those whom god hath joined together
let no man put asunder
-Mark 10:9
III
(Abbie.)
Abbie drove with both hands gripping the wheel, jaw clenched.
She had no idea what was going on with Crane, but there was no way she was going to do what Jenny suggested and throw herself at him just after she'd agreed to give him his space. Sure she was attracted to him, consumed with thoughts of him lately, but she was dealing with that. Sure, she missed him when he wasn't around. Sure, she couldn't stand the thought of losing him. But that didn't mean he felt the same way.
Did it? God, the thought…the possibility…simultaneously excited and terrified her. She didn't know how to process. The part of her that wouldn't let her mind go there warred with the part of her that allowed herself to hope. In the past, hope always seemed to let her down. But lately…the hope she felt of seeing Crane again when she was in Purgatory, the hope within her that 'Past Crane' would believe her and help her find a way out of the mess she'd made in 1781, the hope that her idea to hunt Henry's network would bring him out of his depression…that hope had all panned out.
Hope was also a damned distraction. One she really didn't need right now. But of course, she couldn't fight off her curiosity. Despite herself, she couldn't help thinking back through the days and nights they'd spent together over the last six months as she drove, trying to find something she'd missed (or dismissed, more like, if she were being honest with herself) that would confirm Jenny's claim.
Though he put on a brave face, he was silent a lot for those first couple of weeks. Deep in thought, she'd guessed. Mourning. He only spoke when absolutely necessary. He went to visit Katrina's empty grave almost every day. And he barely slept at first. She'd come to the cabin to check on him after a late shift and he'd still be awake at three or four in the morning, reading, researching online, pacing, staring into space. That went on for a while, until she couldn't take it anymore and forced him one night to close his books and go to bed. That's when the bad dreams started. She remembered another night in particular after that. They'd been watching 'Doctor Who' on Netflix, and he massaged her feet while she picked at a pint of Cherry Garcia. He would scoff or grunt at the show for one reason or another (although she'd bet a million bucks that he was impressed by The Doctor character), absentmindedly rubbing her toenails with the pads of his fingers or working on her arches. But unlike his usual self, he said very little, even then. He was brooding.
At the time, she'd only been grateful for the peace and quiet, enjoying his hands on her skin, indulging herself. Simultaneously feeling guilty because she knew that she got a great deal more pleasure out of his administrations than she'd ever admit. She secretly loved the feel of his nimble, cool hands on her skin. He touched her small feet like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She remembered falling asleep on the couch, and he must've covered her up, tossed the empty ice cream container, and gone to bed. The next thing she knew, he was shouting from the bedroom, moaning or crying or both. He kept saying "Forgive me, forgive me…" and "I love her, God forgive me…!" until she had to shake him to wake him up. To her surprise, he'd seized hold of her and pulled her bodily into the bed, undulating himself underneath her and encircling her tightly with his long arms until he fell back asleep.
Thinking back on it, she had just assumed that he didn't know whom he was holding; or that he'd realized what he'd done (and to whom) later and was so embarrassed that he never brought it up again. It was the only time he did it. But now…with Jenny's words echoing in her head…she also remembered that he'd whispered "I love you…please forgive me…I'm sorry…" as he held her close to him. His voice had been thick with the tears he'd apparently shed, and it sounded so…raw. At the time, she'd only stroked his arm and waited until she could carefully disentangle herself from him.
It was hard. She'd 'waited' a long time, even after he'd fallen back to sleep, knowing she should get up but not wanting to. She felt so safe and needed in his long arms; his tight embrace. There was some form of comfort in this position that Abbie knew she had secretly craved, with all her being, for a long, long time. She had sought it out in older boyfriends as a teenager, but of course she only got herself in trouble. She had sought it out in Corbin, but he could only provide so much as her mentor and friend. She had sought it out in other men who ended up being too much for her or too little; too complicated or too weak or too…something. She ran a lot. She ran from Luke.
"But love? Courtship? Intimacy? You'd rather embrace the danger we face every moment of this war than open yourself—or your heart—to another."
Crane knew her so well. It was scary how well he knew her. And he fit. Curved around her perfectly. Protectively.
That night, his long, heavy body rose and fell against hers with the force of his deep breathing and she felt at home. She had thought that he'd been talking to Katrina, still somehow experiencing echoes of his dream. But she had also felt her heart jerk to life with his words…I love you. The words ping-ponged through her whole body, filling her from top to bottom, and she had wanted so badly to whisper back I love you, too, Crane. She warred with herself for almost fifteen minutes as he slept, holding her tightly against him, both arms wrapped securely around her waist, his face in her hair. Get up, get up, get up, Mills! Finally, carefully, she slid out of his embrace inch by inch, until she was in the cold dark again, away from his warmth.
She'd been shaking slightly when she finally made it back to the couch. Telling herself over and over again that he had been dreaming of Katrina and she was wrong for lingering in his arms like she had a right to be there. Like she belonged there. No matter how damned good it felt. She wasn't his wife. His wife was dead. Because of her. She was just his friend. And she would be a shitty one if she were selfish enough to seek out anything more from him than platonic affection.
She would spend the next five and a half months running away from that scary ass feeling of yearning…of hope.
That's when she'd decided that they both needed a distraction. That's when she had determined to start hunting for leads on Henry's network; to force Crane to come back to the land of the living; to keep herself from hoping.
Now, Jenny seemed to think that Crane had been doing the same thing. Hoping. And hiding it.
She was definitely in trouble. All over again. Damn it, Jenny. Just because you got laid, that doesn't mean you get to go around sprinkling your magic love dust all over everything in your path. This was such a damned mess. One Abbie was too confused and exhausted to sort out right this moment.
The young lieutenant forced herself to focus on the present, shaking the thoughts away as she pulled to a stop at a red light.
She was a few minutes from the station. She had to clear her head and get to work. Work – that she could do. That was what she needed. Whatever Reyes had for her sounded potentially big and, hopefully, like it could keep her busy for days, maybe weeks. And if Crane's dream thing panned out, there was another problem to throw her weight behind…postpone whatever 'come to Jesus' moment Jenny insisted needed to happen between her and the lanky man occupying all her thoughts from sun up to sun down lately.
As she sat waiting for the light to change, worrying her lip between her teeth and rolling her eyes at this stupid mess she was in, she suddenly felt cold. But it was a stranger sensation than just being chilly. There was no reason for it. Her AC wasn't on. The air outside, coming in through her cracked window, was mild and slightly humid. This wasn't that. This was a searing coldness, concentrated at the back of her neck.
Distracted and confused, she happened to look up at the rearview mirror absentmindedly.
Abbie froze. A chill ran straight through her. Her heart skipped several beats.
She saw a pair of absolutely terrifying eyes staring back at her in the mirror. For just a moment. Cold, green eyes. Set deep into a pale, peaked face, crowned by messy red hair. A face like death; void of any emotion but one. Hatred. Abbie felt the hatred emanating from those eyes like a knife to the gut. Then the face vanished.
She gasped and turned around abruptly in her seat, fumbling for her seatbelt and her gun with stiff fingers. She felt a vicious chill rip through her as she cautiously leaned over to examine the back seat. There was nothing back there.
"What the hell…?"
She had just seen Katrina. She knew it in her gut.
Then she heard a strange sound. A hiss?
Abbie turned to the passenger side of her car, and saw an enormous black snake staring dead at her.
"H-Holy shit!" she shouted, flying backward until she hit the door hard, raising her gun swiftly. But the snake only stared at her, its eyes as green as the ones she'd just seen in her rearview mirror. Its pointed head moved this way and that oddly, its eyes glittering. Several car horns sounded behind her; the light must have changed. One car angrily swerved around hers to pass her because of the green light. Abbie held her gun trained on the snake, intent on blowing its head off if it so much as twitched in her direction as she used her other hand to unbelt herself and fumble for the car door jam.
Just as Abbie got the door clicked open, her gun shaking in her hands as this creepy ass snake stared her down, the thing burst into flames. She actually felt the heat of the combustion rushing toward her face.
Abbie cried out as she fell into the street. The impact of her back, butt, and head hitting the hard, unforgiving asphalt knocked the wind out of her and sent stars shooting across her vision.
More car horns sounded, and then suddenly a Lincoln Towncar came to a panicked, abrupt stop just before it crushed her head. She rolled away and got up on shaky legs, her head spinning, feeling alarmed and disoriented as she stared hard into her car through the open driver's side door.
The snake had disappeared. There was a large, nasty burn mark all over her passenger seat. Heart pounding, Abbie stepped slowly toward the vehicle, gun ready at her side, cars forgotten. The mild chaos was only a blur in her periphery as she leaned in, examining the burn mark on her seat. It looked like…words? She couldn't tell. It was a mess in there.
"Lieutenant Mills?!"
She spun around to see Officer Jake Morrison running towards her from across the street, holding his hand out authoritatively to keep the traffic from advancing in his path. The rookie had concern and alarm etched all over his boyish face as he came to a stop at her side, reaching cautiously for his gun.
"Hey…" he frowned, catching his breath from his jaunt through traffic. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
Abbie blinked at him, her head feeling like pulp; her heart pounding. "I, uh…thought I saw something," she mumbled, turning back to look into the car again.
Jake frowned. "Saw what?" He stared in after her.
Abbie shook her head, a little shaken up over what she'd just experienced. "Crane's proof…" she muttered under her breath just as another car honked.
Jake didn't answer. He was preoccupied by the large burn mark. "What did that?" he gestured to her passenger seat. Then he seemed to remember something and waved his hand to get her attention. "Oh, crap I almost forgot. Hey, you need to report to the station A.S.A.P."
His words sobered Abbie up somewhat, and she turned to squint at him, finally holstering her gun. "What's the rush?"
"Captain Reyes put out a call. Said to tell you to head straight to the precinct if we spotted you grabbing coffee or somethin'. Rhodes and me were at the Starbucks over there. I saw you take that fall just now." He explained, shrugging, though clearly still perturbed by what he was looking at. He hit her with a hailstorm of questions. "What happened here? You sure you're all right? Should I call for backup? You took a nasty fall; you need medical attention? Yeah, YEAH!" He shouted abruptly as another driver honked angrily. "Police business, move it along!"
His partner Rhodes was jogging over now; older fella, salt and pepper buzz cut, big chested like a gorilla. Abbie didn't like Rhodes much. He'd been a beat cop for a long time, knew everybody on the force, and had a big mouth that spewed sexist shit with a little too much gusto for Abbie's comfort. She usually avoided interacting with him in case she got the urge to deck him in the face. He came to a stop in front of them, taking off his dark aviators.
"Hey, Mills! You need to report, now. Orders from the lady boss." Abbie grit her teeth. Disrespectful bastard. He probably assumed she was in trouble with Reyes and definitely appeared to be taking pleasure in that misconception. "What happened, you shoot a kid?"
She licked her lips and ran both hands through her hair, gathering her patience. She had calmed down and her head, though it hurt, had stopped spinning. "Nope."
"Well, you better get your ass in gear, anyway. Reyes is on the war path." Rhodes smirked. "Rumor has it there are Feds sniffing around the joint, too. Buncha pencil dicks. Can't believe you almost went to Quantico to join up with those pussies."
"We'll escort you, let's go." Jake said quickly, sensing that Abbie's patience was almost up. He looked embarrassed; not the first time she'd seen Rhodes breaking in a rookie. At the moment, Abbie was more interested in the news that there were federal officers involved in a potential case.
Her phone buzzed. She immediately thought of Crane and grabbed for it. It was Reyes. She sighed hard and nodded to the two officers, turning to get back into her car as she answered the call.
"Mills."
"Mills, you'd better be here in five minutes. I'm starting your briefing now. You're on the clock."
"Be there in five, ma'am." Abbie confirmed, climbing in after nervously checking for any signs of another surprise. She buckled up and closed the door, her eyes darting at the giant scorch mark on her passenger seat and back to the road every few seconds. She needed to examine the thing later. Take pictures of it for Crane. She could smell the lingering odor of burnt leather. It was all that remained of an enormous snake that appeared out of nowhere and burst into freakin' flames right in front of her. Not to mention those eyes she saw in the rearview mirror. I need to call Crane...
Reyes' voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Good, because we've got a serious situation here. We've been monitoring a case out of Chester, Pennsylvania and it just blew wide open. You listening?"
"Chester, Penn; got it." Abbie confirmed distractedly, the thought of calling Crane still nagging her as she followed the other officers' cruiser through the intersection and down the street. She didn't understand why they needed the theatrics for a five-minute ride. Damn Rhodes always tryin' to show off in front of the rookies…she thought. Their flashing, whaling siren made her head hurt. She had hit it pretty hard when she fell out of the car. She hoped she wasn't experiencing signs of a mild concussion. No time to get it checked out. She wasn't having any problems focusing her vision, so she figured she was safe for now.
"Is that you I see? Let's talk face to face." The captain's severe voice cut into her thoughts.
She was pulling up to the station, now, and Reyes was outside with a case file in one hand, disconnecting their call on her phone in the other.
Abbie took a deep breath and forced herself to put her phone in her back pocket as she parked and got out of the Range Rover. She would have to call Crane when Reyes was done. Or go straight to him in the archives. He and Jenny may have arrived by the time this briefing was over. A briefing so urgent that Reyes would put out an A.P.B., apparently. And there were Feds here. Right—focus. Time to be a cop.
"Isaiah Martin." The captain said, handing Abbie the file and turning to stride into the station, her posture conveying an absolutely no nonsense attitude. Abbie paused, her heart skipping several beats for the second time in ten minutes. Isaiah. She didn't have to look at the case file. She knew him. He was the one kid she'd given the pie talk to; the kid she couldn't save. Reyes glanced back impatiently and Abbie kicked her ass in gear, following quickly.
Memories of Isaiah were now swimming through her head. He was young, sad, angry, intelligent—and bipolar. He was brilliant and passionate, but unpredictable and at times very frightening. She'd spent the entire time she'd been in his life trying to think of a way to calm him; get him to channel his volatile tendencies into something positive and productive. She couldn't save him, in the end. Her hope had failed her that time.
Reyes continued rapid fire, walking brusquely. "Spent a few months in Tarrytown until he was transferred to maximum security at Chester State last year for stabbing a security guard. Overflowing prison population, bureaucratic crap, yadda yadda, you get the picture."
Abbie remembered the stabbing. It had happened right before she got the acceptance letter from Quantico. So much had happened since then, without realizing it she had moved on and forgotten about Isaiah. How could you forget about Isaiah?
"Tossed around foster care when he was a kid, caught for stealing at fifteen, sent to juvie for six months, broke probation, stole a vehicle, assaulted a cop in 2012…yeah." Abbie continued for her, avoiding her gaze as she followed Reyes into the station. "I know him."
"Correct." Reyes paused in front of the processing area, her eyes trained on Abbie's. She was looking for signs of discomfort. Assessing whether or not her lieutenant was going to become distracted by her history with the perp, or use that history to her advantage. Abbie met her gaze with as much fortitude as she could muster. "You were his arresting officer three times. I pulled your file when I first got here, remember?"
"Yes ma'am…" Abbie concurred, bouncing on her feet with strained patience. "Excuse me, Captain, but…what is going on? What's Isaiah done?"
Reyes sighed and shifted on her feet, looking almost contrite, which was alarming to Abbie. "Look, I wouldn't be putting you on this case if I didn't think you could handle it. I trust you, Mills."
"Understood. Thank you." Abbie nodded, still waiting.
Reyes stared at her, hesitating. Whatever it was he'd done, it was bad. The captain took a breath and plowed on: "He escaped about a week ago and ever since, there's been a string of unsolved homicides across Pennsylvania. Same M.O. Every single victim was shot in the back of the head, execution style. No obvious connection except the bullets. A bank teller. A kids' soccer coach. Priest. Even another cop. The last killing was the alderman's wife. Word down the pipeline is they've been trying to keep it under wraps, but the cat's outta the bag. There'll be a press conference in Chester in less than an hour."
"Jesus…" Abbie swallowed a thick knot of dread. "He killed those people?"
Reyes nodded gently, then shifted back into cop mode and started walking again. Abbie followed, refocusing herself and swallowing down her disappointment in Isaiah. Her disappointment in herself, for failing to help him overcome his demons.
"It's been looking that way for the last twenty-four hours. There's been a manhunt underway, but never any signs of him until another soul is lost. Until recently. He left a note with the alderman's wife's body. It talks about…demons." She looked as if she could barely tolerate saying the word with any modicum of deference.
Yet again, Abbie was stopped in her tracks. "Demons?"
Reyes urged them on. To her surprise, they bypassed Reyes' office and headed for the stairwell at the end of the hall. As they stepped in, Abbie felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. She knew without looking that it was Crane. She wondered how many times he'd called her already. She knew that he'd be super annoyed—he hated it when she took off without telling him where she was going, how long she'd be gone, and why he couldn't come too. But I'm the one smothering him, she couldn't stop herself from thinking sarcastically.
Reyes started leading them up the three short flights to the roof, where there was helicopter access, and a thousand prickly needles of adrenaline hit Abbie all over her body. As she followed, Crane's voice echoed in her head.
"I cannot help feeling that we should not be separated under any circumstances…" he had said in the kitchen earlier. She swallowed a thick knot of dread as they climbed and Reyes talked.
"Yes, demons, lieutenant. He claims that everyone he murdered was…well, one of those." Reyes gestured dismissively, her cynicism showing in her face. She paused on the second flight and turned to Abbie, nodding to indicate the file in Abbie's hand. "Everything's in the file, but let's put it this way: your job in this case is to work the perp and get to the bottom of this, no stunts, got it? The Feds aren't just interested in you because Martin is connected to you. They do their homework, Mills."
Abbie squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw, but said nothing. 'Their homework' meant they probably knew everything about her. In so many words, Reyes confirmed as much, counting off her fingers.
"Corbin's strange death. Your work to bust up that satanic cult, that mess with those thugs wanting to sacrifice Mayor Winston's daughter in exactly the same spot you and your sister were found fourteen years ago…and I won't even mention your currently known ties to Frank Irving, or a whole string of other weird shit I've seen since I got here."
She dipped her head from side to side and crossed her arms, as if to say that her point was fairly obvious. Right. So Reyes wasn't a fool. She hadn't gotten to where she was by being especially unobservant.
"Needless to say, once the Feds took over, it wasn't long before I got a call." She sighed, clenching her jaw.
Abbie spoke up. "Why are they here, though, ma'am? It just doesn't add up. They only just learned about me. Why did they take over the case in the first place?"
Reyes looked annoyed, but not with her. "I'm not privy to that information." She took a deep breath before continuing gravely: "But like I said, the case took a turn this morning. It's not just that the last execution was too high-profile to keep under wraps—about an hour ago, he called into a local precinct in Chester and asked specifically for you, Mills. I convinced the Feds to let you consult on the case rather than allowing them to try to interrogate you. Don't ask me how I managed."
Abbie was more interested in the 'why' part. She had no doubt pulled strings. Frank wasn't the only guy in Westchester County who had connections. Abbie suddenly realized just how much Reyes must trust her; to go out on a limb for her like this. She could very easily be facing interrogation, and a much deeper look into what she and Crane got up to in Sleepy Hollow. Instead she was going to consult on the case and help the Feds bring Isaiah in. She silently vowed to herself to do her utmost to be sure they brought him in alive.
And to get to the bottom of this demon thing. Reyes wasn't aware, but if there were any truth to his story…she'd have to play this very, very carefully.
They made it to the top floor in silence and Reyes flung open the door. The helicopter was already going, waiting for her. A great rush of air from its big, rapidly spinning propellers swept into the stairwell through the open door, blowing Abbie and Reyes' hair all over their heads, nearly drowning out the older woman's next words. She reached a hand behind Abbie's back and ushered them out of the safety of the building, onto the landing pad.
Abbie's phone buzzed again in her pocket. Crane was calling or texting her again, probably very worried about her. She had so much to tell him, and they were sending her away right now. Nothing about this was good.
"What are you not telling me?" Abbie stopped walking stubbornly and turned to face the captain.
Reyes looked as if she had saved the worst for last. They were stopped just near the helicopter, the noise and the wind relentlessly trying to drown out their conversation. There was a stern-looking federal officer standing at the passenger door, waiting. He had scruffy blond hair but he was going bald, he was tall and he stood rigidly, making no attempt to greet or call to them.
"The other reason they need the press conference. The other reason they can't keep this under wraps anymore: Martin is holding hostages at an unknown location. Says he'll kill them all…if he doesn't get you. He's playing games with us." Reyes shouted somberly. "He's asking for you, so I'm asking for you. Forget about the Feds. You've gotta shut this down, Mills. Before anyone else is killed."
The full weight of what the police captain was asking of her hit Abbie all at once. It was a lot of information to take in. She understood why the woman broke it up into a series of mini-bombs instead of dropping the whole damn thing on her at once. Still, she felt the impact just as heavily.
Reyes stepped back, clearly done with her briefing.
"My jurisdiction ends here, but I expect you to report when you land and keep me posted on any shifts in the case. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good luck, Lieutenant."
Abbie nodded her thanks, turning to face the helicopter and the waiting FBI agent.
Now would be a good time to finally call Crane back.
(Jenny.)
Crane hurried inside to grab his phone and keys and secure the cabin while Jenny went to retrieve the truck.
It was his prized Ford Bronco, her favorite thing to drive. She got exercise driving this thing. She hadn't done it in a while, since flipping it over on Route 9 last year. But as she climbed inside and started her up, she felt right at home, despite the bad memory. She was glad they'd managed to save the engine and repair the damage. She had good memories of this truck, too. Like all those times Corbin sat beside her, drinking coffee and reading the paper with his glasses perched atop his long nose as they staked out a potential lead on one of the many secret cases they'd worked together over the years. She felt a pang of sorrow, thinking of him, and realized just how much she missed him.
Jenny forced the memory away, taking a deep breath and honking the horn at Crane, who was taking pictures of the scorch marks on the porch with his phone.
He nodded and hurried toward the truck with a purposeful, long-legged stride. He was already dialing Abbie as he climbed in.
Jenny called Frank. "What's up, gorgeous?"
She couldn't help an amused smirk at his already more intimate greeting. If they hadn't just seen a ghost and her pet snake leave behind an ominous warning on the porch, she'd be tempted to flirt back.
"We're on the clock. Meet me and Crane at the archives? Fill you in when we get there. And, uh…" she paused, glancing around her as she maneuvered the truck around and out of the carport at the far side of the cabin, "Do me a favor and let me know if you see any ghosts or self-immolating snakes hanging around?"
He scoffed. "Self-immolating snakes? You still drunk?"
"I wish. I'll explain later. We'll be there in twenty minutes, I'm gonna gun it."
"Don't get pulled over. See you there."
They hung up just as Jenny got them onto the main road. Next to her, Crane gritted fiercely through clenched teeth: "Oh, you great—useless—bollocks!" He stabbed at his phone with his thumb to end the call.
She raised an eyebrow at his general direction, keeping her eyes on the road. "Can't get through, I'm guessing."
"This is my third attempt. Either she is in danger or she is ignoring my calls." He grunted, now concentrating on stabbing out a text message to Abbie and attaching the photos he took of the scorch marks.
'LIEUTENANT, BEWARE.
Serpent. Large. Black. Erupts to flames. Leaves this behind.
RETURN MY CALLS IMMEDIATELY UPON RECEIVING THIS TEXT.'
Wow, he sure has gotten the 'all caps-equal-urgent-screaming' memo…Jenny thought with a smirk as she glanced at his phone screen and back at the road again.
"Okay, talk to me, Crane. What the hell is going on?"
He wasted no time launching into his theory.
"Those words were written in Coptic. An ancient Egyptian language that predates even the origins of Katrina's coven."
"Coptic—yeah, I know of it. I just can't read it. Yet."
He nodded and continued. "Not even the Grand Grimoire dates back that far. It makes no sense." He was nervously checking his phone as he spoke, probably hoping for a text or call from Abbie.
"And the snake?"
"A curse vision, I'm sure of it. But I cannot determine the origin. I need more information. And I need Abbie to answer her phone." He grunted when they were forced to stop for a freight train. She'd rarely seen him so impatient.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw clenched. Damn, Icky's intense, she thought to herself as he glared through the windshield again. She knew why, of course. She'd be willing to bet that he was monumentally more worried about Abbie than was letting on. And more attached to her than he'd ever admit. She could practically feel the worry quaking inside of him as he glared at the road, his eyes unseeing. He'd been like this ever since Katrina and Henry died. Wearing thicker skin, watching Abbie's every move, and pretending that he wasn't going quietly mad with love for her big sister. Stupid, Jenny thought, really wanting to say something to snap him out of it. But now wasn't the time.
Right. Deep shit. Still in it.
"Okay, can I ask another question?" Jenny piped up again when they'd moved on from the train tracks and he'd called Abbie for the fourth time, to no avail. He nodded and heaved a breath to expel some of his nervous energy, seemingly grateful for the distraction from his worried thoughts. "What about what I saw before the snake? The red-haired woman in the woods?"
Crane leaned toward her slightly, eyeing her profile as she drove. "Are you certain that's what you saw?"
Jenny paused, remembering the chill in the air. The flash of movement. The red hair and the feeling of being watched. Carefully. Coldly.
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said after a moment, fighting off a chill at the memory of it alone. "Does this mean she's back? Katrina?"
Crane sighed hard. When he spoke next, his voice was low, filled with apprehension. "With the evidence presented before us, that's the most likely conclusion, yes. And I fear that if Katrina has indeed returned, free of the constraints of her mortal form, she could be far more powerful than we can possibly anticipate."
"You mean far more dangerous."
Crane merely nodded, his eyes like ocean waves in a storm.
Jenny let that sink in. She remembered Katrina and Henry's plot to 'awaken' all the witches and warlocks in Sleepy Hollow and beyond. She remembered what Henry had done to Frank, and hearing the story of what Katrina had almost done to Abbie. The damage she'd almost caused to the outcome of the war. All that when she was alive. What the hell was she capable of as a spirit?
"Okay. So this is really bad." Jenny muttered, sitting up in the driver's seat and accelerating to more than a few clicks past the speed limit. "And you think she's after Abbie?"
She saw his jaw clench tightly out of the corner of her eye. She took that as a 'yes'.
Intense silence fell over them as he studied the images on his phone of the words scorched into the porch. Jenny drove as quickly as she could without resorting to too many traffic violations. Early morning rush hour was always a bitch when it really got going. They had reached the busiest part of town, where folks from the outlying suburbs came in to work or pass through.
"Are there no laws to prevent this obstruction?" Crane grumbled suddenly when they'd slowed to a crawl, jammed up at an intersection.
Again, she felt his worry for Abbie practically radiating off of him. At the same time, she couldn't stop some hard questions from piling up in her head. She had to know. Behaving 'appropriately' be damned.
"Look, this might be a sore subject, but under these crazy ass circumstances, I gotta ask: Are you feeling any…uncertainty…about Katrina?"
He turned abruptly to look at her, stunned out of his annoyance. "I beg your pardon?"
Jenny felt the intensity of his probing gaze, but kept her eyes on the road. They were about ten minutes from the station. "I mean, if you're right, and Katrina is back, and somehow you end up having to make another choice like before—?"
"There is no choice, Jenny." He cut her off, his voice hard and clear. "It will always be Abbie." He paused, and she took her eyes off the road to see an expression on his face that confirmed everything she'd suspected for a while now. He met her eyes again, resolute. "It always has been."
"Good." She replied, focusing on switching lanes, noticing the fact that he was using Abbie's first name more and more lately. "I mean it's kind of obvious, but I had to make sure. She's my sister."
He nodded. "Understood." After a pause, he squinted inquisitively at the traffic ahead, his eyes flickering sidelong at her and back again. He gesticulated with his slender fingers. "And, by 'obvious', you mean…"
"It's pretty obvious to everyone who's around the two of you for longer than five minutes that you're in love with her? Yeah. Why do you think that Luke guy transferred to another county?"
He blinked several times, the meaning of her words apparently settling in. "I see. And by 'everyone'…?"
Jenny smirked. "Everyone except Abbie, of course."
"Right."
Crane's fingers curled and unfurled in his lap. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Jenny decided to let him off the hook; his curiosity was going to shoot through his fingertips at any moment. "It's okay, Icky."
He crushed his eyes shut in annoyance and she pressed on quickly to prevent him from grumbling about the nickname she refused to stop using.
"I think it's the best thing that could happen to both of you. So why don't you just tell her?"
"It isn't quite so simple. Your sister is a formidable, complex woman. But, like you said, she seems content to treat my affections as merely the 'cute' trappings of some 'eighteenth-century dude' persona. After all we've been through, I'm dismayed to find that she still has so little understanding of how much she means to me."
"How much does she mean to you?" Jenny couldn't help asking.
He was silent for a minute as they closed in on the station. "Let us say: Your earlier assessment is the correct one."
Jenny rightly took his meaning. So, he was in love with Abbie. That knowledge gave Jenny hope, and made her feel just the tiniest bit less nervous about all this Katrina business. She knew what Crane was capable of when he fought for someone he loved. Abbie told her about the tree monster. About his fierce anger in the face of any threat to his loved ones. She was going to count on that.
"You have to tell her, Crane."
"She has stubbornly thwarted my every attempt," he countered, "whether she's aware of it or not. And if I'm to be honest, I'm not at all certain she shares my feelings."
"Come on, don't tell me a tenacious genius like you can be so easily 'thwarted' by a pint-sized cop with a stubborn streak. You've been up against much scarier shit."
"And what if you're wrong? What if she can only see me as little more than some sort of 'Doctor Who' caricature? The last thing I wish is to diminish our friendship or jeopardize our bond as Witnesses to pursue my own selfish desires."
"You know her. She isn't losing sleep and running herself ragged for 'Doctor Who'. She's doing it for you, and that's not the kind of devotion you give out of pity, or some misguided fantasy. Abbie doesn't do fantasy. Trust me."
"I'm afraid matters of the heart will have to wait. Now, there is indeed 'much scarier shit' that begs our immediate attention…" Crane trailed off, studying the landscape, his eyes already seeking out Abbie's SUV as they pulled up to the station.
Jenny wanted to remind him that matters of the heart didn't wait for anything or anyone, and he'd be wise to avoid learning that the hard way—again. But he was distracted by the sight of Abbie's Range Rover, parked just ahead of them, right in front of the station entrance.
She pulled into a space near a parking meter, behind Abbie's car. The question popped into her head suddenly as she shut the truck off and pulled out her key. She paused and held his arm to stop him before he could get out. "Hey. What does that scorch mark actually say?"
He looked back at her, an ominous storm swirling around in his pretty blues. "It's a passage from the bible: 'Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder'. Reciting this passage was tradition at the time Katrina and I were wed to seal the bond of the bride and groom. I am afraid it makes me all the more certain that she is behind what we saw. But her methods…make no sense. I've no idea what's coming next."
Jenny felt a giant chill rip through her from her hair follicles to the tips of her toes. That was the source of his alarm. This mystery wasn't like their regular apocalypse-busting; this was a personal vendetta. Spirit or not, Katrina knew her man. Before this was over with, it was going to test the hell out if him. The surest test was going to be the threat of harm to Abbie, without knowing when or where or how it would strike.
Jenny could see it in his eyes and feel it constricting the muscles in his arm. And she finally understood how grave the situation actually was.
"Jesus, Crane."
"Indeed..." he nodded solemnly as they got out of the Bronco.
(Ichabod. / Jenny.)
Ichabod gripped his phone tightly in his right hand as they walked into the station. He focused on a singular purpose: finding Abbie and seeing for himself that she was unharmed and out of danger.
The mystery of the serpent, the very personal warning levied at him in an ancient dialect that ought not to belong in the arsenal of a witch from Katrina's coven, and the implications of his dream replayed over and over in his mind as he sauntered into the building with Jenny on his heels. He should have stayed in the room and made certain that Abbie agreed not to separate from him until they could gather more evidence, together. He should have obeyed his instincts then, but he was unwilling to impose himself on her so soon after he'd done such a splendid job of it the night before.
The fact that she still had not returned his texts or phone calls caused a tumultuous disquiet to gather in him and propel him forward through the station. He paid little attention to the men and women around him as his eyes sought out one petit form in particular. Most of Abbie's fellow officers kept him at a distance. They either continued to dwell on his mysterious arrival in Sleepy Hollow nearly two years ago, or they dismissed him as an interloper who showed them up whenever he consulted on a case. They called him 'The Professor', a nom de guerre Detective Morales left as a parting gift that seemed to have stuck.
"Any sign of her?" Jenny piped up, looking around with him. Her desk was empty. Indeed, it looked as though it hadn't been touched since the last time they were here.
"None…" he muttered, attempting to quell his ever-mounting dread.
"Oh no you don't, Professor." It seemed he would be forced to endure this unfortunate 'nickname' every time he entered this building. A tall, stocky officer with graying hair, the owner of the gruff voice, sauntered over to them. Officer Rhodes, Ichabod remembered. Abbie disliked him. She sometimes mentioned his less than enlightened view of women. "We're not in need of your, uh, special services today. Yours either, cupcake." He eyed Jenny with thinly veiled disdain.
Jenny simply gave him a defiant smile, taking pleasure in knowing that she could take him down in three moves. Or less. He looked like a fella who ate a lot of red meat and didn't get as much exercise as he pretended he did.
"Officer Rhodes, hello." Ichabod would remember his manners, no matter how pigheaded his audience. "Thank you, but I am not here to consult. We are looking for Leftenant Mills, however, if you could be so kind as to—"
"You're looking for Lieutenant Mills? We just escorted her." Another, much younger officer appeared behind them. Ichabod remembered him as Officer Jake Morrison, a 'rookie' whom Abbie spoke of much more amiably. Ichabod immediately shifted his full attention to the young man. "You're that guy she works with all the time, right?"
"You've seen her?" This time, at the mention of a sighting of Abbie, Ichabod wasted no time with pleasantries.
"Yeah, ran into her earlier. She had some kind of accident up the road."
"Was she hurt?" The young officer was caught of guard as Ichabod devoured the space between them with concern flooding his voice.
"She seemed fine…" Officer Morrison answered slowly, taking a step back. "A little shaken up, maybe, but then the Captain called and we brought her here."
"What happened? Can you tell me exactly?" Ichabod implored.
"I don't know…she fell out of her car, almost got ran over. Said she saw something but couldn't tell me what."
Ichabod and Jenny exchanged glances. Morrison simply looked puzzled and quite a bit as though he regretted ever speaking up.
"Where is she now? We need to find her." Jenny asked him.
Jake shrugged. "She just got choppered outta here with some Feds."
Ichabod frowned.
"She got flown out by helicopter? With federal agents?" Jenny stepped in, rightly assessing that some of those words didn't quite compute for Crane. She also had to repeat it just to make sure she heard it right. Boy, this morning just kept getting more interesting by the minute, not to mention alarming.
"Yeah." Jake replied as if that was just another day at the Sleepy Hollow P.D.
Except it wasn't. Jenny couldn't remember the last time she'd heard of the F.B.I. descending on this county, and she was a girl who learned a long time ago to keep her ears to the ground, being on the run and living under the radar of the authorities for so long.
"For what reason? Where are they taking her?" Ichabod demanded, cold dismay filling his veins.
"That's official police business and none of your concern." It was Reyes who spoke next, and the other officers practically scurried out of her way as she walked toward them from the direction of her office.
"Uh oh…" Jenny muttered under her breath. Reyes did not like her. She couldn't say she liked the older woman much either. She avoided her like the plague whenever they were here, usually preferring to skip the bullpen and go straight to the archives through the tunnels.
"I suppose you two have a good excuse for snooping around my precinct?"
Ichabod straightened his posture and clasped his hands behind his back. He always felt as though he were dangerously close to losing favor with the captain whenever they interacted. She only gave him reprieve from her hawkishness whenever he worked cases with Abbie, though she behaved as though she expected him to bungle his duties as a consultant until he inevitably proved her wrong.
"I am looking for my partner." He said, keeping his voice as steady as he could under the circumstances. She regarded him incredulously. She had information he needed, and she looked as if she knew it, and he was further dismayed to observe that she intended to withhold it even before she spoke.
"Your partner?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Mr. Crane, I shouldn't have to remind you of this, but Lieutenant Mills doesn't have a partner. Officially, you're still not on county payroll—" She pushed forward when he opened his mouth to protest, "—and the leniency I afford you as a freelance, civilian consultant ends and begins precisely when I say it does. So try again."
She wasn't in a trying mood, then. He sighed and changed tack. "Of course, that is understood. However, as the Leftenant and I have assisted in helping you close no less than five cases that proved, shall we say, overwhelming to your perpetually short-staffed precinct, I must respectfully disagree with your assessment of our working relationship. We are very much partners, Captain. And I need to find her. It's urgent. Will you assist me, or not?"
Reyes regarded him coolly, her expression unreadable. Ichabod did not back down. The other officers around them had gone tellingly silent; hanging on every word of their exchange while half-heartedly pretending to be working.
For her part, Jenny kept quiet, too. She was hoping Reyes wouldn't turn her razor-sharp focus on her at all. Way to stand up to the Cap, Icky…she thought. He was sexy when he was defiant. She had to hand it to him.
After a long pause, Reyes sighed and rubbed her temples. "I didn't mean to imply that your efforts in closing any of those cases have gone unappreciated, Crane." Ichabod nodded stiffly in acceptance of her pseudo apology. "Look—all I can tell you is that Lieutenant Mills is on assignment in Chester and it's out of my hands."
"Chester?" Jenny muttered, frowning. Reyes noticed her finally, but this time her curiosity was stronger than her desire to avoid being scrutinized by the top cop in the building. "What the hell is in Chester?"
"A federal murder case." The captain answered bluntly. "I'm not at liberty to tell you any more than that."
Ichabod noticed the note of resentment in the captain's voice. "You've been shut out of the case."
Her eyes narrowed at him and she crossed her arms. "Like I said, I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you." A pause. "But, I'll do my best to keep tabs on her, that's all I can promise. I'd suggest you two sit tight until you hear from her or me."
She started to walk away, clearly considering the matter closed, but Ichabod was having none of it. He quickly and deftly stepped around her to block her path, his long legs giving him the advantage. "Captain, please." He leaned forward, his height folding her into the intensity of his will. He lowered his voice, imploring her. "We have reason to believe her life is in danger."
Jenny stood still, watching, her brow furrowed deeply. She could see Reyes hesitating, and hoped she'd give the guy a break. "What's that supposed to mean, Crane?"
He blinked rapidly, and Jenny was annoyed to realize he hadn't thought ahead of his statement, for once. He must be really freaking worried about Abbie, she thought.
"We received a threat," Jenny threw him a bone, continuing with her eyes on Reyes. Go along with it, dude, she tried to express using little more than her eyebrows. "From the same guys who wanted to sacrifice the mayor's daughter, at least we think."
"You think? Or you know?" Reyes folded her arms, narrowing her eyes in thought.
The woman was a cop through and through. At the very mention of some funny business going on in her town, they had her attention. Jenny used the opportunity to flash Crane a look, and she was relieved to see the confusion clearing from his eyes.
"Ah, not yet," he continued for her. "We intend to follow the only lead we have, though it is, admittedly, slim. But we must find Abbie."
"The threat makes it sound like we shouldn't be separated." Jenny added.
Reyes looked from one to the other as they 'tag-teamed' to come up with something she'd believe. Ichabod was grateful to Jenny for thinking so quickly. He had to focus on the present; but his mind was on Abbie and it made him desperate to have his way. If they could gain the captain's trust, they could perhaps convince her to cooperate in an official capacity should they require it. Perhaps they could even persuade her to bring Abbie home, he dared hope.
"And you think this threatens Mills directly?"
"It threatens us all, Captain. At the moment, my only goal is to make certain my partner is safe."
Reyes seemed to snap out of her temporary distraction by their case bait. She lifted her hands at them in a sign for them to slow their roll. "Look, Lieutenant Mills is working a case, alright? She's profiling for the F.B.I.; she's in good hands, and frankly, she knows how to take care of herself." Her tone was almost scornful, her expression suggesting that she disapproved of him for underestimating Abbie so easily. "Get me hard proof of this threat and I'll get a team together to neutralize it; the last thing I want is a crazed cult orphan running around my town doing God knows what."
She did not understand. He was frustrated, and he was about to keep pushing the issue, but Jenny saved them yet again. "We get that, captain. We'll back off."
"Good."
"Can we at least-?" Crane ground out, still determined to have his way. Reyes swiftly set him straight.
"No, you cannot 'at least' anything. No stunts, got it? Get me proof, that's what you can do. And then I'll take it from there, officially."
She waited to see if he would try to argue with her again, but he swallowed down his retort and nodded stiffly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. She turned and walked away from them, headed back to her office, considering the matter closed. She called over her shoulder: "When I hear from Mills, I'll fill her in."
"Come on, Crane." Jenny tentatively touched his arm. He was staring after the captain, and she knew he was trying to figure out another way to argue. "Hey."
His eyes snapped toward hers when she put a little more attitude in her voice.
"We don't have time for this. Let's go find out what the hell is going on."
"Agreed." Ichabod let go of his nagging need to find out everything the captain wasn't telling him about where she'd sent Abbie off to and followed Jenny. This was nothing like working with Captain Irving. The man at least kept them in the loop, and gaining his trust had been considerably less toilsome compared to this current battle of wills. "She isn't telling us something." He said as they made their way down to the basement to enter the tunnels.
"Agreed," Jenny used his term. "The whole thing is strange, the Feds coming here to scoop Abbie up like they're pen pals…I don't get it, either. But we can't worry about it now. I may not like her much, but Captain Reyes is right. Abbie can take care of herself."
Ichabod nodded as he sidestepped an officer headed in the opposite direction. It was an issue he would tend to later; for now Jenny was right, yet again. They needed to move on to the archives to start putting the pieces of this mystery together before they wasted any more time.
As they were entering the room that gained them access to the tunnels, Ichabod's smart phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt into overdrive and he reached for it immediately, halting his long-legged stride ahead of Jenny and rushing to answer it. "Leftenant? Where are you?"
Jenny heard the way he lowered his voice and grit his teeth as he turned away from her slightly to grill Abbie on her whereabouts. Yeah. Homeboy was going to need to unleash his pent up feelings for her really soon or he was going to pop his top like a teakettle. At the same time that she was relieved to hear from Abbie, Jenny wondered how in the hell her big sis could fail to notice how utterly sprung Tall, Dark, and British was on her.
She knew it was because even though she was good at acting tough, Abbie was also extremely vulnerable. She hid it well, but she could never fool Jenny.
Ichabod turned away from Jenny and ran a hand through his hair, not feeling at all contrite about his tone.
"We said we'd split up this morning, remember?" Her tone, however, was patient; almost patronizing. She knew perfectly well that he did remember everything, and that she remembered exactly what he'd said as well. It wasn't that. And of course, in her typical fashion when he was this flummoxed with her, she avoided answering his question directly. Maddening woman.
"No, I said it would be best not to separate. You seemed to think dashing off while I was indisposed was a better—!"
"I did not 'dash off!'" Abbie argued, cutting off his words. "I got called in. There's a difference, Crane."
He took a deep breath and tried not to let his relief at hearing her voice again distract him. They'd only been separated a short while. 'Get a grip,' Ichabod, he chided himself in Abbie's vernacular. Focus on the matter at hand...
"I saw Katrina."
Dread filled him like a rising tide come to drown him. She rushed it out, and he could picture her biting her lower lip, like she did when she was either anxious about something or unhappy with a given situation. She went on to tell him about seeing Katrina in her review mirror. "Her eyes were there; she was staring at me; next second she was gone."
"And the serpent. Did you see the serpent after? The officer, Morrison, said you had an accident."
"Yeah. Sort of. The damned thing was in my passenger seat. It burst into flames, like you said in your text. Left one of those marks behind, too."
So this was real, and they were cursed. But there was so much more to this that eluded him at this very moment. He could feel it.
"What's going on, Crane?"
"We haven't worked out the details, but the current evidence suggests…a curse of some kind. We're on our way to the archives now. We've lost time."
"But you think Katrina's back." She pressed. "You think she cursed us just now?"
"Yes." Ah, he wished he could see her face. Instead there was miles of space separating them. He wished he had confessed himself by now, so that he could be free to reassure her with more than just his words. For now, he settled on at least getting her physically in range again. He knew he wouldn't feel at ease until he saw for certain that she was alive and safe. "Please, return to Sleepy Hollow. We shouldn't be separated until I can-"
"No, I can't. I've got a case."
"Yes, I know. Jenny and I were just with the captain. She has graciously refused to elaborate until we've conjured hard proof that your life is in danger." He scoffed and then turned around on the spot, coming up with a shoddy plan. "I'll talk to her. I'll just explain the severity of the circumstances more…urgently. She can assign someone else to this case."
"Crane, that's stupid. And this is my job; this is important."
"Forgive me, was there some sort of interference during the part where I explained that we're under a curse? Of origins, I might add, that are confounding at best. What case is more important that your life, Leftenant?"
"This one is." She matched his indignant tone with her own insistent one before taking a deep breath and steadying her voice. "Hear me out, okay?
I know this kid; he's connected to me. He's in a lot of trouble. I have to bring him in before a lot of innocent people die. I can't just walk away from that, Crane."
He inhaled heavily and nodded into the phone. He remembered himself, then. They were more alike than she knew. Duty first. Always. "Nor would I ask you to. Forgive me." He meant it sincerely this time.
"You're forgiven. And you didn't let me finish. Get a load of this: he says he's destroying demons. This case could be one of ours."
Ichabod frowned and glanced towards Jenny, who appeared to be texting someone, likely Irving to inform him of their whereabouts. She paused what she was doing when he uttered: "Demons?"
Abbie explained more of what Reyes wasn't telling them. That this Isaiah person was from her past, he had been in Tarrytown, and was now on the run—or more like on the hunt, he claimed. For demons. She went on to explain that he'd come out of hiding long enough to kidnap an unknown number of people, threaten their lives, and summon Abbie to Pennsylvania to…what? Play like a fiddle? Lead to her doom? Ichabod felt the dread welling up inside him again, but he swallowed it down.
"I gotta get to the bottom of this. And I have to try to save Isaiah."
"But, not at the expensive of your life. Please, just…"
"I know. I'll be careful. You and Jenny work on figuring out this curse thing. Just keep me up to speed. Maybe I can watch out for what's coming."
"I'm afraid curses don't work that way, only way to stop them is to reverse them. Or kill the conjurer."
"Well, Plan B is out. So find out how to reverse this. You and Jenny make a great team. And you've got Frank, too. This is what we do, Crane." He wanted to argue again, but she spoke before he could. "I gotta go; the press conference is starting. I'll call you back when I can."
"Abbie—!" He spoke just before she could hang up. "I meant what I said this morning. I cannot lose you."
He didn't know how else to say it.
"Crane, the last time we faced Katrina, we survived being separated by a couple hundred years." She reminded him. "We got this. I'll keep my phone close."
She hung up. He filled the following silence with the words echoing in his head. He wished he could've said more. But what more could he tell her if it weren't to tell her everything? I love you, my heart is irrevocably tethered to your wellbeing, please come back to me. I will come and get you if I must. He should never have taken his eyes off of her. Now there was no telling when he'd see her again.
Ichabod shunted his welling dread, straightening his posture and cloaking himself in a sturdy shell of determination. They had work to do. He had to put a stop to whatever was coming for them, and he vowed right then to tell Abbie exactly how he felt before any of it was said and done with.
"Let's go," he marched past Jenny and disappeared into the tunnels with her close on his heels.