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“Of course,” Brom says in resignation.
“So you’ll be there. Great. Come at three.” Her hands clap together, and then she finally brings her attention to me. “Mr. Crane. I hope you won’t be too offended to know you won’t be invited. And if I dare see you set foot on this land again, I won’t have any qualms grabbing my shotgun and putting it to use.”
“No offense taken,” I tell her with a jaunty tip of my head. “Sometimes we have to take drastic measures to protect our property.” But while my tone is polite, my eyes are not, and I hold her gaze until I see her falter.
She looks away, giving Kat an uneasy smile, and I bask in my minor triumph.
“You should hurry back to class, dear,” she says. “Not very smart to come get Snowdrop in the middle of a school day.”
The front door opens and Famke comes out, holding something wrapped in a cloth.
“Katrina,” she says, bustling toward her. “Here, I made some banketstaaf, your favorite. Practicing for Christmas already.” She hands Kat the bundle. “There’s enough for everyone.” She nods at Brom and then me, and there’s something in her eyes that I can’t seem to read.
I stare at her, trying to get a hold of her aura, her energy. She’s warning me about something, but I don’t know what it is. It’s not coming from a malicious place, it’s coming from her need to protect Kat, something we both can agree on.
I give her a slight nod so she sees that I’m on her side, then give Gunpowder a nudge. “Mrs. Van Tassel is right,” I announce. “We should go back to the school. Especially before dark. Can’t be too careful with the headless horseman about.”
Brom is first to go, nodding his goodbye to the women before Daredevil takes off at gallop, with Kat following and me bringing up the rear. Gunpowder is already tired from all the exertion earlier, so I take it easy on him. The only time I catch up is at the end of the trail when Kat and Brom are waiting by the school gates, their horses huffing.
“Oh, I see how it’s going to be now,” I comment, bringing Gunpowder between them. “Leaving the old man in the dust.”
Kat and Brom exchange a glance, and she laughs as he bites back a smile.
“Try to keep up, Crane,” Brom says as the gates swing open toward us.
After we pass through the wards, the atmosphere back on school grounds is more of an adjustment than ever. While you can hear the occasional bird, it’s quiet compared to how the woods outside sang with calls from wrens and thrush, the way the sunlight had filtered through the autumnal trees, but here there’s nothing but low fog and grey gloom. This truly is a land of harbored secrets and I’m starting to suspect the fog works in the way that the Sisters’ moving faces do.
It keeps you from looking too closely.
We bring the horses to the stable and dismount, giving them a quick groom before putting them away.
“Are you going to the assembly tonight in the cathedral?” I ask Kat as I stop by her stall. I would go out of curiosity, but I’m not leaving Brom unattended.
She shakes her head. “I would feel too strange about it.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow, unless those are also canceled,” I say. I’m about to tell her to read up on the rituals if she can so she can get a better picture of what tomorrow night will bring, but I’m distracted by a movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Excuse me,” I say to her and march down the stable aisle to the feed room at the end.
I peer inside and see the peculiar stableboy standing by a bag of oats, looking as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“What is your name?” I ask him as Brom and Kat come behind me, hovering in the doorway.
The boy seems most scared of Brom, his eyes widening at the sight of him, and I have to look over my shoulder to make sure Brom still has a head. He does, as handsome and surly as ever.
“Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble,” I try to assure the boy, bending at the waist so I’m not so tall. “I’m just curious to know your name. We’ve never officially met. I’m Professor Ichabod Crane. That lovely lady over there is Katrina Van Tassel, and that disagreeable-looking fellow is Brom Bones.”
“S-Simon,” the boy says.
“And Simon, you’ve been taking such great care of our horses,” I tell him, hoping to put him at ease. “How long have you been the master of the stables?”
“A couple of years,” he says, his eyes flicking to each of us.
