Chapter 1

[Ichabod's Dreamscape]

Ichabod shivered as the piercing wind bit through his cloak. Snow and freezing rain fell heavily from the dark grey skies above covering the dead grass underfoot with unnatural alacrity. Sulfur and smoky residue clogged his nostrils. His ears rang from the battle he knew to be going on in the plain in front of himself but could barely make out the silhouettes of.

Still his bayonet remained busy as he endeavored to hold off a bevy of sharp fangs and claws from the pack around himself.

A lithe female figure danced a deadly ballet to his left. Her blade slash and stabbed deeply through the coy-dogs' hides while dispatching them to their reward.

Bloody buggers! He just managed to evade one dog as it tried to bite his leg. Then he took his pistol and shot it right between the eyes. "DUBOIS! WHAT IN BLAZES?"

"Patience, Captain Crane. Do not call him that!" Nyoki Tuishima reminded him while eviscerating another dog. "The Child deals with her."

Then a high pitched banshee scream shattered the whiteout.

"Lord, be with us…." Ichabod implored…..

[Crane Cottage—Two Weeks after "Roundabout"]

Ichabod tossed and turned in the bed. He thrashed like a fish struggling to breathe in the air. His skin's sweat soaked the mattress. His breathing came in ragged bursts. He groaned, "Not again…When will they stop? Not that thing again."

Katrina shook him. "Ichabod, what is it, my love? What is the nightmare? Ichabod, please!"

"AHHH!" He almost jumped out of the nightmare and back into the waking world. He gasped heavily while trying to compose himself. "Bloody mess!"

She embraced him supportively. "Was it the same dream again?"

"Yes. The Rowenshire affair again." He ran his hands through his damp locks. "The witch's last stand."

"Witch? Serilda did not die in Rowenshire. She was burned at the stake here in New York State," she presumed anxiously. "You speak then of Grace and her coven? Nobody knows what happened."

"I don't know all the details yet. I was there however when that high priestess met her end," he revealed. "It's still hazy. I wish I remembered more. But I know Dubois' inner demon and Ms. Tuishiama were involved." He rose from the bed and staggered toward the dresser.

"Really? It is a pity you cannot simply ask them when we visit tomorrow," she lamented. "Other than the fact that General Washington sent you with them into that unholy valley, we know next to nothing."

"Yes. Quite so." He recalled his superior's wishes quite well in that regard. "Perhaps I can discern more with the good Lieutenant's able assistance. I regret that I woke you."

"I am glad to support you, Ichabod, as you do me," she assured him. "Perhaps a shower might make you feel better? I shall have some coffee prepared when you emerge."

"That would be most splendid. I would be most agreeable to making us some pancakes if you don't mind a few minutes' wait," he proposed while pulling on his robe. Getting a nod from her, he smiled warmly and departed for the bathroom.

She frowned. How I wish I could've been with him in that hellish place! What in the goddess' name happened? She determined to comfort her husband as best she could before he left for the precinct. As such, she headed for the kitchen to make the coffee in question. Then she dialed the phone anxiously.

"Hey, Katrina. You're up early. Everything okay there?" Abbie answered her cell phone. She stifled a tired yawn. "Sorry. I was just waking up."

"Physically we're fine, Abbie. Thank you. Ichabod, however, had that nightmare once again. Would you allow some time for breakfast? I'd like to speak before you accompany him to the precinct," Katrina requested.

"You bet. Tell him not to cook. I'll stop by Bonnie's and get some cinnamon rolls. Maybe you might have some coffee ready because I could definitely use some," Abbie offered.

"I'd be most appreciative, Abbie, if you would do so. You have my thanks. I am afraid that Moloch is scheming again," Katrina worried.

"Bet on that. We'll handle it though. See you in an hour," Abbie concurred before hanging up. What the Hell, Crane? You're worrying your wife now? Terrific….. She rubbed her forehead while heading for the bathroom and that shower.

Meantime Katrina hung up as well. "Best to get that coffee. No one's sleeping now." She took a deep breath and headed toward the kitchen. She held the carafe under the faucet and began filling it with water. As she did so, she glanced out the window into the woods. She loved to watch nature even in the past-peak foliage scene….

….the branches waving in the breeze….

…the still green grass covering the ground….

…the hooded stranger looking back….

Hooded stranger? She stared out through the window in a panic. Absently she dropped the carafe allowing it to bang in the sink while rushing toward the back door. She and the others had seen the voyeur several times over the previous fortnight. Consequently she wanted answers. She ran outside and toward where the other had been standing.

As always however, the hooded one had vanished into thin air. No trace of that person remained behind for them to see.

Who are you? What do you want? She headed back into the cabin and toward the kitchen where the sink was quickly filling with water. She shut the faucet off and drained off the remaining water from the carafe. Then she filled the upper reservoir with a filter and coffee before starting it.

"What happened, Katrina? You look like you saw a ghost," Ichabod noted. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Forgive me. That hooded person was out there again. Then he or she just vanished!" Katrina reported.

"Our friend again," he realized knowing exactly what his wife had seen. Since their last trip to Wabash, he'd seen her too on several occasions. "Perhaps Dubois might know something. We will find out tomorrow."

"Perhaps. You might wish to shower. Abbie will be here with breakfast," she informed him. "Those cinnamon rolls again."

He smirked at her. "Bonnie's café does excellent work, my Dear. You like them too." He kissed her forehead and considered her eyes. "You are so beautiful." He kissed her forehead before heading into the shower.

Despite his reassurances, she knew he worried about the situation. What else is out there?

[Forty-five minutes later]

After the requisite stop at Bonnie's for the desired cinnamon rolls, Abbie drove away from the town center with a heavy mind and heart. Her mind swam with details. Her heart felt burdened with concern. The facets of this latest Moloch-related situation spun seemingly in a blur….

…how three of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse remained at large…..

…how Moloch watched and could strike from anywhere….

…digesting the two lost days in that dark Purgatory place—Katrina's former prison

…how Dubois and his family connected to her partner in that so-called Mobius deal. That other than his daughter, Jennifer, nobody knew the past events….

…Dubois' alter ego, the "Child", taking on the demons in question…

…Worse the cloaked stalking spirit tailing them…the one tied to the rival coven behind Dubois' state of affairs….

Damn, Crane. How do you manage these things? She turned into the cottage's driveway and drove up beside the structure. Then she parked the car in front of the unused garage. It's times like this that I miss Corbin the most. How did he deal with this crap? How? She shook her head. He'd tell you to hang in there, Abbie. Don't fear the unknown but to respect and confront it. She sucked in an uncertain breath. At least you still have your world and time. Think about Crane and Katrina. Hell, think about how Dubois and his family are split between centuries and without the knowledge of what's still biting us all in the collective ass. Joy, joy.

Her cell buzzed at her from her pocket.

"Who?" She considered the device before answering, "Mills."

"Abbie, it's Jenny. Crane and everyone okay?" Jenny replied.

The deputy shrugged. Define okay… She rolled her eyes at herself in the rear view mirror. "Just the usual stuff. Crane and I have research to do before leaving for Wabash tomorrow. Katrina's trying to adjust to our century. Irving's getting caught up. I'm dealing with the whole Purgatory excursion. As I said the usual stuff. How's life in Podunkville anyhow?"

"I haven't gotten to Rowenshire yet. I've been researching a town in the Northampton area first. I'm heading back there today. Can't wait for the creepy detail to start," Jenny deadpanned sarcastically.

"Can't be any worse than what we deal with here," Abbie supposed.

"You haven't seen that place, Abbie. Trust me, there's a reason why Dubois is the way he is. Apparently the old house has a widow and her son living in it now. I'm going to visit with them sometime this afternoon. I just have to deal with those folks. They really don't like visitors," Jenny recalled. "And that's before dealing with the coven themselves."

"Just be careful. I don't want to hear about you being chased by a lynch mob," Abbie insisted.

"And you too. Any word on that witch, Grace, or Moloch's crew?" Jenny queried expectantly.

"Not a peep from Moloch or the horsemen. Parrish is still trapped. Katrina called me this morning though. She saw our cloaked stalking spirit again. Wish we knew what it was," Abbie reported with an air of exasperation in her voice.

"It's tied to the coven close to where I am. Better hope it's not Grace or that lady, Marguerite, that Dubois told us about. Either of them are big trouble," Jenny noted. "I've got one more stop in this town before heading across the reservoir. Have a safe trip and remind Crane to keep his head on straight."

Abbie smirked. "You too. Call me if anything comes up."

"Right. If everything goes right, I'll see you up there. See you later," Jenny concluded before disconnecting.

Abbie pushed the disconnect button on her phone and slid it back into her pocket. Could that spirit be Grace? That thought made her stomach curdle. Last thing we need is a magic fight on top of everything else. Think breakfast first. Then you all can deal with this stuff! She unfastened her seat belt, grabbed the rolls and headed for the house. She knocked at the door expectantly.

Ichabod answered the door with his usual prim and proper demeanor. "Good morning, Leftenant. Thank you for bringing the wares. They are much appreciated." He smiled warmly while opening the door and ushering her inside.

Abbie never ceased to be amused by his over-the-top eighteenth century gentleman thing. Still she'd learned to take it in stride and appreciate it. While most guys in the modern age treated women in a less than desirable manner, he at least tried to treat her like a lady. "And a big howdy to you too, Crane. Where's Katrina?"

"Getting dressed." He sighed despondently. "We do need to speak once we get to the Precinct."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. Uh oh. He's doing the mopey thing. Big alert there. "You had the nightmare again?"

"I'm afraid so. This time I saw the feral dogs in question. Miss Tuishiama was fighting them alongside me. I heard Dubois' alter ego scream through the storm as well," he reported.

Abbie nodded. "That's more than you've seen before. Wish that Dubois' daughter or that minister could contact the priestesses who helped Katrina back in your day."

"They are watching us. Trust in that," Katrina interjected while entering the room. She wore a blue muslin blouse and a long white skirt. "We will get to the bottom of your visions, Ichabod. They are tied to our experiences and the stalker in our midst." She rubbed his shoulder supportively.

"I know. Thank you though," he expressed while squeezing her hand affectionately. "We have our breakfast."

"I see. Good morrow, Abbie. Thank you for bringing them. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?" Katrina invited.

"I'd love that especially given the things we're dealing with. Mind if I help set the table?" Abbie accepted.

"I can get it but thanks," Ichabod declined. He wanted to occupy his mind with something other than the recurring nightmare. He reached into the cabinets and meticulously set three places from the contents therein.

"How's the guest lecture coming?" Abbie supposed.

"It is ready. I have to say that reprising my role as a professor is most satisfying," he revealed allowing himself a pleased smile. "The research has been most enjoyable. I can speak on General Washington and what it meant to be his aide de camp. I am endeavoring though to offer a brief summation though so as not to expose us altogether."

"People know what you are, Crane. Why do you think Dubois' daughter was on her way here when she found Jenny's car?" Abbie supposed while setting the pastries out.

"An excellent observation, Abbie," Katrina complimented. "Go with your approach, my Love, but be prepared if someone has heard. Perhaps David himself might help in that regard? He circumvented such things even if people knew his situation."

"True. General Washington trusted him with such things. Dubois himself trusted me with such matters as well. I wish I could recall more," he lamented.

"Perhaps you might look through those papers of yours we found in the archive last week?" Abbie offered.

"An excellent idea! Thank you. Perhaps a kernel of knowledge might yet be unlocked," he agreed; his mood picking up already.

"On that note, we should get to eating. Irving's expecting us to check in at the precinct. We give him some time. Then we go and see what we can find. Agreed?"

"A most agreeable plan indeed, Leftenant." He bit into his treat and savored the sweet tastes within. He still thought that the pastries cost an unforgivable amount (and didn't want to think about the tax). But he could enjoy them along with the company for the time being.

And so a minute of peace and companionship existed for the trio before the realities of work, research and the dark forces beyond intruded into their lives once more….