'How much further is this damn place?' Abbie grumbled, half to herself.
Crane made no attempt to answer, having resigned himself to his partner's terse retorts and stubborn silences of late. She tried to convince him countless times that she held no resentment towards him for leaving her in Purgatory. However, deep down he was convinced that some of their unspoken trust had vanished forever, disappeared into the ether.
The silence hung heavy, like the misty rain that clung to them both. Ever since the revelation of Henry Parrish's duel identity as Jeremy and the Horseman of War, it seemed that the elements were reflecting their general mood of doom and gloom. The near-constant drizzle was an irritant to Abbie's temper as well as to her hair.
A sharp sliver of bitterness penetrated Crane's heart. Of all people, he expected that Abbie would empathise with his plight – his fellow Witness, his partner, his friend. She had told him to leave, for God's sake. She wanted to face Moloch – to embrace her destiny. They had both been so sure that it would work. They had both been deceived.
And now they were both paying for it.
Abbie was haunted by memories of her time in Purgatory – that much was clear from her behaviour. From time to time, he would catch her staring off into space, distractedly chewing at her lower lip. She was jumpier than before too. One day in the Archives, he happened to catch her off guard and ended up a hair's breadth from being shot.
He was suffering too, damn it. He had lost his wife, his precious Katrina to the Horseman of Death. The knowledge that she was still out there suffering unknown torments at the hands of her former paramour tormented him day and night. He called out to her from his heart, begging her to stay strong, to break free, to believe that he would find a way back to her.
Their daily routine continued. Find a monster, fight a monster, lick their wounds, and try not to kill each other in the process. It was becoming more of a struggle every day.
They were twenty miles north of Sleepy Hollow, stumbling through dense undergrowth as they looked for the remains of an old hunting lodge. Abbie had come across an old map of the Sleepy Hollow environs while trawling through Corbin's old case files. On it he had marked different locations of alleged occult activities. They were desperate enough to try any and all possibilities in their search for Katrina.
'Tell me what this place is again,' Abbie sighed, clearly fed up with the silence as well.
'I believe it bears the dubious distinction of being the sole example of a 'Hellfire Club' on this continent.' Crane paused to untangle himself from some briars.
'I assume you're going to tell me…'
'Hellfire clubs were dens of iniquity, frequented by the premier scoundrels and rakes of the British Isles. They were rumoured to practice the dark arts and devil-worship.'
Abbie looked side-long at him. 'So, the direct opposite of your Mason buddies?'
'Yes,' Crane remarked in surprise. They had unexpectedly fallen back into their old pattern – him lecturing her on some arcane topic and her humouring him. It was a nice feeling. 'We're here.'
Abbie turned and saw a ruined stone house half devoured by ivy. At that moment, a breeze shook the branches around them, giving the place a decidedly malevolent air. 'You really think Katrina's in there?'
'Process of elimination.' Crane shrugged. 'There are only so many places she could be.' There was a helplessness in his demeanour that tugged at Abbie's heart against her will.
'Okay.' Abbie drew her sidearm. 'Let's do this right. I'll do a sweep of the house from top to bottom. You stay behind me and try not to get us killed.'
The sharpness in her voice pained him, but he had no choice but to assent. They entered the building through the rear, moving carefully over fallen rubble and discarded beer cans. Much of the second storey had collapsed over the centuries, leaving the staircase jutting upwards into space like an upended piano keyboard.
Abbie slowly moved through the ruins, checking each corner with cool professionalism. It quickly became clear that they were alone in the building.
'This is a bust,' Abbie finally said. She noticed something on her partner's face, an air of vibrancy, of concentration. There was a vitality there that she hadn't seen since before everything fell apart. 'What is it?'
'The Hellfire brethren were often persecuted by the authorities in England for their scandalous revelries. In these Puritan lands, it stands to reason that they would conceal their activities. Like their Mason cousins, I imagine they had a few tricks up their sleeves.'
He ran his hand along the exterior wall, searching for something, all the while muttering to himself.
'Hellfire clubs practiced mock religious ceremonies in their orgies. In Catholic services, the priest faced ad orientem, towards the rising sun in the east. Ergo, in a building such as this, the westward wall would be the most likely…'
There was a dry scraping noise as part of the floor skidded away. Crane gently scooted Abbie backward as a mountainous cloud of dust erupted. When the air cleared, they looked down into a dark, cavernous passageway leading deep into the earth.
Abbie snapped on her torch and glanced wordlessly at Crane. Each of them instinctively knew their routine. He stayed several feet behind her, allowing her to do her thing. She walked forward, gingerly testing her weight on the first step. When it held firm, she continued down.
The interior of the tunnel revealed itself inch by inch. Crane grimaced with distaste at the sight of earthworms and centipedes squirming mere inches over his head. Not a moment too soon, they found themselves in a large room. Other than the meagre beam of light from Abbie's torch, they were surrounded by darkness.
'No Katrina,' Abbie sighed.
'There has to be something here.' Crane's frustration was evident. He tilted the light towards the north wall to reveal a long row of ancient wooden torches, wrapped in frayed cloth. 'Ah-ha.'
He retrieved one of Corbin's cigarette lighters from his pocket and set them ablaze, one after the other. The room sprang to life. In the dead centre was a stone plinth, almost an altar; otherwise the room was bare. The air around them was stuffy and close, lending the chamber an unsettling atmosphere.
'I don't think anyone's been down here in centuries.'
'Nothing,' Crane spat. 'Nothing! There's not a damn thing here!' He smacked the wall in frustration.
'Hey! I know you're angry and scared, but this building is unsafe. Be careful.'
'Sorry,' Crane said contritely. He sighed, the weight of the last few weeks telling on him.
Abbie sniffed – the air was dry and musty. Who knew what kind of ancient spores were lurking down there. 'Let's get outta here. I promised Jenny I'd call her and give her the latest.'
All it took was a nudge, the slightest disturbance of a protruding rock. The jolt caused a chain reaction that sent a pile of rubble toppling over on top of her.
'Abbie!' Crane shouted, lurching towards her. 'Are you all right?'
She lay on the ground, gasping as the initial shock wore off and she was able to assess the damage. Her head was undamaged; crucially she hadn't lost consciousness. Her arms and torso seemed uninjured, but her legs were pinned beneath some large stones.
'I think so,' she said through her teeth. 'Please get these off of me.'
Crane tried to prise the heaviest of the stones from her legs, but when Abbie cried out in pain he was forced to stop. He examined the rocky cairn and saw that the stones were positioned just so that removing the uppermost would cause her to be crushed.
He whipped out his phone and grunted in frustration when he saw that there was no reception. He stood up straight and pondered what to do, seeing the strain on Abbie's brow.
's okay,' she breathed. 'I'll be good till you get back.'
He felt a wave of shame and sadness as he beheld her. He had experienced this dilemma once before – the day he had said goodbye to her in Purgatory. The memory of that decision pierced him with unexpected force.
'I will return,' he said, the words seeming to hold a deeper significance in that moment. He all but sprinted out into the light, and with shaking fingers he called 911. The call placed, he returned to the chamber.
'Have no fear, Miss Mills,' he announced with as much bravado he could muster. 'The medics are on their way.'
His smile faded when he saw Abbie lying lifeless, eyes closed and head lolling back. He stood frozen in shock, struck with the sickening realisation that she must have sustained an unseen injury. He rushed to her side, afraid to touch her, but desperate to know that she still lived.
Shaking, he felt her throat for a pulse, and let out a shuddering breath when he was rewarded with the faint but persistent throbbing of her heartbeat.
'Thank God,' he gasped. Every other thought – the approaching Apocalypse, the location of his beloved Katrina – everything disappeared. All that mattered was here in this room.
He lifted her head and gently laid it on his shoulder as he held her close, rocking her slightly. This was his punishment. Forget losing his wife, forget the torment of knowing that his son was a servant of evil – this was the reward. To lose his dearest friend, his precious Abbie – he knew he would not survive it.
He heard a rumbling sound that shook him to his very core, as loud as God's trumpets of the Day of Judgement. He looked around the chamber. Dust rained down on him like snow as a boulder slid down from a hidden recess in the ceiling, slowly blocking the exit.
He knew that he had mere seconds in which to act, but suddenly the path ahead was clear to him. The temptation to act selfishly, to save his own miserable hide skittered through his mind like a thief in the night, disappearing just as quickly. He could not abandon Abbie in such a miserable place. He would not leave her alone.
The stone slid into place, sealing them inside. It dawned on Crane how ingeniously they had been trapped. The members of the Hellfire club had clearly rigged the chamber to imprison any intruders foolish enough to seek to uncover their secrets. Anyone who entered would be doomed to the worst fate imaginable – to be buried alive.
Crane tried to calculate how much air the chamber contained. He knew it could not be much; soon the torches would extinguish themselves one by one. Soon, Abbie would succumb to her injuries.
At least she would not suffer overmuch, unlike him. He would be awake until the end; he would plenty of time to repent his conduct. He had wasted so much time feeling sorry for himself, silently resenting Abbie for not appreciating the depth of his pain.
He felt tears falling from his cheeks, wetting Abbie's hair. He tenderly kissed the top of her head.
'Goodbye, my dear Lieutenant.'
Abbie blinked awake, confused by the brightness of the fluorescents above her. It took her a few seconds to note that she was not in her room, a handful more to recollect that she had been lying under a pile of rocks in an underground cave.
'Crane?' she murmured.
Her voice was hoarse and soft, but it snapped him awake at once. He had been dozing in a plastic chair next to her hospital bed. 'Miss Mills, how are you?'
'Thirsty,' she replied.
He filled a glass from the jug of water that stood on her nightstand and held it to her mouth as she drank. 'What happened?' she eventually asked.
'You were injured in the tunnel under the Hellfire club. The surgeons were obliged to operate.'
Her memories snapped into place. 'How did they get me out?'
'Luckily, one of us was using her brain.' Jenny was leaning casually against the doorframe, her nonchalant attitude breaking only slightly as her brow creased with anxiety. 'I got worried when you didn't call. I managed to triangulate your location using the GPS on your phone and found your truck by the side of the road.'
Abbie sensed there was more to this story, but at that moment all that concerned her was the burning ache in her abdomen. 'Level with me, Crane. Am I going to be all right?'
Crane looked down at his filth-encrusted hands, anguish and worry burning in his eyes. 'They removed your spleen – it was irreparably damaged. However, they say that you will make a complete recovery.'
His voice almost broke, and then he caught Abbie's bright, unswerving gaze and his breath caught. There was a long moment of silence as each of them struggled with everything they longed to say but couldn't.
Jenny spoke first. 'I'm pretty sure I saw some Jello at the nurses' station. I'm gonna go swipe it before that greedy geriatric next door gets his paws on it.'
Even as Jenny left the room, Abbie's eyes did not leave Crane's. 'You didn't leave me,' she said in tone of quiet wonder.
Crane's mouth opened slightly. 'How did you…?'
'I don't know.' Abbie shook her head. 'I felt like it was all over, but something, someone was pulling me back. It was you, Crane. I felt you holding me.'
Once more, Crane's hands seemed to hold a particular fascination for him. After a few moments, he was able to speak again.
'Yes,' he whispered. 'And I solemnly promise you this, I will not leave you again. No matter what may occur, I shall never forsake you.'