ONE

New York 1799

"I don't understand why we have to leave here." Nicholas snapped as he threw himself down onto the couch. LaCroix raised his eyebrow at his youngest child, wondering what had brought on this latest outburst.

"I told you Nicholas,I think that it is time for a change of scenery would do us all the world of good."

"Well you and Janette go, I wish to stay here."

"No, we must all go together, now stop acting like a spoilt child, it is most unbecoming."

Nicholas stared at his 'Father' sullenly, he was sick of being ordered about like a child,being told what to do where he could go. He was determined that this time he would put a stop to it once and for all. After all, he was an adult. It was time to make a stand.

LaCroix sighed, trying to reign in his own temper. Of all the times that Nicholas decided to make a stand, this was the worst. They had come to America seeking new thrills, new adventures and some fresh colonial blood. New York, a wonderfully exciting city had been like a smorgasboard filled with the most exotic delicacies to tempt even their jaded palates.

In one way LaCroix could understand his son's refusal to leave when he was having such a fine time, but things had become...difficult lately. LaCroix had to admit that it was his fault, he had allowed Janette and Nicholas to become greedy, and in their greed...careless. Nothing to attract the attention of the Enforcers, but still, the local populace had started to realize that something was amiss.

Too many people were vanishing in too small an area. Talk had started of monsters, creatures with fiery eyes and long pointed teeth. Yes, very unfortunate indeed. That was why LaCroix had decided that it was time for the three of them to take a little...vacation, somewhere nice and quiet where they would not attract any more unwelcome attention.

"I am not going LaCroix and that is final." Nicholas stated as he pushed himself up off the couch and stalked towards the door. He did not get two feet across the room, before he was roughly grabbed and shaken hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

"You will listen to me Nicholas." LaCroix rasped,his eyes burning golden red with rage. "If I say that we are leaving then that is what we do, you do not question me ever, nor will I tolerate any insolence, is that understood!"

With that, He gave his son another hard shake, then set him back down on his feet once more.

Nicholas stared at his Father for a moment, then dropped his eyes. There was no way that he could challenge the older vampire, he was just too strong. Ever since LaCroix had brought him across in 1228, he had always been happy to obey his Sire...his Father, but lately...well things had just not been the same. He had suddenly started to want his freedom. He was tired of LaCroix constantly telling him what to do.

"Come Nicholas,do not go into one of your sulks." LaCroix said, the ancient vampire's voice deceptively mild. "We have much to to do tonight."

"Have you told Janette?" Nicholas asked, his voice cold. He had averted his face away from his sire now, visibly upset but not wanting LaCroix to see it.

"Yes, she was quite pleased when I informed her of my decision actually. The thought of new surroundings, fresh pickings. Just think of the fun that we shall have, being able to hunt properly once more Nicholas."

The younger vampire shrugged, turning away from the larger man. He was angry at the fact that LaCroix was still able to pick him up and shake him like a rag doll. It made him feel as though he were still a child.

Suddenly he felt the weight of his Father's hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"Come mon fils, do not be upset. I think that you will end up enjoying our little...holiday, hmmm?"

Nicholas managed a wan smile. "I suppose so, It is not as though I have a choice now is it?"

His 'Father' smiled at him. "Not at all."

TWO

Ichabod Crane stood looking out of the window, gazing down onto the street below, the tiny scarlet bird gripped in his hand.

He had just been informed that he was to go to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of decapitations. Decapitations, the very word made him shudder.

He glanced down at the tiny Cardinal in his hand, then he quickly let the bird go, watching it fly out of the window and out into the cold autumn sky. With a flash of bright colours, the tiny bird soon disappeared from view.

With a sigh, he quickly turned back to his half packed bag,wondering and not for the first time, what Sleepy Hollow would have in store for him there.

THREE

The coach rattled through the gate and into the small town that was Sleepy Hollow.

The houses were all huddled together under the darkening sky. Wisps of smoke drifted into the icy air, issuing out of various chimneys, adding a rather homely air to the place. But the bare frozen trees that surrounded the small township seemed to add a touch of desolation to it all.

The coach curtain was carefully lifted as LaCroix peered out of the window. "Well mon infants, it appears that we are here."

Janette looked up at her 'Father', a small smile of anticipation on her full red lips. "Oue mon Papa."

Nicholas, looking away said nothing. He wanted no part of this little excursion at all and was making that painfully clear with his cold silences.

Lacroix glanced at him, his face unreadable. His beloved favourite had been giving him quite a bit of trouble lately. He had found himself having to discipline his son more and more of late. A fact that was beginning to bother him.

The coach rattled to a halt outside a small but respectable looking Inn.

The coachman, an unshaven and rather disagreeable looking fellow, leapt down from his seat and quickly opened the coach door, yanking it hard enough to nearly spill Nicholas onto the muddy ground.

Cursing under his breath, he managed to catch himself in time and with the help Of LaCroix's hand on his arm, prevented his fall. Janette managed to stifle a giggle and climbed out of the coach with a little more dignity then her younger 'brother'.

A bag fell to the ground with a heavy thud, barely missing LaCroix, who looked sharply up at the fool of a coachman. He threw down the rest of the luggage, then jumped back down.

It was clear to see, that the man was frightened to death of something.

LaCroix quickly counted some coins into the man's trembling hand. The three of them could smell the man's fear, it was coming off him in waves.

"What is it?" Nicholas asked suddenly. He grasped the coachman's arm. "Why are you so frightened?"

"It's dark." The man replied as he crossed himself. "He always rides after the night falls. Everyone knows that".

"Who, who rides"? Janette asked, curious now. She had never see so much fear in one man before. Not even during the Inquision.

"The Headless Horseman of course." The coachman aswered, then quickly looked around as if by mentioning his name, he might summon the demon from his lair.

"Of course." LaCroix replied dryly. "That makes perfect sense."

The coachman stared at him, his bloodshot eyes wide. "It's true Sir, have you not heard about the murders at all?"

"Murders?" Nicholas replied intrigued. "This sounds...interesting, please sir, do continue."

"It's the Headless Horseman sir." The coachman explained. "He has been haunting this place for weeks. No one has been able to stand against him."

"I see". LaCroix was now convinced that he was dealing with a madman.

"If you value your lives, you will not stay here, this place is cursed."

"Well, thank you for your concern but I am sure that we will be fine." LaCroix ansered the terrified man.

"Suit yourselves then, but don't say I didn't warn you." With that, the coachman climbed back aboard the coach and grabbing the reigns; he whipped up the horses and was soon rattling back down the road and towards presumably, safer quarters.

Both Janette and Nicholas turned to look at their Sire. LaCroix returned their look for a moment before bursting out. "Oh there is no such thing as a Headless Horseman, it is just superstition, foolish stories to frighten old women and children. You should both realize that."

"If you say so LaCroix." Nicholas replied dryly. Then, moving faster than usual, they retrieved their bags and walked towards to the Inn.

A short plump woman with a broad cheerful smile ushered them in, fussing over them like a mother hen.

"Travelling so late, and in such times." She exclaimed with a shake of her head. "But then I suppose that you would not have heard, not coming from so far away."

"The coachman said something about a horseman that seems to have misplaced his head." Nicholas replied with a grin.

The landlord's wife, for that was who the good woman was,looked up at the well dressed young man, a frown hovering over her normally good natured brow.

"And that would be correct young sir." She replied. "Oh what times have fallen on this fine town."

She shook her head sorrowfully. "Four dead and all within days of each other, none of their heads have been found either."

Nicholas and Janette looked at each other,eyebrows raised. This place was begining to show definite possibilities.

"I take it that this...Horseman is the one responsible for these death's?" LaCroix asked, this was starting to peak his curiosity as well.

"Yes Sir, that is correct." The landlady breathed, she leaned forward slightly as if imparting a great secret. Then in hushed tones, she spoke.

"The Hessian Sir was a mercenary sent here during the war. He was killed and buried out in the Western woods for his crimes some years back. They say that he has returned to seek revenge on those who had killed him."

Lacroix nodded, digesting the information. Mysterious deaths, a headless revenge seeking spirit...oh this could be fun. As long as it was all observed from a distance of course. After all, the only other way to kill a vampire besides sunlight or a stake, was of course to decapitate him.

The Landlady was still watching him, her good natured face creased with worry.

"Are you sure that you still wish to stay sir?" She asked him hesitantly.

"Oh most definitely dear Lady, I assume that you have three rooms available?"

"Oh that and more I am afraid." She sighed. "But please allow me to show you to your rooms." Then she added almost as an afterthought. "Would you like something to eat? You must be hungry after your journey. I can prepare something hot if you wish."

There's no need dear lady, we have eaten already." LaCroix replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just be kind enough to show us to our rooms."

Of course he was not about to tell her about the bottles of blood that they had brought with them from New York, for emergencies.

They followed the worthy woman upstairs and were soon settling into their respective chambers. Nicholas walked over to the window and pulled the heavy curtain aside.

All was quiet in the muddy street below. There was nothing moving about, not even a stray mongrel.

"A quaint little village is it not Nicholas?"

He turned around. LaCroix was standing just behind him. He was smiling slightly, cold blue eyes regarding his son with amusement.

"Quaint enough, even with a headless ghost on the prowl." Nicholas replied.

"Some local with a grudge against his neighbours, nothing more I assure you." LaCroix said mildly. "Such matters really do not concern us my son."

"But are you not curious?" Nicholas asked.

His 'father' shrugged. "Best to keep out of these things child, it's safer that way."

"And since when have you been overly concerned with safety mon Papa?" Nicholas asked,a mocking tone had crept into his voice now.

"After all, I would have thought that a headless ghost on the rampage would appeal to your particular sense of fun."

"We have already attracted too much attention, that is what brought us here in the first place Nicholas." LaCroix replied evenly. he could feel himself losing patience with this wilfull brat. Nicholas seemed intent on baiting his sire.

"After all, we do not want trouble with the enforcers Nicholas, you know that as well as anyone. For now we stay here. we feed when we need to and then we shall leave for good...Boston perhaps."

Nicholas looked at the older vampire for a moment, then nodded. It was no good even trying to argue, it would more than likely earn him a hefty slap to his face...or worse.

LaCroix smiled satisfied. As long as he had his 'son's' obedience, that was all that mattered.
"Do we hunt tonight"?

LaCroix stopped, then nodded. "Shortly mon fils, shortly". With that, he turned and left the small well furnished room.

Nicholas heard the door close behind his 'father' and without realizing it, let his breath out in a long sigh. During this trip he knew one thing, that soon he would be leaving his little 'family' forever.

FOUR

"Whose got a kiss for the pickerty witch." The young girl turned around, hands outstretched before her. A blindfold tied over her eyes.

The circle of laughing young men easily eluded her as she twirled about,playing an old Halloween game.

It was this charming scene that Ichabod was ushered into. The brightly lit room was filled with pumpkins with candles burning inside them.

They were placed around the room along with other Halloween treats. People were laughing and dancing to the cheerful strains of a fiddle.

He was carrying his bags while stepping around the party guests, when suddenly he felt himself being grabbed.

The blindfolded girl who had accosted him seemed puzzled. "Is it Theodore?" She asked.

Pardon me Miss, it is only a stranger." Ichabod replied, clearly embarrested.

She smiled, full red lips drawing back to reveal white even teeth.

"Then have a kiss on account". With that, she pecked him on the cheek, much to the consternation of Brom, the local blacksmith who was standing next to her.

She then removed the blindfold and looked straight into the face of a remarkably good looking young man with thick black hair and dark expressive eyes.

"Excuse me but I am looking for Balthus Van Tassel." He said aware of how stiff his voice sounded. He could not help it though, being unused as he was to the attentions of such a pretty girl.

"I am his daughter Katrina Van Tassel." She answered with yet another of those disconcerting smiles of hers.

"And who are you friend?" Brom asked belligerently. "We have not heard it yet."

Ichabod glanced at him cooly. "I have not yet said it."

With his temper flaring now, Brom grabbed the constable by his shoulders. "You need some manners!"

Just then, Balthus van Tassel entered the large room, folowed by his wife.

"Come come," he called out. "Let's not have raised voices here it is only to raise spirits during this dark time that my wife and I are giving this little party." Then looking at Ichabod, he continued. "You are most welcome young man even if you are selling something."

Ichabod introduced himself, taking in the elder Van Tassel and the attractive fair haired woman at his side.

"I am Constable Crane sir, sent here from New York to investigate a series of murders here in Sleepy Hollow."

"Then Sleepy Hollow is indebted to you Constable Crane." Lady Van Tassel replied, inclining her head slightly.

After her gentle insistence that he stay with them, Ichabod was ushered upstairs to a small, rather barren garret room. There he began to unpack, removing eccentric looking instruments from his large medical bag.

Sarah, a pretty young serving girl stared at him for a moment. Then said softly. "Thank God that you are here." He turned to look at her, but she had already left the room.

Once unpacked, he went back downstairs and was ushered into a well furnished, comfortable looking study.

Several men were gathered around the room, all wearing identical expressions of concern.

The servant girl Sarah and her mistress, Lady Van Tassel then left the room, leaving the men to their talk.

After the introductions were dispensed with, they quickly got down to the business at hand.

"So three persons murdered." Ichabod began without preamble as he paced the room.

"First, Peter Van Garett and his son, Dirk Van Garrett, both of them stong capable men. Found together...both decapitated."

The Reverend Steenwyck looked at the young constable nervously.

"One week later, the Widow Winchipp, decapitated." Ichabod continued, his voice stern. He was now very much the capable young constable in charge of an investigation.

"Now I will need to ask you many questions, but firstly let me ask you is anyone suspected?"

At that the rotund magistrate Phillips nearly choked on his tea. Balthus Van Tassel regarded the brash young constable for a moment, before asking.

"How much has your superiors explained to you Constable?"

"Only that the three were slain in open ground, their heads found severed from their bodies."

"Hmm, their heads were not found severed, their heads were not found at all." Steenwyck informed the young constable grimly.

Ichabod's face turned pale at that piece of news. "The heads are...gone?"

"Taken." The notary Hardenbrooke replied softly. "Taken by the Headless Horseman, taken back to hell."

"P...pardon, but I d...don't under..."

Seeing the effect that the words were having on the young man, Van Tassel broke in.

"Perhaps you had better sit down."

"Yes." Relieved Ichabod sat down into the comfortable chair. He reached over and poured himself a cup of tea, more to sooth his nerves then to quench his thirst.

"The Horseman was a Hessian mercenary, sent to these shores by the German princes to keep Americans under the yoke of England. But unlike his compatriates,who came for money, the Horseman came for the love of carnage." Van Tassel intoned.

"When battle was joined there you would find him. He rode a giant black steed named Daredevil. He was infamous for riding his horse hard into battle chopping off heads at full gallop. He had filed his teeth down to sharp points to add to the ferocity of his appearance."

Ichabod nodded slowly. He could imagine, the tall darkly clad warrior astride his steed, lopping heads off left and right, snarling and roaring with pure bloodlust. He had heard of such men when he had been young boy.

He sat listening to Balthus Van Tassel, almost mesmerised by the story.

"This butcher, finally did not reach his end until the winter of '79, not far from here in our Western Woods"."

The town elder went on to explain how several patriots managed to corner him deep in the woods, then sliced off his head with his own sword.

After Balthus Van Tassel had finished him grim tale, Ichabod regarded each of the somber faced men.

"They chopped off his head with his own sword"." Van Tassel continued.

"Even today the Western woods is a haunted place where brave men will not venture. For what was planted in the ground that day was a seed of evil, and so it has been for twenty years. But now the Hessian wakes lopping off heads where he finds them."

Ichabod's hands were shaking so badly by now that the delicate china cup was rattling against it's saucer. He placed it carefully down onto the table behind him.

"Is that what you are saying? Is that what you believe?" He asked nervously.

The Notary Hardenbrooke leaned forward, pinning the young constable down with a glare from his one good eye.

"Seeing is believing."

The Reverend Steenwyck suddenly spoke up. "They tell me that you brought books and trappings of scientific investigation." He picked up a large leather bound tome.

"This is the only book I recommend you read." He dropped the book onto the table next to Ichabod. It was a Bible. He opened it up, there in front was a family tree, both the Van Tassel and Van Garrett families were there.

He closed it again. "I see, Reverend Steenwyck...Gentleman, murder needs no ghost to come from the grave. We have murders in New York with out benefit of ghouls and goblins."

The elders glanced at each other.

"You're a long way from New York Constable." He was reminded.

"The assassian is a man of flesh and blood and I intent to seek him out." Ichabod spoke with more conviction then he was feeling.

The town elders regarded the brash young man for a moment, each wondering if sending to New York for him was the wisest course of action after all.

FIVE

The three darkly clad figures slipped through the outskirts of the town silent and stealthy. Their vampire senses keenly honing in on any fresh healthy life that they could feed from.

The taller of the three stopped, lifting his head, scenting his prey.

"Come mons fils." He hissed. "There is a cottage this way, an old woman and I think...ah yes, alone." His latent vampiric senses were able tell him all this.

Nicholas and Janette both grinned in anticipation. They were tiring of bottled blood, it was stale and had little taste. It would be a welcome change to be able to drink something fresh.

Carefully they made their way through the thick grove of bare snow covered trees. The cold did not bother them but the long journey had tired them and they wanted nothing more than to feed then return to the Inn and rest.

They moved a little further into the woods and were soon rewarded by the sight of a small cottage. They could see a bent old woman moving about, tending to her supper that was cooking over a cheerful fire.

LaCroix took a deep breath, her scent, old but healthy was intoxicating. The three of them moved forward, almost gliding over the snow covered ground.

The old woman looked up, frowing slightly, then shrugged. Nerves, she thought dismissively. And why not...what with the Hessian awake and causing havoc, it was little wonder she she was flinching at every sound.

She bent to stir the bubbling stew, then hearing a noise behind her, stood up and turned straight into the arms of a blazing eyed demon. She opened her mouth to shriek but found a hand clamped firmly to her mouth.

*The Hessian!* Her terrified mind screamed, but no, this creature still had his head.

She did not see the other two slip behind her. All she was aware of was the demon standing in ront of her, his lips peeled back to reveal to wickedly sharp fangs. Suddenly she felt her legs give out underneath her as she felt those same sharp fangs slip into her throat.

Soon she was drained, the three of them taking turns feeding from her rapidly cooling corpse.

LaCroix smiled at his two children, pleased by their little venture tonight. Moving swiftly now, they left the cottage intending to return to the Inn when suddenly the still night was shattered by the sound of a large horse...and it was moving fast.

The three of them stopped, trying to work out which direction the pounding hooves were coming from, when suddenly LaCroix grabbed his two 'children' and threw them over the side of the rough trail.

He managed to just get them out of the way when a man came racing past, his face contorted with terror. That was when they saw what was persuing him.

A massive black steed came thundering past them, but it was the rider that caught their attention as he had no head.

Stunned, they watched as the hapless victim was ridden down. The Headless Horseman for that was obviously who it was, unsheathed his sword and in a single stroke lopped the man's head clean off.

The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless as the Horseman turned his massive stallion around, speared the head with his sword and disappeared back into the woods,holding it aloft.

Janette and Nicholas both turned to look at LaCroix. The older vampire was silent for a moment, then said clearing his throat remarked..

"Well, you have to admit, that was a fine bit of riding." He remarked.

"Spearing the head would have been the most difficult." Nicholas hesitantly replied.

Janette stared at both of them in sheer disbelief. "Did it not bother you that the rider had no head?" She asked, astounded by their reactions.

LaCroix shrugged."Well it was a testament to his skill that he was able to spear the head without eyes to see it."

Nicholas nodded in agreement. Janette rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well I am telling you both what I am going to do. I am heading back to the Inn, packing and getting the hell out of here."

"But why my dear?" LaCroix asked. "You liked this little place when we first arrived."

"But that was before we discovered that there really was a Headless Horseman." Jeanette snapped, her face reddening slightly.

"But we were warned about him." LaCroix calmly reminded her.

"Yes." Janette replied testily. " I know, but that was before we actually found out that he existed."

Nicholas looked at them both. "Well, I like this place." He declared. "I've decided that I want to stay after all."

LaCroix rolled his eyes in a mixture of amusement and exasperation at his youngest child. This was so typical of his Nicholas. Wanting to leave because it's too peaceful and quiet, then wanting to stay after discovering a headless demon on the rampage.

"Well this could be fun." He replied defensivily. Janette looked away, hiding her impatience.

LaCroix smiled indulgently at his youngest child. Then ignoring Jeanette's furious glare, he said.

"Then stay we shall Nicholas, if only to please you."

The three of them headed back towards the Inn, wanting to return before dawn. Nicholas found himself wondering about the Hessian. In all of his several hundred years of unlife, he had never seen anything like this creature.

Yes, he mused as he followed his family, this could prove to have some interesting possiblities.

SIX

A grey sickly dawn was rising over the fields when a gunshot shattered the still morning. A man astride a horse yelled. "The Horseman has killed again!"

Very soon a small crowd had gathered, frightened whispers were rippling back and forth.

Ichabod, still clutching the bridle of the dusty old nag that Killian had provided for him looked up, alerted to the news of yet another death.

Over at the Inn,a curtain fluttered back from an upstairs window.

"It seems the body has been discovered." LaCroix remarked, a small smile playing about his mouth. He turned to Janette and Nicholas,noticing how his son's eyes had lit up.

He sighed inwardly. He knew that look well and it usually meant trouble.

"I wish to impress on the both of you that we are here to stay low for a while." LaCroix spoke firmly. "After all, this is the reason that we are here."

"But..."Nicholas began.

"Nicholas, I said no." His Father's tone held a definite warning now.

"But are you not curious?" Nicholas asked staring up at his sire who was still standing over near the window.

"After all, a headless ghost that is able to slice a man's head clean off. That is not something that is exactly common is it?"

"And that is one of the reasons why we shall steer clear of him." LaCroix replied patiently.

"After all Nicholas, even a fledgling knows what happens to a vampire when his head is separated from the rest of him."

"But the landlady told us that he is only after the men that killed him." Nicholas replied stubbornly.

"Perhaps so, but I still have no intention of taking any chances and especially not with either of my children." LaCroix answered.

"That sound just fine with me." Janette replied firmly. "I for one never want to see that horrble creature again."

She shuddered at the thought and Nicholas stared at her, surprised. He never knew Janette to be squeamish before. The headless ghost must have really upset her.

"A wise decision ma cherie." LaCroix smiled at her fondly. His sweet little Janette never gave him any trouble, he found himself wishing and not for the first time that Nicholas could take a leaf out her book from time to time.

He turned back to his more troublesome child.

"Now have I made myself thoughly clear mon fils?"

Nicholas stared at his Father for a moment, rebellion already brewing inside him.

"Yes LaCroix." He said meekly. The older vampire regarded him for a moment, wondering what the hell that vexing child of his had planned. Whatever it was, it had better not involve acertain murderous spirit sans his head

SEVEN

Ichabod finally arrived at the scene of the latest slaying. The townsmen were standing about, all wearing identical expressions of shock and grim anger.

They watched sullenly as the constable dismounted his aged steed and walked over to the headless victim, studying it closely.

He could feel his gorge rise, but fought it down, determined to carry out his duty.

"The forth victim, Johnathon Masbath." Doctor Lancaster announced, his voice subdued.

"Ah,I see." Ichbod replied, his voice slightly higher then usual. "And the h...head?"

"Taken." Phillips muttered nervously.

"Taken...interesting...very interesting." Ichabod muttered under his breath.

"What is?" One of the town elders asked.

"In headless corpse cases as in this sort the head is usually removed to prevent identification of the body." The constable replied thoughtfully.

Balthus Van Tassel stared at him for a moment. "But we know this is Johnathon Masbath."

"Precisely, so why was the head removed?"

"Why?" The town elders seemed dumbfounded now.

"Right." He walked over to where the good doctor was standing.

"You have moved the body." Ichabod accused the surprised man.

"I did." The doctor admitted.

"You must never move the body!"

"Why not?"

"Because." With that, Ichabod turned and strode away, the town elders staring after him.

He set his medical bag down, then looking down at the muddy earth, he noticed the huge set of hoofprints that were deeply imbedded in the ground.

Ichabod was stunned by the sheer size of the hoofprints that surrounded the corpse of the unfortunate Johnathon Masbath.

Taking large strides, the Constable followed their trail.

"The stride is gigantic." He announced. "The attacker rode Masbath down." Hands in front holding invisible reigns, Ichabod jogged, wheeling around. The others watching in complete facination at these antics.

"Turned his horse...came back, came back to claim the head."

He then went back to his bag, opening it up, he pulled out an odd looking little shelf that held bottles and jars of various sizes. Choosing one, he uncorked it and sprinkled powder around the top of Masbath's severed neck.

The ground around it began to smoke.

"Yes, yes a chemical reaction." Ichabod muttered thoughtfully. The others leaned forward, facinated despite themselves.

"Yes it shows that there was a powerful singular thrust to the neck." He then donned a large set of the most eccentric looking goggles that anyone had ever seen. He turned back to the body,pressing his lips together tightly in grim deterimation. Then taking another instrument, he carefully pulled back a piece of skin to examine the wound more closely.

A huge black beetle crawled out from the neck. Ichabod gasped and quickly stood up, his face nearly green.

"Interesting." He stammered.

"What is?" Van Tassel asked.

"The wound was cauterized in the very instant...as though the blade itself was red hot,and yet no blistering...no scorched flesh."

Phillip's hand tightened around the large metal ankh that hung from around his neck. "The devil's fire," he muttered.

And at that moment, no one felt inclined to disagree.

EIGHT

The funeral for Johnathon Masbath was a dismal affair. The sun had slowly set over the bleak woods as the Reverend intoned the eulogy.

Three figures, heavily cloaked, and standing in the shadows of the Inn stood watching the proceedings as the townfolk all gathered to farewell the once well liked man. "Such a waste." LaCroix muttered. "A fine healthy speciman like this Masbath, and now he lies rotting in the ground. And not a single drop of blood for us, now is that fair I ask you?"

Nicholas said nothing, he was watching a rather interesting looking girl with lovely blonde hair who stood next to a brawny young man.

But the one who really caught his attention was the tall dark haired man. A constable from New York, one of the locals had informed them. Sent to try and find out what or who was causing these deaths.

Nicholas watched as the grave was filled in and all the townspeople turned and headed for their respective homes. A young boy, not much older than fourteen stood by the grave, he was obviously the man's son.

Ichabod looked back at the boy for a moment, then with an sigh, slowly headed back towards the house.

Suddenly the boy called after the constable.

"Mister Constable Sir."

The three vampires watched in interest as the two spoke.

"Ah you must be young Masbath." Ichabod greetd the lad kindly.

"Just Masbath now that my father is dead sir." The boy replied. "Masbath at your service."

LaCroix turned to the others. "The sun has set mon fils, I think that we shall see what we can turn up for our supper tonight."

Janette nodded, already hungry, a deep golden colour had already begun to swirl in her beautiful dark eyes.

"Hmm, yes." Nicholas replied absently, his whole attention riveted to the little drama unfolding before his eyes. "Umm, you both go...I shall catch up." He took a step towards the constable and young Masbath, when he felt his arm taken into a vice like grip. He uttered a startled yelp as he was sharply yanked back and spun around to find himself gazing into his 'father's' blazing red eyes.

"All right." He managed. "I will come with you now."

Satisfied, LaCroix relaxed his grip on his son's arm. "Good."

The three of them turned and quickly made their way towards the forest. Nicholas a little more slowly.

Ichabod and young Masbath headed towards the Van Tassel house, two orphans who had found each other.

They were deep into the forest now. LaCroix lifted his head up, already scenting blood. Young and reasonably healthy. A female by the scent.

"This way children." LaCroix urged. They followed him down a rough path and soon they came to a cave.

"Someone actually lives here?" Janette asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste. A fastidious woman, she hated the thought of living in such a filthy looking place.

"So it would seem." LaCroix replied easily. "But no matter, soon we eat."

They entered the cave, moving silently. A tall figure dressed in a ragged dress and a veil covering her face was standing near the fireplace, stirring something that was bubbling in a large black cauldron.

"Welcome." She she greeted them as she straightened up. "I welcome you."

Surprised, LaCroix stopped, looking at her for a moment. This one seemed...strange. She turned to them, her face obscured by the veil.

"Have you come seeking answers, or something else?"

"We come seeking nothing my Lady." Nicholas replied, a brash smile on his face. "Except perhaps your hospitality of course."

LaCroix glanced at him sharply. Something was not quite right here. he could feel it in his bones.

"I know what you have come seeking my friends." The woman words were a soft sigh. "But you have come to the wrong place. Here is not where you will find it."

"Find what my Lady"? LaCroix asked. He moved closer, his eyes already beginning to glow. Perhaps, he could mesmerize her...

"Blood." She answered simply. "Oh I can smell it on you. You feed from the living, take their blood and use it to continue your unnatural lives. But you will not find what you need here."

LaCroix lifted his head slightly, oh yes, something was definitely wrong here.

"And you will stop us?" He asked softly.

The witch chuckled, then slowly she lifted her veil.

The door of the cave flew open and three cloaked figures burst from the cave, racing away from that hellish place as fast as they could fly. Finally they slowed as they reached the edge of the woods. Then lightly, they all settled back down onto the ground again.

"Well that was a new experience." Nicholas gasped, clutching his side.

LaCroix was certain that his heart would be pounding, if was able to beat at all.
"I must be getting old." He grumbled. "After all I should have been able to recognize a witch when I see one.

"I am really growing tired of this place LaCroix." Janette snapped. With that she swept off, head high, her dark eyes snapping with anger.

Without a word, both men followed her back towards the town.

NINE

Ichabod was already sitting at a table, young Masbath beside him. Both were eating when LaCroix, Nicholas and Janette entered. The landlady bustled up to them, a genuine smile of greeting on her broad face.

"You special stock Sir?" She asked as she ushered them to a table.

"Thank you dear Lady." LaCroix replied. She hurried off to get the special wine that they had brought with them. At first she had not been happy that they did buy her own ale or cider, but they paid so handsomely that it more than made up for it.

The landlady placed three glasses of the blood laced wine in front of them. The heat from the fire soon warmed them and comfortable now, the frightening experience was behind them.

Ichabod finished the food on his plate. "We must be going young Masbath." He said as he pushed the now empty plate away. The boy looked up.

"Yes Sir." He was pleased that the constable had decided to take him on as an assistant and retainer. He was determined to be the best one that his new master had ever had.

Scooping the last of his food into his mouth; The boy finished his meal and they headed towards the door.

Ichabod heard himself hailed. He turned, wondering who it was.

There at another table sat three strangers. The young fair haired man was the one that had called to over to him.

"Please come and join us." Nicholas said, ignoring the glare that his Father shot him.

After a moment's hesitation, Ichabod nodded. "A pleasure Sir, and thanks."

Both the constable and Masbath seated themselves. Ichabod next to Nicholas and Masbath, next to LaCroix.

The landlady hurried over to refill their mugs. She poured a cup of cider for both Ichabod and his young servant Masbath.

"So you are the constable sent here from New York." Nicholas said,leaning forward slightly. "That is where we happen to be from."

"Nicholas." LaCroix said warningly.

His son shot him a quick mischevious smile, the light from the fire making his eyes dance.

"How do you do." Ignoring this exchange between 'father' and 'son', Ichabod extended his hand and both men shook.

"This is my father, Lucian LaCroix, and my sister Janette." Nicholas introduced them.

"Ichabod Crane, at your service, and this is my valet, and friend, young Masbath."

"How do you do Sirs...Ma'am." The boy could hardly tear his eyes away from Janette who in return offered him a smile. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"And tell me." Ichabod said. "What bring you here to Sleepy Hollow?"

"We thought that a change of air would do us some good, after being in the city for so long." LaCroix replied smoothly. "Although I am begining to wonder if I have made something of a mistake in bringing my family here."

"I am afraid this does not seem to be the safest of places at the moment." Ichabod agreed.

"Yes especially when you venture into caves." Janette muttered, ignoring the quelling look that LaCroix shot her.

"Is it true that there is a Headless Horseman that haunts these woods?" Nicholas asked innocently.

LaCroix closed his eyes for a moment until the urge to kill his youngest child had passed.

"No of course not." Ichabod replied firmly. "I know that there is talk of a headless Horseman, a Hessian mercenary by all accounts, but I assure you that whoever is committing these heinous acts will be caught and punished".

"What about witches"? Janette asked somewhat sardonically

Ichabod looked at her, clearly startled.

"Pardon?"
LaCroix quickly broke in.

"Pay no heed to my daughter, her little jest I assure you."

He turned to glare at her, the expression on his face was pure eloquence. One more word and you shall be very sorry indeed.

Janette, nobody's fool closed her mouth. It had been some time since her 'father' had needed to punish her, and she had no intention of experiencing a chastisment at the hands of her angry sire again. The last one had left her sore for a week.

But reckless as ever, Nicholas pressed on.

"But we have heard stories." He said excitedly. "People being murdered left right and center. All found without their heads." Then leaning forward conspiritorally, he asked. "Is it true that none of the heads have actually been found?"

"I am afraid it is true...Nicholas." Ichabod replied cautiously. "But I am here to find an answer to all this bloodshed."

"And how do you propose to do that?" LaCroix asked, curious now. This young man seemed so earnest and somehow...innocent. How would he be able to stand against the demon that they had seen the previous night?

Ichabod look over at the imposing older man. There was something about him that reminded him of his own father, something that unsettled him though he could not quite put his finger on what it could be.

"I plan to use the powers of pure scientific research and deduction Mr LaCroix." He replied somewhat stiffly. "I feel that with reason and logic, I shall be able to ascertain the methods and motives of the killer."

LaCroix offered the young constable a smile. He was begining to warm to this obviously intelligent young man. Suddenly he found himself wondering if Nicholas would like a little brother to keep him company.

The dark haired rather awkward young man would counterpoint Nicholas's rather impetuous nature. He planned to discuss it with Janette later to see what she thought of this idea.

"But there is a Headless horseman Sir."

Masbath spoke up suddenly, then colour flooded his cheeks as all eyes turned to him.

"Nonesense lad." Ichabod replied, somewhat nervously. "I tell you, there is no headless Hessian rampaging around the Western Woods, or anywhere else for that matter."

Masbath subsided, embarrested that he had spoken out of turn. Janette leaned forward to pat his hand kindly.

"Never mind young man." She crooned. "There are many things about that people do not believe in, but they exist nevertheless."

Masbath smiled at her, eyes shining with sheer joy that this beautiful woman had spoken to him.

"But what if there is?" Nicholas said. "After all, that would be the perfect reason why this killer is able to butcher people with such efficiency. Think about it after all...four people dead."

"Five actually." Ichabod cut in. "The Widow Winchipp was with child." He went on to explain how the Magistrate had told him about the five bodies in four graves and how his autopsy had revealed the woman's pregnant state.

"How awful." Janette breathed. She seemed genuinely shocked. Nicholas frowned, what sort of creature could kill a child still slumbering in it's mother's womb? Even LaCroix seemed unsettled at that particular revelation.

Ichabod nodded grimly. "See, we are dealing with a madman, but a flesh and blood one all the same."

"Perhaps you would like some help with your investigation?" Nicholas said suddenly. LaCroix opened his mouth to speak but Nicholas rushed on.

"After all, I have quite an interest in detection and science both."

Ichabod nodded. "Well, perhaps, if you promise not to hinder me in any way, after all I am here in a official capacity. I am a sworn officer of the law, not an amateur you understand."

"Of course." Nicholas replied, grinning happily, then he caught sight of his father's furious expression and his grin soon faded. Uhoh, he thought, swallowing nervously perhaps I have gone to far this time.

Lacroix pinned his son with his most intimidating stare. Both Janette and young Masbath squirmed uncomfortably, only Ichabod seemed unaware of the sudden tension.

"I am afraid that my son will not be available to assist you as I think that we shall be leaving soon." The older vampire stated.

"Oh, I see." Ichabod replied. "Well thank you all the same."

With that he rose from the table

"I am afraid that we must be off now, I do not wish to return to the Van Tassel's at too late an hour."

"But of course, and it was a pleasure meeting you Constable Crane." LaCroix said as both he and Nicholas got to their feet.

After bidding their farewells, they watched as the young constable and his loyal young servant headed back towards the large Van Tassel house.

"Well,that was an interesting meeting." Nicholas remarked. Janette shrugged, not really concerned. Although she had to admit that the constable was certainly an intriguing looking man. Without realizing it, she licked her lips.

"You could say that." LaCroix replied drily. "Nicholas, I think it is time that you and I had a little...talk."

At that, the smile disappeared from his son's face. Nicholas knew from experience what LaCroix's 'little talks' could be like when the elder vampire's temper was up.

"Yes, of course mom pere." He replied, hoping against hope that it was not going to be too bad.

TEN

Gunpowder's hooves rang out through the still night as Ichabod rode across the covered bridge. He had sent young Masbath back to the servant quarters to get some rest, and had decided to take a ride, more to clear his head than anything else.

After the gruelling events of the day, then meeting those three rather odd people at the Inn, he had needed some time to himself for a while.

Suddenly he stopped, he was certain he had heard a noise behind him. Swallowing nervously, he urged the old horse on. The noise was closer now. Hoofbeats, he was sure of it. Then a whinny of a horse.

"Who is there?" He called out, there was no answer. Then suddenly a dark horse came into view. And on it, a cloaked headless figure. There was something in his hand, Ichabod could not be sure what it was.

With a muffled curse, he kicked his horse up with the clear intention of of getting the hell out of there.

It was the other horse and rider gave chase. Down through the misty grove of trees, heart pounding wildly, Ichabod fled for his very life was Gunpowder fairly flying now.

But it was no good, the phantom horseman was gaining steadily on them. Panicked now, Ichabod pulled his horse up and turned to face the terrifying apparition.

It lifted up what looked like a flaming pumpkin, and threw it full forse at him. Ichabod was instantly knocked of his steed. He watched in helpless horror as the headless creature galloped past him.

His eyes rolled up in his head and the last thing he heard was ghostly mocking laughter. The laughter of Brom and several of his cronies as they chuckled over their prank.

Ichabod...Ichabod.The ghostly voice of his mother was calling to him, and once again he was a little boy, looking up at his mother's sweet form as she smiled at him.

The memory of a storm that frightened him, and the plaything that she showed to him to distract him from the thunder and lightning that raged outside.

A white circle with string tied to either side. It was red bird on one side and an empty cage on the other, twirled fast, it looked as though the bird was in the cage. Magic his mother had whispered...and so it seemed to his child's eyes.

Slowly he came to, finding himself once more in his bed. He walked dowstairs to get a drink of water, when he noticed a light coming from one of the rooms.

Slowly he pushed the door opened and saw that it was Kristina van Tassel.

"Oh pardon my intrusion I saw a light." He said. The he noticed that she slipped a book down between the cushions on the sofa on which she sat.

"There is no intrusion." She assured him. "I come here to read when I am wakeful."

"To read books that you must hide?" Ichabd could hear the stiffness in his tone and immediately regretted his words.

"They were my mother's books." Katrina answered him. "My father believes that tales of romance caused the brain fever that killed my mother. She died two years ago come mid winter. The nurse who cared for her during this sickness is now the Lady Van Tassel."
Ichabod frowned.

"There was something else too, why did no one think to mention that the Van Garretts are kith and kin to the Van Tassels?"

"Why, because there is hardly a household in Sleepy Hollow that is not connected to every other by blood or marriage."

Ichabod walked over to the window, looking out into the cold night beyond.

"This land we are looking at was Van Garrett land." Katrina continued as she joined him.

"Given to my father when I was in swaddling clothes. The Van Garretts were the richest family around these parts. When my father bought us to Sleepy Hollow he was given an acre of land and a small cottage. I remember living poor in the cottage. But my father worked hard for us. I owe my happiness to him."

Ichabod smiled at her, touched by her story.

"Would you like to see the cottage?" She asked suddenly, a smile curving her lips.

Ichabod agreed and they decided to ride out there the next day.

Then after taking his leave of Katrina, Ichabod returned to bed, still holding the book she had given to him. He did not sleep for a long time.

ELEVEN

Nicholas sat staring at the fire burning in the grate,throwing shadows over the walls. He was still sulking over the 'little talk' with LaCroix that had resulted in him being thrown up against the wall and a couple of stinging slaps applied to his face.

Then he was told in no uncertain terms that he was to stay at the inn while LaCroix and Janette went hunting. LaCroix knew how much Nicholas enjoyed the hunt but he was still angry at the blatent disobiedence his son had shown earlier.

"You will stay here marmot." LaCroix had ordered his favourite child.

"There are still two bottles of blood left, you can have that. Janette and I will return before dawn. Even think of disobeying me and you will receive the thrashing of your life. Is that understood?"

Nicholas sighed and turned to stare out of the window. He was fed up with being treated like a child. Perhaps it really was time that he left this little family.

He hated to leave Janette behind, but she would not
leave LaCroix. No, it would be best if he were just to up and disappear.

With his mind made up now, he began to formulate a plan.

TWELVE

Janette and LaCroix moved through the frozen woods like shadows. Nothing moved, no small nocturnal creatures out hunting or foraging for food. It was like moving through a painting. Finally Janette stopped.

"There is nothing out here LaCroix." She said. "Nothing at all."

LaCroix lifted his head, suddenly scenting something.

"Over here." he called to her.

She followed him a little further, yes now she could scent it as well. Fresh blood. They moved further into the forest,until they came to huge twisted tree.

Janette stared up at the gnarled trunk and the dead branches that stuck out towards the sky in silent screaming defiance.

"LaCroix." She whispered, a sudden chill ripple of fear shuddering through her.

"There is nothing here...let us go...please."

LaCroix shook his head. "There is something her ma cherie." He replied.

"Look over here." He pointed towards an old mound with a rusted sword sticking out of it. "I do believe that is where our friend,the horseman is buried."

"Then let us leave here Lacroix." Janette hissed. She was not normally a coward, but there was something about this place that was sending shivers through her. "Please mon pere."

"Wait a moment."

LaCroix held up his hand. Then in softer tones.

"Come over here."

Together they walked over to the tree. LaCroix reaching out to run his hand over the rough bark. The tree was warm to the touch. It was almost like living flesh.

"We should not be here." Janette griited through clenched teeth. "Please LaCroix, we can find elsewhere to hunt."

"This is it." LaCroix spoke softly. "This is where our horseman is. Why Janette this tree must lead to the very depths of hell itself."

"Are you not afraid?" Janette asked incredulously.

"Very little frightens me these days." LaCroix replied with a smile. "But come my love, you are afraid, that much I can see. We will get nourishment from the village instead."

They both turned to leave the cursed place when suddenly a deep rumbling began to issue up from the very ground they were standing on.

A loud snapping noise made them both turn and suddenly the tree opened up. A huge black shape leapt out of the tree, rushing past the astonished vampires and pouding away through the night.

"Hmmm,nice to know that I am correct after all." LaCroix mused. Then turning to Jeanette, he said.

"You ae right child, let us leave accursed place, we'll do our hunting elsewhere tonight."

THIRTEEN

The morning was crisp, a low fog covered the ground as Ichabod and Katrina both rode out to the site where a small cottage had once stood.

Dismounting his horse, Ichabod moved over to assist Katrina. With a smile, she leapt nimbly down from the sweet natured white horse she was riding.

"These are strange." She remarked looking at the small even round scars that covered the palms of both his hands.

"The markings, what are they?"

"I have had them ever since I can remember." He replied. Together they walked over the the remains of the cottage, carefully stepping around the debris.

Suddenly Katrina pointed to what had once been a hearth.

"I used to play here as a child". She exclaimed with a smile. "Oh see, the archer."

She pointed to a carving of an archer, standing with his legs apart, bow drawn. She knelt down and picking up a stick, began to draw odd looking designs in the sandy soil.

Ichabod watched her, there was something about the patterns she was inscibing. Something so familier...Suddenly a sweet piping from a nearby tree caught her attention.

"Oh look, a cardinal". She exclaimed. "I have always wanted a cardinal, but I would not have the heart to keep him in a cage."

Ichabod reached inside his jacket pocket, taking out the plaything that his mother had made for him.

Holding it up in front of her, he proceeded to twirl it in front of the enchanted girl.

"Magic!" She cried delightedly.

"No, optics." Ichabod replied. He then explained how the twirling pictures tricked the eyes. making two seperate pictures seem like one.

"It is truth." He finished. "But truth is not always appearance."

After they returned to the town. Ichabod saw the fair Katrina to her door, then looking in through a window, he noticed that the town elders were all standing, arguing violently with each other.

Phillips slipped out of the door and hurried over to where a donkey and cart waited.

Tossing the bag up with the others, he hurried down the road. Ichabod right behind him.

"What are you running from Magistrate Phillips?" He called out to the sweating rotund man.

Startled, Phillips stopped.

"Damn you Crane." He snarled.

"You were a mind to help me." Ichabod replied.

"Yes and it has put me in mortal dread." Phillips answered him coldly.

"Of what?" Ichabod was staring at the other man, confounded.

"Of powers against which there are no defence."

Ichabod sighed. This was becoming ridiculous now.

"You knew about the Widow Winchipp being with child". The words were almost an accusation.

"Yes, she told me." Phillips replied exasperated.

"Then I deduce that you are the father!"

Phillips rolled his eyes at that piece of stupidity. "I am not the father."

Quickly, aware of hour late the hour was growing; he explained the the Widow had come to him seeking advice on how she could protect the rights of her child.

Suddenly a nearby herd of sheep that had been peacefully grazing, now nudged and trembled against each other. Their bleating steadily becoming more urgent.

Ichabod glanced over at the stupid beasts impatiently. Then turned his attention back to the frightened magistrate.

"You believed the father killed her."

Phillips seemed about to utter an oath, then repressing it, replied. "The horseman killed her!"

"You a magistrate and your head filled with such nonsense." Ichabod suddenly noticed the ankh that hung from the bigger man's neck.

"What is that?"

"It is my talisman, it protects me from the horseman."

At that moment, a crack of thunder sounded practically over their heads. Followed by another sound, the thunder of hooves.

Phillips turned visibly pale. Ichabod frowned, what the hell was going on?

A jagged bolt of lightning lit up the sky, bringing up the Hessian in stark relief as it appeared.

"Oh my God." Horrified Phillips turned to run, that was when the massive black stallion bore down on him.

The sword flashed down and Phillips head spun around like a dervish, then dropped to the ground where it rolled than landed between Ichabod's sprawled legs. The dead eyes of the magistate stared sightlessly at the terrified young constable. Ichabod looked up at the sight of the headless horseman bearing down on him, sword flashing. It speared the head and holding it aloft galloped off towards the woods with his prize.

It all proved too much for the young constable. Ichabod's eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed senseless onto the moist grass.

FOURTEEN

"Constable Crane...Constable Crane." Van Tassel knocked on the door. Then turning to young Masbath and his daughter asked. "He has not come out at all?"

Both shook their heads. Van Tassel opened the door and entered, Katrina and Masbath behind him.

Ichabod sat huddled under the bedclothes as white as a sheet and trembling from head to foot.

"It was a headless horseman." He stammered out. His eyes wide with fear.

"You must not excite yourself." Van Tassel replied soothingly. The poor young man was nearly beside himself.

"But you don't understand." Ichabod cried. "It was a horseman...headless."

"Yes, that is why you are here." Van Tassel was beginning to fear for the constable's sanity now. perhaps his encounter with the Hessian had unhinged him.

"But you don't understand, you were not there." Ichabod replied wildly. "It is true, it's all true!"

"Yes,we told you...everyone told you." Van Tassel told him gently.

Ichabod opened his mouth to reply, then passed out, his head bumping against the wall.

Helplessly, they all looked down at him.

"Well, I suppose it is back to New York." Young Masbath remarked glumly.

The dream about his mother were more vivid this time. Ichabod could smell the sweetness of her skin, the softness of her hair.

He smiled in childish wonder as she spun laughing off the ground, the wind whipping the blossoms all around her.

Then the dream changed...darkened as a black robed figure threw his mother to the ground, pointing to something written in a large old book, the bible.

His mother sobbed and begged, but to no avail. The monster...*father*, dragged her pleading from the room.

Little Ichabod, terrible frightened and confused, followed behind them.

At the end of the chapel there was a room, a terrible room filled with dreadful things that he did not understand. His father had always forbidden entry into it. Hidden behind one of the pews, he watched as his father walked away, then he entered that room.

Desperate now, Ichabod searched for his mother. He backed into a chair that was covered in razor sharp spikes. Lifting his blood covered hands, too frightned to cry at his sudden injury.

Then he looked straight up into his mother's eyes, she was peering out from a huge iron figure.

The doors of the Iron maiden popped open and he watched speechless with horror as his mother's lifeless corpse fell out, gouts of blood gushing out all around her.

Ichabod sat up, the bedclothes falling off him. Sweat covering his face.

His father had murdered his mother, and he had been a witness to that murder.

With a new resolve strengthening his heart; he went downstairs where he could hear a hushed conversation.

"All right." Van Tassel was saying. "I will go to New York myself, I won't be fobbed off with an amatur deductor."

"This time it's a magistrate who is dead..."

"Gentlemen, I will need strong men to go with me into the Western Woods?" Ichabod said, his voice firm.

"You." Van Tassel looked up at the constable, amazed. "We thought you had shot your bolt."

"I am going into the Western woods to find the grave of this murdering ghost...who is with me?" Ichabod asked as he gazed at them all expectantly.

When no one answered, Masbath raised his hand. "Me."

FIFTEEN

Nicholas moved carefully, keeping the cloak wrapped tight around him. Even though it was growing dark, there was still a little sunlight left, as weak as it was, it could still burn him.

LaCroix and Janette were still sleeping, both preferring to wait until true darkness. He slipped into a barn, the smell of animals and fresh hay assailled him at once.

He moved about, his eyes easily being able to see in the darkness. Ah, yes, that would be perfect. A large piece of canvas was folded over a railing. He picked it up. This would come in handy if he could not find suitable shelter when the sun rose.

He gathered that and a few other things that he would be needing, then he slipped out of the barn as soundlessly as he had entered.

SIXTEEN

Ichabod sat across from the Crone, trying not to let his fear betray him. He and young Masbath had ridden through the silent woods until they had found her dwelling place.

The sight of the dismal cave was enough to make him want to turn back, but steeling himself, he and Masbath had ventured into the lion's den, as it were.

Making sure that the boy was safe outside, he had seated himself at the rough hewn table and the Crone began to make a vile looking potion.

"Do not worry child, when the Other comes, I will hold him."

Before Ichabod could ponder on who or what the 'other' was, the Crone went limp. Alarmed, Ichabod leaned forward. "Madam"?"

Nothing. Then louder. "Madam!"

Suddenly the Crone head sprang up, the tattered veil falling off the reveal a hidious counternance.

Snakes sprang from her eyes sockets and from between her lips.

Startled by her hideous appearance, Ichabod cried out in alarm and threw himself backwards. The Crone threw herself on top of him,her claw like hands digging into his flesh.

"Follow the trail of blood." She hissed. "Seek for him in the Western woods."

Close to panic now, Ichabod managed to push her off. Moving swiftly, he headed for the door.

"Seek him...seek the tree...." The witch's words followed him out of the wretched cave.

Masbath looked up as his master dashed out.

"We are leaving." Ichabod snapped as he hurried towards his horse. "We are leaving now!"

Seek for him in the Western Wood,near the tree of the dead. That was what that vile creature had told him, and that was exactly what he would do.

SEVENTEEN

"This time I am truly going to kill him!"

Janette watched as a fuming LaCroix paced up and down the small sitting room in the Inn. She had never seen him this angry before.

They had both woken to find Nicholas gone. He had taken only a few things with him, but Janette knew that her younger 'brother' had left for good.

"Of all the irresponsible,idiotic, mule headed..."

"Perhaps it is for the best LaCroix." Janette spoke up tentatively. "After all, if he is not happy with us..." LaCroix whirled around to glare at her and the words dried up in her throat.

"It is not for the best". He spat out furiously. "His place is with us, he knows that as well as you do."

Janette, not brave enough to argue with the enraged vampire, merely nodded.

"We are going to find him." Lacroix said, his voice suddenly calm. "And when we do..."

He let the rest of the sentence trail off. His meaning more than clear and Janette found herself feeling very sorry for Nicholas.

EIGHTEEN

Nothing moved in the woods, everything was eerily silent. Not even the small nocturnal creatures burrowing around in search of the evening meal.

Nicholas noted the stillness as he sat back against a sturdy old oak, the piece of canvas wrapped around him. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drained the contents, feeling the sweet ruby liquid slide down his parched throat.

After he finished the bottle off, he heaved the empty into a nearby bush, then leaned back against the tree once more.

His hunger was sated for a while, but he would have to hunt, and soon. Not an easy task knowing that his sire would probably be searching for him by now. And the last person he wanted to run into was a extremely pissed off ex- Roman general by the name of Lucian LaCroix.

Nicholas decided to wait until it was fully dark, then he would feed. Then after that, he would fly to the next town and wait for a carriage to take him back to New York.

Happy with his plan, he pulled the canvas even tighter around his lean frame. He could not take any sunlight at all, and even this weak late evening light was distinctly uncomfortable again his pale skin.

The thick canopy of trees and the canvas made it tolerable, but he would feel a lot happier when true night decended. He close his eyes, begining to doze, when he heard the sound of hoofbeats, and voices.

Nicholas sat up, it was the constable, what was his name? That's right, Ichabod Crane and his servant, Masbath.

Nicholas pushed himself under a large thicket behind him. He could not afford to be discovered by anyone in case LaCroix was making inquiries as to the whereabouts of a certain young ex-crusader.

Who, he was certain would shortly become an ex-vampire if his sire ever got hold of him.

"This must be it."

They both stopped in front of the tree and dismounted. They approached the gnarled twisted trunk. Tentatively, Ichabod reached out to touch it.

"The tree of the dead."

Nicholas watched as the Constable walked around the tree, examining everything. Then he found the old grave, the sword, now rusted and tarnished still stuck deeply in the ground marking the resting place of the Hessian mercenary.

Ichabod walked back to where his horse was tied and opened one of the saddlebags. Nicholas saw him take out a small sturdy looking hatchet and carry it back to the tree. Ichabod then began to hack away at the base of the tree, gasping as blood, thick and warm splattered over his face and hands.

All three of them gasped at the sight of the severed heads as they were disgorged from the depths of the tree.

Ichabod's jaw clenched and he turned away. Nicholas watched, now completely facinated as the Constable took a small spade and began to dig away at the grave as nearby, his young servant watched wide eyed.

It did not take that long for Ichabod to uncover the skeleton of the Hessian.

"See young Masbath, the head is gone, taken, so he rises each night to take heads in place of his own."

Nicholas frowned puzzled, what would be the point of that? After all, it would not replaced his own head....would it? Just then, a flash of colour caught Nicholas's eye, there was someone else here in the woods with them.By the scent, a young female.

Ichabod drew his pistol and went to investigate.
"Stand whoever you are."
The figure on horseback turned towards the frightened young constable and drew back the hood of the thick cloak that she was wearing; revealing her face

"Katrina."

Filled with delighted surprise, Ichabod hurried over to the young woman. She dismounted and walked over to the tree, her face was pale, but resolute.

Nicholas smiled, so it seemed that the Van Tassel girl had quite a backbone, coming into these haunted woods even if it meant having to face down a terrifying apparition.

The constable was a lucky young man indeed to have the admiration of such a courageous and lovely young woman.

The young vampire watched as they spoke, but he could not quite catch what was being said, well no matter for soon he would be far away from this place and all it's cave dwelling witches and headless ghosts.

Speaking of which, the ground had started to tremble. Nicholas started. It seemed that the Hessian was coming and with this intrepid young trio right in front of his tree, things could become interesting.

With a loud snapping, the roots began to writhe away from the base of the tree and and a massive black horse with rider atop leapt from the trunk.

Katrina, Ichabod and Masbath watched in horror as the headless horseman raced past them, not even sparing them as much as a glance.

Interesting, Nicholas thought. Three juicy young victims practically at his feet and he rides right by them like they don't exist.

Ichabod and his small but intrepid band soon followed. Nicholas stood for a moment, undecided, then his natural thirst for adventure won out. He took flight and followed them as they all headed back towards the town.

It had grown late now and most of the good townspeople were indoors, no doubt huddled by their fires, wondering what was going to happen this night.

The horseman was heading for one home in particular. The Killians. Nicholas's feet lightly touched the soil and he hurried around the corner of a house, watching as the Headless Horseman dismounted and strode over towards the cheerfully lit house.

Inside the Killians were going about their business. Nicholas moved closer, watching as The Hessian smashed his way through the door to begin his grisly work.

"He passes by three convenient victims to ride all the way into town to take the Killians." Nicholas murmered. "This creature does not kill at random, he is choosing who he decapitates."

Moving carefully, he slipped closer to the house, watching through the windows as first Killian was killed, then his pretty young wife.

The desperate young woman had hidden the boy who looked to be about four or five under the floor. What had she called him....Thomas.

Nicholas suddenly felt sorry for the child. He was still deciding whether he should intervene or not when a heavy hand decended onto his shoulder.

"And where exactly have you been Nicholas?"

Nicholas felt his stomach plummet into his boots. Perhaps coming back to the town had not been such a good idea after all.

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes knowing that this was not going to be pretty.

LaCroix moved to stand in front of him, waiting for an answer, his eyes blazing red.

Before his errant son could answer, a terrified scream sounded, then it was cut short.

Lacroix's head swivelled in the direction that the scream had come from.

"Hmm, it seems that our headless friend has been busy tonight." He observed.

It was then that a the tall menacing figure strode out of the front door, the sack it had gripped in it's hand bulging.

Both vampires could see the bloom of red that was rapidly spreading over the dirty material.

"He has just slaughted the Killians." Nicholas said, his voice sounded strained. "He just slaughtered them like they were sheep."

"It is nothing to do with us Nicholas." His sire replied firmly. "But what does concern us both is the fact that you ran away like some sort of spoilt brat. Whatever were you thinking"?

Nicholas shook his head,this was so typical of LaCroix, an entire family had just been murdered and he did not seem to give a damn. Suddenly there was a loud cry. It was Brom.

Both LaCroix and Nicholas turned to watch as the blacksmith stood in front of the Hessian, blocking his path.

"The fool." LaCroix said under his breath.

They both watched as a resolute Brom drew his sword.

"He does not have stand a chance!" Nicholas cried, he clutched at LaCroix's arm. "We have to help him".

"Why?" LaCroix asked. "It seems that he fancies his chances against that horror, let him fight, if that's what he wants. Not that he will win of course."

Nicholas let loose a string of archaic French curses and was about to stride over to where Brom was standing,when he felt a restraining hand on his arm.

"Leave it Nicholas." The ancient vampire growled.

Furious now, he whirled on LaCroix, his eyes already changing.

"No, this is an ill matched fight and I plan to even the odds somewhat."

With that, he pulled his arm from LaCroix's grasp.

"He has help...look".

Nicholas turned to see that the young constable standing next to Brom now, his pale face grim and determined.

Nicholas turned back to his sire. "I shall lend my help as well LaCroix, I would hate to see such an one-sided fight after all."

LaCroix snorted in disgust but said nothing. Determined now, Nicholas stode over to where the Headless Horseman was standing, still clutching his grisly burden.

Both Brom and Ichabod looked surprised to see the young man who seemed to come from nowhere. With a short nod, Nicholas took his place beside Ichabod. He did not have a weapon, but his vampire's strength would serve him well enough.

LaCroix watched as his 'son' braced himself, preparing to fight. He shook his head in sheer frustration. As a Roman general he had fought in Gaul against the Barbarians. In a thick forest not dissimiliar from this place, and once he had returned to Pompey he had sworn never to have to face another Germanic warrior again.

Well, so much for that.

The Hessian went to stride past the three young men, completely unmindful of them. Brom cursed, and pulling out his flintlock pistol, fired point blank at the Horseman.

The Hessian recoiled slightly at the impact of the shot; then kept striding on.

Seeing his chance, Nicholas leapt forward grabbing the Horseman and spinning him around to face him.

"Hold fast you monster." He snarled.

In response, The Hessian slapped him away as though he were a insect.

Brom drew his sword and lunged at the Hessian. The creature parried with ease, knocking away Brom's energetic blows. That was when Ichabod leapt into the fray and ended up sprawled on his back beside Nicholas.

The Horseman turned and started heading towards his mount. Brom, determined to stop this horror noticed acouple of short handled scythes; grabbing them, he moved towards the Hessian.

Ichabod managed to climb to his feet. Grabbing Brom, he gasped out

"No, he is not after you".

"I will get him"," Brom growled as shook the constable off and stalked towards the Hessian.

Nicholas grabbed Ichabod's arm. "He does not kill at random." He hissed. "He chooses his victims."

Ichabod stared at him, bewildered. "But to what purpose?"

Before Nicholas could answer, there was a loud cry. They watched with horror as Brom staggered back, a large hunting knife sticking out of his thigh.

Then galvanized into action, they both raced over to help the injured blacksmith.

Brom gasped with pain as he pulled the knife out of his leg. Ichabod winced at the sight of the gaping wound. The smell of blood was like an intoxicant to Nicholas, he licked his lips and quickly turned away.

Ichabod instantly felt for the young man, it seemed that he was another one that found the sight of blood distasteful.

The Hessian went to stride pass them once more obviously done with them.

"Oh no you don't!" Nicholas launched himself at the horseman grabbing him by the shoulders intent on pulling the monster down to the ground. Instead he felt himself lifted up bodily and the next thing he knew, he had landed in the freezing river.

Letting loose a string of words that would have made a sailor blush, Nicholas flailed through the water, heading towards the riverbank. He felt a pair of strong hands grip both his arms and he was pulled out of the water.

LaCroix quickly lifted his son onto the ground, smiling slightly as the younger vampire coughed and spluttered with pure indignation.

"Relax Nicholas, he is gone." LaCroix said calmly.

"Gone?" Nicholas asked, astounded. He could not have been in the water for more than a few minutes.

"Hmm yes, he killed that young blacksmith and mortally wounded the constable. Then he took his leave of us."

"Brom...Crane..." Nicholas said, stunned. He had started to like both of these young men. Now one was dead and the other probably dying while he stood dripping on his sire's boots.

"The constable has been taken back to the Van Tassel house." LaCroix told his 'son', nodding towards the large well lit house.

"I must see how he is." Nicholas made a move towards the Van Tassel home, LaCroix gently but firmly pulled him back.

"The only place you are going is back to the Inn." He said, his tone brooking no argument.

"You have no idea how worried Janette has been about you."

Nicholas stared at his sire, then sighed. It was no use. LaCroix was older and much stronger than him. He had no choice but to go with him. So, with one hand firmly gripping his shoulder, Nicholas was steered back towards the Inn.

NINETEEN

Ichabod lay on the soft down mattress, sweat soaking the sheets and pillows underneath him.

Both Balthus and his wife stood beside his bed, identical looks of concern on their faces.

The doctor examined the constable, then sat back with a sigh.

"This wound should have killed him." He said with a shake of his head. He pulled the sheet back over the young man, covering the dreadful gash on his shoulder.

Ichabod woke then, his eyes glazed with fever, reaching up, he grabbed Balthus Van Tassell.

"The horseman." He gasped out. "He does not kill at random...he chooses his victims..."

"You must not alarm yourself." He spoke soothingly to the wounded. Ichabod sighed and laid back against the sweat soaked pillow.

While he was sleeping fitfully, downstairs Katrina stirred a large cauldron that bubbled over a cheerfully blazing fire.

Carefully she added a raven's claw and a few herbs that she had gathered herself. After the concoction was ready, she poured it into a mug and carried it upstairs to the constable.

Ichabod sipped it, the bitter potion sliding down his throat, it numbed the pain, making it a little more bearable.

Katrina reached out to smooth his dark hair away from his sweat slicked brow. It had been touch and go for a while.

The Horseman's blade had bitten deep and she feared that the wound would become infected. But with the potion that she had made; the wound had started to heal quite well. And as for poor Brom.

Katrina sighed, poor Brom. She would miss him very much. Saddened, she stared out of the window. She had loved the brave young blacksmith...but somehow she did not feel quite so bereft at losing him.

She glanced back at Ichabod, and a small smile touched her lips.

TWENTY

"So besides the fact you have decided to try and get yourself killed, what other plans have you made this evening?"
Nicholas looked at his Sire, wallowing hard. e had to face up to it, there was no getting out of this one.

"LaCroix..." He began nervously.

No mon fils, whatever you have to say, I do not want to hear it. What you have done has been inexcusable. Running away like a spoilt little boy who could not get his own way. Putting yourself into danger like that. What in hell's name were you thinking of?"

"LaCroix..." Nicholas began again. Angrily, his sire cut him off.

"I am not interested in your petty excuses Nicholas. This time you have gone to far." LaCroix was almost incandesent with rage now.

"When I was a general with the Roman Legion, I spent most of my time fighting these Germanic savages. And that was when they were still mortal. Now you take one on that is undead and on the rampage!"

Alarmed now, Nicholas took a step back. This was getting completely out of hand. he had never seen his sire so angry.

"And then, I finally mansge to get a posting back in Pompey There I was looking forward to some peace and quiet and what happens the bloody volcano erupts."

Nicholas glanced towards the door, wondering if he would be able to make it before LaCroix noticed. Then wisely decided against it.

"After all I have been through in my life I should at least be able to expect a little peace and quiet, but oh no, my idiot son has to decide to run away, straight into that demon's lair, then to add to the fun he decides to take him on in a fight and ends up nearly drowning like a kitten in the damned river."

Nicholas sighed inwardly. This was becoming downright ugly now. It had been a long time since he had heard his 'father' waxing so lyrical on his child's stupidity.

Suddenly he found himself wishing that he had done the smart thing and had just kept heading out of the town and towards...anywhere.

LaCroix took a deep breath in an effort to try and calm himself. That was when Nicholas made that one fatal mistake. He tried explain everything to his sire.

Janette, who had been sitting in a large overstuffed chair quietly reading and trying to ignore the argument in the next room looked up at the loud thump that made the pictures on the wall rattle.

With a deep sigh, she returned to her book.

TWENTY ONE

"It's no use arguing or sulking Nickolai." Janette chided as she packed the last of her gowns into the trunk.

LaCroix has decided that he has had enough of this place, and quite frankly. So have I."

Nicholas opened his mouth to snap at Janette, then thought better of it. She was right after all. LaCroix was still angry at the younger vampire for his reckless behaviour and he had decided it was time to depart this 'cursed town' as LaCroix referred to it.

He had insisted that they both pack and he had orded a coach to take them to Boston,from there they could return to France....or perhaps England. Anywhere that did not have headless ghouls running about.

But he was still miffed at being thrown across the room.

Now rebellion was burning in his heart. Silently he vowed that he would get away from LaCroix, and this time he would keep right on going.

Suddenly a loud shriek echoed through the quiet street below.

"The Horseman!" Both Nicholas and LaCroix hurried over to the window. Below it was pandemonium. People were racing into the church screaming.

Women were clutching crying babies and small children, trying to hustle them inside.

"What the hell..." LaCroix muttered.

"The Horseman."Nicholas cried out, grabbing LaCroix's arm. "Look, he has returned."

Sure enough, the Horseman appeared, sword in hand. Without warning, Ignoring his 'father's infuriated cry, Nicholas pushed open the casement window and leapt out, landing safely onto the dirt road below.

The Horseman swept right by him and headed for the church.

"So your prey in in there is it?" Nicholas said with a grim smile. "Then let us meet there my friend."

"Nicholas!"

The young vampire ignored his Sire and set out towards the church, LaCroix in hot pursuit. Helplessly Janette rolled her eyes, then she too set out after her 'little brother', more out of the desire to stop LaCroix from killing him once and for all then anything else.

The church was filled with terrified people all milling about,completely helpless. A few of the townsmen took action and smashed the glass windows to fire at the dreadful appartition.

The Horseman rode around the church just outside the picket fence. Lifting a short handled axe, he threw it over the fence where it struck the ground,and instantly dissolved.

Ichabod and Nicholas both saw this. "Hallowed ground." Ichabod gasped. "He can't cross onto hallowed ground.

LaCroix grabbed Nicholas, giving his errant son a rough shake. "What in the devil's name do you think you are doing?"

Before Nicholas could frame a reply; there was a loud explosion. Both men turned in time to see the Reverend Steenwyck fall to the ground.

Balthus Van Tassell was waving his pistol at the shocked crowd.

"There is a conspiracy here and I shall root it out!" He then headed up the stairs, daring anyone to try and stop him.

Everyone watched with horror as Van Tassell stood in front of the window, still clutching the pistol.

Without warning, the window crashed inward spreading shards of broken glass everywhere. Van Tassell looked down, horrified at the sight if a fence post sticking out of his chest.

Blood was rapidly spreading across the front of his shirt.

White faced, Katrina screamed and collapsed as her father was yanked backwards out of the window and out into the churchyard below.

The horseman then pulled on the rope that the fence post had been tied to, dragging the helpless man's head through the gap in the fence.

With a flash, the sword whickered down and the Horseman made off with his prize. Inside the church, the townsfolk, badly shocked and frightened milled helplessly about.

Frantically, Ichabod had dashed up the stairs in a futile attempt to rescue Balthus Van Tassell. He witnessed the brutal slaying and sickened he had turned away. Peering over the balcony, he saw Katrina lying in a dead faint on the floor, and gasped as he saw a large magic symbol that she had marked with piece of pink chalk that she still held in her hand.

It was the same symbol that had been under his bed. he had seen it when young Masbath had moved the bed in order to kill a spider.

Nicholas's eyes widened, he too saw the symbol on the rough wood floor,and he recognized it immediately.

He had seen the exact same sign when he had been a Knight on the Holy Crusades. It had been when he had visited a small English village. This was powerful magic indeed.

"We must go...now." Janette hissed as she pulled at LaCroix's arm. "Come, this whole business is becoming madness. Soon the townspeople will turn on anyone in their fear, we cannot risk being here another minute."

LaCroix nodded. "As usual,you are right my daughter." LaCroix had lived for many centuries and he had seen dreadful things. The Great Plague...The Inquisition, famines that had devastated whole villages. And always, the people suffering needed someone to blame. Someone that they could take their fears and frustrations out on. And LaCroix had no intention of allowing him or his children to become scrapegoats for these people's terror of the unknown.

Without another word, LaCroix grabbed his 'son' and roughly hustled him towards the door, Janette following close behind.

They headed back towards the Inn, LaCroix's face set in grim lines. At first he had found the situation somewhat amusing, but not any more. Too much blood had been shed, even for his liking.

The Inn was empty, everyone had fled to the church, and now they were returning to their homes to try and protect their families as much as they could. But how could you protect yourself and your own from such a monster?

"Come, we will finish packing and then be off." LaCroix said, his tone brooking no argument.

"Oh Mr LaCroix, such dreadful goings on". The Landlady wailed as she hurried through the door.

"The Horseman has taken Mr Van Tassel....such a good man, a godfearing man. What ever shall become of us all?"

"A terrible tragedy indeed." LaCroix replied somewhat shortly, the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with the woman's hysterics right now. There was little enough time as it was.

The Landlady wrung her hands distressed. "Such dreadful goings on." She repeated, and with that, she headed to the comfort of her large cheerful kitchen once more.

LaCroix, Nicholas and Janette watched her go. Then LaCroix turned to his 'children'.

"Pack what you need, leave everything else behind, we are leaving...now."

"But my gowns, my new cloaks." Janette protested.

LaCroix laid a hand on her shoulder firmly.

"Janette, clothes and gee gaws can be replaced, but your head cannot."

"But..."

"Janette, tonight we witnessed a man being impaled with a fence post, dragged through a church window and decapitated, I would take that as an omen that we should leave. Don't you?" LaCroix replied calmly.

Janette opened her mouth to reply, then seeing the sense of LaCroix's words, closed it again. After all, she had been wanting to leave this place from the beginning.

The three of them went upstairs to their respective rooms to pack. Nicholas dragging behind just a little, in his mind, a plan was already beginning to hatch.

TWENTY TWO

Ichabod walked down the stairs slowly. His wound was just about healed but he still felt weak and sore.

The Van Tassell house was quiet. Balthus dead, and his wife as well, both victims of the Horseman. And Katrina, he frowned.

Ever since he had discovered that it was her that drew that mark under his bed, his feelings towards her had...well, changed.

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to just leave. The coachman would not come near the town, but there was a man in the town that had a small coach. Ichabod made up his mind, he would leave today.

Once he had reported back to his superiors, he would be able to wash his hands of the whole thing. Forget it and be done with it....and her.

With these thoughts going through his mind, he went back upstairs to his garrett room and began to pack. Young Masbath watched as his master carried his valise and equipment bag down stairs.

"Master Crane?"

Ichabod offered the young man a smile.

"You are leaving then?"

"It is time for me to return to New York Mabath." Ichabod told the boy gently.

"But what of ...." He stopped,looking meaningfully at his master.

"She will be fine I assure you." Ichabod replied firmly.

"But she cares for you." Masbath burst out angrily.

Before Ichabod could reply. Masbath contnued. "She is kind and she loves you."

"Perhaps but she is a witch."

"A strange kind of witch that has a good heart." The boy stubbornly continued.

Ichabod turned to face his young servant." You will find young Masbath that wickedness wears many faces and that beauty is not always as it seems." With that, the constable turned and headed towards the small carriage that he had been able to procure.

Masbath watched Ichabod go, his heart heavy with sadness at the way life seemed to cause so much hurt for such good people.

TWENTY THREE

Katrina sat in her favourite chair, her heart heavy, book held listlessly in her hand. She had seen the small coach pull up and take Ichabod Crane from her life.

Then hearing a noise, Katrina looked, saw who it was, then fainted dead away.

Lady Van Tassell smiled down at her still figure.

"Why step-daughter, you look as though you have seen a ghost."

Then a cold predatory smile touched the woman's lips.

TWENTY FOUR

With a soft groan, Katrina slowly came to. Slowly, she sat up, her head spinning, then everything came into focus.

She looked around at the strange room that she found herself in. This was not the comfortable sitting room that she had been reading in. It was the mill.

"What?" She gasped, then caught sight of her step mother as she knelt in front of a blazing fire.

"Come my dark avenger." She whispered as she tossed a lock of Katrina's fair hair into the flames.

"Arise and claim a head for a head. This night come for...Katrina."

The young woman sat up, her face pale with shock.

"I thought you were dead." She whispered. "Father told me that the Horseman had taken you."

"No." Lady Van Tassel replied with a gentle smile. "No, your Father saw the Horseman approach me with his sword unsheathed, but it is I that controls the Horseman my dear, and Balthus did not stay to watch."

"You." Katrina's mouth dropped open as the truth hit her. "It has been you all along."

Lady Van Tassel nodded, preening at her step daughter's astonishment.

"Ah yes my dear." She replied with a smile of pure smugness.

"But why?"

"My family's name was Archer." Lady Van Tassel began.

Katrina gasped. "The archer." A sudden image of the engraving of the archer on the back of the fireplace at the old cottage flashed into her mind.

"I lived in that cottage with my father, mother and sister. My father took ill and died, so our Landlord, Van Garrett, despite my father's hard work and loyalty threw us out. He then gave our home and acre of land to your father and his simpering wife and girl child."

Katrina could hear the bitterness in the older woman's voice. "My mother was suspected of witchcraft so none of the towns people would take us in. Finally we lived in a cave deep within the Western Woods. We were shunned by all. My mother died within the year, leaving only my sister and myself to fend for ourselves. The Lady Van Tassel stopped and cocked her head, regarding her young step daughter. Katrina stared back at her blue eyes cold now.

"One morning, my sister and I were gathering firewood in the forest, when we came upon the Hessian." The woman continued.

"There he was ambushed and as he was beheaded, I prayed to the Devil himself, the he would send someone to avenge me. My prayers were answered."

She smiled sardonically. Katrina felt a thrill of terror ripple through her as she realized that the woman that she had called step mother was not completely sane.

"It was a simple matter of regaining all that I had lost." She continued. "I entered your father's house as your mother's sick nurse, then it was a simple matter of putting your mother's body in the ground and mine in the marriage bed."

"Well, you have everything now." Katrina replied bitterly.

"No, you have my dear, by your father's will."

With that, she approached Katrina, who shrank back from her. "I inherit everything....on your death."

TWENTY FIVE

Ichabod stared out of the carriage window, utterly miserable. He took the toy out of his coat pocket, twirling it. Then he stopped, his eyes widening.

Illusion, that is what he had called it. A trick of the eyes. Oh my good god.

Suddenly he stuck his head out of the window.

"Driver, turn the horses around!"

As soon as they had returned to the town. Ichabod raced into the makeshift morgue. There the two bodies, those of Balthus van Tassel and his wife lay side by side.

He lifted the woman's hand, the one with long cut in the middle of the palm. The cut that he had seen her inflict upon herself when she had been lying with the Reverend Steenwyck.

"There is no sign of bleeding, or healing, when this cut was made, this woman was already dead."

The realization of what he was seeing hit him like a blow to the stomach and quickly he dropped her hand back down, the arm flopping limply.

It was all falling into place. Katrina, he had to find Katrina.

TWENTY SIX

LaCroix led his two 'children into a large stable. The Van Garrett's were a prosperous family and owned some of the best horses in the town.

Janette was grumbling to herself, she had had to leave most of her belongings behind, but LaCroix had promised to buy her a whole new wardrobe as soon as they returned to civilization, as he put it.

"Here are a couple of fine steeds." LaCroix said, pointing to a large bay stallion and a dapple grey mare. For himself, he chose a magnificent chestnut stallion that sported a white blaze down his chest.

"Hey, what are you three up to!" A small stocky man came charging into the stable. He was the head groomsman.

"We have permission to be here." LaCroix replied calmly.

"I do not think so." The man snarled. "What I see are a couple of horse thieves myself."

LaCroix smiled at the irate man almost gently. The man, startled took a step backwards, not sure whether to fight or flee. But soon it was all over, the three of them wiping the blood from their lips.

Stepping over the lifeless body of the groomsman, the three of them quickly saddled the horses, and soon they were on their way out of the small town of Sleepy Hollow.

TWENTY SEVEN

Ichabod arrived at the mill, his heart racing. He had finally been able to piece all of it together. God, why had he not been able to see it before. He could only hope that he was not to late.

He burst into the mill, only to be greeted by the sight of Katrina and Masbath huddled together, facing an obviously deranged Lady Van Tassel.

Suddenly the sound of hoofbeats sent a chill through his heart. It was the Horseman.

The Lady Van Tassel looked up. "Ah, you are just in time to have your head cut off." She said almost pleasantly. "Come on."

Ichabod grabbed Katrina and Masbath, hurrying them towards the door, away from the insanely grinning woman. The three of them made it outside, only to be greeted by the sight of the sword wielding Hessian.

Trapped now, they raced back inside.

"Watch your heads." A chuckling Lady Van Tassel said, as they closed the doors.

Ichabod, Katrina and Masbath threw sacks of grain against the doors as the Hessian tried to push them open. Finally, Ichabod shoved a long handled spade through the door handles, and then the three of them raced up the rickety stairs towards the roof of the the windmill.

A sword blade poked through the narrow space between the door, slicing through the wooden handle of the spade as though it were butter. The doors crashed inwards and The Hessian strode towards the fleeing figures.

TWENTY EIGHT

Furiously LaCroix drove his horse towards the road heading towards New York. He knew that there was no way he would make it to the city before daylight, but there was a couple of smaller villages that they could stop at until it was safe to travel once more.

He knew that it was easier and quicker to fly, but the weather had been treacherous lately. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the middle of a thunderstorm, or worse still, a blizzard.

No it was safer by horseback, for the moment anyway. Suddenly he pulled his mount up, checking the direction, Janette pulling up beside him.

"Ah, this is the best way I think." He mused. "What do you think Nicholas?"

He turned to his 'son' only to find that Nicholas was no where to be found.

"Janette, where in hell's name did he go?"

Janette looked around, puzzled. "He was riding just behind me." She replied.

"Oh no." Lacroix breathed, he could feel the rage building up inside him.

"This time he will pay for this."

Nicholas in the meantime had decided to take a slightly different route. He had followed LaCroix and Janette as far as the main road, then he had turned off and ridden back towards the town. There he had veered off, riding until he reached the mill.

The sight that greeted him was one straight out of Hell.

Flames engulfed the windmill, illuminating the scene, throwing everything into stark relief.

The constable, Katrina Van Tassel and the young servant Masbath had managed somehow to climb up onto the sails of the windmill, leaping to the ground.

Desperately, they raced towards the waiting coach, just as a tremendous explosion shook the ground.

Nicholas, cursed, ducking his head as bits of debris flew about his head. The Bay whinnied and paced back nervously. That was when he caught sight of the lady Van Tassel, standing to one side, watching the drama unfold. Nicholas saw that she was clutching something in her hand.

White bone gleamed in the moonlight. It was a skull.

"It has been her all along." He marvelled. "She has been controlling the Horseman."

Just then, the Hessian strode through the smashed doors, unmarked by the flames within.

Katrina saw him, gasping. "He is still alive."

"That is the trouble,he was dead to begin with." Ichabod replied grimly.

The three of them clamboured up onto the coach, the Constable grabbing the reins. With a flick, the coach began hurtling down the rough path, into the woods.

The Hessian mounted his huge black steed and was soon hard after them.

"They do not have a chance." Nicholas breathed.

Kicking his own horse up, he followed all four of them into the woods.

LaCroix and Janette heard the explosion. Seeing the flames shooting up into the night sky, they immediately headed towards the mill.

They both arrived in time to catch sight of a coach barrelling down the rutted track,carrying the Constable, the Van Tassel girl and the young servant.

"What the..." Lacroix heard Janette gasp. Then then watched as the Hessian streaked past, the horses covering the ground with tremendous strides.

"LaCroix, what is going on?" Janette sounded frightened. Something that he had not heard for quite some time.

LaCroix was about to reply, when Nicholas came into full view, riding heel for lather after the others.

"Nicholas!" LaCroix bellowed, but his son, not hearing or for that matter even seeing him, disappeared into the Western Woods.

Without another word, LaCroix wheeled his mount around and soon he was following his 'son' heel for leather. Janette uttered a soft moan, and seeing no other option, headed after LaCroix.

TWENTY NINE

Ichabod clung like grim death to the reins as the terrified horses pounded along the road.

He risked a glance backwards and saw a sight that chilled him.

The Headless Horsman was right behind them and catching up fast.

Damn, there was nothing else for it.

"Jump!"

Both Katrina and Masbath leapt onto the horses backs, both of them clinging onto their harnesses for their lives.

Ichabod dropped the reins and turned to face the headless horror as it finally reached the coach and started to clambour up onto the roof.

Terrified, but determined, the Constable stood firm, his only thought was to protect the young woman that he had falled in love with.

The Hessian grabbed Ichabod and threw him down, both of them fighting desperately.

Ichabod tried to get a grip on the creatures throat, but there was nothing there to grab hold of. How in God's name do you kill something that is already dead?

The Hessian rose up, sword raised to strike.

"Katrina, my bag!"

The medical bag blocked the blow of the sword and Ichabod managed to knock the Hessian from the roof of the coach.

Standing up, he peered around, trying to work out where the creature had gone.

Katrina glanced over her shoulder.

"Ichabod...look out".

He saw the low over hanging branch too late and it knocked him clean off the coach....and onto the Hessian's steed Daredevil.

Nicholas watched this with a mixture of increadulous mirth and horror.

"Good grief, how has he managed to survive this long?" He muttered. Then urged his horse to go even faster.

He watched as Ichabod spun around on the horse, grabbing the flapping reins. Then he noticed the figure clad in back armour being dragged behind the coach. Ichabod leaned over the horse and grabbed the back railing of the coach,pulling himself back onto it.

He stepped on the Hessian's back, using the undead creature to climb back onto the coach.

Nicholas shook his head in sheer disbelief, unsure of whether Ichabod was increadibly brave, or monumentally stupid.

Daredevil galloped alongside the coach, the Hessian grabbing hold of the reins and pulling himself back onto the horse.

He climbed back onto the coach,intent on mayhem. Suddenly Nicholas watched as the coach gave a wrenching lurch, then it broke apart. The Hessian still stuck on top of the coach.

Ichabod grabbed the splintered harness frame and as dragged away,while the coach and the horseman crashed into a large tree.

Nicholas pulled his horse up, watching as the Horseman was flung from the coach. Then said coach flipped over and landed squarely on top of the Hessian, who flung it off as though it was no more than a gnat.

Nicholas swallowed hard. It seemed that nothing was able to stop this monster.

"Nicholas!"

The younger vampire closed his eyes. "Oh no,please not that...anything but that."

LaCroix pulled his sweating mount up beside his 'son'. He was absolutlely livid.

"What in all that is holy do you think you are doing?" His sire roared. Janette pulled up beside the both of them, her dark hair streaming over her shoulders.

"Nickolai, have you lost your mind?"

Before he could answer either one of them. The Lady Van Tassel rode into view.

"She is the one." Nicholas said. "Van Tassel's wife. She is the one that controls the Horseman. She must be a witch."

"How do you know that?" LaCroix snapped furiously.

"Because she posesses his skull, I saw it."

"Well that does not matter, none of this has anything to do with us. I told you that before Nicholas, but yet again you chose to disobey me and run off. This time I am going to..." He stopped at the sound of a gunshot.

"It came from over there." Janette said pointing towards a small clearing.

LaCroix recognized it at once, it was where that hellish tree was.

They rode a short way in the direction of where the shot came from. Nicholas took in the scene at once.

The Hessian had Katrina gripped tightly against him, his sword unsheathed and ready to strike.

Lady Van Tassell was lying prone on the ground,completely unconscious. Nicholas went to urge his horse forward, but was stopped.

"No Nicholas, this time you will not interfere." LaCroix said firmly. "This is between them, it is nothing to do with us."

Nicholas chose wisely not to argue, he was in enough trouble already.

"Here horseman, here is your head." Ichabod tossed the sharp toothed skull at the Hessian neatly caught it. Pushing Katrina away, the Horseman lifted the skull and placed it upon the ragged remains of his neck.

The effect was instantanious. The Hessian let out a gurgled roar as flesh and sinew grew back over the bare bone of the skull.

The three vampires watched,shock and curiousity warring with each other. None of them had ever seen anything like this in their extremely long lives.

The Hessian straightened up his fine, rather ascetic features,once more intact.

He whirled to face the three frightened people in front of him. He stared at them, his eyes blazing with a demonic light.

Just then his steed, Daredevil trotted up to him, whinnying softly. The Hessian seemed almost to smile, as he caressed his horse gently along the finely shaped neck.

Then without a word, he swung up into the saddle and wheeled the horse around.

Ichabod, Katrina and Masbath, watched as the Horseman, no longer headless, rode past. He stopped beside Lady Van Tassel, looking down at her still form.

Then, he leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, settling her down on the saddle in front of him.

LaCroix, Nicholas and Janette watched spellbound as the drama played out before them.

Lady Van Tassel began to stir, slowly coming to.

"She is in for one hell of a shock." LaCroix muttered under his breath. Shock was not the word for it. The look of sheer terror on the woman's face, was enough.

She opened her mouth to scream. The Hessian swooped down, kissing the woman deeply on her mouth.

When he lifted his head. His mouth was smeared with blood. Her blood. She whimpered as a thick stream ran from her shredded lips.

Ichabod went white and clutched Katrina even closer to him.

"She belongs to him now." LaCroix said softly. Janette nodded in silent agreement.

Suddenly, there was a sharp snapping and they all turned towards the tree, the roots were writhing back as the portal opened.

Lady Van Tassel, realizing her fate, let out a scream of pure fear and hoplessness.

Katrina moved forward as though to help the hapless woman. Ichabod pulled her back. There was nothing anyone could do. She was indeed his now.

The Horseman wheeled his mount around,then with an unearthly cry, plunged headlong into the tree, taking Lady Van Tassel down to the depths of hell with him.

The three mortals approached the tree, Ichabod swallowing hard. There in the trunk was a small pale item.

A female hand, with a long cut down the middle of the palm.

Eyes rolling up in his head, Ichabod swooned dead away. Katrina and Masbath watching helplessly.

LaCroix turned to both Nicholas and Janette.

"We are heading back to New York now. Do not worry about the horses, or our things. We are flying. RIGHT NOW!"

With that, he lifted himself up into the night sky, both his 'children' following. Nicholas wondering just exactly how angry his sire was with him, and whether he was going to live to see the new century.

THIRTY

"Wake up Mrs Crane, we have arrived."

Katrina opened her eyes, as the coach entered the bustling city. Ichabod helped his wife alight from the coach,

Masbath gathering the bags. The young servant stared around at the brightly dressed crowds strolling through the lightly falling snow.

"Do not worry young Masbath." The Constable said cheerfully. "You will soon get to know your way around. The Bronx is up, the Battery is down...and home is this way."

THE END

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