Author's Note: Many thanks to all those who have left reviews. I'm very flattered by the praise. I hope you continue to enjoy this.

CHAPTER 5

Ichabod gave one last look around his cluttered attic laboratory, wondering if he had forgotten anything which may aid him in his investigations. The problem was that it was rather difficult to plan ahead when he really had no idea what he would be facing. Although he feared it would not be easy.

His eyes came to rest on his desk and he realised that he had forgotten something after all. Putting down the bag that Katrina had brought him to replace his lost other, he walked around the far side of the desk and pulled open the drawer. Inside was a sparse collection of his most treasured things, including the cardinal toy that had once been his mother's. Why he kept them in here rather than his in his room, he was not entirely sure. Perhaps it was because he had always been more at home here in his laboratory.

What he was looking for was filed neatly at the front, so it was always the first things he saw when he opened the draw. It served to remind him of how fortunate he was.

When Katrina entered a few moments later, he was holding the small blue book in his hand. He turned it over once or twice before placing it securely in his breast pocket. The spell book - complete with bullet embedded in it - was back where it belonged.

"The coach is waiting outside," she said softly, when it was clear he hadn't seen nor heard her enter.

"Yes," he said in an only softly startled manner, "I'm almost done."

Katrina stepped a little further into the room. She liked it and yet she rarely ventured up here. This was Ichabod's private sanctuary and she felt as though she should leave him that. She had her books and he had his science.

"Did you forget anything?" she asked, glancing round and wondering what on earth most of the equipment here did. She had no trouble recognising the beautiful bird cage though. She wondered if its former occupant had flown through the perfectly circular window that for some reason she found so charming.

"No," he said, taking one last look around as he picked up his bag, "Nothing important anyway."

He patted the book hidden inside his coat unconsciously, and noted that she saw the gesture.

"It is sure protection against harm," he said, reminding her of her own words. It was meant it to be some sort of comfort to her but instead her face fell.

"And you believe we'll need it?" she asked, troubled.

"I can't be certain of anything," he admitted gently, "But I don't intended to take any chances which will unquestionably increase the likelihood that we'll be perfectly fine."

She smiled. He had a marvellous way of rationalising everything into scientific terms. She found it somehow reassuring.

Pleased to see her looking a little happier, he guided her gently out of the door and glanced at his retreat once more before closing it up behind them. A very small part of him questioned whether he'd see it again.

--

The journey to Sleepy Hollow seemed longer the second time than it had the first. Perhaps it was because Ichabod found himself unable to sleep. For a short while he would rest fitfully, hovering between dreams and reality, never really aware of one nor the other. The slightest sound or jolt however would make him wake with a start, glancing round fearfully for an opponent, before his rational mind would reassert itself and tell him that nothing was amiss.

Perhaps the seemingly endless journey had something to do with his state of mind however. On his first visit here he had been nervous and uncertain, yet excited at finally having an opportunity to demonstrate his skills on an actual case. This time he was simply nervous, despite the reassurances he had given Katrina.

Ichabod never was one to pay heed to superstition and the such, even after his experiences in this little town. But something about this place made his stomach churn. It was as if tragedy and evil were woven into the very fabric of the area, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Thankfully, Katrina and Masbath seemed not so disturbed. Or at least they were more able to ignore it. That the boy had wished to come with them had hardly been a surprise, but even so Ichabod had tried to dissuade him. All his pleas had fallen on deaf ears however and he knew there was no point in attempting to make him stay behind by force. Masbath had turned out to be remarkably resourceful when he needed to be. It would be a simple task for him to make his own way to Sleepy Hollow, and Ichabod would rather he be where he could keep an eye on him.

The coach rattled noisily along the rocky track that ran adjacent to the Hudson River. Ichabod had chosen to sit on this side of the coach because he would rather look into the grey, dull expanse of the Hudson, rather than the fierce, imposing thicket of forest that was on their other side. Even the most dangerous New York alleyways didn't look so menacing.

Katrina, who was sleeping quietly against his shoulder, stirred slightly when the coach bounced it's way over a particularly large rock. He reached out a stroked her soft hair. The gesture of comfort had desired effect because she soon settled back into a peaceful slumber.

She hadn't been herself since the news of the vanishings had arrived. Out of them both, she was the calm, controlled one. She wasn't prone to extreme or unexpected reactions. The gentleness of her nature didn't seem to allow it. And yet, in the last few days, she had been fretful and restless. Constantly worrying and agitated. She had hardly sat still, taking up his occupation of pacing the length of the sitting room floor. Even her reading - which usually gave her such solace through everything - was attempted in vain. She could not sit with a book for more than ten minutes before she was compelled to admit defeat. Only now, when they were doing something tangible in response did she seem to have regained her composure.

Ichabod was quite the opposite. At home, he had been calm about the whole situation. A sense of scientific detachment had seemed to have asserted itself upon him. He had begun to form a plan of action for when he arrived, deciding exactly what he would do and researching previous cases of a similar nature. As they got closer however, the detachment couldn't hold and it gave way to his personal memories of his last visit. And since these included being scared out of his wits as he chased a headless demon intent on horribly murdering people, it was hardly surprising that they did nothing for his state of mind.

The coach didn't stop at the gates as it had on his first arrival, but instead rode through the town, heading for the Van Tassel manor.

When they pulled to a stop beside the impressive yet ominous looking house, Ichabod moved to place a gentle kiss on Katrina's cheek, waking her in the same way she had done him when they had returned to New York.

"We're here," he announced softly as her eyes fluttered open.

Her reaction was a little hard to read. It mainly spoke of placidity, but her expressive eyes were indeed troubled. She clearly had no warm feelings about returning to her childhood home.

She starred out of the window at it for such a long moment that it caused Ichabod and Young Masbath to exchange a slightly worried glance.

"Come along," she eventually said, forcing herself to make a decisive movement, "It's getting late and I fear we have a long day before us tomorrow."