Morning
rose to light the city and the little house, in which two forms still
lie in bed, entwined in each other's arms. While one lay quiet, the
other had already begun to stir. Ichabod opened one dreary eye
halfway, but groaned and shut it again before his eyes even had time
to focus on where he was, or who he was with. She was barely aware of
someone in his arms, but his head felt like it was being cleaved into
two with the Horseman's ax.
"Katrina?" he mumbled,
rubbing his closed eye with one hand. "Coffee," he
whispered. "I need coffee... Oh, my head..."
Anabelle heard a familiar voice mumbling, and could feel the warmth of the sun pouring through the windows. However, she did not want to stir. She was warm and comfortable, and had actually slept the night before. She shifted closer to the source of the warmth that was beside her, rolling her shoulder carelessly as she did so, exposing her skin and the purple blemish that could be found there.
"Katrina,
please!" Ichabod said, raising his voice a little. "Please,
go get me some-" He froze in midsentence, all the memories of
the previous few days, save for a few hours of last night, came
rushing back to him. He gasped. Katrina was dead... then
who...?
"Anabelle?" he whispered urgently, his eyes
shooting open. Oh no... Oh God!
What had happened? He was... was in bed with her, and... He gasped,
then groaned blinking at the purple mark on her shoulder. What an
idiot he was! How far had it gotten?
He looked down at himself and
then to her. He was still fully clothed and she was as well, for the
most part. He sighed in utter relief, but a moment later, he was
starring at his own hand. Then he grabbed hers and looked it over as
well. They were wearing matching wedding bands.
"What on
Earth happened
last night?!" he exclaimed, blinking back the tears the came to
his eyes from a rather nasty hangover.
Anabelle
forced her eyes open, squinting into the painfully bright morning
light to glance up at a panicked Ichobad. She tried to pull her hand
to rub the sleep from her eyes, only to find it firm in his grasp.
She blinked and forced her eyes to open again, meeting his startled
expression. He looked like he could faint.
"Before you get to
thinking what I believe you're thinking, nothing happened," her
gaze followed his to the mark on her shoulder. She twisted her neck
awkwardly to see what he was staring at. "Alright, that
happened, but nothing more than kisses. I told you that you were
drunk," she sighed, shaking her head softly her heart growing
heavy and her eyes brimming with tears.
He was always going to
see her as Katrina...
Ichabod
blinked, unsure of what to say. Finally, he looked down at her,
releasing her hand.
"I am... so sorry, Anabelle!" he
said softly, eyes wide. "That will never happen again, I promise
you!" He sat up and scooted his feet off the bed, his face in
his hands. "I wish the Horseman would get rid of that bloody
magistrate...," he said. "And you! I can't believe you let
me drink that much... Oh hell, I've made a mess of things. I am
sorry. You should have stopped me sooner. I was drunk... Oh, I was
drunk..." He sighed heavily, looking at the floor. "I'd
rather have gotten hit by another carriage than force you to...
to..."
"You
forced me to do nothing," Anabelle heard herself admit before
she could take back the words. She reached her hands around him to
turn his face to her, making him meet her eyes. "You were gentle
and stopped when I asked you to just keep me close. You were just,"
she shrugged her shoulders, "drunk."
She paused.
"I
think you like brandy more than you will admit. Good thing there is
no more left. The magistrate drank most of it."
He didn't
answer.
She let her hands fall from his cheeks, climbing out of
bed.
"I'll go make you some coffee," she added more to
the floorboards than to him. Oh how she wished just this once she
could be Katrina and not have to bear his broken hearted looks when
there was nothing she could do. He didn't want her. Anabelle was
nothing but a friend. She turned to go.
"Wait,"
Ichabod said suddenly. "Anabelle, don't go yet." He reached
out to take her hand gently, running his opposite hand through his
hair. "I... I..."
I
have no idea what to say,
he thought and then he sighed. His eyes closed and he tried to push
away the nauseating headache threatening to overcome him.
"Yes...
coffee, please..." he whispered.
Gently
she applied pressure to his hand before setting off to make coffee.
She didn't doubt that he had one hell of a hangover, but she wondered
what else he had been about to say. She pushed the thought from her
mind and went about her preparations.
A short while later, she
returned to the bedroom with coffee and a bland breakfast in hand.
Ichobad, it seemed, had fallen back to sleep, or perhaps he was
merely warding off the bright sunlight. Anabelle set the meal down on
the nightstand and went to the window, drawing the curtain against
the morning light before turning back to the bed. She sat on the edge
and looked at Ichobad. His brows were knit as if he were trying to
figure something out. She reached her hand out and gently shook his
shoulder.
"Ichobad, there's coffee."
Ichabod
whimpered pathetically as he lifted his head to squint at
Anabelle.
"Waking up in a hospital bed with a cast is
preferably, if you are ever interested in exploring the affects of
alcohol... Get yourself hit by a carriage." He sat up and took
the coffee from her, sipping at it greedily. "I did not have a
hangover when I broke my arm. The pain must have...must have...Ah."
He closed his eyes and leant his head back on the headboard. It was
another moment before he said anything, and when he did, his words
surprised even him.
"Come here and sit with me." He
patted the bed beside him pulling on her hand gently. "Explain
these," he added, looked at the rings on their hands.
Anabelle
let herself be pulled to sit beside him on the bed as he tugged
gently at her hand. What surprised her was how close Ichobad pulled
her. Their legs were touching, but he didn't seem to notice as he
waited for her to answer him.
She thought for a moment, choosing
her words carefully.
"These were my parents wedding rings,"
she began, staring straight ahead. "I lost my mother when I was
eleven. My father stopped wearing his ring two years after she died,
why I do not know, but he did. So when I was seventeen I asked for
the rings and he willingly gave them to me. I do not think he wanted
the reminder of my mother anymore."
She paused and glanced up
at Ichobad as if asking if she should continue. His gaze was
expectant, as if he was engraving this information into some recess
of his mind. Taking a deep breath, Anabelle continued.
"My
mother always said that there was some special...I think she used to
say 'magic'...in them," she closed her eyes trying to remember
the exact words she heard her mother speak so often. "There
is magic in these, Anabelle. They hold the power of protection. As
long as someone you care for has the other, no harm will come to
either one."
The words were her mothers, the voice speaking was her own.
Anabelle
opened her eyes, idly twisting the ring about her finger. "I
woke up last night and heard hooves on the cobblestones. It was so
late, no one would have been riding at such an hour. I got frightened
and remembered they were in my pocket. I was going to offer you my
father's, since we're acting that we're married, but I decided safety
couldn't wait. That's why you woke with the ring on."
For a
while longer, she stared ahead at the curtains that shielded the
bright morning light from the chamber. She could hear Ichobad
breathing beside her, but she didn't even glance his way, just
waiting for his reply. She honestly didn't know how he was going to
react...and that made her nervous.
Silently,
Ichabod listened and let the information about the rings sink in. He
took a large sip of coffee and nodded, looking over at her.
"They
are both protection and to help make this believable. I understand."
He examined the ring carefully. "I've always wondered what it
would be like when I finally had a ring on that finger. I suppose
this isn't quite the same, but...for a very, very good cause."
He took her hand carefully and lace their fingers together.
"I
don't know which might form a stronger partnership, a stronger bond.
Marriage, or hardship? Or possibly fraud?" His eyes were
searching deep into hers, trying to determine how she felt about it
all, about him. "Thank you for the ring and... I am terribly
sorry about whatever happened last night."
Anabelle
loved the feeling of his fingers laced with hers. She was quite
surprised he had made this move. Ichobad was so careful with her. She
raked her lower lip through her teeth, unsure of what to say. For a
moment she was just content to sit beside him, mulling over an answer
in her mind. Finally she arrived at a response that she thought would
be suitable.
"You are welcome. I do hope you feel better,
Ichobad. There is breakfast too, when you feel well enough to eat,"
she smiled as her tone shifted to an easy playfulness. "And as
for the other, I know nothing of fraud or marriage, so we'll simply
have to wait and see, won't we?"
Ichabod
smiled.
"Indeed we will," she said as he set down his
empty coffee mug. He then picked up the plate and forked and started
to eat quickly. He was starving, not having eaten much the previous
dinner either, though his manners were considerably more present than
the magistrate's had been.
"At least all the brandy is gone,"
he said wanly. "Do not ever let me drink again. Even if
that man threatens to fire me, do not let me do it, I say!"
--------------------------------------------------------
She
tugged the long sleeve of her white shirt further up her shoulder.
Even though this dress was far simpler than any she had worn thus
far, she didn't want Ichobad to worry about anyone seeing the mark on
her shoulder. She tightened the strings of the bodice that lay over
the blue dress. Anabelle smoothed her skirts, patiently waiting for
Ichobad. Finally she hoisted herself onto the counter, her legs
dangling over the edge as she idly fiddled with her wedding band,
ignoring the loose hairs that were falling in front of her eyes.
This
is going to be difficult. I just hope I remember that I am 'Katrina'
now...
Her
brows knit together as she chewed on her lower lip, carelessly
swinging her legs back and forth as she fiddled with her ring.
"Alright,
Anabelle, let's-" Ichabod stopped midsentence as he came around
the corner from the stairs and laid his eyes on her. "-go,"
he finished dumbly, his jaw hanging a little. "You...you look
very pretty," he stammered, blinking at the simple blue and
white dress. After a moment, he blinked and forced himself to look
away. He grabbed his bag from the table and hung a ring of keys on
his belt, then turned back to her and tried to only look at her
face.
"Are you ready? We're going out this way." He
pointed to the kitchen door. "I... well. I don't know if
everything been cleaned up in front, and you don't need to see that."
Anabelle felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as she blushed at his words. He thought she looked pretty. She watched as he gathered his keys, idly swinging her legs to and fro, not really wanting to get off the counter yet. She wasn't sure how things would be out in public and delaying the inevitable sounded like a good idea to her.
When
Ichabod had finished gathering his things, he turned and put his hand
on the door handle. Then he looked over his shoulder, realizing
Anabelle was not with him. With a small smile he turned back and
stepped towards her.
"We do not have to do this, you know, if
you feel uncomfortable. I know this will be hard for you." He
took her hands and gently pulled her off the counter. "But watch
out for me... Make sure I don't call you Anabelle."
Anabelle
noticed he kept his hands in hers as he spoke. She felt a slight
shiver course through her. She met his eyes.
"I think this
will be harder on you than on me," she answered, letting her
thumbs trace softly over the back of his palms. She paused, as if
deciding on her next course of action.
She rose up on tiptoe and
placed a soft kiss to Ichobad's cheek, allowing her lips to linger
only a moment before pulling away and glancing down before meeting
his dark eyes again.
"And I'll keep watch as best I can. I
promise you."
Ichabod
rose one hand to touch the place she had kissed, feeling a slight
blush rise there. He smiled a bit stupidly.
"Good, then.
We're off." Pulling on one of her hands, he led her out the
door. Once they were on the street, he wrapped one arm about her
waist, his bag hanging from the opposite hand. A few passersby
blinked amazedly, and one stopped and gawked openly. Ichabod tried
his best to dodge them as he made his was to the police station. He
had work to do, constables to convince the Anabelle was Katrina,
papers to picks up, evidence to examine... It was going to be, all
in all, a pretty busy day. Then, of course, on top of it all, he had
to figure out who was controlling the Horseman. The monster that had
made itself known in the city now, too.
Anabelle
tried to focus on the bustle of the city, but found herself thinking
only of Ichobad's hand as it rested on her waist. His grip was firm
yet tender.
Perhaps
this is what it's like to be in Katrina's shoes,
she mused as they continued down the busy street.
Anabelle quickly
became lost in her thoughts and stopped paying attention to where
Ichobad was guiding her. All of a sudden, she tripped on a loose
cobblestone, grabbing onto Ichobad's shoulder in order to keep from
losing her footing. His hand around her waist tightened as he turned
to look at her, meeting her dark eyes that were widened in surprise.
Upon seeing her startled expression, he laughed.
"Do not you
laugh, knave," she mockingly rebuked. "Should I tumble into
the street, I will take you with me."
...As long as he
laughs again. She had to admit, the sound made her heart skip a beat.
His features were warmer, his eyes sparkling with surpressed
amusement. Surely tumbling into the street again would be worth the
embarrassment if only Ichobad would laugh again.
Ichabod
could not suppress another chuckle, try as he might. He pulled
Anabelle to a stand and wrapped her arms around her waist. With a
playful little grin, he pulled her to one side, further out of the
middle of the street.
"I cannot bear to hold my laugh, dear
lady. Your lack of balance is nothing but amusing." He laughed
silently for a second, then grew serious. "But you would not
dare pull me into the cobbles. I am a constable, after all. That
could get you into trouble. Assault, refusal to comply," he
listed of a few crimes, including some made up ones. "You see,
you shouldn't get yourself into trouble with a man of the l-"
His foot caught under another loose stone and he feel backwards,
landing hard on his back, and pulling her down on top of him by the
waist. "-aw," he finished, blushing as he looked up at her
and frowned a little.
Anabelle's
breath caught in her throat as she landed on Ichobad's chest. His
eyes seemed to draw her in, making her completely forget they were
outside...in the street. She was content to do nothing but stare into
his darkening eyes, to enjoy the sensation of her body rising and
falling with each breath he took, to feel his hands tighten on her
waist.
Then the sound of a carriage down another street jolted her
into reality. She scrambled to her feet, offering a hand to Ichobad,
helping to pull him up as well. Once he was on his feet, they
remained close...so close they were almost touching...Anabelle
wondered who would glance away first. His hand was holding hers
tightly, his breathing warm and sweet as it brushed past her face,
gently tossling her stubborn hair that would not stay pinned back.
I
do believe I could remain this way forever...
After
a few moments, Ichabod pulled away from her, looking like he was
suffering from an intense internal argument. On one hand, the
absolute absurdity of standing there with his dead fiancé's
cousin, and on the other hand... she was
supposed to be Katrina now and the only way to convince everyone else
that she was his wife was to act that way in public.
Clearing his
throat, Ichabod took her hand and led her on down the street. Not
five minutes later a lower-ranking constable called out to him. He
stopped, wrapping a protected arm about Anabelle's waist as the other
constable jogged over.
"Sir! Sir, are-" he paused and
peered at Anabelle suspiciously. "W-where is Mrs. Crane?"
he asked cautiously as though afraid he was being nosy.
Anabelle
felt the color drain from her face as she heard the lower constable
ask where Mrs. Crane was. Desperately she tried to keep calm, to let
her actions betray nothing amiss.
All of a sudden an idea came to
her.
She smiled a small smile and rested her head on Ichobad's
shoulder, turning her face from the annoying little constable, her
hand coming to rest lightly on the same shoulder as her head, her
other hand holding his, intertwining their fingers.
"Would
you care to answer that, love, or do you wish me to?" she
whispered, her breath hitting his neck.
Ichabod
planted his feet hard into the ground to keep from shivering, but
then he shook his head.
"No, no, my dear. I shall answer
him." He looked at the Constable and lifted an eyebrow. "Because
if this man likes his job and title, he'd do better never to insult
Mrs. Ichabod Crane, ever again." His hand tightened visibly
around Anabelle's waist as he said this. The other man coughed, and
his face turned bright read and he bowed his head to the woman beside
his superior.
"So sorry, ma'am! I didn't mean any disrespect,
it is just that I thought that you had... well, lighter h-"
"The
young blond woman was Katrina's cousin," Ichabod interrupted,
doing a very nice impression of annoyance. "Now, did you need
something?"
"Yes, sir. I need to know if you were going
to the station, sir, because if so, you may want to go a different
route. There was another murder last night."
"We know
about the girl. We have already avoided passing h-"
"No,
sir! A third murder, I mean... The magistrate isn't very
pleased."
"I'm surprise he isn't ruddy lying in bed with
his head split in two...," Ichabod whispered into Anabelle's
ear. "And I don't mean literally, of course."
Anabelle
shivered as Ichobad's breath grazed her ear.
I
have got to get used to him doing things like this...I cannot afford
to shudder each time he touches me or his breath grazes my
skin.
Suddenly
she tore her thoughts from her internal lecture to focus on what the
other constable had said.
...There had been another
murder...
She glanced at Ichobad, wondering what was going to
happen next. Surely she would get underfoot at the station.
"Would
you prefer I returned home?" she asked, her tone low. "I do
not wish to distract you from work...and it seems like you'll have
your hands quite full without me getting underfoot."
At
these words from her, Ichabod's hand tightened roughly around her
wrist. Surely her fair skin would be bruised by the grip, but he did
not care at the moment.
"No, you are staying with me,"
he replied. He bid the other constable off and then pulled Anabelle
to the side slightly. "I must have you with me. I cannot risk
leaving you alone in the house. That is how...how..." He shook
his head. "You need to stay in my line of sight at all times,
Anabelle. Please." He sighed. "I shall keep you out of the
way, and you will not be bothering a soul. They will be too busy to
notice you. There is one thing however... I will need to go and
examine the newest...victim. I hate to, but I have to take you with
me. Perhaps you may help me?"
Anabelle
winced at his grip on her wrist, biting down on the inside of her lip
to take her mind off of the slight pain he was causing. She could
tell he was agitated and surely would never do anything to hurt her
on purpose.
She knew her dark eyes were betraying fear of going
with Ichobad. She was never good at masking her emotions.
He was
only doing this to protect her. Why he was going through so much
trouble she didn't know, but she appreciated it.
Anabelle nodded.
"I will do what I can, Ichobad."
"Thank you," he whispered, releasing her wrist and taking her hand again gently. He leaned in a pressed a light kiss to her cheekbone, before turning and continuing once more down the street.
---------------------------------------
When
they arrived at the station, it was almost suspiciously quiet inside.
With one arm around Anabelle's waist, Ichabod poked his head inside
and looked around. Several constables sat scribbling away in ledgers
and notebooks. Through the open door of his office, in all his fat,
drunken glory, sat the magistrate, slumped over on his desk and
snoring. He was asleep. With a quick roll of the eyes to Anabelle,
Ichabod pulled her inside quickly and headed for his own desk. He
pulled another chair out for her and sat it close to his at the
desk.
"I'm afraid I don't know much for you to do while we
are here, love... I won't be long, and then we will be off again.
Does that sound alright?" He handed her some paper and a pen in
case she wanted to draw. Then he sat down in his chair and began
shuffling through and reading important looking papers and making odd
noises as he jotted down notes and thoughts in her notebook.
Anabelle
bit back a laugh as Ichobad rolled his eyes at the drunken, sleeping
magistrate.
He
did a far better job of poisoning himself than I could ever do...she
mused, not really paying attention to the maze of desks Ichobad led
her through.
They arrived at his desk and he was kind enough to
supply her with pen and paper, should she wish to draw...but the only
thing Anabelle could think of sketching were similar to those etched
on the doorframe of the master bedroom and on the inside of her ring.
Idly she toyed with the ring on her finger, realizing this was
quickly becoming a habit of hers.
Glancing to her side, she
watched Ichobad as he scribbled into his ledger. She smiled. He
really was dedicated to his work, and no doubt brilliant at what he
did.
Turning her gaze from him, she started making an examination
of the precinct, the area in which they were currently sitting. She
took in the appearance of the little constables around her, writing
away like scribes. If she listened carefully, she could even hear the
drunken snores of the magistrate. This amused her to know end,
causing her to let out a laugh that was barely audible to anyone but
Ichobad. Just to be on the safe side, she covered her mouth with the
back of her hand, lowering her head so her stubborn dark locks hid
her partially from view.
With
raised eyebrows, Ichabod looked around at her. He wore a confused and
slightly hurt expression, as though he thought he was the cause of
her amusement. Setting down his pen, he reached over and pulled a few
strands of her dark hair behind her ear so that he could see her
face. He was frowning a little.
"What's so amusing?" he
asked quietly. "What did I do to make you laugh at me?"
"It's
not you," she giggled, hearing one particularly loud snore erupt
from the magistrate's office. "It appears to me that the
magistrate is not a quiet sleeper. I do pity his wife."
Another
loud snort.
"I didn't know men could make such noises. It
cannot be the brandy. You didn't sound this way."
Smiling,
Ichabod leaned towards her. He put his mouth close to her ar to
ensure that no other could hear what he said and whispered to
her.
"I," he began indignantly, "Am also not a fat
cow like he is." He looked around to check that still nobody
else could hear and continued. "I may be a coward, dear, but not
a cow." He chuckled.
Anabelle
felt her lips part as his mouth grazed her ear as he whispered. How
he could keep making her heart race was beyond her, but it was a
sensation she did not want to wish away.
She wet her lips, turning
her head slightly and meeting his eyes. He was so close to
her.
"Personally, I don't think you either," she
retorted with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Giving him
a quick once-over, she blushed and met his eyes again. "You are
certainly no cow. And I do not believe you are really a coward,
Ichobad. I think you give yourself too little credit. You've put
yourself in grave danger for my sake. That is something a coward does
not do."
Ichabod
glanced away sheepishly for a second. When he looked back, his eyes
were sparkling.
"At any rate, this is just his daily nap.
It's always the same," he explained, smiling again. He leaned
away slightly to avoid his lips touching her again. He felt a strong
desire to do so again, but he kept himself in check. "When I was
a younger constable, a few of my peers and I would sneak into his
office and play pranks on him while he slept... Harmless jokes, of
course. And never did we get caught." He glanced over at the
open door of the magistrate's office. "I often wonder how he got
that job. He must have been something else in his use..." He
laughed again.
"And I wonder that you didn't get yourself fired," Anabelle stared at him wide-eyed, but smiling. "Tell me of these pranks. You don't seem to be someone who's into practical jokes...or perhaps you are that talented at concealing yourself, and in that case I think I'll be more wary of our sleeping arrangements," she added with a playful smirk.
"Ah... Well, I might add that I was more of an observer in those times. I did not do much myself to anger him, but it did provide a good laugh, usually." He idly traced his pen over a spare bit of parchment, not really paying much attention to what he was drawing. "And I was younger, rather immature and foolish." Looking around, he blinked at her. What was it about her that made him want to be so close to her? It must have been how she was acting. Like Katrina, he thought to himself harshly. She is just being Katrina and I am acting too.
"It
sounds as if we are playing our little story game," Anabelle
said, turning the ring on her finger, wondering what seemed to cloud
Ichobad's eyes. "Perhaps I should think of something to tell you
of what I used to do when I was younger and rather immature and
foolish."
She paused to think of something particularly
interesting.
"My father and brother always like making
bonfires on our property in the country. Nathaniel used to jump the
flames and would tease me for not being able to do so as well. I even
used to practice jumping the bonfire pit when I was supposed to be
doing my chores, just waiting for the day when I would surprise him.
A couple of months later we had another bonfire and Nathaniel even
bet me his pocket money that I couldn't make it across. So I
jumped."
She took a deep breath.
"Before you think I
was triumphantly gloating on the other side, I did make it across,
but my skirts caught fire and left me with a pretty nasty burn on the
back of my ankle. Although, I did get Nathaniel's pocket money. I
still have the book I spent his money on," she ended with a
smile.
"You bought a book," Ichabod said, giving her a smile. "Very, very wise decision. I suppose you've liked reading for quite a long time, then. That is good to hear. Katrina-" he paused and looked about before leaning in again. He did not want to risk any of the officers hearing any of this. "Katrina used to read as well, late at night, though... though I am sure you already were aware of that." He shrugged and sighed, his warm breath hitting her face. "What book did you buy?"
"Oh yes," Anabelle answered, loving how his warm breath stirred her loosened hair. "I read all the time. I still do. The book I bought was Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. It started with simply liking the name Viola," she smiled. "But it turned out to be one of the best things I've ever read. When we go home, I'll show you my copy, if you'd like. I bought it used and it was years ago. It's tattered and the leather binding is worn, but it's something I always take with me. That and the wedding rings."
"I'd like that very much," Ichabod said, nodding. "I have never read it, myself. The only works of Shakespeare I know are a small number of sonnets, The Tempest, and one poem..." He thought hard for a moment, as though trying to pull some memory to the front of his mind. It must have been quite a struggle, for after a moment, she sighed. "I...cannot recall the name of that poem, either."
"You've read the sonnets?" Anabelle asked. "I wanted to purchase them, but Shakespeare is not readily available in the country. So I bought the only one the traveling book salesman had in his cart. I will gladly share it with you. It is an amusing story. I always wondered how Duke Orsino could not grasp how much in love Viola was with him...even if she was dressed as a lad, she spoke of love and emotions as a woman might."
Ichabod
choked. His eyes grew wide and he stared at her.
Meaningless!
he screamed at himself inside his head. An
absolute meaningless coincidence! It means nothing!
He shook himself hard and scratched his forehead to breifly hide his
eyes.
"I'd... I'd like that," he said, referring to the
play. "I might be able to dig of the book of sonnets, or The
Tempest.
I am sure they got moved into the new house. I doubt I would have
sold them, anyways." He ran a hand through his hair. "I
have many books. All in the library... You know you are welcome to
any of them."
"I've
seen The
Tempest
once," Anabelle said. "I always felt sorry for Prospero. He
had to give up all his magic...'drown his book,' I believe was the
phrase. But I suppose that magic cannot, in fact, solve all one's
problems," she twisted her ring around on her finger again.
"Although it certainly has not done harm thus far."
She
paused, staring at her fingers as she nervously bent them.
"Thank
you for allowing me to use your library, Ichobad. I should like that
very much. But I think I am keeping you from your work," she
shifted her eyes toward the pile of papers on his desk. "I am
distracting you, are I not?"
"Ah," Ichabod said, looking, too, at the many books and papers. He grimaced. "Well, yes, you are," he went on slowly, but he was shaking his head. "I'm grateful for the distraction though. I'm afraid desk work is rather dull." He paused, scratching his chin as he pulled his chair back closer to the desk. "I wouldn't have so much to do now, if I didn't always put it off for another day to go around on patrol or something. It seems to sort of... pile up." He rolled his eyes at himself before continuing to write neatly inside a ledger.
Anabelle
watched as he set about returning to work, but caught his eyes when
he glanced her way. He seemed quite reluctant to return to his
paperwork. She leaned forward, close to his ear.
"Don't let
me keep you, Ichobad. I'm sure there are plenty of useful things for
me to do...like planning dinner. Or something along those lines. But
one of these days you'll have to tell me what you wish me to make,"
she teased. "Last time I asked we were too far concerned with
the magistrate's impending visit," she paused and leaned back,
her eyes wide with a terrifying thought that just occurred to
her.
"That's not going to be a re-occurring event, is it?"
Ichabod
gagged at the thought and looked around at her incredulously. Did she
really think he could handle another evening like that? Even before
the brandy was brought out, it had been an awful experience.
"Oh,
goodness me, no!" he exclaimed quietly. "Do you think I am
insane?" he asked. "I'm not inviting him to dinner, or to
the house, ever again. And if I did, I would spare you the visit
anyways and not ask you to cook.
"If
I've said something amiss, forgive me," Anabelle said, startled
by his tone. "I do not think you insane. Nor do I know anything
about constables and whether the magistrate coming for dinner is
commonplace."
She knitted her dark brows together thinking
over his offer to spare her.
"And should it be required
again, I will not let you face him alone," she whispered
defiantly. "Besides, I promised you once that I would stay by
you, and I do not remember revoking that promise. We will face him
together, if need be."
Ichabod
laughed lightly.
"Let's be a bit more worried about the
Horseman than our dear magistrate, An-"
"Sir?"
"Katrina,"
Ichabod corrected quickly, horrified that whoever was standing behind
him might have heard him almost say Anabelle. He looked around and
could not hold back a deep sigh of relief upon seeing young Masbeth
standing there, looking a little ruffled.
"Sir, you're needed
at the crime scene. The other constables have been waiting."
Ichabod nodded, looking happy to have a reason to leave his desk. He
stood and offered Anabelle a hand up.
"Coming, young
Masbeth... And that is all very well, as I have something I need to
tell you." He had suddenly remembered that Masbeth did not know
the plan with Anabelle. In fact, he wasn't convinced that the boy
even knew Anabelle. Without another word, he led the two out of the
station and into an alley where nobody else would hear. I'm not sure
if you two have met..." he started slowly. Anabelle, this is
Rupert Masbeth. Young Masbeth, this is Anabelle. Katrina's cousin...
And as I'm sure you have heard," he whispered, "Katrina is
gone... For her own protection, Anabelle is now Katrina." He
sighed.
"It's
nice to meet you," Anabelle smiled at the young man. "Do
they all call you Young Masbeth, or is that just one of Ichobad's
quirks?"
Just to make sure Ichobad didn't think she was
being mean, she nudged his shoulder lightly and gave him a wink.
Ichabod
frowned slightly, rolling his eyes. He had not even noticed he was
doing that. He blushed lightly, but forced himself to smile.
"I
suppose it is a habit of mine. Sorry, y- er... Masbeth." He bit
his lip, and looked at Anabelle.
"It's no problem, sir. I
don't mind." Masbeth smiled at Anabelle. "It's very nice to
meet you, ma'am, but..." He looked at Ichabod, frowning. "What
happened to Katrina?"
"She..." Ichabod began but
was unable to finish. He choked over his words, tearing up a little,
before looking away and shaking his head. He hoped Anabelle would
explain briefly, just to keep the lad from questioning further, but
he could not say it himself, not again.
Anabelle's
heart broke. Ichobad looked so grieved, so lost.
"I ran into
Katrina and the other constable that escorted her home,"
Anabelle began to explain. "I offered to fetch anything she
needed and would meet her back at Ichobad's. She sent me on a
commission, and when I returned she was gone and the house was in
shambles. I don't know what happened to my cousin, but no one would
believe I didn't have a hand in it. Therefore Ichobad thought up this
plan, until we find the Horseman."
Without even thinking
about it, she placed a soothing hand on Ichobad's arm, her thumb
rubbing his arm through the material of his shirt.
Masbeth
nodded sadly and averted his eyes, hating to see his friend and
master like this. Ichabod looked down at Anabelle's hand on his arm,
then up at her. He was wearing an odd expression o his face, but
after a moment, he masked it and turned to Masbeth again.
"We
should be heading out. Just remember that this is Katrina now."
He took Anabelle's hand from his arm and squeezed it gently. "And,
I may need to ask you to watch of the lady, young Masbeth, when we
arrive at the...the body. It is not something she needs to see, and
if she wishes not to do so..." He looked into Anabelle's eyes
questioningly, almost apologetically, as Masbeth nodded.
"I
will, sir."
Anabelle
let herself be led of in the direction of the latest victim, her hand
still in Ichobad's.
This has to be the strangest experience since
Shakespeare. When she first read Twelfth
Night
she never imagined living a similar situation. Now she was playing
the part of her cousin, "married" to Ichobad, and what
scared her most was how right it all felt...except being Katrina.
Hearing Ichobad say her name just made her want to hear it all the
more. However, hearing him call her Katrina just reminded her that
she was not the one he wanted to be with. Silently she cursed herself
for being so ridiculous, rolling her eyes as a small sigh escaping
her lips.
