from her.

“No, it’s fine,” Stevie said just as a tall waitress came out to take their orders.

Lucia had given the green light that the meeting would be as easy as pie since Reese was a breeze for Gideon to deal with.

Stevie’s top priority job that she’d had for the past four years was working as a witch’s assistant to Lucia.

Running local deliveries for her around town and mailing out packages from the online side of Lucia’s apothecary, other times assisting in mixing brews for her sister-in-law to spell.

Pet plants and small skeletal animals for Sleepy Hollow locals were Lucia’s specialty and best sellers, compliments of Stevie’s seer blood added to help bring them to life of course.

When Stevie noticed she was staring at Reese’s face like an owl, she chipped through the expanding iceberg. “So, about the booth and the auction—”

“The entrance booth is yours and you guys will have front row at the auction.” The edges of Reese’s lips curled up as he took a piece of bread and met her gaze.

“Oh.” It was the only word Stevie could get out—she’d expected more of a challenge. But score.

The waitress returned with a green bottle and poured Reese a glass of red wine.

“You sure you don’t want a glass?” he asked after she waved off the waitress from pouring her some.

“I’m a big milk drinker.” Stevie winked, raising her glass like she was giving a toast and cursing herself once again for being an idiot.

“I like milk.” Reese smiled, his teeth brilliantly white and perfectly straight. Her dentist father would be proud. “The meeting wasn’t the only reason I came tonight though.”

Stevie blinked, straightening in her seat. “It isn’t? Then why?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, appearing as if he were ready to spill a dark secret. “Don’t take me for a stalker, but I looked up your picture on the store website and found you … cute.”

Cute? No one had said anything like that to her since her ex-boyfriend. “I have a confession too. I tried looking up your picture on your website and you have an anime drawing.”

Reese chuckled. “Kept you guessing, I hope.”

“Terribly so.” She bit her lip. “But then I went to the convention website and found your picture there.”

His smile grew wide. “Should we call this a date then?”

Stevie cocked her head and grinned. “Guess my favorite color and we’ll see if it is.

” She hadn’t been on a date for nine months—ever since her one and only boyfriend dumped her just before her twenty-first birthday.

Mister Piss-Baby, who shall not be named.

They’d been together since high school, and one would think he’d have been used to the fact that Stevie could see the dead, but no.

Every time he noticed her gaze drift from him to something he couldn’t see, he’d gone pale as a corpse and she’d worried he would faint.

Until finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

A reason she generally stayed hush-hush about her ability at first, especially if a boy claiming to love her couldn’t handle it. Not that she’d broadcasted it before.

Reese tapped his hand against the table. “I’m debating between black like your dress or the same bright orange of your hair.”

The headless ghost stumbled beside her table, then spun in circles. She didn’t even break her act to look at him.

“Only one choice,” Stevie finally said. To be fair, her favorite color was closer to a mood ring, and she enjoyed a good gothic dress, regardless of the color. But if she had to choose, it would be the orange he’d suspected which was why her hair had been the same color for the past six years.

“Maybe black,” Reese said, taking a sip of his wine. “I’ve heard things about girls who wear lots of black.”

She arched a brow. “What kind of things?”

“Oh shit, scratch that. Apparently, I can’t be suave.” He cringed.

Stevie placed her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers together. “No, do go on. You have my interest piqued.”

“You know”—he cleared his throat—“that they are more adventurous.”

She held back laughter, hoping he wasn’t about to say what she was thinking. “Adventurous with what, Reese?”

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks reddening. “You know … in bed.”

The laughter did come then and she couldn’t stop it, even when it reached hyena levels. “I believe you’re being prejudiced to the other colors.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean you . Your favorite color is orange.” The red staining Reese’s cheeks grew brighter and she covered her mouth to stop from laughing.

Still smiling, she said, “And what has he won for guessing the answer correctly, Mr. Gameshow Host? This is officially a date.”

“You are—” Reese’s phone dinged, and he fished it out from his pocket.

“Fuck. That’s my business partner. I need to meet with him about the convention before he royally screws up something else since he decided to get wasted.

Again.” He paused and kept his eyes trained on hers.

“Maybe we can finish this official date soon?”

“If you want a part two, then there’ll be a part two.” At least she hoped he wanted to actually meet up again because she definitely did.

“We’ll plan for a part two then. Oh, and Stevie, next time you’ll have to guess my favorite color.” Reese smiled brightly and drew out several bills to place on the table.

Stevie watched as he walked away, inwardly sighing that someone put together like him was interested in her. When the waitress brought Stevie the food, she stayed to polish off her meal—the untouched one she would drop off to Lucia.

Once the waitress gave her a to-go box, Stevie gathered her things, then walked by the headless ghost who now sat in one of the chairs at a table beside her. “You got this,” she encouraged.

Stevie’s cell beeped and Lucia was already messaging her.

Wishing you luck that the meeting goes well. You need to get some non-work-action after .

Stevie pinched the bridge of her nose and texted her back with a smile. The only “some” I’ll be getting tonight is some sleep. Reese got called into work, but tell Gideon he got the deal on both things. And by the way, he looks better than his picture by a long shot!

I lied to you. He totally does.

You little witch! Lol.

Cauldron and all.

Anyway, I have food I’m going to drop off soon.

Stevie had known her sister-in-law for most of her life due to her mom’s monthly visits to see Lucia’s aunt Ginger for witchy remedies.

Stevie had never been close with Lucia since they’d been six years apart, rarely even said hi to one another.

All of that changed when Lucia started dating Gideon and asked Stevie to become a witch’s assistant.

Stevie entered the restaurant and old twangy country music filled the crowded space. The two lovebird ghosts seemed to have taken their peepshow somewhere else.

She descended the wooden staircase, and at the bottom of the steps sat another ghost—a young girl maybe around eleven or twelve with thick white hair covering her face and knees.

The girl’s head lay in her hands as she cried.

Some establishments didn’t have any dead lingering while others were like a beacon to them.

Even her brother’s store had a resident ghost who’d been there for quite some time.

“I wish I could help you,” Stevie murmured, knowing the ghost wouldn’t hear her.

“No one can help me,” the girl sobbed and stood, then ran through the wall like she was being chased by a wendigo wielding an axe.

Stevie’s eyes widened, and she stumbled forward. Had the ghost heard her? No. Impossible. It had to have been a coincidence—it always was.

“Miss,” the hostess called, drawing Stevie away from her thoughts.

Bright cherry gloss stained the older woman’s lips and her gray hair hung in a straight bob just past her chin.

“The gentleman told me to give you this and to apologize again for his sudden departure.” She then handed Stevie a pie box.

“Thank you.” Stevie glanced down at the clear square top while heading toward the exit. An orange creamsicle pie rested inside and she pressed her lips together, fighting a smile when she read the words written in black ink on the edge of the box.

Sorry it’s not your favorite shade of orange .

Stevie bit her lip—she loved orange creamsicle and would gladly eat the whole beautiful thing like a ravenous ogre.

As the crisp fall breeze hit her, Stevie stared up at the night sky, the stars flickering like tiny watchful eyes. The new moon was somewhere up there, its silvery hue hidden, unable to cast its eerie glow down amongst the town of Sleepy Hollow.

Stevie took the path beside the woods, the restaurant not far from her home. The bushes beside her rustled, and she stopped in her tracks just as something that hadn’t been alive in quite some time darted out from the tree line.

And ran straight toward her.