Story: Possession, Chapter 7
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandom: Sleepy Hollow
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.
Author notes: Thank you so much for the reviews and follows. I have appreciated every one of them.
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Stars.
Thousands of them. They shone like jewels over high treetops that swayed in a night breeze, except for a few that were fading in the subtle predawn light in the east. Ichabod gazed at them through the cabin window. Never again would he take the stars and moon for granted, not after the city had almost lost them forever.
He dropped the curtain. It fell back into place across the glass as he turned to face Katrina. She sat cross-legged and straight-backed on the living room floor with the dark, empty cauldron in front of her. Soot from the fire stained her gray T-shirt. Remnants of salt from earlier that night dusted the carpet.
Had it been only a few hours ago that Abbie had read the words that had caused her spirit to exchange places with Katrina's? It seemed days ago. And how had Abbie fared in Purgatory, at the mercy of the very demon they were trying to defeat?
"The darkness has gone," he said, weariness weighing heavily in his bones.
Katrina nodded. If Ichabod felt merely weary, she must be ten times more. The fire brigade that had arrived to extinguish the inferno had also revived her with their medical expertise. They had wanted to send her to a hospital, but Ichabod had managed to convince Captain Irving (who had also arrived at the scene) of the folly of that plan.
"So you're saying," Irving had said skeptically when Ichabod explained, "that Lieutenant Mills is not Lieutenant Mills? That she's really your wife, who has been dead for more than two centuries and also happens to be a witch?"
"Yes."
"And the two of you need to cast some spell on that Halloween decoration over there to fix" — he waved vaguely at the sky — "whatever this is."
"That is correct."
Irving gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Get out of here and take your glowing pot with you. But you tell Lieutenant Mills that when she is back in her own body, I expect her to report in for a full medical exam." He eyed Ichabod's ash-covered coat and face. "And you, too, while you're at it."
"Of course, Captain."
Ichabod went to sit beside Katrina on the carpet. She leaned against him and laid her head — Abbie's head — on his shoulder. She felt perfect there, though he did not know whether Katrina made him feel that way or Abbie. Or both.
"I'm so tired," she said.
"Are you well?"
"Well enough. Though your partner might not thank me for how poorly I have treated her body. I had forgotten how fragile this flesh and blood is."
He put his arm around her. "I will redouble my efforts to find you. I won't rest until I have returned you to life in your own body. I promise."
"Promise me something else."
"What is it?"
"That you won't forget what I said."
He winced. "If you are referring to Miss Mills, I —"
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "You will do whatever you feel is the right thing. Only know that however you choose, you have my blessing."
"The blessing of a witch," he mused.
"Yes. Now fetch the salt. We have left your partner in Purgatory for long enough."
Ichabod agreed wholeheartedly with that, though regaining Abbie meant losing Katrina. Yet if they managed to free Katrina from Moloch's clutches and resurrected her, here in this time, what then? He would have them both. He would have to choose.
An impossible choice.
But that was not today.
He showed Katrina how to open the container's spout, and she poured out a circle of salt on the carpet over the remnants of the one he and Abbie had made. She positioned herself in the center.
"Do you need the words of the spell?" Ichabod asked. "I wrote them down."
"No, my love. Though I am glad you found my book."
"Your book?" he asked. "Strange, I have never seen it before." Though perhaps that was not so strange, seeing as Katrina had hid from him her involvement in the occult. "You should know it is quite safe in a vault beneath the city and in the care of a very protective librarian."
"I'm sure you will need it again." She blew him a kiss. "I won't say goodbye. There are no goodbyes with us. Only until next time."
A pain stabbed at Ichabod's chest. Who knew when the next time would be. "Until next time," he said. "Give Moloch my regards."
She closed her eyes and began the spell, speaking the words in Latin. When the fierce wind rose up, this time Ichabod was ready. He braced his feet and held tight to the back of a chair. Their eyes met across the barrier of salt, and he thought her lips might have formed the words "I love you," but the wind whipped them away from his ears.
Her knees buckled and her eyes rolled up in her head. She collapsed into a heap.
When the wind died, Ichabod rushed forward to kneel beside her, as he had before, and lifted her head onto his knees.
"Miss Mills?"
He brushed the hair from her face. She looked so peaceful and relaxed.
Then the peace shattered as her eyes shot open wide. Not with fear, as Ichabod had anticipated, but with a fierce glint akin to battle rage. She scrambled to her feet, but her knees folded. She would have fallen if Ichabod and not caught her and eased her down.
"Careful," he said. "You're safe. You're back in the cabin. You're safe."
She relaxed into his arms. "Crane?"
"Yes."
"For real? You're not a trick?"
He frowned. What had happened to her to make her think he was an illusion? "I am here, Miss Mills."
She lay on the floor and took deep, gulping breaths. "My chest hurts."
"We were in a fire, or rather Katrina and I were. But all is well, at least for tonight. The darkness is defeated." He helped her sit up. She looked at him, still wild-eyed. "Are you all right?"
"I was in Purgatory."
"I know."
"Moloch was there. And an ax." Her looked past him, her gaze growing distant. "I don't know where it came from, but I found an ax, and he was scared of it. Like, scared shitless. He ran from it, and I chased him. I was chasing him through the forest, and then I was here."
Ichabod tried to follow her. She was talking frantically, as if she were relating a dream that she feared she would forget if she did not say it fast enough.
"Was it the Horseman's ax?" he asked in an attempt to help her focus.
Her mouth and eyes tightened with concentration. "No. I don't think so. We have to find it, Crane. It has to be real. It'll help us."
She would have said more, if her mouth had not opened into a large yawn.
"We will find it," he assured her. "But right now, you need to rest. You have been through much, it seems, and so has your body. Your captain was not happy when I would not let him pack you off to a hospital."
"I am tired," she agreed.
"Let me help you to bed."
She leaned heavily against him while he assisted her to her feet. He enjoyed the way her body fit against his, and she showed no inclination to move away from him, as they walked to the bedroom. Once there, he turned down the blankets and sheets. Abbie laid down, her eyelids fluttering closed.
"The pillow smells like you," she said.
He sat beside her, hands in his lap.
"Miss Mills, before you sleep, there is something I wish to tell you."
"Yeah?"
"It is about us."
"Us?" she repeated sleepily.
"Yes. We have always been honest with each other, but there is something I have not shared with you. I believe it would be dishonorable of me to keep it from you any longer." He paused to give her the opportunity to respond. When she didn't, he said, "Miss Mills? Abbie?"
Nothing.
She had fallen asleep.
"It is just as well," Ichabod murmured.
He walked around to the other side of the bed, removed his boots, and laid down atop the covers. He should not, strictly speaking, share a bed with with any woman other than his wife. But they were both clothed, and the bed was large enough that they would not accidentally touch in their sleep. Besides, he was too tired to make up another place to rest.
As he began to drift, he had one more thought, and said, "I am very sorry about your vehicle."
Abbie blinked back to awareness. "My what? Did something happen to my SUV?"
Ichabod's answer was a soft snore.
She sighed.
Whatever he had meant, it would wait for tomorrow. She scooted closer to him and curled up against his side. In his sleep, his arm went around her.
Abbie smiled and closed her eyes.
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The end. Thank you for reading!