Page 94 of Hollow

Now I’m sitting on the chair in the living room, a lit candlestick by my side, jumping at every noise. By the time the clock ticks midnight, my mother and Famke are still not home. I’m starting to get worried. What if the horseman attacked them too?

But the idea of leaving the house and looking for them in the cold night is too terrifying to bear, so I stay where I am.

Then I hear a tap.

Another tap.

I slowly get to my feet, picking up the candlestick. The flame dances. The house seems to seethe with darkness, the shadows thickening. My skin tingles with fear all over.

What is that?

I hear it again.

It’s coming from my bedroom.

My chest tightens with fear.

Another tap.

There’s something at my bedroom window.

I stand in the sitting room, filled with fear so acute that it makes my knees shake.

Another tap, louder now.

A rock hitting the pane.

Could it be?

I dare to take a step forward, then another, until I’m pausing in my doorway.

At my window, underneath the elm tree with its autumn leaves, is Brom.

Despite my reservations about him earlier, I find myself being pulled to the window like a magnet. I push it up, cold air flowing in.

“Brom,” I say in a breathless gasp.

He stares at me, his eyes midnight black, and I’m brought back in time to the last night I saw him before he disappeared. How could this man be any different? How could this not be the Brom that I know?

“Can I come in?” he asks. His voice is gruff, but the tone is soft.

I hesitate, my mind reeling over the headless horseman.

“Please,” he says. There’s desperation there, and with one look into his eyes, I see how tortured he is. My Brom, who always felt too much, wore his heart on his sleeve. I can’t say no. I’ve been pushing him away all week, leaving him in the cold, and the guilt is getting to me.

I step away from the window, and he climbs through with ease. Gets to his feet beside me in the bedroom, and I feel all will and resolve, even fear, melt away. Because this feels like us. His large body, that immense power in his muscles and bones, the darkness inside him that’s always been there from day one.

He sucks in his breath, the candle in my hand flickering, and I feel the air leave my lungs. The tension between us is a tight line of energy that crackles like a lightning storm, the intensity rising until I can’t breathe at all. The hair on my arms raises, heat building in my core.

This man is my thunderstorm.

“I’ve missed you,” Brom whispers, taking a step forward, his hand at my cheek.

I close my eyes, leaning into the familiar feel of his palm. Warm, calloused, protective. This is him. This is the man I know. This is the man I’ve been waiting for.

“I’ve missed you so much, daffodil,” he says.

My eyes fly open at the sound of my old nickname. I gaze up into his eyes, and I’m swept away by the storm in them, how dark they are, how beautiful.