Holden raised his hand. “I’m not attempting to shirk my responsibilities. I just don’t want to frighten her every time she opens her eyes.”

  “Then, you’ll have to work at it so that maybe, eventually, you don’t.”

  “She’s being punished here, too. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?” he whispered with anger, trying very hard to not lose his temper.

  “You’re both meant to suffer. What you’ve squandered? The fact that you might get it back? What price are you willing to pay?”

  “Any price,” he said instantly.

  “Good,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Then pay it.”

  She left the room.

  The sun was setting. Holden’s stomach rumbled. He’d barely eaten in the days since Halloween and he knew he needed his strength so he could care for her.

  He sat down in the chair near the window with his meal and forced himself to eat a bowl of bland beef stew that was not nearly as tasty as the Irish stew his beautiful wife had made him for dinner the day before the fairytale life he had with her had crumbled like a house of playing cards.

  ***

  For the following four days, he endured screaming and crying as she woke in his arms and tried to get away from him. She wouldn’t eat. She writhed in his arms as he changed her clothing after she’d wet herself. Pleaded for blackness as he sponged her body down with soapy water. He’d gotten water into her mouth, but food was a no-go. He’d try to force-feed her, and she wouldn’t eat, so Danica returned on the third evening and put her on an IV again. Isabella never tried to strike him, never tried to hurt him, which made it all the harder. He wanted to feel pain at her beautiful hands.

  “Hit me. Hurt me. Show me your rage, kitty cat. I can take it,” he shouted in her face on the third day, but she wouldn’t. She just kept crying and rocking, pleading for blackness.

  The fourth night after Danica removed the IV, asking him to try harder to get her to eat, Isabella trembled in his arms weakly. He sat with her front against his back, holding her tight and twisting to force her mouth opened so he could feed her some yogurt.

  After a struggle, she finally relented and began to swallow it. After he got that into her, he kept feeding her. She ate scrambled eggs and he got a cup of orange juice to her lips and as she greedily drank it down, Holden felt immense relief. When she was done, he wiped her mouth and flopped back on the bed, still holding her close.

  She lay still for a long time.

  “Please come back to me, Isabella. Please. I don’t deserve it. I know you see me as a monster. But, please come back.” He covered his eyes with his palm. He felt her move away from him. She stood up and then spun to look down at him. He instinctively reached for her but when he saw the expression on her face, he halted. Her face was different than it had been the past few days during the brief periods of time when she was awake and not screaming or crying.

  Her face was gaunt, her eyes were haunted, but she was looking at him.

  He sat up. She flinched and went to bolt.

  “It’s okay, I won’t harm you.”

  She froze and stared some more.

  “I’m so very sorry, sweetheart. Sorry isn’t enough. Nothing will be enough. I love you, Isabella. Even more, I adore you. Completely.”

  She glanced at the door to the bathroom, which was ajar.

  “Do you need the toilet? Would you like a shower or a bath?”

  She blinked and chewed on her bottom lip. This was a habit of hers he’d found endearing and he hadn’t seen her do it since the mess began.

  Hope floated up from the black depths of his despair.

  He rose from the bed. She backed up too quickly and was likely too weakened to do anything else but stumble. He caught her before she fell, scooping her into his arms. Her entire little body tensed, and her breathing went fast.

  “It’s okay, precious. I’m going to take you in for a bath. You’re too weak to stand in the shower, I think.”

  He carried her to the toilet and lifted the chemise she wore so that he could sit her on the seat and let her do her business, if need be. She wasn’t wearing drawers underneath, for practicality. He’d sat her on the pot several times in the past few days, and sometimes she did use it in her near-vegetative state, but most times, she didn’t.

  As soon as he sat her down, he heard the trickling of her making water. Her face filled with shame. That was new. She hadn’t made a face the other times. He averted his gaze and fixed the plug into the drain and turned the water on, then poured some foam bath in for her with herbs that Danica had told him to use when she first seemed ready. He hoped this was the turning point he had been waiting for. It felt like it might be.

  When he turned, she was using the bathroom tissue to clean herself.

  Progress. Thank God.

  Holden held a hand out. “A nice bath, Isabella?”

  Her chest rose and fell fast and her lower lip trembled as if she was about to weep. And then her head and shoulders jerked with a twitch.

  He took a step back.

  “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it if you don’t need me?” He gestured to the bath. “But I’ll leave the door open, so call out if you need help.”

  He stepped away, slowly, so as not to spook her, and stood outside the door.

  He breathed a sigh of relief a moment later when he heard the water turn off. He peeked and saw her nude body step into the tub; the chemise sat on the floor.

  Progress.

  He took a moment and gave thanks in his mind to the higher power and felt his shoulders relax for the first time in days.

  The lack of noise bothered him; there were no sounds of water movement at all. He turned around and stepped inside and saw her body was submerged, only her knees poked out of the sudsy foam. He moved like lightning and hauled her body out of the tub. She began to gasp for air and simultaneously cry.

  “N-no,” she sputtered. “Let it be black forever.”

  “Fuck!” he shouted. “Fuck, fuck.” He yanked a towel off the towel bar and carried her to the bed and put her down and angrily towel dried her naked body.

  “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, Isabella. Have you lost your goddamned mind?”

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  She smiled a slow, closed-mouth, sad smile at him.

  “I think we both know the answer to that one, Holden.”

  He fell to his knees and buried his head in her lap, put his soaked arms around her waist and held tight, as tight as he could without hurting her.

  “Please, Isabella, please,” he pleaded into the towel covering her lap.

  “I keep waiting for the killing… for the killing to happen again. This place isn’t our home, though.”

  “It won’t. It won’t, sweet girl. I’m better. We’re at the Young sisters’ home. We won’t go back to Drowsy Hollow. Not ever. We need you to let me help you get better, too.”

  “Can you hold me, Holden? Can you hold me tight?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  He immediately stood and shed the soaking wet shirt he wore and climbed into the bed. She’d scooted over to make room. He pulled the towel off her and tossed it, then pulled her against him, cradling her head against his chest with his hand as he bent to fetch the blanket to cover her.

  She wept into his chest, arms around him. Her arms around him felt like heaven.

  She cried herself to sleep and he held her tight, refusing to loosen his hold on her in case she thought to try to harm herself again.

  ***

  He heard a knock.

  Erica poked her head in. He hadn’t seen her in a few days. He wasn’t sure where she’d been.

  “I brought you a tray,” she whispered. “Any change?”

  He looked down at the blonde head on his chest and nodded hesitantly.

  “We’ll talk later,” Erica whispered with a little smile and put the tray down, then closed the door.

  A moment after the door closed, the blonde head moved and big, sad brown eyes were on his face. Her teeth tugged at the inside corner of her mouth. His heart skipped a beat.

  His hand carefully came up slowly to caress her face. She didn’t flinch. She leaned into his touch.

  Holden’s eyes closed and he let out a long breath, feeling like the air he exhaled contained a whole lot of darkness.

  His mouth touched her forehead and he wrapped his arms tight around her.

  “It’s all my fault,” she whispered into his chest.

  Emotion seized him hard. “It’s our fault. It’s also just… our story. But, we’re here. We can work together to heal, I hope.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Isabella?”

  She swallowed with difficulty. “I hope so, too, Holden.”

  He flipped her over onto her back and looked down at her beauty, the halo of lovely golden hair that framed her face on the mattress, and then his mouth descended to give her a gentle kiss.

  Her legs parted and she hooked one of them around the back of his knee.

  His sweet little strumpet. A smile tugged at his mouth. “Not yet, little kitty cat. You don’t have the strength.”

  “I want our baby here as soon as possible, Holden.”

  “I think we have to talk to Erica about that one.”

  She flashed a smile. Holden’s heart felt like it’d soar to the sky at that vision.

  “Okay, but how about a head-start?”

  He couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. His beautiful wife looked up in his eyes with love in hers, as much or even more love than he’d ever seen before, and this woman definitely showed it before.

  He had no earthly clue whether this had been a natural breakthrough or if the witches had flipped a switch with her state of mind deciding that they’d suffered enough, but whatever the case, he was prepared to follow any rule they put forth, to the exacting letter, to ensure that they never broke a witch’s rule again.

  11 – The After

  Holden

  He’d pay any price to have her back. If he hadn’t paid that price, she’d never have been the same. Being killed by the one you love, night after night for a year would take a toll on anyone. And the toll it took on his sweet Isabella, it would’ve been unbearable.

  The first days they had come back from the hell they’d lived, she went from catatonic to absolutely petrified of him, cowering, whimpering, and it broke him. The witches had him spend those days in their home with her caring for her so he could see the toll, so he could know what he’d done to her. And then she was his Isabella again. But, she didn’t react well to surprise noises and would sometimes just jolt and seem to remind herself that she was out of the valley of Drowsy Hollow, that her husband was the man she loved, not the man who would harm her.

  Day by day, Isabella got better.

  He knew she’d never be one hundred per cent recovered from the ordeal, but she was as close as could be and he would pay his penance, by knowing what he’d done, by having the memories live with the same sharpness as the pain he’d repeatedly inflicted on his sweet wife as well as by being on-call for the coven, ready to do any bidding they requested, with no questions asked for the rest of his days. His offspring and their offspring would also be indebted.

  They would have to move far away from Drowsy Hollow and could never go back. And he had no desire to go back to the pretty little valley with the perfect house for his family. Instead, they’d need to be thousands of miles away, across an ocean, with different names.

  ***

  Isabella

  “I’m ready,” I told her. I wanted to be a mother. I needed it.

  “There’s a price, Isabella. Will you accept it?” Erica asked.

  “As long as I have Holden and I get to have my son, I’ll accept any price.”

  “Until the end of your days, you’ll often be visited by a dream. But, it’ll feel real. We gave you a breather in the dream department, but it’s time to pay your toll.”

  “Will I dream that I’m back in the valley, him chasing me, killing me?”

  “No.”

  My face relaxed, marginally, and then I frowned. “Will I dream of him killing other people?”

  “No.”

  “Will I have to wait to fall asleep until I find out what the dream is?” I asked.

  “No, I can tell you, if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  “But, you can’t tell anyone else about it.”

  Holden’s eyes were on me. His lips moved to my forehead and then he left us. He went outside and I watched until I could no longer see him.

  “Okay?” I asked.

  She moistened her lips and leaned forward. “Most nights, though not all, you’ll dream of the event in which he lost his head. Time won’t dull the pain and shock of the dream.”

  I winced.

  Her eyes were filled with sorrow. “The price is always steep. Do you accept this consequence?”

  I nodded.

  She squeezed my hand and then got up, taking her book and her bag with her.

  “Oh, and Archie goes where you two go,” she said.

  He was curled up on the couch, his orange-dipped tail curved around his little body.

  I leaned over and scratched his head. That felt like no hardship.

  So he could keep an eye on us? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter.

  “Thank you, Erica. So, so much.”

  “You’re very very welcome, Isabella. The next time you two make love, your son will be back in your womb.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m very sorry for putting you through this,” I added.

  “I know.” She leaned over and we hugged. “Not everything is within our control. Supernatural pregnancies ratchet the hormones way up and in your case, that along with post-traumatic stress? Your emotions were repressed. The pregnancy brought them out. And really, bottom line? It was just meant to happen this way.” She shrugged and then she went outside.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw her stop at Holden’s side down by the water. She put her hand on his shoulder. He put his head down. She said something to him.

  I wasn’t certain what, but whatever it was, it made his body slump with defeat.

  A black pickup truck pulled up to beside the house. Erica climbed into the passenger seat. It was being driven by a very handsome dark-haired guy. She had told me, earlier, that he was both her penance and her reward. I wasn’t sure what that meant. She was about to tell me when Holden came in, so she said, “Girl talk. Some other time.”

  The handsome guy smiled at her when she got in. She leaned over and kissed him on the tip of the nose and then put her seatbelt on. He threw his head back and laughed at something she said before spinning the steering wheel to drive off.

  I walked outside and caught up with Holden at the edge of the Young sisters’ property as they backed out, turned around, and took the road away from the ocean, toward town.

  I looked at my husband’s face. His eyes were already on me.

  “What did she say to you before she left?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  My heart stuttered. “Please don’t tell me you’ve got a consequence, too.”

  He gave me a tight smile.

  He did. He was going to pay a price, too.

  “But, it’s my fau---”

  “It’s on the both of us and we should both carry any burden, though I’d carry it all if I could.”

  “I know you would,” I told him.

  “Now, enough,” Holden swept one hand across the other. “Let’s talk about our future. We need to decide where to live and raise our family.”

  “Any ideas?” I asked.

  “What do you think about moving to Ireland?”

  My eyes went wide. “Ireland? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “Then let’s go. We’ll try it out, see if it fits, and if it does, that’ll be home.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “And I like the idea of flying in an airplane,” he said with a big smile.

  I rolled my eyes. He sure loved things that went vroom.

  “Erica gave me documents for new names for us,” he added, and then his expression dropped. “Since our names might be a problem at the airport.”

  I knew he carried a lot of guilt. For what he did to me. Also, for what he did to all those people he hurt last Halloween.

  What would the next Halloween bring? All I knew was that I was more than glad we would be nowhere near Drowsy Hollow.

  “There’s something very important we need to do as soon as we land,” I told him. The sorrow on his face cleared as he looked at me with interest.

  “We need to buy you a new sportscar,” I told him. “and this time, I get to pick the color.”

  He pulled me close. “Agreed. As long as you choose silver.”

  I laughed as he kissed me.

  “Can we wait a week before we go?” I asked.

  “If we must. But, why?”

  “Last year, I bought a gift for our first wedding anniversary that we didn’t get to use. I’d like to try to do that for our second anniversary, next week.”

  “Oh?” he looked intrigued.

  ***

  Holden loved going to a football game. We went to a Patriots game where he had his first hot dog, and immediately had his second, after which he told me it wasn’t as good as Kentucky Fried Chicken but it was pretty damn close.

  ***

  I was in a field of pumpkins, tulip tree blossoms in my hair, in my wedding gown. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I heard shouts behind me so I spun around to find the source of the noise. I saw a dozen or more men in a clearing near that tree, though the tree looked a lot smaller that I remembered it.

  The men wore army uniforms. Antique ones. I wondered, briefly, if I was in the middle of a war reenactment. And then I saw him.

  Holden. He was with those men, dressed like them. He and two other young guys were laughing. One was smoking.

  “Holloway, Jensen, Franks! What are you men supposed to be doing?” I heard shouted from a booming voice. My eyes darted in that direction. That man… he looked an awful lot like my brother, Daniel. He stood by a big cannon.

 

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