Sarah Bending Willow hadn't given the faintest indication of surprise when a huge metal hook tumbled out of a balled up red leather jacket as she lifted the garment from the bedroom floor but the sight of the shiny metal object had certainly unnerved her grandson. He couldn't fathom why anyone would be carrying around a giant hook – especially one they'd clearly been attempting to conceal. And his curiosity only increased when he located the black leather contraption that Mr. Jones had been wearing on his stumped left arm. Presumably, the sheath and harness system were used to house his prosthetic but what raised Carlos' suspicion was that the narrow opening in the piece that fitted over his blunted forearm appeared to be the same size and approximate shape as the tapered base of the sharpened hook. Despite Grandmother's insistence that he leave it alone, the park ranger found that the hook locked perfectly and precisely into the slot. Why would someone be in possession of a steel hook that fit into a prosthetic device unless that hook was said prosthetic?
He'd felt a degree of betrayal from these people they'd rescued and had stormed off to the hospital in Mesa to demand some answers from Mrs. Jones. He wanted to know exactly what they were trying to hide and Grandmother saw no use in attempting to stop him. He needed his answers but the old woman sensed they would come in time so she'd simply continued tidying up the small bedroom, removing and soaking the bedcovers to wash away the traces of sweat and blood then vacuuming up the remaining shards of the shattered mug. She had intended to salvage what she could of her guests' own clothing but as she lifted one of Killian's black leather boots from the floor, a chill coursed through her body – goosebumps breaking out across her arms as the eerie sensation grew stronger.
Her wide, dark eyes were drawn upward toward the window and she found herself moving slowly toward that window, guided by an unseen hand. She lost her grip on the boot, allowing it to tumble back to the floor while she reached out to gingerly grasp a corner of the pale yellow curtain. Her weathered fingers were trembling as she pulled the fabric aside – and then she spied the trickster through the dusty pane of glass – the mangy, skinny coyote that stared back at her with its soulless black orbs.
"Go away, Trickster!" the old woman shouted angrily. "You have no power here!" The animal pawed at the gravel surface of her driveway before trotting off and disappearing between the neighboring homes. She released the curtain and just stood there for a few seconds – although it felt decidedly longer – transfixed by what had just occurred. It had been many years since she'd last been spooked by a coyote's appearance outside her home and despite her best efforts to dismiss the uneasy feeling it had conveyed, she'd allowed the animal to get inside her thoughts. The trickster was never a good sign – forever a bad omen when one crossed your path but it waa not herself she feared for. The unnerving experience had begun the moment she'd touched Killian Jones' boot – perhaps just enough for the spirits to sense that she could understand the man's journey. A journey wrought with evil, yet one she believed was evolving - and now they had chosen her to guide the White Witch.
Snapping back to herself, she hurried out of the room in search of her cordless telephone, locating it atop the ornate table which sat beside her recliner in the living room. She didn't know if he'd answer since he'd departed here in such a huff nor did she know exactly where he was working today, but she rapidly punched in her grandson's cell phone number, quite thankful when he actually answered.
"Grandmother? Is everything okay?" Carlos asked. "You don't normally call me at this time of day…"
"Are you heading up to the mountains today or are you here in the city?" she countered his question with one of her own, only making him more concerned.
"I'm at the field office in Scottsdale. What's wrong, Grandmother? You sound really nervous or something..."
"The trickster paid me a visit while I was trying to finish cleaning the guest bedroom…"
"You saw a coyote?" He knew precisely what that superstition meant – an omen of evil – something his grandmother very strongly believed. "Which way was it headed?"
"West – toward the hospital."
The animal's direction was very important indicating the path evil spirits would follow and in this case, they were moving toward their new friends – the friends whose real identities he'd learned only a short while ago. He still clung to the belief that Grandmother may have already known that the Joneses weren't just a small town Sheriff and deputy and doubted she believed that the couple had ended up in the Superstition mountains purely by chance.
"Okay – I understand. What do you want me to do?"
"Come pick me up. I'll prepare a medicine pouch to help ward off the coming evil for now, but they aren't safe."
"I doubt they'll be able to go anywhere for a while… I'll talk to Tim Stillwater and see if he can step up security, but I'm pretty sure that Sheriff Jones can handle herself."
"This is a great evil, Carlos. I felt it – it's darkness. This is an ancient evil like none I've known…"
"Okay – I'm on my way and I've got one hell of a story to tell you about who your guests really are…"
"The White Witch. She is the White Witch from my vision," Grandmother stated bluntly. He didn't recall her ever mentioning a vision about a witch and didn't know how it related to Emma being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, but damn, if he wasn't incredibly curious now.
Abundantly thankful that he hadn't been scheduled for a shift up in the mountains today, Carlos Littlecreek slipped out of the field office early under their assumption that he was following up with the hikers he'd rescued. It wasn't entirely a lie but when the truth was that he was bringing his coyote-rattled grandmother to the hospital to warn the Joneses of evil spirits, it wasn't a difficult decision not to share the whole story. He was equally happy that he had the next two days off so he wouldn't need to explain any other potential absences – that was of course if all of this could be resolved in the next two days…
Grandmother stood just inside her screened door, anxiously awaiting his arrival as he pulled his own decade old Chevy Suburban into her driveway. She didn't wait for him to turn off the engine before she was out the door clutching a tan leather pouch intricately decorated with turquoise stones and brightly colored beads – her blessing bag as she'd called it since he was a boy. As she locked up her home, he noticed that she had changed her clothing from what she'd been wearing that morning, now clad in an off-white linen blouse adorned with bead work similar to the pouch she carried. She'd also loosened her hair, allowing her nearly waist-length pale locks to fall straight against her back. He knew she rarely went anywhere with her hair down so whatever had occurred was clearly affecting her in ways he couldn't comprehend. This was a side of Grandmother he didn't recall ever seeing before – at least not in the roughly thirty years he could remember.
The drive from her mobile park over to Mesa General Hospital took approximately twenty minutes in mid-afternoon traffic which allowed him time to relay the surprising conversation he'd had with Sheriff Emma. Grandmother had listened and nodded as he'd explained that the shiny steel hook they'd accidentally discovered belonged to Captain Hook, alter ego of Killian Jones who'd given up his life of piracy when he fell in love with and then married the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. He shared Emma's revelation that she possessed magical powers back in their home of Storybrooke – including the ability to heal. The elder woman had simply smiled at the news – almost aa though she'd already known - although Carlos doubted that she would ever reveal just how much she'd known about this mysterious couple before she'd sent him out to the Summit Trail to rescue them.
Now, her focus was only in making sure they were safe. That much Carlos knew for certain as they made their way inside the bustling hospital lobby. He had sent a message to Emma earlier to find out what room her husband was in, admitting to himself that he was genuinely concerned to learn that Killian was in the Intensive Care wing. Had there been complications from the surgery? What he'd witnessed that morning had without a doubt been worrisome and potentially life-threatening, but events seemed to have escalated and now they'd encountered another challenge – they weren't family and the hospital staff didn't intend to allow them to access the room. It took a little bit of bargaining and an intervening phone call from hospital security chief Tim Stillwater to gain them access to room 406 in the ICU wing but once they were finally able to obtain all of the necessary permissions, Carlos could almost see the relief in Emma's eyes. Being so far away from home, he and Grandmother were likely the closest they had to family right now.
"You look exhausted, child," Grandmother stated quite bluntly as she greeted Emma, clasping the younger woman's hands between hers. "Are the spirits wearing on you as well?"
"I don't know about 'spirits' but stress is definitely wearing on me," Emma replied with a deep sigh. "Killian still hasn't woke up and his temperature hasn't dropped at all. They've been drawing blood all afternoon for one test or another but they can't seem to isolate what's causing the fever."
"I fear he is being attacked by evil spirits," Grandmother insisted as she dug through the beaded blessing bag in search of the items she'd brought along.
"Evil spirits?" Emma repeated with a hearty degree of skepticism.
"Grandmother saw a coyote outside the guest room window earlier," Carlos attempted to explain, but the reference wasn't one that Emma was familiar with.
"I thought those were pretty common animals to find out here in the desert?" Emma asked, still unsure what a coyote might have to do with Killian's present malady.
"The Trickster – he is an omen of lurking evil – evil that is heading this way, although I fear that it may have already reached you," the old woman told her as she produced a much smaller, but nearly identical leather pouch from inside her blessing bag. The tiny bag was only about two inches square, decorated with similar intricate bead designs and from its lumpy appearance, contained some odd sized and shaped objects. "These will help hold the evil spirits at bay…," she stated, placing the pouch atop Killian's chest. "Turquoise stones are a powerful talisman to provide protection, but they cannot heal damage already done."
"You believe this might have something to do with his fever?" Emma wondered.
"Evil can manifest in many forms, so yes – the spirits may be causing this fever. They will not provide a cure, but they will protect him from the evil spirits trying to call him away. You will have to remove the traces of evil already placed upon him when your magic returns."
"My magic?" Emma responded with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I see that Carlos filled you in on who we are and how we actually got here?"
"He did," Grandmother smiled broadly. "I am honored to have had royalty as a guest in my home."
"I'm hardly a princess," Emma scoffed. "I'm the one who's honored that you were willing to help a couple of strangers."
"And who's to say that you were strangers?" the old woman said cryptically. "I believe that I know your purpose here now."
"You do?" Emma was curious as to how their accidental trip through a portal might have some higher purpose.
"Many years ago – long before my grandson here was born, our gods brought a vision to me of a powerful being who would bring magic back to our mountains – a white witch who could wield her power with a hand that glowed like a burning sun. I believe you to be that witch from my vision…"
"I don't know…," Emma stammered. "Out here – away from Storybrooke or one of the magical realms, I'm just another person. My powers don't work here or I certainly wouldn't be sitting here watching my husband fight for his life…" That thought had undoubtedly been running through her head more than she'd like, but she couldn't change the fact that this was the Land Without Magic.
"The time will come. Perhaps when the Blood Moon arises in two evenings, the elements will align for you…"
"Blood moon?" Emma interrupted the elder woman. She'd heard that term too many times already for the astrological event to be merely a coincidence. "Did you just say blood moon?"
"Yes, child," Grandmother answered. "The Blood Moon arises once a year and will be at its peak the night after tomorrow."
"The sorceress who opened the damned portal had been rambling on about the blood moon too. At least that's what my family learned from her… Whatever she was trying to do with the portal or wherever she was attempting to go, it had something to do with the timing of that moon. No way this is a coincidence…"
"Not likely – even for a skeptic like me," Carlos interjected, curious how the events tied together. "I'm going to go have a chat with my friend, Tim and see if he can do anything about security. I won't mention any of this supernatural stuff, although he's Apache so it probably wouldn't throw him, but I will definitely let him know about this Kronk person who's been impersonating a US Marshal. He's very real and I want to make sure that we're looking out for the safety of you and the Captain here."
"Appreciate it," Emma stated. "We might be stuck here for a while." She took a sideways glance at her unconscious husband as the waterworks threatened to break through again. "Especially if whatever the hell is attacking him doesn't break its hold soon."
At home in Storybrooke, the mood wasn't any less somber as David powered down the computer at his temporary desk – technically Emma's desk – as his day at the Sheriff station drew to an end. As acting Sheriff, he'd been thankful it had been a relatively slow day, although the prince attributed that mostly to the fact that half of the town was still reeling from the sudden disappearance of their Sheriff and Deputy. Not many townsfolk knew that Emma and Killian had been dropped into the middle of the Arizona wilderness and while David had informed a few close to the family that his daughter and son-in-law were basically okay, he didn't want to elaborate on their status because he honestly didn't really know.
He was planning to be out of the station by five o'clock if everything stayed quiet so he made no attempt to hide his displeasure when the front door swung open and Regina strolled into the squad room.
"I was hoping you'd still be here," was the first thing out of her mouth. No hello, no greeting whatsoever. Just straight to business which only increased his irritation.
"Just getting ready to head out for the night," David replied, letting her know in no uncertain terms that his day was done. "What can I do for you at this hour, Regina?"
"Do you still have that dagger around here somewhere? Belle wants to compare the symbols carved on it with the ones on the scepter."
"Yeah, of course. It's in the safe. Let me go get it…" David pressed the power button on the monitor to turn it off before kneeling in front of Emma's office safe, rapidly dialing the combination. He yanked the heavy door open and retrieved the slightly rusted and bloodstained broken dagger from the rectangular wooden box he'd stored it in. He hadn't really taken any time to appreciate the intricacy and artistry of the designs carved into the handle which appeared to be bone or some type of lightweight stone. It was definitely old - really old – yet the detail of the carving was still visible as were the inlaid precious stones along the hilt. "I hadn't really noticed what a work of art this thing actually was. At the time I picked this up, I was a little more focused on the bloodstains than the craftsmanship."
"These were probably ceremonial in nature," Regina responded as he stood up and handed the weapon to her, presenting it handle first. As she took it from David's hand she immediately noticed that the object was emitting a very strong, very dark vibration. "Wow – this thing is emanating a lot of dark magic – ancient dark magic…"
"Doesn't surprise me. It may be aesthetically beautiful, but that thing just looks evil," David stated. "Are you going to take it with you or do you just need some pictures of it?"
"I'd rather just take it with me, if that's alright with you? Maybe I can find a spell that can remove some of the darkness this thing's giving off. Even Gold's dagger doesn't give off vibes like this…"
"It's fine with me," David replied, returning to the safe to get the wooden box before closing and locking the door. "I had it stored in here…" He handed her the box with its hinged lid open and Regina wasted no time returning the dagger to its container, flipping the lid closed and securing it with the leather loop and tiny hook on the front.
"Thank you. It will be much easier to carry that way – especially as sharp as that broken part looks." She tucked the box under her arm while David switched off the lamp on the desktop. "I know you're trying to get out of here, but have you heard anything more from Emma?"
"I talked to her about an hour ago. Hook was just out of surgery but I guess it didn't go without complications. It wasn't hard to tell by the sound of her voice that she's having a hard time… Really wish someone was there with her…" David's own voice cracked as he made his way across the squad room to turn off the rest of the lights, hoping Regina hadn't heard the change in tone.
"I can't exactly spare another Sheriff right now," she said as he flipped the lights off, leaving only the emergency lighting illuminating the room. "We'll find a way to get them home."
"By the sound of things, it could be a while," he lamented. "I guess things were going okay after the surgeon removed the dagger shard from Hook's chest, but then his fever started to go up…"
"David – did you just say that they pulled a piece of this dagger out of the pirate?" she interrupted, hastily grabbing the prince's arm to stop him before he opened the door to leave.
"Yeah. I thought the damned thing broke when that Kronk guy dropped it, but that's not what happened. I guess the point snapped off when that old rusty metal struck the pirate's spine and the piece got lodged in there…"
"This isn't good…," Regina muttered to herself but he heard her anyway.
"What isn't good?"
"You know how I said that the dagger is seeping with dark magic? Well, if that broken piece was inside Hook's body, he might be suffering from the effects of that dark energy…"
"But they're not in a realm with magic. How would it affect him there?"
"Even in a realm without magic, this kind of darkness could still be toxic. It might not manifest itself the same as it would here, but it could still work like a curse. It might manifest like a really bad case of the flu or something, but if you say he's already running a fever, we're going to need something quickly. I'll work with Zelena to see if we can put together a potion to counteract the darkness until we can get him back here and cure him properly."
"The potion won't cure him?"
"No – it's only a temporary fix. And a lot of this really depends on how much evil was soaked into that broken piece. Just please let Emma know what is going on and that we'll get the potion to her by courier as soon as possible. Guess I'd better make sure that Belle steps up her part too. I know we're close to figuring out how these things work so we can get that portal reopened."
"What do I tell Emma – that this might be a magical curse not a physical injury?" David asked her sarcastically. "The hospital will be treating this like an infection or something…"
"If it's magical in nature, as it likely is, nothing they give him will have any effect. He'll just keep getting weaker. The potion would ward off some of the dark magic and slow its progression, but we'll still need to rid him of it entirely as soon as possible or…" She paused there, not sure what was the best way to explain.
"Or what, Regina?"
"Or he'll eventually get so weak he won't be able to regain consciousness. We'll do what we can to buy as much time as possible, but we've got to get them both back to Storybrooke soon."
"Not sure how we'll accomplish that, but I guess you'd better go get to work on that potion and then we'll find a way to get it to Emma even if I have to fly it there myself."
"I'll have it ready by tomorrow. We'll need to get a place to ship it to but I'm sure we can find a courier who can get it to Phoenix by evening."
"Alright, I'll call Emma and let her know what's going on. I'll see if there's a place we can ship the potion to – maybe to the woman who helped them out yesterday? We certainly can't ship a magical potion to the hospital. Don't think that would be a good idea…"
"You're right on that," Regina replied. "We will figure something out – even if I have to send a dwarf to hand deliver it."