CHAPTER 28

THE TREE OF THE DEAD

The frenzied wind slashed my cheeks and numbed my lips. I pulled the hood of my cloak tighter and bowed my head to the ground, only glancing at my feet to ease the torment that the weather brought to my face. In my other hand, I held a small shovel and my fingers seemed to have frozen to the handle. Leaving the boarding house at midnight, I had been traveling for about an hour in the horrifying Western Woods, and the monstrous trees tried to seize me with their menacing branches. Only the hoot of an owl, to my ears, was the call of the devil himself. But my incentive of being with Ichabod Crane forever kept me placing one foot in front of the other until I stood marveling at the trunk of the Tree of the Dead, the horseman's resting place. I gazed up the winding ethereal trunk until the radiance of the moon blinded me.

It seemed like, staring up at the giant, I was born again. This life was free of the impediments of existence. Everything before this moment had been a terrible dream and only now was I waking up. The wind that swarmed around me was no longer cold and arctic, but warm and harbored the fragrance of salt water in its current. "Don't be afraid, Melanie," it seemed to whisper, and I wasn't.

I sauntered around the enormous trunk until I found what I was searching for. Pierced in the heart of the ground was a sword, vines entwining its aged shaft, and yet it gleamed in the moonlight like a sacred entity. To the ignorant, it could have been the resting place of a fallen knight, brave, noble, and without the fear of dying. I knew though, this was anything but. Beneath the cursed ground lay the skeleton of a Hussein who lived his life on a lust for blood and only the severing of heads could quench his thirst. Kneeling down, I ran my trembling fingers over the tang of the murderous weapon before I speared the earth with my shovel and began to dig.

I dug and dug until my hands blistered and ruptured with blood. However, the soil was soft and the earth was easier to break up than I thought it would have been. I had expected it to be frozen, but it surprisingly, it wasn't. Before I knew it, I stared deep into the hollow of the grave, my eyes grazing over the bones that occupied it. Every bone lay in its rightful spot. Worms and other insects scurried in and out the fissures of the aged bones and flesh that had yet to decompose. But something was missing. The one thing that possessed the power of wicked immorality was nowhere in to be seen. The skull of the Hussein was gone.

My heart silenced within my chest, and retching, I fell to my knees. The skull was gone. There was only one explanation, and I knew exactly what it was. It would clarify why the soil of the grave was so soft. It had been disturbed because someone, some mortal, had recently taken the skull from its grave so the Hussein would avenge him or her. "That's why the horseman returns from the grave, to take heads until his own is restored to him." I remembered the words from Ichabod's ledger. Sleepy Hollow was in danger and would soon have to contend with the immortal bloodshed of the horseman once again. I trembled realizing that I was perhaps the only one who knew of this, other than the keeper of the skull himself. But who was he? The faces of the community flashed through my mind and I could think of no one who would evoke such evil.

I knew I had to tell Ichabod. That was inevitable, but how? How would I tell him I knew that the skull was gone without confessing I had dug up the grave and intended to take the skull myself? And for what? To murder his wife? That would go across well. But I couldn't conceal this. It wasn't about me anymore, not now. He had to know the truth.

I hastily filled the groping hole in the ground and made my way back to Sleepy Hollow as fast as I possibly could. The fear had returned to my bones and every snapping twig had me running faster for fear that the Horseman was after me.

Locking the door behind me, I heaved a sigh of relief when I was safely back in my room. I soaked my tattered hands in the cold water of the wash basin, gritting my teeth as the cool water rushed through the dirt filled abrasions. When I finished, I stared out the window expecting to see the Hussein, sword unsheathed, storming after some unfortunate innocent, but the streets were bare, thankfully. Lying beneath the covers of the welcoming bed, I sought an idea on how to go about telling Ichabod my secret. It was only after the passing of several hours I could finally sleep.

A sharp rasping at my door pulled me from my light slumber, and I groggily rose to answer it, my eyes were still glazed from my minimal hours of slumber. It was John. "Did I reach you at a bad time?" he asked when he saw my degraded appearance.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. "No, I just had a long night, that's all. Come in."

"I was wondering why I didn't see you at mass yesterday. I was very much looking forward to see you." He said looking over my shoulder as I proceeded to making my bed.

"I don't attend."

"Like the Constable."

"That's none of your concern," I scolded. "Our reasons are quite different, if you must know. Now what is the purpose of this visit?"

"Do you always have to be so formal?" He asked stepping closer to me.

"Do you always have to be so roguish?" I glared at him and his eyes twinkled mischievously. He grasped my hands, and I winced with pain.

"Your hands!" He said carefully examining each palm, exploding with black and purple blood filled blisters and gashed flesh. "What happened?"

"The washing," I said the first thing that came to my mind, but he didn't question me.

"Do they hurt?" he asked instead.

"I'll live, if that's what you mean," I answered in a whisper as he brought he each one to his lips and kissed them gently. I shivered, but didn't draw my hands away. "John…" I protested.

"No, Freckles." He smiled and then continued kissing my hands and slowly making his way up my wrists. Suddenly, he dropped them. "I was hoping you'd come with me on a ride this afternoon. The horses miss you," he grinned.

"I'd love to." I lied again, but I didn't know what else to say.

I gasped when he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. He smelled of hay and horses. "Can I really kiss you now?" he breathed into my ear. I didn't answer as he kissed me passionately and ran his fingers through my hair. I couldn't deny that I didn't enjoy it, but my heart was heavy with guilt and I thought only of Ichabod. He slowly withdrew his lips from mine. "I'll see you this afternoon, then," he said and left my room with a promising smile playing on his lips.

I hurriedly dressed and rushed to the Crane Mansion. I had made a decision. I would tell Ichabod, confess everything, and then I would leave. I couldn't stay in Sleepy Hollow after I made my declaration of guilt, not when he would know every secret that possessed my soul. I would return to New York and start a new life. Ichabod Crane would only exist in my memory, and as hard it was, how enormously difficult it was to admit, I could accept that.

"Ichabod," I breathed when he opened the door and I looked into his eyes. It was those eyes that I had gotten lost in so many times before and at that moment, I realized how scared I was to leave him. He showed me what it was like to love, and that within itself was a gift beyond interpretation.

"Melanie, what a surprise. Please, come in," he opened the door wider and gestured me inside.

I shook my head. "No, I just need to talk to you."

"Then we can talk over tea or–"

"It's not like that. Please, just come with me and don't ask any questions… It'll be easier that way." He hesitated, but grabbed his coat from the hook and shut the door behind him.