Page 14 of Bewitched By the Headless Horseman (The Bewitching Hour #1)

“And how long do you expect me to keep them under wraps from prying eyes?” Stevie lifted an eyebrow while using a velvet cloth from the trunk’s contents to pick up each bone and place them gently into the box.

“My head needs to be found before the next full moon.”

“I’m not a detective, and I’m pretty sure that almost every witch has attempted to locate it at one time or another.

I mean, even Lucia played a game with her friends when she was younger to see who could win by finding it first. And you know what happened?

Nothing. No one uncovered it.” She tilted her head, mulling something over.

“What happened to your head anyway? Was it like in the story? You do know the story, right?”

He drummed his fingers against the table. “I know there is one. I would be a fool not to know when there’s a statue of me near the old church.”

If he didn’t know accurately, then he needed to.

So she broke down the story and movies for him to see what matched and what didn’t.

“You and your horse are both translucent white instead of swathed in black. That’s one difference I know.

Oh, and I guess you can only play with ghosts, not the living. So two things.”

“Everything you’ve heard is preposterous,” Kit scoffed. “A cannonball taking my head with it? Pitiful.”

She would loop around to that another time since it wasn’t important right now. “Then if you can feel me touching your bones, why couldn’t you at some point feel someone holding your head? You did know the bones were at the abandoned house without touching them as well.”

“For someone who is a witch’s assistant, you should’ve uncovered that by now.”

“Witchy vibes,” she whispered. “That makes more sense. So someone hid your head with magic. But why?”

“That is a good question, isn’t it?” he said. “Now, where are you going to hide my bones?”

Stevie knew the best place to store them for the time being—the back of her closet in a safe that was spelled to keep her most valued collections extra protected.

“You owe me.” Stevie shut the box and carried it into her room with Kit hot on her heels.

She pushed the clothes in her closet aside to get to the large safe.

After she spun the combination lock to the correct numbers, she removed her special boxes of coins, stamps, and collector cards, then placed the bones into the empty space.

Shutting the door, she draped a blanket over it to make the safe a little more hidden before moving her clothes to cover it. “There.”

“Thank you. I’ll find a way to return the favor,” Kit promised.

She blinked. “Oh, I don’t need a favor. I’m just doing my Sleepy Hollow duty and helping ghosts’ heads remain intact.”

“Good night.” He brought two fingers up to his invisible mouth and released a high-pitched whistle.

Stevie covered her ears. “I think you just blew out my eardrums. How about you warn me in advance next time?”

“If it’s necessary.” He chuckled.

Before she answered him with a snarky reply, his horse whinnied outside her bedroom window.

Eyes widening, she shoved the curtains aside.

The white glow of the ghost illuminated her backyard.

“It’s your stallion!” she gasped, lifting the window.

Up close, the horse was like a sculpted art piece, beautiful, its eyes shining brighter than candle flames.

She’d never paid attention to its striking details before, not even the other night when she’d been too busy watching Kit reap a head.

When Kit didn’t respond, she turned around to find him gone from her room. She glanced back out the window, and he stood only a couple of millimeters from her, startling her.

“Please don’t do that again,” she groaned.

“I’ll call on you soon,” he said. “Time is of the essence, and I must continue my search. Keep my bones safe, Pumpkin.”

“I thought you needed my help?” Stevie should just want to get rid of him, but after tonight, she’d only grown more curious.

Itching to find out more. And she bet that was exactly what he’d wanted.

Either way, she wasn’t a ghost that could stay awake for twenty-four hours and endlessly search for his head.

Needing sleep was a downside of being a part of the living.

“In due time. Tonight I have Inferno to guide me.” Kit backed away from her and stroked his horse’s mane.

He easily mounted the stallion, his powerful thighs pressing against the animal’s body.

Without another word, the horse bolted forward, Kit’s cape flapping in the air.

They slipped straight through the fence—the specks of white light vanished from sight.

Stevie shut the window and drew the curtains closed. Roxy’s feet padding against the wooden floor sounded behind her.

“What a night, huh, Foxy Roxy?” Stevie plopped down on the mattress and patted the spot beside her.

As Roxy curled up next to her, a strange feeling formed in the pit of Stevie’s stomach.

She sucked in a sharp breath when she realized something.

Kit had whistled for his stallion, and the horse had answered his call.

.. She remembered his words from the other night, Your tiny fox is all yours, Pumpkin.

I prefer to claim stallions as mine. And then… He comes when I desire it.

If she ever needed Roxy, Stevie knew she would come to her if she whistled, hearing the call from anywhere she was. It wasn’t just any horse … it was a ghost sidekick .

And only seers had those.