“Hm?” Chad sounded musing, his thoughts far away. Maybe thirty-some years in the past. She couldn’t begin to know.
She sighed. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Jerome sighed harder. “Seriously?”
“I’m not as undead as you are. Sue me.”
“Is that a lawyer crack?”
“Oh, I have way better lawyer jokes than that.” She shifted on the saddle, but doing so only made the need to pee greater. “But I seriously need to go. I don’t suppose there’s a rest stop somewhere with some toilet paper?”
“Your delicate ass needs toilet paper, too?” Jerome groaned. “We’ll never make it to New York at this rate.”
She cleared her throat, feeling heat crawl up into her cheeks. “Not my fault you kidnapped a full-on living person, buddy. You’re stuck with my delicate ass, so the least you can do is provide toilet paper.”
Aaron tsked. “There was a sign back there somewhere that said something about a rest stop, but I don’t know if we’ve already passed it.” He sounded sheepish. “And I didn’t see how far it was. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“That’s okay, Aaron.” She mitigated her tone, since he’d been such a gentleman this whole time. “You’re paying plenty of attention. I’m sure it’s just up ahead somewhere. I can probably hold it until we get there. I’m sure. Probably.”
Chad grunted. “Maybe we should speed things up, just in case.”
His arm went around her waist, and she jerked back against him in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a good hold. You’re about to see how fast the undead usually travel.”
She hedged, though she took a nervous grip on the saddle horn. “Um, I don’t know if galloping is a good idea with a full bladder. Won’t that mean a lot of bouncing around?”
“Thunder has a really smooth stride. Just hold on and, whatever you do, don’t sneeze.” He sounded slightly pained. “I literally don’t have any other clothes.”
“You haven’t changed clothes in thirty-eight years?”
Aghast now for an all new reason, she tried to turn around and sniff him subtly, but he tightened his grip, snugging her back against his chest.
“Just hold on. Jesus.”
He clicked his tongue and loosened the reins, and in an instant, the muted world around them blurred. This wasn’t fast. This wasfurious.No way could a mere horse run at this crazy speed. She felt like she sat astride a straining, heart-pounding, living motorcycle—one with a thick, black mane that tangled with her fingers wrapped around the saddle horn and with churning hooves that struck sparks on the asphalt. One that snorted steam and screamed a challenge into the gunmetal sky.
But Chad was right about one thing; the ride was as smooth as a grandmother’s rocking chair. She hardly jostled at all, for all the furious speed of their passing. They both leaned forward over the horse’s neck—Thunder, she thought, and what an appropriate name—Chad’s chest fitted around her back, his arm holding her securely. She didn’t feel fear, exactly. Exhilaration? Was that this crazy, gasping feeling in her chest? Something like being on a rollercoaster without being afraid of falling off?
Her hair streamed back from her face, the breeze of their passing neither cool nor hot. She glanced from one side to the other, seeing first Jerome, then Aaron, both leaning over their own horses’ necks to keep up, riding furiously as well, riding to beat the devil, as the old saying went. Did they feel like she did? Or were they used to it after all this time?
Didn’t matter. If she had her way, this was all temporary. They’d get to Sleepy Hollow, find the real Horseman’s head, return it to him, and the curse would break. She’d go back to being a poor T.A., and the three Horsemen would go back to… what, exactly? What could they do? They’d been gone from the world for almost forty years. Did they have families waiting for them? Wondering what happened to them?
The powerful, churning horse beneath her slowed, slowed, then all but stopped, prancing a little before standing still.Thatjounced her a little, and her bladder cried out in distress. Thankfully, as she looked around, she realized they’d reacheda squat, ugly brick building with the expected two doors on opposite sides—MEN and WOMEN.
“Oh, thank god,” she said with genuine and heartfelt relief. “Can you help me—yup.”
He’d already taken her by the armpit, and without consulting on the move, she leaned and he hefted, and she was on her feet and running for the bathroom in no time, ignoring Jerome’s snicker behind her as she went. She fished her cell phone out from the tight hip pocket in her leggings and prayed as she turned on the flashlight. Glory be, but the light came on. One thing, at least, worked.
She pushed through the women’s door and started to hold her breath, the realized the bathroom had no smell. The air inside was as stale as the air outside. She shone the light around the stalls, looking for people she logically knew wouldn’t be there, stepping lightly, as if afraid of waking something or someone. No one there, of course. But she walked quietly, still.
No bugs, either, or spiders. Nothing alive at all. The bathroom was as devoid of life and movement as a tomb.
Ugh. She probably shouldn’t have thought of it like that.
Whatever. She had to pee. She hoped the plumbing worked. Though it probably wouldn’t. Gross. At least she didn’t have to go Number Two. And yes, there was toilet paper on the roll. Perfect.
