The Hidden
Authors: Jessica Verday
The
HIDDEN
A
LSO BY
J
ESSICA
V
ERDAY
The Hollow The
Haunted
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON PULSE
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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition September 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Miller
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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.
Designed by Paul Weil
The text of this book was set in Caslon.
Manufactured in the United States of America
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication
Data Verday, Jessica.
The hidden / Jessica Verday. — 1st Simon Pulse hardcover ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Abbey knows that Caspian is her destiny and theirs is a bond that transcends even death, but as Abbey finally learns the full truth about the dark fate that links her to Caspian and ties them both to the town of Sleepy Hollow, she suddenly has some very difficult choices to make.
ISBN 978-1-4169-7897-8 (hardcover)
[1. Ghosts—Fiction. 2. Supernatural—Fiction. 3. Death—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Irving, Washington, 1783-1859. Legend of Sleepy Hollow—Fiction. 7. Sleepy Hollow (N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.V5828Hid 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2011013704
ISBN 978-1-4169-8543-3 (eBook)
To Lee. You know why.
Chapter Three: Straight Corners and Bad Angles
Chapter Ten: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Chapter Thirteen: An Opportunity
Chapter Fourteen: Early Graduation Gift
Chapter Fifteen: More Than Fear
Chapter Sixteen: The Perfect Dress
Chapter Twenty: The Hollow Ball
Chapter Twenty-one: November First
Chapter Twenty-two: Losing Time
Chapter Twenty-three: The Day After
Chapter Twenty-four: Bloodline
Chapter Twenty-five: Make It Right
REFACE
M
y name is Abbey. And I’m in love with a ghost.
B
ROKEN
“If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ichabod, “I am safe.”
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving
A
ll I could hear was my heart beating. And all I could see were the Revenants looking down at me. As I stared up into Kame’s colorless eyes, I kept thinking,
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.
It was going to happen like
this
?
“Will it happen now?” I asked Kame. “Are you here to help me … die?”
He didn’t answer my question.
“Is she okay?” Cacey whispered. “She doesn’t look good.”
Hysteria bubbled over, and I glanced down at myself. Blood covered my knees in dark, jagged lines, and my arm burned from where Vincent had tried to yank it out of the socket. My bedroom was in shambles. “I don’t look good?” I said. “I don’t
look
good
?” Then I put my head down as tears covered my cheeks.
This is it. Sophie, Kame, Uri, and Cacey are here to collect me. To help me pass over.
I was never going to see my parents again. Or Ben. I’d never have my own perfume shop, or graduate from high school. I’d never buy a house and get a dog.
I’d always wanted a dog.
But that didn’t matter anymore. My time was up. Besides, Kristen was already dead. And
I
was the reason for that. At least I’d get to be with Caspian.
“Caspian …,” I said desperately, and sat straight up. “Caspian!”
The floor was covered in glass and bits of broken wood—what was left of my perfume cabinet—but I didn’t care. Vincent had thrown Caspian. Hurt him. And he needed me.
I tried to crawl. Tried to get to him, but strong arms held me still. A wave of nausea swept over me, and the room spun crazily. My hands were slick from gripping the floor. Little pools of blood surrounded me in squiggly lines and half-shaped circles, forming a macabre version of a child’s painting.
“Easy, easy,” Kame said, his voice smooth and melodic, like the rush of soft spring air after a long-closed window has been opened. “Let’s look you over, Abbey.”
He glanced at my hands and my knees, gently moved my head from side to side to check for other wounds. Beside me Cacey was blowing out the candles that Vincent had lit, before gathering them into a small pile. Uri and Sophie were removing the flowers from the bed. Tossing them into a garbage can.
“Caspian!” I said, seeing his still form by the fireplace mantel. “Please … check Caspian …”
Cacey crouched down next to him and pulled up one of his eyelids. “That’s the trouble with Shades,” she complained. “Should I feel for a pulse? He’s already
dead
.”
“Cacey!” Uri reprimanded her, pausing from tying a knot in the trash bag to look over at me. “Tact? She’s been through a lot.”