Page 13 of Hollow

How much did she really know?

I exhale, trying to urge my heart to calm down. I open my eyes. Even in the dark, my room is a disaster. Clothes on the floor, my bed unmade, and a plate of half-eaten roast chicken that I had gotten down the street sits on the window sill.

For a moment, I see my life through her eyes. For a moment, I see where I started and see how far I’ve fallen. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake in walking away.

Then, a shadow moves away from the wall.

I open my mouth, and a scream dies in my throat. It’s not just that I couldn’t find the strength to scream but that my voice was taken from me. Stolen from my throat.

“Quiet,” the woman hisses. “Do you want to wake up your neighbors? Do you want them to know what you are? A troublemaker and a drug addict is something this lurid city will accept. A witch is not.”

She steps away from the wall, and the lamps around us flicker to life, casting the room in moving shadows. I swear I see eyes in those shadows, watching me. Black snakes that writhe in and out of my vision.

“What do you want from me?” I manage to say.

“I want you at Sleepy Hollow Institute,” she says, pressing her thin hands together in a motion of prayer. “Your background plus your magic makes you a top contender as a schoolmaster.”

I frown. “Sleepy Hollow Institute?”

“I don’t blame you for not knowing what it is.”

“Oh, I know what it is,” I say, letting out a deep breath. My shoulders drop slightly now that she’s mentioned a place that actually exists, not a mystical hut in the woods. “A lot of brilliant minds have come from there…or so your school’s campaign wants people to think.”

She gives me a grin that isn’t exactly kind. “Because it’s true. We do brilliant things with brilliant people.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to think. Despite the fright I’ve had, the opium is still in my veins. “What do these brilliant people have to do with magic and witchcraft?”

Her grin widens. For a moment, her teeth look razor-sharp, but again, it’s just a trick of the light, just as the snakes in the shadows are. Just as they have to be, or I will lose my mind.

“The students are brilliant because they are disposed to magic. Don’t fret, Mr. Crane. Everyone who passes the curriculum ends up with a degree. They go on and do great things in the world. They were all such misfits, misanthropes, miscreants at the beginning, you see. Kicked around by the world because they felt different, were different.”

She gives a sympathetic cluck of her tongue. “But at our school, they are transformed into the best versions of themselves. The students there are allowed to shine. To discover who they really are and unleash their true potential. And the longer you’re there, the more the same will happen for you. We’re offering you a salary, plus room and board, and you only need to commit to one year. After a year, you are free to leave if you wish. But I’ll warn you. You’ll never want to leave Sleepy Hollow. Once you are one with us, you’ll want to stay for life.”

It all sounds too good to be true. Well, I suppose it also sounds a little extreme. If I’ve learned anything about myself, it’s that I don’t stay in one place for too long. She should know that about me too, considering.

“How much is the salary?” I ask warily. I hate that this is starting to appeal to me. The idea of being a teacher again, having students worship your every word. I’ve missed that feeling of control and power, akin to feeling like a god. A poor man’s god, but a god nonetheless.

“Fifteen dollars a week,” she says. “Sixteen for the second year.”

I chew on that, my heart leaping with temptation. That’s over twice the rate across the country. “And the housing?”

“You’d be in the men’s faculty dorm. Your own accommodations. Room with a view of the lake. Your own private bathroom and toilet. Delightful meals served daily.” She says this while eyeing my half-eaten chicken meal with disdain. Then she looks back to me, her eyes glimmering. “You were a disciplined teacher who brought out the best from his students because you demanded the best from them. You made them rise above once, and you will make them rise above again. This doesn’t have to be your life, Mr. Crane. You don’t have to live like this. You can choose to live anew. You can choose magic above all else.”

“Magic,” I scoff. I gesture to my messy deck of tarot cards by my bedside. “That’s my magic. Not much else.”

“You can bestow energy,” she says. When I look at her in surprise, she nods and goes on. “Yes, I know what’s happened to you, but I can also see what’s in you that no one else can. That, most importantly, you can’t see. But I see your potential. I know that you can give someone else energy at no expense to you. We call that bestowal. It’s very rare and so important as a teacher.”

Bestowal. I finally have a word for it.

A flashback of me touching Marie slams into my head, the look of shock and betrayal on her face, and then the scene fades.

“And what about your divination?” she goes on, smiling still. “You deride your tarot cards, but you can see futures, especially the futures of others. They’re vague, but they’re there. And what if there’s more locked inside you? What if there is so much more just waiting to come out, simmering below the surface? Enough with the drugs, trying to dim that light inside you. I know this world doesn’t want to accept you as you are, and I know you use opium and alcohol to hide it, to escape from it, to try and make your brain blend in. But you weren’t put on this earth by Goruun to blend in. You were put here to shine. You were put here to help others.”

“Goruun?” I ask. I’ve never heard that word before.

A solemn look comes over her eyes. “You will find out more once you agree to the job.”

I rub my hand over my jaw, suddenly feeling the weight of the world on me. I’m crashing, whether this witch woman is here or not. My eyelids flutter, feeling heavy.