Crane (14 page)

15

Ireland

“So, I have to ask, you said your parents went all ‘children of the moon’. Does that involve howling, or was it some kind of metaphor I didn’t get?”

Ireland hid a belch behind her hand
and cringed at the bitter after-taste of it. It may have been a chilly night, but she couldn’t tell; the wonders of beer had made her impervious to it. “They used to be corporate lawyers. Both of them. I spent a lot of time with nannies while they went out and fought for Big Business. Then, marijuana was legalized—”

“Let me guess, Ozzie and Harriett went on the protest?”

“I wish,” Ireland sighed. “They quit their jobs and went on the road touring with the Renaissance Festival as card carrying suppliers.”

Noah
paused for a beat, mid-stride. “I … did not see that coming.”

“
Yeah, neither did I. Now, every conversation with them involves the Earth Goddess and how backed up my chi is—whatever the hell that means. They only visit if the tour is nearby. Those are the moments when it
really
sinks in that Mom traded
Chanel No.5
for patchouli oil and Dad went from wine connoisseur to hydroponics expert.”

“
No wonder you sought some stability with the douche-bag ex,” Noah muttered, kicking a stick off the sidewalk in front of him.

“
Nah, it wasn’t all Brantley’s fault,” Ireland mused, feeling a bit more forgiving in her haze. “I let love change me. I just have to learn from it so that it doesn’t ever happen again.”

Noah bumped her with his elbow
, the glow of the street lights casting deep shadows over the hollows of his face. “We all change for love. It’s just a matter of what you let it change you into.”

Ireland stopped walking and turned to face him, her almond
-shaped eyes narrowing. “That’s pretty deep for a handyman.”

Noah took a slow step forward,
one brow hitched in a Cary Grant-style leer. “I
am
deep. I got that from a fortune cookie.”

The laugh that played across
Ireland’s lips faded as she stared up into Noah’s face. Darkness sharpened his features, adding an allure of sultry mystery. “I don’t wanna walk in on you with another girl.” Her still bleeding heart let that proclamation slip out before her foggy brain could filter it.

“Then always knock first,” Noah answered with a
teasing smirk.

D
aring herself to take the plunge, Ireland eased in a little closer. “You’re kind of an ass, aren’t you?”

The
rough skin of his knuckle brushed her jawline, sending waves of white hot desire coursing through her. “Just enough to make me lovable.”

“Ireland?”
a familiar voice interrupted.

Ireland hadn’t realized they’d stopped in front of her house, or that they were on their street for that matter. Be that as it may, even in her inebriated state she knew
that
voice. Well enough for the hair on the back of her neck to spring up and every muscle in her body to clench tight. “
Son of a bitch
.”

Noah read the instant change in mood and stepped back
. Squinting into the darkness, he attempted to make out the shape of their mood killing guest. “Who is that?”

“We’ve had some fun tonight.
” Ireland ignored his question to hiss one of her own through clenched teeth, “You’ve gotten to know me well enough to say that I’m not a
complete
head case, right?”

“I guess so. Why?”

“Good. Then please disregard what you’re about to see.” With no further explanation, Ireland turned on her heel. Her goal? Blood or payback. Either would suffice.

It was easy to toy with the idea of forgiving Brantley when she was a couple drinks in and he was a few hundred miles away. H
owever, having him show up on her doorstep unannounced and uninvited tore the Band-Aid off the wound of their break-up and ground a handful of salt into it.

“
What the hell are you doing here
?” Ireland stomped across the yard, her chest rising and falling in angry snorts like a charging buffalo.

Noah matched her stride, most likely
out of concern he was going to have to pull his date for the evening off a well-dressed fella wearing a hurt-bunny expression.

“I thought I told you
I never wanted to see you again!” Ireland raged. “I believe the phrase ‘crawl up your own ass and die’ was used. Or was that in some way unclear?”

Noah
stepped in front of her to position himself between the two of them. “I’m going go out on a limb and guess you’re Brantley?”

Brantley sneered at Noah’
s offered hand in open disgust. Choosing then to ignore him altogether, he craned his neck to speak directly to his seething ex, “I came here to talk some sense into you and bring you home. However, now I see you’ve had your own little indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions!” Ireland lunged at Brantley
, her hands curled into claws. Noah swung one arm out behind him, catching and gripping the sleeve of her hoodie tight to hold her back. “There
is
no indiscretion here! I am a
very
single woman. If I decide to let this guy do things to me that make my legs bend backwards that’s no one’s business but
mine
!”

“
Oh, you’re bringing me into this? Awesome,” Noah said with a humorless chuckle. “It’s only awkward if we let it be, kids.”

At one time Ireland had found Brantley irresistible
, with his tailored suits and JFK, Jr. good looks. Now, as his lips curled into that knowing smile that used to make her melt, she felt nothing but the uncontrollable desire to slap that look clean off his face. “Babe, come on. Do you really want to throw everything we had away over one little slip? It’s time to get over the diva act and come home.”

Noah cringed and rubbed
his free hand over the nape of his neck. “Wow, dude, that was
exactly
the wrong thing to say.”

“There was no
slip
,” Ireland stated as calmly as she could with her pulse thudding in her temples. “And this is not me having an unjustifiable tizzy. This is me telling you, in no uncertain terms, to take all of your lies and BS, and
get out of my life
.”

Brantley squared his shoulders and adjusted his tie
. His glare sized Noah up, as if noticing him for the first time and finding him tragically lacking. “It seems you have your heart set on slumming it.”

Ireland threw herself against Noah’s
steadfast arm, struggling to get past him. He pivoted to catch her shoulders and hold her back. “Okay, let’s hit the pause button right there. Nothing good is going to come of this, so let’s make a clean break, let time and clearer heads work their magic. Brantley, as the owner of this property I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to. The only other option here is me turning this little lady loose and letting her kick your ass Amazonian style. Fortunately for you, I care enough to be her voice of reason that you aren’t worth it.”

“Now I get it
.” Brantley shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and rocked back on his heels, a smug smile slowly spreading across his face. “She got herself a new sugar daddy. He’s no different than me, Ire. Don’t kid yourself about that. Sooner or later he’ll get tired of your crap and go looking for a little touch elsewhere, just—like—
me
.”

“
All right, that’s enough.” Noah’s hands dropped from Ireland’s sides, his right hand balling into a tight fist.

Ireland
caught his arm just as Noah pulled back to swing.

“No
.” Her low whisper rang hollow, detached of all traces of emotion. Everything seemed to be zapped out of her the moment her present intermingled with her inescapable past. “Let it go. He’s—no,
I’m
not worth it. Just … go home, Noah.”

Ireland ducked passed Noah,
stepping close enough to her ex to catch a tangy whiff of his liberally applied aftershave. “Brantley, you can stay out here as long as you need. Pitch a tent if you want. I don’t care. But know that it won’t change anything. I’m done,” she looked from Noah to Brantley and back again, “with
all
of this.”

Without another word
, she strode inside.

Ireland didn’t
pause or break stride before storming straight through the house and out the slider. Her heavy steps banged across the deck and down the stairs into the yard. Throwing the shed door open, she caught Rip mid-Oreo, the flashlight in his hand illuminating a collection of the best works of Edgar Allen Poe.

“
Last night a kid from my school appeared to me in a dream and begged me to help him. This morning I learned that someone killed him. Sliced off his head right outside his Dad’s horse barn.” Rip’s face blanched. Still, he didn’t interrupt Ireland’s agitated rant. “You’re pretty much nuts, but you’re also the only one that seems to have any idea what’s going on.”

“
You’d be surprised how often those two traits coincide,” Rip held up one finger to interject.

“Either way, the couch is more comfortable than the shed. And, truth be told, I’m scared of falling asleep alone. I … don’t know what’ll happen next or what freaky thing I’ll wake up to.”

Rip rose to his feet, genuine compassion puckering his brow. “It would be my honor to look out for you, miss.”

Ireland said nothing, but stepped back to allow him passage
, waving her arm in open invitation to the door.

16

Ichabod

“We just need a moment of her time.” Ichabod attempted to push past Mama Rosa to gain entry to the section of the inn reserved solely for her and her mother. “She is the only person that seems to have any insight into the Horseman. She may be able to help our cause!”

“She is a sick woman
,” Mama Rosa argued, standing firm to deny him passage. “In addition to her Horseman ramblings, she also strokes her shoe like a cat, and calls it Madame Persephone. Do you think that will be of help as well?”

“
What of Katrina?” Irv clamped a hand on Ichabod’s visibly trembling shoulder and interceded on his near manic friend’s behalf. “After all she’s been through, she needs a final rest to this chaos. Use your better judgment, please. Not just for her sake, but for the entire town.”

Katrina’s grip on Ichabod’s hand
tightened. “I can speak for myself, sir.” Her chin thrust out in an attempt at indignation that fell short. It would have been far more convincing if her face wasn’t still puffy from the reoccurring sobs that shattered her time and time again since the moment she’d learned of her father’s death. “That madman killed my father,” Katrina’s voice broke with emotion, yet she forced herself to press on, “if your mother knows anything at all, the simple act of sharing it could save lives.”

Mama
Rosa’s gaze searched Katrina’s face. Something she found there coaxed a sigh of surrender from her lips. Turning on her heel, she marched down the narrow hall, jerking her head for them to follow. The hallway came to a T with closed doors in either direction.

Rosa gave a short rap on the door to their right.
“If she grows agitated,” she warned, “I
will
demand you leave. Which you will do without question. Are we clear?”

“Ma’am, we’ve met your mother
,” Rip claimed, from his well-chosen spot at the rear of the pack. “If she becomes agitated there’s a good chance we will all run screaming from the room.”

“Well and true
,” Rosa admitted and pushed open the bedroom door.

With the leery steps of those f
orced to descend the gates of Hell, the group crept into the room led by Irv, who held the lantern. Instantly, they were assaulted by the pungent mix of dried flowers and mothballs. Four heads swiveled, openly gaping at the room around them. Every inch of wall space was covered with crucifixes. Sparse furnishings decorated the small space. A lone chest of drawers leaned against one wall. A narrow bed was situated in the center of the room. Eleanora lay on the bed, still as the dead, with her hands folded over her chest.

“
Quite honestly, I was expecting less organized religion and more chicken feet.” Rip swiped the dust off the top of a nearby cross with his fore finger, then brushed the digit clean with his thumb.

Rosa threw a sharp elbow into his ribs.

“Apologies,” he huffed, struggling to regain his breath.

Ichabod
crept across the creaking floorboards on tiptoe, Katrina tucking herself in tight behind him. “Eleanora?” he whispered quietly to her sleeping form, equal parts urging her to wake and terrified she actually would.

The slight woman failed to stir.

“Eleanora?” He tried a second time, with a bit more volume.

Still nothing.

Irv’s face popped into Ichabod’s peripheral vision. Tipping his head back, he crinkled his nose to force the frames of his glasses higher. “Is she breathing? Can you tell?”

“Mother?”
Mama Rosa rounded the bed, her tone reflecting an edge of concern.

Ichabod leaned closer, tilting his head to the side
to see if her chest was rising and falling. He heard what he thought was a slight rattle, yet detected no movement. Swallowing the lump of fear that rose in his throat, he pressed his ear lightly to her gaunt chest.

From th
at position, he didn’t see her eyes snap open. His first indication of her rousing came in the form of clawed hands that clamped down on his head—one pressing into his face, the other the back of his head.

“
Shhfferrrnut
!” The flailing hands of the schoolmaster slapped against the mattress. Desperate as he was for freedom, he feared hurting his skeletal captor.

“Mama! Mama, everything is okay
,” Rosa soothed, scrambling to unclench Eleanora’s fingers, which dug crescent shapes into Ichabod’s cheeks and forehead. “These people have some questions for you … about the Horseman.”

The
decrepit woman’s vise grip relaxed, and her freakishly strong hands sunk into the mattress to push herself up to sitting. Ichabod wasted no time righting himself, the red flush in his face slowly fading.

Eleanora’s
dull grey gaze scanned over the faces eagerly peering back at her. With a brief nod, she began, “To learn the secrets ye must know,

you
must first hear a tale of woe.”

“Can we do this without the awful, cryptic rhymes?” Irv groaned
, steadying himself with a hand on the post of her footboard.

Elenora’s
toothless mouth worked furiously, grinding lips over gums, as she glared Irv’s way. “I do not like him,” She muttered to Rosa out of the corner of her frown. “He is cheeky.”

“Hear that?” Rip grinned, making no attempts hide his visible amusement at Irv’s expense. “You are cheeky.”

Rosa gave her mother a comforting pat of the shoulder
before addressing the group, her face folded in apology. “Ever since she was struck ill, it has been easier for her to speak if she rhymes. You should hear us composing our list for market. Quite an entertaining event.”

It was easy to joke for those that hadn’t
born witness to two grisly deaths in as many days. Irv and Rip would most likely nestle into their pillows that very night without having horrifying images splashed behind their closed lids. Unfortunately, that was not the case for Ichabod or Katrina. They had both stared death in the face this very night. It having stalked them from the shadows, revealing momentary glimpses of the meaning of true horror.

Katrina fell to her knees beside
Eleanora’s bed, clasping the old woman’s hand in both of hers. “Others mock when you speak of the Horseman and declare you mad. Yet I believe with all of my heart it was that blood thirsty ghoul that claimed the life of my father. Please, if you know of anything that can help us banish him to Hell where he belongs, I beg you to speak!”

Eleanora’s
eyes widened. One hand—ravaged by swollen, arthritic knuckles—rose to cover her mouth. “If Baltus did fall, means trouble for all.” Eleanora shook her head, her coarse hair fanning out from her head. “Before the Hessian rose,

with
ghostly woes,

he
lived as a man o’ arms

enduring
war’s troubles and harms.

His British leader spoke the command
             

to
burn this town and pillage the land.

‘Leave no persons standing’ the captain did order
,

condemning
each soul to hell’s very border.

Obeying the command and doing his duty,

one soldier ravaged homes and claimed their booty.

His mission halted and his conscious
arose

when
he found a babe in swaddling clothes.

Beneath his coat, he hid the babe’s head.

Finding him shelter behind an old shed.

His conscious sated, he returned to his task

‘til he stumbled upon the mother, wearing panic’s mask.

W
hile her fists beat against his chest,

t
he soldier dragged her to where the infant did rest.

Family reunited, he returned to his battalion.

Only to meet the boom of a canon.

His body should have been burned, like so many others,

‘cept for the demands of one grateful mother.

Without those cleansing flames to silence his soul,

The Hessian rose from his earthly hole.

A hero’s head he seeks to claim,

to those who fall short he shall kill or maim.

The town under siege, our safety deluded,

many were killed,” her eyes brimmed with tears as she turned to Rosa, “your father included.

T’was
the babe grown to boy that discovered their bond.

Humanity of spirit connected
, and a new day dawned.

Balt
us was that lad that banished the ghoul.

Then, taught us the methods to ward off his rule.

If the Horseman
turned on the boy he once saved,

all
bets are off, our precautions waived.

Is only one thing could break humanities role,

one with sinister motives has taken control.

Fill with dread, not mourning, at the death of the waif.

Yet heed this warning …” Her wide, frightened stare flicked to each of their faces, “
no one
is safe.”