Page 7 of Bewitched By the Headless Horseman (The Bewitching Hour #1)

“Goodbye, Headless Horseman,” Stevie chanted as she shut the door behind her. No matter how tempting it might be to go back to the abandoned house to check out the basement and see what could be down there— ghost heads ?—that was a definite no crossed off her list of things to do.

She fished out the bent collector card from her back pocket, satisfied she’d at least found Nasty Nick.

Still, she’d put Roxy in harm’s way, but to be fair, she hadn’t suspected that the Horseman would’ve made a grand swaggery entrance.

She always assumed he was either hovering at a cemetery or hidden deep in the woods somewhere.

He’d said that he knew she could see him, and yet he hadn’t followed her.

Maybe he just wasn’t impressed by her which would brighten her day.

“Roxy, are you here?” Stevie called, heading to her room to slip the card into her collection binder.

No bark in reply.

She set the binder back on the desk and checked the time on her phone. Still early. That meant her sidekick might not come home for a few more hours. At least Roxy had been in a safe zone while Stevie was traipsing around the Headless Horseman’s abode.

She sent Lucia a quick text as she padded toward the kitchen. I’m back . And guess what?

Stevie swallowed, her throat parched. She knew exactly what she needed.

Opening the fridge, she grabbed a carton of milk and chugged the remainder of it down.

She shook the carton, finding a couple sips that would have to hold her over until she went grocery shopping tomorrow.

There was normally enough, but Gideon had come over the previous morning and hogged most of it.

As she went into the living room, she was a few words into her message to Lucia about what had happened at the abandoned house when rustling, the shuffle of fabrics, stirred from the couch.

“Are you trying to get yourself stuck in the blankets again?” She laughed, then froze when her gaze didn’t meet Roxy’s furry form but instead an ethereal white muscular build of a man—absent of a head.

Stevie screamed, inwardly cursing herself for pretending like she couldn’t see the devil of a ghost. Lucia’s wards hadn’t prevented this entity from entering.

If the Headless Horseman had a face she could see, Stevie knew he’d be smirking.

His cape lay on the back of the couch, taking up half its length, as if this were his home.

He leaned back, his legs spread wide, the buttons of his shirt fastened pristinely to the top collar like a proper gentleman.

A gentleman who reaped heads for funsies.

How did he know she was here? She thought she’d been sly by going the back route and making sure no ghosts were in sight.

There hadn’t been a sign of him at the park at all, but maybe the little boy ghost was a narc?

No, he’d run off in the opposite direction like a chicken with its head cut off.

Unless … the Horseman had found him and…

Stevie stood still, staring at the blank space above his partial neck while they played some sort of game of who would speak first since she now knew he could talk .

“We meet again,” the Horseman drawled, his voice just as deep and hypnotic as before. “You can see me. Don’t deny it.”

Well, she wouldn’t deny it since at this point the jig was up.

“You have two minutes to leave my house before I spell you to the darkness, deep into the Hollow, demon!” Stevie whirled around and bolted to her room, hoping he wouldn’t catch her bluff.

She had a few witchy brews near the bed that she needed to deliver, but they were for healing sicknesses, bringing dead plants back to life, getting over a loved one, looking younger, and none of those would do a thing.

Even after priests had blessed the lands of Sleepy Hollow, here the Headless Horseman still was, ruining her life.

Overdramatic? Maybe. But not if it was protecting Roxy who could come home at any moment.

Ah-ha! The crucifix inside the head vase!

Stevie opened her china cabinet stuffed with antiques, selecting the ceramic head vase that was crafted in a bust of Lucille Ball, showcasing all her giant eyelash glory.

Pulse thrumming, she glanced toward her open door while plucking a solid silver crucifix from inside, followed by the toad brew that was still in her pocket.

When she discovered that the Horseman hadn’t followed her, she frowned instead of rejoiced.

Was he waiting for her to skip back into the living room? Or maybe he’d listened and fled.

As she moved to place the vase back on its shelf, a glimpse of white caught her attention in front of the window. She flinched, tripping over her own two feet. The ceramic slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. The pieces sliding everywhere . That was it. The last straw.

Gritting her teeth, Stevie looked up at the Headless Horseman, and even though he had no face, her gaze latched onto where she assumed his demonic eyes should be.

And glowing red at that. “Look what you made me do!” Stevie growled, holding up the crucifix.

She then sprayed him with the toad brew, but of course he didn’t turn into an amphibian since he wasn’t a living man.

“What I made you do?” he asked, incredulous. “I was merely standing here watching you fiddle around with a ghastly ceramic head. That you keep a collection of inside that cabinet of yours, I might add.”

“If they were real heads, you would take them all to add to your secret collection ,” Stevie bit back, lifting the crucifix higher. “Get out of my house, demon.”

“That would all depend on the head. Never assume things,” he answered, his voice matter of fact. “And put that thing away. I’m not a demon.”

“Close enough,” Stevie grumbled, not lowering the cross. He hadn’t slinked from his position, and he kept his shoulders relaxed as if he were having a fun day in the park. “I told you to leave, or I would banish you from this world.”

“If you had the ability to do that, I’m certain you would’ve already, seer . The Eye of the Hollow is open, and I know that you can see me. You made that quite obvious on all three of our encounters now.”

Stevie narrowed her gaze at him. “The Eye might be open, but it will close soon enough with its twin, so you might as well tiptoe your way out straight through the wall. My sister-in-law is a witch, and she’ll be home any second.”

He ignored her words, slowly having a turn around her room, seeming to take in the details.

The frames of collector cards, stamps, and coins, covering every inch of the walls.

The stacks of shoeboxes and binders resting on her desk filled with even more, the antique figurines on the shelves. “You have too many nonsensical things.”

Stevie blinked, her brows lifting up her forehead. “Excuse me?” She lowered the crucifix but didn’t slacken her grip on it. When he didn’t speak, she continued, “Listen, um, Headless Horseman, I—”

He held up a gloved hand, cutting her off. “Kit.”

“What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “What kind of kit? Do you need a first aid one? Because I think your neck wound healed a long time ago.”

“No.” He stepped forward, his broad shoulders squared. “My name is Kit. Not ‘Headless Horseman.’”

Kit… She wouldn’t dare admit it aloud, but it was a charming name for a not-so-charming man. Without seeing his true face, she wasn’t sure if he even looked like a Kit because right now he only looked like the Headless Horseman.

He inched toward her, his body like a tower in front of her. “And you, Pumpkin, what do you go by?”

“Not Pumpkin .” She scowled. “If I tell you my name will you leave?”

“Perhaps,” he said the word ever so slowly which only made her scowl deepen.

“First, tell me how you knew where I lived.” All she could think about was him removing that sword at his hip from its sheath and slicing it through the little ghost boy’s neck.

“Easy enough. I went through each of the houses in this neighborhood until I found you.”

She should’ve guessed he would do something as stalkeriffic as that, but a sense of relief washed through her that no ghost had been harmed in the process. “My name’s Stevie,” she relented.

“Stevie.” Kit drew out her name in that deep baritone of his, making it sound more like Ste-vieeeeeeeeeeee. “It doesn’t resemble a seer name.”

“Kit doesn’t sound like it would be the Headless Horseman’s name either, but here we are,” Stevie started.

“And anyway, my dad named me after one of the greatest singers ever to walk this earth. Stevie Nicks. Who I guess you wouldn’t know—unless you’ve talked to other ghosts somewhere after like 1975? ”

“No,” he said simply, his boots remaining planted in place.

“I told you my name, so will you go?” She folded her arms.

“Not yet.”

Stevie thrust her hand forward with the crucifix, and it pierced through his chest. Nothing. He couldn’t touch her, and she couldn’t touch him. But the sigh of relief didn’t come, not as she remembered Roxy and swallowed deeply.

“Why would you do something so ridiculous?” Kit asked, wiping the front of his chest as if she’d sullied him.

“To make sure my head was protected,” Stevie said.

As he grunted, she added, “What will make you leave me alone? Helping you with unfinished business? It’s no secret around here that you ride through the ghost world at night in search of your head.

And I have news for you, I wouldn’t know where to find it unless you want to spend years digging up every inch of Sleepy Hollow.

If it’s somewhere else outside of this town, I might be dead before we even finish that. ”

Kit remained silent, his gloved fingers flexing at his sides. “I’m not confessing what I need from you just yet. That will come soon enough.”