Page 59 of Hollow

It’s absolutely maddening. To have something go on that I don’t understand is like a thorn in my side, one that’s disappeared under the skin and impossible to get out. I must get to the bottom of this because none of this makes sense, and in my experience, when things don’t make sense, that means something has gone wrong.

I walk over to Matilda, Mark, and Josephine and force myself to listen to their issues. This is psionics class, and today, we’re learning about how to block telepathic intrusion. I figured since this was something Kat had learned to do, it might be possible to give the students the same set of skills. The problem with these students is that none of them can get into each other’s minds, let alone learn how to block such an infiltration. Heaven help me from giving them all Fs.

The class drags on, and by the time I’ve dismissed everyone, I’m unable to look away from Brom or Kat. They drag their feet, lingering behind, and then I remember that Sister Margaret suggested some after-hours tutoring. How simple that must have sounded to her.

“Professor Crane,” Abe says as he approaches the desk, and fuck if that phrase doesn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips. He’d never called me professor—I don’t even think I told him I’d been one. But now that he’s saying it, I never want him to stop.

Though I should probably stop thinking of him as Abe.

“Brom,” I say with deliberation, keeping my voice level, staying seated behind my desk so he can’t see how aroused I am. It’s been a godsend with Kat this last month, and it’s coming in handy again. “Or do you prefer Abraham?”

Abe?

“Brom is fine,” he says to me, giving me a half-smile. Still nothing in his eyes for me. They’re friendly, I’ll give them that, but it’s a friendliness that seems apt to change on a dime. I’ve picked up on several mood shifts from him already.

“His nickname when we were young was Brom Bones,” Kat says. Her tone is light and easy, but from the look in her eyes, she’s feeling as bewildered as I am.

Brom Bones, huh? Fitting.

“So you two know each other from long ago,” I say, folding my hands on top of the desk.

“Yes,” Kat says through a wavering smile. “We were best friends.”

I lock eyes with hers for a moment, wondering how deep their friendship went. I know it’s terribly unfair to be so indignant over their pasts with each other, but I am. I’m possessive over her, even though I have no right to be, and I might just feel the same way about him too. This should make the rest of the school year torture, along with the ghosts of dead teachers and a headless horseman running amok.

“I see,” I say, steepling my fingers together. “Well, I have to admit, Brom Bones, it’s quite a surprise to have a new student in my class a month into the semester. Can I ask why you missed so much already? Where have you been?”

Kat looks to Brom with an eagerness she can’t hide, her fingers gripping the ruffles on her dress bodice as if holding on for dear life.

Brom stares at me blankly for a moment, like he’s trying to gather all the thoughts in his head and not having much luck. Then his thick black brows furrow, and I pick up on a flash of pain, his eyes seeming darker than ever. He reminds me of the man in New York, the one who would give himself completely to me, a toy for me to do what I wanted, and how after we were done and spent, the light would drain from his eyes, and they would turn so dark and haunted again.

I was a welcome respite, but the relief never lasted.

“I…” he begins, licking his lips, that wildness coming across him. “I don’t know.” He looks around him as if to double-check that the room is empty. “I don’t remember.”

His chin dips at that, and shame wafts off him.

“You don’t remember?” Kat asks, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm.

“What do you mean?” I add, leaning forward, ignoring the way she’s touching him.

He pinches his eyes shut and lets out a shallow breath, shaking his head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember the time I’ve been gone. I don’t remember any of it.”

Then he opens his eyes and stares right at me with such desperation that I feel it in my skin. “You’re a teacher, right? You know things? Maybe you can help me.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, and his expression crumbles. I splay my hands out. “Try explaining in layman’s terms, and then I’ll see what I can do.”

He looks up to the ceiling for a moment, then says, “Four years ago, I left Sleepy Hollow. I don’t know why. I don’t remember why I left. I remember a feeling—I remember fear. But I can’t remember why I left. I have vague memories of a city, New York, maybe. I don’t know. But I know that time passed, and now suddenly, I’m here. I woke up…here.”

“What do you mean you woke up here?” Kat asks, her dainty brows coming together. “Out in the hall, they said you returned a few days ago and that you’d been ill.”

“That’s what they say. But I don’t remember any of that either. That’s why I didn’t come by to see you, Kat. I would have been to see you right away, you know that.” He reaches out and takes her pinky in his hand, giving it a squeeze, and the air gets caught in my lungs.

I swallow my jealousy down. “So you don’t remember why you left. You don’t remember where you’ve been. You don’t remember how you got here. You just woke up in this classroom today. Is that it?”

He nods. I glance at Kat, who gives her head a shake, a thin strand of blonde coming loose from her bun. “This is impossible,” she says.

“I know how it sounds,” he says gruffly. “But I’m telling you the truth.”