“What?” Jerome demanded from atop his horse, his voice sharp and tight. “Guys, what?”
“Is it there?” Aaron sounded just as nervous, just as tight-throated.
She looked at Chad, eyes wide, wordless, but he huffed, his cut throat flexing.
“You found it, Esmie. It’s yours. Claim your prize.”
Swallowing hard, she reached down, hesitated, then clenched her teeth and picked it up with both hands. She turnedit until the empty sockets and grinning teeth showed outwards and held it up so Aaron and Jerome could see.
“Oh, my god.” Jerome sounded gut-kicked. “Oh, my god. You did it. You fucking did it.”
Aaron slithered down off his horse, his knees almost buckling as he touched down on the ground. He stumbled over to her, and she held the skull out to him, but he brushed it aside and put his arms around her. She got the impression he tried to kiss her, but then he simply held her close as she shifted the skull aside and held him back, his arms and hands shaking as he clasped her close.
“Miracle,” he breathed against her neck, though she didn’t feel the breath. “You’re a miracle, Esmie. A fucking miracle.”
She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaking breath in, then letting it out as Chad wrapped his arms around her from behind. A loud flumping sound startled her, but she huffed as she realized it was just Jerome leaping off his horse. He ran over to them and flung his arms around them all, lifting them off their feet for a moment.
“Guys!” he shouted, laughing. “Guys, do you know what this means?”
“Yes, idiot, we know what this means,” Chad said, but he sounded more amused than annoyed.
They stayed that way, group-hugging next to the stream branching off from the river, for a long time. It was a good moment, and Esmie didn’t want it to end. Eventually, they would put the cross back in its place and go deal with the Headless Horseman, but for now, she wanted this.
Just this.
11
Chad held Esmie tight as Thunder raced back to the abandoned church. Once they broke from their group hug, the Horsemen were on fire to get back to the churchyard and start digging, and Esmie wasn’t about to deny them even a single moment of future freedom. She only suggested they stop somewhere for a few picks and shovels, as she doubted swords dug well.
Now, she and Chad leaned low over the pommel as the horse galloped like a flying shadow, Jerome and Aaron close behind, silent with the weight of the moment upon them. This was it. The end of their curse. Esmie cuddled the skull close, her disgust of the thing mostly gone. Only a panicky protectiveness remained. Nothing must happen to it until she could give it to the Hessian. It was the most precious object in the known universe.
The fence neared, and Chad swerved to guide them through the broken-down gate. Then, finally, the corner of the church jutted out of the ground, and the horses pawed and snorted from their run, jetting steam and prancing.
“Where’s the Hessian’s grave?” Esmie asked as Chad let her down.
“This way,” he said, dropping to the ground beside her and untying the shovel he’d lashed to the saddle. “It’s just off to the side here.”
Jerome joined them, his stride impatient, a pick and shovel over his shoulder. Aaron jogged to catch up, a pick hooked around the back of his neck. No more words. They were ready to work.
She didn’t offer to help. They had far more strength than she. They’d be done in record time. She stood aside and let them dig, throwing aside huge clots of ground. Time didn’t pass, the sunless light didn’t change, the wind didn’t blow. They didn’t tire or sweat. She didn’t get bored. She watched too intently for boredom.
Eventually, the rotten wood of the casket’s lid was revealed. It fell apart as they tried to lift it, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore. It had held together long enough. The Headless Horsemen climbed one at a time out of the grave, then stood around her, touching her lightly. After a quiet moment, Chad took her hand. She nodded. Without a word, he gripped gently under her arms and eased her down into the grave while she clung carefully to the skull.
As soon as her feet touched the sides of the coffin, the bones began to tremble and shake. A voice as hollow and empty as the guys’ in the Now spoke from the air around her.
“Who dares disturb the slumber of the Headless Horseman?”
Every single novel and movie she’d ever experienced reared its head inside her mind, and she adjusted her manner of speech to respond in kind.
“One who would return that which was lost to you.” She held the skull out in front of her as if he could see it better that way. “One who seeks to right the wrong done to you.”
The bones in the coffin jittered madly. “Where did you find that?”
“Under a stone cross by a river. It’s been waiting for you all this time.”
A hand wavered up from the rotted boards below, trembling and strengthless. She wanted to back away, but she somehow held her ground.
“What will you have of me, my lady?”
