Thank you for the reveiws everyone! It makes me sleep well at night.
Feeling a cool washrag on her head, her blue eyes shot open and she sat up, panting. She looked around franticly, only to see Katrina's dark brown eyes looking at her, clearly worried.
"Katrina?" Clara rasped and winced as she tried to sit up. There was a shooting pain in the back of her head.
Katrina laid a gentle hand on her sister's chest and pushed her down in a calm manor. "You really shouldn't move. You feel a bit warm Clara." She commented.
Clara laid her head back onto the soft pillow and sighed deeply. Her encounter last night was too much to forget and she would never in a million years tell Katrina. It was just impossible to put into words.
"You came in rather late last night." The blonde remarked while patting the cloth on the brunet's pale forehead.
"I would rather not think about anything. My head hurts enough already." She lied. Katrina looked at her suspiciously, but shrugged it off when Clara sat up and took a sip from the glass of water near her bed.
Getting up, Katrina headed for the door before murmuring. "Better get ready for the funeral."
Clara's head shot up. "What?" she asked clearly interested.
Katrina looked back at her and nodded sadly. "Yes, the servant Masbeth was found…beheaded this morning." She said, pausing a bit.
Clara looked completely shocked. How could this have happened? She had seen the hessian last night. It could have been almost impossible for him and Masbeth to be in the Western Woods at the same time after that. Then she remembered the gunshot and that horrible slicing sound before she had entered her house.
"Clara, are you feeling alright?" Katrina asked, tilting her head to one side.
Shaking her head to clear it, she muttered. "Yeah I'm fine." Getting up, she quickly motioned for Katrina to leave, which earned her a playful glare from her sister before she closed the door.
Clara collected herself before taking a deep sigh. Looking out her window, she noticed that the morning was a bit less foggy than yesterday. Rubbing her sore head very slowly, she shed herself of her old garments and traded them in for new ones in her wardrobe.
It was colder than it looked outside, much to Clara's discomfort, and the chilly breeze that had claimed some in the town to sickness a few days earlier was still lingering, but Clara bundled up safely before following everyone outside to the sigh of something very unpleasant.
"Mr. Miller, ride back for the coffin cart." Baltus said urgently to one man next to him.
"The rest of you keep a sharp lookout." He said, glancing at his daughter. Clara nodded slowly and kept her crystal orbs in the shadows of the forest.
The sound of more hoof beats made her look up in fright, only to see the small old Gunpowder making his way over to the group. On him sat the constable, whose name Katrina told her was Ichabod. He guided the horse to them before trying to remove himself from the saddle.
"Don't worry! I'm here now!" he said, while still trying to get free from the saddle. Clara couldn't help but roll her eyes. Yeah, she was starting to shake in fear.
Baltus gave Ichabod a strange look before the constable made his way over to the decapitated body lying in the center of the circle.
"The fourth victim, Jonathon Masbeth." Lancaster remarked.
Ichabod looked down at the body, clearly disgusted. "I see…and the head?"
"…Taken…" Phillips stuttered, earning a shudder from the constable.
"Taken." He repeated. Looking thoughtful, he walked back towards Baltus. "Interesting, very interesting."
"What is?" Baltus asked.
"In headless corpse case of this sort, the head is removed to prevent identification of the body." Ichabod said, not meeting Baltus in the eyes.
"But we know this was Jonathon Masbeth!" Baltus insisted.
"Precisely, so why was the head removed?"
"Why?"
"Right!"
Moving over from the baffled Baltus to the doctor, Ichabod spoke quickly.
"You have moved the body?"
"I have." Lancaster confirmed.
"You must never move the body!"
"Why not?"
"Because…" Obviously not wanting to continue, he strode away from him, leaving the doctor confused.
Clara raised an eyebrow at the constable's antics, until he made his way over to her. "Miss Van Tassel mentioned you were out last night. Did you happen to see or hear anything?"
Curse that Katrina. Always a tattletale.
Clara shook her head. "No sir." Lying was something she was doing often the past few days, but she couldn't help it.
Ichabod narrowed his dark eyes for a moment as if trying to read hers, but moved away and examined the huge hoof prints left in the dirt.
Trying not walk on the huge tracks, the constable started muttering. "The stride is gigantic!"
Once at the very start of the group, he took a second glance at the body, which was conveniently lying right in the middle of the torn up dirt.
"The attacker rode Masbeth down…" Ichabod started, pretending like he was indeed the killer and galloped down towards the body and then passed it. "…turned his horse…" he turned back to face the group and then stopped. "…and came back…came back to claim the head."
Clara blinked. Wow, that was truly remarkable. She looked away however because she had ever right to feel the guilt inside her. She could have stopped this death, but she didn't. Was she that scared?
She didn't notice, being lost in her own thoughts, that Ichabod had poured something near the neck wound and muttered something as it started to sizzle on the ground. He was now wearing a pair of huge monocles or something like that and was inspecting the ripped flesh. He jerked away with a cry of disgust before murmuring.
"Interesting."
"What is?" Baltus asked, not quiet understanding what had happened.
"The wound was cauterized the very instant…as if the blade itself was red hot, yet no blistering, no scorched flesh." The young constable said, turning to everyone.
"The devil's fire." Phillips said quietly and Clara stiffened. The horseman. He had murdered Masbeth. The young girl let out a soft sigh.
Placing a hand on her friend's shoulder, Jacob Masbeth, Jonathon Masbeth's only child, gave her a sad smile. Clara felt a wave of sympathy for the young child. She knew what it was like to feel like she had no one.
"It wasn't your fault." She whispered to him gently.
"Perhaps it wasn't, but I still could have stopped him from going there in the first place." Jacob said, his eyes sparkling a bit.
Clara and Jacob were not close in age, but were closer in friendship. When the younger Masbeth was born, Clara had been one of the first to actually look after him because of his father's job and his mother had grown ill after child-birth, even though Clara had only been 12 at the time.
Jacob looked back as everyone retreated from the gravesite of his father, his dark hazel eyes rested on Ichabod and he looked at Clara.
"I'll be back."
Clara looked confused, until Jacob called Ichabod's name and started running over to him. Clara followed, not sure what the young boy would ask the constable.
Turning to them, the constable greeted them appropriately.
"Ah your young Masbeth and Miss Van Tassel of course." He said, bowing his head slightly to her. Clara nodded in return.
"I was young Masbeth, but now the only one. Masbeth at your service sir." Jacob said, obviously still sad at the death of his only parent. "In honor bound to avenge my father."
"I see. Well one-and-only Masbeth I thank you, but your mother shall need you more than me." Ichabod said. Clara narrowed her eyes. It was obvious that he was telling the young boy he really wasn't needed.
"His mother is gone sir. Died shortly after child birth as it were." Clara said, resting one hand on his shoulder.
"And you have no one to serve you. I am your man sir!" Young Masbeth insisted.
"Yes and a brave one, but I cannot be the one to look after you." Ichabod said, bringing Jacob's eyes into sadness again.
Patting him on his shoulder, he responded. "I'm very sorry for your loss."
Like that was to make up for shunning him! Clara glared at the young constable. Who did he think he was? The king of England?
"Don't worry Jacob; there is always room in the Van Tassel house for you." Clara said, earning a soft, but clear smile.
"My thanks to you Clara. You have always been so kind to me." Young Masbeth said softly to her, still mourning into his father's grave.
Clara smiled, giving him one more pat on the shoulder before taking her leave towards town. Before she could leave the very limits of the gravesite, she heard Ichabod call to Young Masbeth.
"Find a place in the Van Tassel servant's quarters. Wake me before dawn. I hope you have a strong stomach."
Clara shook her head. So maybe he did have a heart, somewhere deep deep down.
Read and Reveiw please!:)