AN I am so intrigued by this 'greater purpose' Katrina is meant for. There is just so much to explore with Katrina (ahaha look I'm beating my dead horse), and looking at it in an evil, or bad out of necessity sort of view opens soooooo many more doors.
Katrina laid on her new bed, staring at the ceiling because it was either that or start pacing from anticipation, and she would not hand over the satisfaction that she could be so easily affected. She watched the morning's heavy curtain of clouds break up, chasing Abraham deeper into the house. The light stretched and then shrank back, shifting from her shoes, to her torso, then back to her shoes again. She sat up when it was too dark to clearly make out the individual panels of wood above her. Abraham, the Horseman, would be able to move about soon (she had purposefully left her large window thrown open, because she did not want to have to deal with him. And maybe, for perhaps a second, she could pretend that she was not being held prisoner, but merely whiling away a particularly tedious fall afternoon, with her loved ones just in the next room).
When Katrina had to go fetch a set of candles to see anything at all, Abraham appeared. She cast him an unimpressed glance when she really wanted to flinch, and set about collecting several candles for her new room. He watched her for a moment, then said, "Katrina. It's time."
She looked at him, then back at the candles. She had guessed it would be soon, but not in merely a day. She set them down, trying not to let her sudden apprehension show. Or the increasing excitement.
If nothing else was to be said about that night, Katrina was just thankful to be out of the coach house. Even if it meant climbing onto Abraham's horse—which she was certain hissed at her, every time she came near—and letting Abraham wrap his arms around her so that he might steer, Katrina loved the fresh air tossing across her skin, the rush of seeing new things, and to be able to stand directly under the moon. She was outside, not being ferried from couch house to stable so that she might wash herself or the like. She was outside, and she was going to do magic.
Katrina just had to remember that both of those treats relied on the whims of the servants of the Devil. Which, upon surveying the scene laid out for her, was not going to be too hard.
The whole place ached of dark magic, from the small pits of flames around the small clearing, to the bones carefully arranged in an arc around Jeremy's feet. Katrina's first thought was how much her bones screamed at the thought of more fire, but she kept her back straight and head high. Then she stared at the bones for a moment, first wondering how Jeremy had gotten them, and then wondering what they were from.
"Hello, Mother," he said, voice as soft and mocking as ever. He was wearing his usual small smile, as if delighting in some wicked joke she would never know. Abraham may have had no head and an axe that glowed red hot, but it was Katrina's own son that truly frightened her. She could never tell what he wanted or would do next, all of his plans hidden behind a wicked smile and a whole arsenal of unsavory tricks.
"Jeremy," she greet, cool, reserved, a lady barely condescending to speak to this man, despite their blood ties. He was helping coerce her into black magic, and she did not revel in the prospect of using her powers, she was disgusted and angry and proud. Jeremy's smile widened just a touch, and Katrina remembered too late that he could sense lies, and almost all of her thoughts had just been false. How damnably annoying.
I'm proud to see what you've become, she flung at him, and Jeremy's self-satisfied smirk dropped. Katrina didn't care why (she had no illusion about him and his regard for her opinions), but she did give her own darkly triumphant smirk.
"Come, we must perform the spell quickly," he said, suddenly terse. Katrina didn't move.
"What is it?"
"Thinking of countermanding the spell?"
"I want to know exactly what it is I am doing. Abraham mentioned breaking a seal, but—"
"Do not cause a stir now," Abraham warned behind her, but she set her jaw and glared at her son.
"I need to know what kind of spell I am to be doing. I do not have the intense gift you have, my son, I need to know what I am expected to do."
"Blood magic," he told her. "Nothing special, most of the ritual is already laid out. You just need to read from the book."
"…Very well," she said, examining the bones on the grass. She very much hoped whatever she was releasing wasn't about to destroy the Witnesses.
Jeremy handed her a large book, open to a spread written in Greek. She couldn't tell what the dialogue said, but she could read the spell. A cursory glance told her it was not a monster they were freeing, but she didn't feel very reassured.
"Hand out," Jeremy told her, roughly taking her wrist. Katrina barely had a moment to register the black leather gloves he was wearing before he was pricking her palm with a knife tip. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held on until he had pressed a small bundle of plants into her hand. She smelled rosemary and identified the gritty, wide leaves of rhododendron, but before she could look closer, Jeremy pulled off his glove and pricked his own palm. Katrina stared at him as he clasped another small bundle of plants, seeming to take a tiny moment of preparation before he reached out and grabbed her hand. It was aggressive, impersonal, and brisk, probably due to the fact that all of her sins were rushing to make themselves known to him and he wanted as little of it as possible, but all she could think was that this was the first time she had held her son's hand.
If Katrina held on a little tighter, Jeremy did not respond and she would never say.
Katrina held the book in her free hand, listening to sound of Jeremy begin the incantation.
"By the darkest pits thou wast able,
O black brand, carved upon this earth's bone…"
The words slithered over her ears, rising against her skin and making it crawl. She glanced at Abraham, who was standing a ways back, stoic and terrible. Katrina swallowed and looked back at the book, the words dragging themselves out before she had even read the first line.
"As we stand, blood born and new,
Break to us, as thy proper place demands.
Yield, seal of the wicked…"
The magic was palpable now, drowning out everything not a part of it. The fire snarled and snapped, the bones at her feet groaned and gave up their secrets, the blood dripping from Jeremy's hand slid down her fingers and begged for more, for all of the power she had left.
Katrina closed her eyes, feeling the magic draw out her power, using it up and giving nothing back. They were both chanting now, voices distorted and stretched by the magic. She understood why Jeremy hadn't attempted this alone. Even with his own power supplementing things, she thought her legs might give way.
"For we so claim the right to reign,
And unto us, be done!"
The torched hissed out for a moment, the howled back to life. Jeremy dropped Katrina's hand and she staggered back at the magical recoil, panting slightly. Far away, she could feel their spell taking affect. She chewed on her cheek, and wished Ichabod and his allies well.
"And that's it? It is now free?" Abraham asked, starting forward. Katrina glanced back, having forgotten him in the haze of magic.
"Yes, it's now free for you to claim," Jeremy said, that hard, derisive edge returning to his voice. Katrina wished she could smooth it away.
Abraham nodded, and Katrina edged away from her son, sensing that she no longer had the right to be there. She was supposed to return to Abraham, so that he might once again hide her away.
His horse shrieked out a whiny, and instantly Abraham had the rifle in his hands. He swung around to face Abbie Mills, who had seemingly materialized from the surrounding trees. She was holding a gun of her own, and quickly fired off two shots into Abraham's chest, and though his body jerked, he still took aim and returned fire.
Katrina clapped her hands over her ears and ducked away, trampling over the remains of the spell, which was now just some torches and grave desecration. She ran to the trees, and threw herself down into a shallow ditch to avoid any errant bullets.
More gunshots were in the air, but this time from the other side of the clearing. She turned to see another woman wielding a gun as she reached the tree line, favoring Miss Mills in the eyes and the harsh, defiant set of her shoulders. She was firing rapidly at Jeremy, probably to keep him from casting a spell. Katrina's heart leaped into her throat as he dived to the side, a tear of blood on his sweater sleeve.
Abraham was advancing on Abbie, expression feral. She was steadily retreating, her own expression turning tight.
"Hey, Jenny, a little help here," she called, and the other woman turned her gun toward Abraham. He didn't turn around when she shot him in the back.
"Katrina!" Ichabod hissed, diving down to find cover beside her. He had that same desperate expression as before, and he looked like he hadn't slept in quite some time.
"Katrina, what has happened? Why're you here?"
"I-Ichabod, I helped them perform a spell, and—"
"Can you undo it, counteract it in anyway? Katrina it is imperative!"
"I—no, I barely knew what the first spell was for!" she said. They both jumped when a throwing axe thudded into a tree near them, both terrified that Abraham had caught sight of them, but a quick look told Katrina that he was still occupied with the Mills sisters.
"Consecrated bullets, Jenny. Consecrated bullets! Switch bullets!" Abbie yelled, true panic in her eyes as she scrambled backward on the ground. She rolled out of the way just as Abraham brought is axe down, tearing a burning chunk from the ground.
Jenny switched something in her gun, then fired again. This time, Abraham gasped, the arm that had taken the bullet dropping to his side.
Katrina turned back to Ichabod when she felt him grab her shoulder, realizing that he had been speaking to her the whole time.
"Ichabod, you need to leave here," she hissed, slicing over him. "The spell was to break a seal—"
"On the legion's blood, I know. That is why we're here, it's the only thing that can stop the Kindred—"
"The what?"
"A monster that matches the Horsemen, blow for blow. Without it—"
"Then you must get there first!" she gasped. "It was released perhaps two miles away, over there," she said, pointing in the direction she had felt the magic take hold. Ichabod glanced over his shoulder, then returned to staring at her.
"They were speaking of retrieving something, after they had it, is it also a guardian?"
"No, the only thing—oh no," he breathed, face going pale. "The head. It has the Horseman's head!"
"Then you must find the legion's blood before they do!" Katrina said, squeezing his hands. She didn't remember him reaching out to hold her, but his hands were around hers and they felt sturdy and decent. "Ichabod, the end of days will come when he regains his head! Stop him, anyway you can."
"Alright, Katrina, I swear to you, we will, and then you can—"
"Ichabod, you must leave," she said, pushing herself up off the ground. She turned to face the battle, just in time to see Jenny, hurrying to fix her gun, while Abraham hoisted his axe back above his head.
"Ichabod!" Katrina gasped, and instantly he saw it, shouting, "Jenny!" The woman dived away at his warning, her gun clicking into place as Abraham torn a burning swathe out of the air. She landed with a roll, turning to land two shots of consecrated bullets into Abraham's chest. His growl of pain made Katrina shudder, because it was feral, the sound of wrath mixing up inside of him and promising something horrible and unpredictable.
"Ichabod, this is madness!" Katrina said, whirling back to face him. "Go find the legion's blood, quickly, before any of you die!"
"But—"
"Leave!" she yelled, condemning herself as she walked toward Death. She heard him call to the Mills', and within moments and a last burst of gunfire, they were gone.
Abraham's eyes were wild when he looked at her, ferocious and almost inhuman. She knew he had seen Ichabod leave that same cluster of trees as she had, and steeled herself for the connection made in Abraham's eyes. She felt his anger tear over her skin, but she kept her head down, meekly returning to his side. Abraham snarled as he tore out one of the bullets lodged in his arm and threw it aside. His arm remained limp, though. If she ever got a chance, she would be sure to inform the Witnesses of just how effective consecrated weapons were. Still, some strange part of her wanted to ask if he was alright, but Katrina wasn't sure if it was an honest question or a mockery, and Abraham was clearly in no state to be jested with. So instead, she stole a glance at him and asked, "Where is Jeremy?"
"Collecting the legion's blood. After you friends appeared, he thought it wise to complete our goal."
Katrina nodded, and looked back toward the remnants of the spell. Her skin crawled at the memory of how good the magic had felt, even though it had been black, black, black.
They didn't say anything as he helped her onto his horse, and they returned to the coach house. The ride back didn't feel half so luxurious as the initial one, more a brittle precursor to something terrible. Abraham's mood had soured, probably because of the sudden potency of the Mills' weapons against him. When he helped her off his horse, Katrina noticed that the arm that had been shot still remained fairly useless, only a portion of its mobility recovered. Katrina went inside while he stabled his horse, and allowed herself a few breaths, because she knew she only had a few more seconds of precious peace. Sure enough, when Abraham came inside, that calm neatly broke.
"What did you tell him?" Abraham asked, voice flinty. She looked back at him, too tired to bother with the proud, defiant act.
"I told Ichabod to leave. Whatever he was hoping to accomplish, it was foolhardy and ill-advised."
"You don't think your precious Witness will be able to hold up against the forces of Moloch?" There was a sharp edge in his voice, something of mirthless mockery. Katrina cast him a flat look.
"No, I have faith he and Miss Mills both will triumph. But attempting to settle some sort of dispute of honor with the Horseman of Death…it is madness. I want him to live, after all."
Abraham gave her a long look, which she hated. It was like he cut through her, and saw all of the little things she didn't want to think about.
"You have decided to stay twice, and yet you actively side against my work, and counsel my enemies. What are you planning?"
"It is possible to care for people in more than one way," she responded, not minding the jagged edge to her words. "And wishing for the survival of the world is born from a basic love of the world. The apocalypse would not suit me, I think. And don't go laying insinuations into my words, just to keep yourself entertained."
"I cannot have you undermine me at every turn!" Abraham suddenly shouted, making Katrina jump. She snapped her eyes back to him, feeling fear, yes, but also feeling anger.
"Who are you to speak to me like I am some sort of wayward pet, a hunting hound that has served you ill? I am not your possession, Abraham, I will do as I please, and however that falls, it isn't any of your business to interfere!"
He stalked toward her, quick and furious and suddenly far, far too close. Katrina couldn't help it, she leaned back and grabbed the back of a chair to brace herself, but she was not cowering, she was digging her feet in and saying she would not be moved.
"You are here because of me, you were saved from the fires of Perdition because of my request, so do not act like you owe no obligation. You, Katrina, are here through my will, and will therefore be subject to whatever it is I aim for! As long as you are here—"
"Then perhaps I should leave," she hissed, voice low and vicious and just as terrible as his. Abraham stared at her, wild indignation traded for shock and then proper rage. He narrowed his eyes at her, and for a moment Katrina thought that she had gone too far, that she had pressed what little luck she had and was now going to pay for it. Abraham already had the fuel of anger in his eyes, and she doubted he really needed her sparks to set him into an inferno.
She clenched her teeth, waiting for him to strike her, or grab her, to snarl her hair up in his hand and show that she truly held no power here. But instead he turned on his heel, stalking deeper into the house. Katrina waited until she couldn't feel his footsteps in her bones before she slumped back, nearly collapsing onto the chair behind her.
It wasn't acceptance, or even defeat that had made Abraham turn around. It was a flat, horrible understanding that if he had to stand there a moment longer and let her drag him into confrontation, then he would do something terrible and she might break.
AN As taken as I am with the dynamic between Katrina and Abraham, the whole thing between Katrina and Henry is soooooo important to me. With Abraham, there's a lot of push and pull, sometimes physical, sometimes psychological. But with Henry, it's more the two of them butting up against each other and refusing to move an inch. I reeeeeeally hope there's more development with them, because as much fun as it is to make things up, having things confirmed is awesome.