a/n: It's aggravating to know no matter how many times I proof read, there will always be mistakes hiding! Sorry about those. Again, a big thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/followed!
Bleak
Chapter Four
"Hmm, it's really coming down," Abbie stated quietly as she peered through the window. Large, white snowflakes fell from the night sky, accumulating quickly around the cabin's exterior. "Driving home in this is going to be interesting."
"Have you missed your window of safe travel?" Crane teased from over her shoulder. "You are more than welcome to stay here, Lieutenant."
"I don't know, Crane." She shook her head and turned to him. "If I leave now, the drive might not be so bad."
"Perhaps," he nodded, handing her a cup of warm tea. "Perhaps not. It is foolish to risk your safety on something so…trivial."
"Sure. Save the risks for the next round of demons, right?" He frowned slightly.
"Perhaps in a less…sordid meaning. If Katrina's perceptions are correct and Henry and Abraham are indeed conjuring another demon this evening, we should not be parted. Especially in this weather where reuniting might prove difficult." He lifted his mug to his lips, taking a small sip of the warm fluid.
"I'm sorry about Katrina."
"Pay it no mind, Miss Mills." Though not harsh or angry, the tone of his voice told Abbie to let go of the conversation. She nodded and walked away from the window.
"You know, Crane, sometimes I wonder if we're doing the right thing." His eyes followed her as she collapsed on the sofa.
"You wonder if averting the apocalypse and saving all of mankind is the 'right thing'?"
"No, I mean if what we're doing to avert the apocalypse is the right thing." She sighed and stretched along the length of sofa, resting her head on its arm, her hands and her mug on top of her stomach. "We kill a demon and four more appear," she explained. "We answer one question and six more are asked. What if we're going about this the wrong way?"
"I can appreciate your sentiment, Miss Mills." He looked towards the fire. "It is…difficult not to look at things in such manner. Though I would not say we are entirely inept," he argued gently. "After all, we have survived a number of evenings which have led us to this very moment; one that see's us alive and well. Surely, that must account for something," he stated with a soft smile.
"Yeah, I guess it does." She rolled onto her side, setting the mug on the floor and curling her body comfortably on the sofa.
"I have to believe that our time as Witnesses will not be fruitless," he continued, moving to sit on the floor in front of her. "Too much has happened and no doubt will continue to happen." He looked at his mug and shook his head slowly. "Our meeting, Katrina's entrapment in Purgatory, your entrapment in Purgatory…Every battle we have won, friends and loved ones we have lost. It cannot be in vain, Lieutenant." He straightened to a proper, proud arch of his back and let another smile ghost his lips. "I won't let it." His head titled slightly to his right as his eyes settled on Abbie's sleeping form. "Am I really that boring?" he joked quietly. Placing his mug next to hers on the floor, he moved to his knees and shifted closer to her. He pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and covered Abbie. "I will not let our time together be a waste." He lifted his hand and gently brushed the tips of his fingers over her cheek. "You are far too important to me."
SH
Henry moved quietly through the darkened hallway, rubbing his cold, tingling fingers. Though he experienced symptoms of mortal conditions, he did not concern himself with the maladies. Courtesy of his place as the Horseman of War, Henry was immortal, impervious to common ailments, immune to destructive diseases. He was grateful for his abilities, yet he often wondered how much more powerful he would have been had Katrina not copulated with a mortal, a man beneath her great lineage. Stopping at the door to his bedroom, Henry wrapped a hand around the knob and stilled.
"Mother."
"I hope I did not startle you," Katrina said quietly.
"Not at all," he answered, turning towards her. "I am surprised to see you awake at this hour. Are you having trouble sleeping?" She shook her head.
"Johnathan awoke. It took a while to settle him back into his slumber. He seems rather ornery and insatiable this evening."
"Perhaps he is in the midst of a growth spurt," Henry said knowingly.
"Perhaps." She smiled lightly. "I was worried about you and Abraham, out in the cold and the snow. Though I suppose the elements are simply no match for two horsemen." Henry chuckled softly.
"They are not," he smiled. "It is true, what is said, that a mother always worries for her children, regardless of their age." He smiled again and bowed his head. "Good night, Mother."
"Good night, Jeremy." Henry slipped into his room, quietly closing the door. He waited, ear pressed against the wood, listening with suspended breath until he heard the lock on Katrina's door click. Slowly, he opened the door and made his way to the nursery. He unlocked and opened the window before moving to the side of the crib. The cold air filtered into the room, wrapping around his ankles, slowly making its way up his body.
"The time has come," he said to the host. The cold reached his shoulders, settling like gentle hands along his neck. "Feed. Take all you need." The misty figure Henry had met in the woods floated past his side and over the crib. She opened her mouth, a milky white vapor filled with small, pulsating green lights poured over her lips, surrounding the infantile creature.
SH
Abbie woke slowly, the hiss and spit of the fire welcoming her senses to reality. Her fingers found the edge of the blanket and wrapped tightly around the fabric. As she rolled to lay on her side, she pulled the blanket snuggly around her body. With a quiet sigh, she watched the figure sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, silhouetted by the orange and yellow radiance of the flames. Legs crossed, posture stiff as always, Crane quietly prodded the burning logs, releasing bright white sparks into the air. Sliding her legs over the edge of the cushion, Abbie settled her knees on the floor and crawled the few feet to his side.
"You shouldn't let me fall asleep in the middle of our conversations," she said as she sat on the floor. As she curled her legs to the left, she adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.
"No harm, Lieutenant. There was no need to wake you." He offered a small smile and returned his attention to the fire, poking it once more. They sat in silence, Crane focused on the blaze, Abbie focused on Crane. The flickering of the flames played across his face, softening and accentuating every angle of his features. His eyes, normally a beautiful shade of iced blue, appeared as a deep, almost impossibly dark sapphire.
Abbie could not deny the attractiveness Crane held – everything about the man was nothing less than enchanting – but she could ignore her thoughts on the matter. She could ignore the part of herself that found it necessary to get lost in those blue eyes, the part that wondered how gentle his hold would be. The part that imagined him initiating a fist bump and in the midst of the motion, surprising her by snatching her wrist, sliding his free hand behind her neck, pulling her close and pressing his lips against hers. She could ignore all of it as easily as she could will herself to spontaneously combust. Abbie could not pinpoint the moment when her curiousness about Crane took on a more adult nature, knowing only that in recent months, it was stronger and harder to avoid.
"There is something about the fire," Crane stated quietly, drawing Abbie from her musings. "Something about the lick of the flames, the smell of the smoke. It is…intoxicating." She smiled softly.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"No."
"Did you even try?" He looked at her, searching her face with his mesmerizing eyes.
"No," he admitted.
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"Just shy of two hours." She reached for his arm, taking the sleeve of his grey pajama top between her fingers.
"So you got yourself ready for bed and then came out here?" she asked, tugging gently. "Have you been here the entire time?" His eyes dropped to the floor, his nod nearly imperceptible. "Tell me about your nightmares." He sighed and started to shake his head. "Tell me," she repeated with a touch of firmness.
"I am…in a forest, facing a demon. I manage to strike it dead, but not without consequence to my own wellbeing. I can hear you calling for me, yet I cannot find you. I see Katrina, yet she does not come to my aid. I know I am dying; I cannot change that course. Then I wake." He turned to her again. "I have the same dream every time I close my eyes. Though with each round, I see a bit more of the story."
"What does the demon look like? Is it one we've encountered before?"
"No," he answered with a sigh. "Its appearance is…vague. I do not recall features."
"Sounds to me like you're trying to process everything that's going on," she offered.
"Agreed." Crane leaned forward slightly, setting the poker in front of the hearth. "Miss Mills, I owe you an apology for earlier."
"No, you don't."
"I do." He reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers gently around hers. "I am sorry for my anger towards you. I know it is entirely misdirected. I do not wish to be…'Cranky Crane'." Abbie laughed and pulled her hand from his. As she shifted across the floor, she wrapped her arm around the back of his shoulders.
"We're stuck in this, together, and for the long haul. There are going to be good days and probably a lot of bad days. No one's going to understand what we're going through better than the two of us. Yell and scream when that's what you need to do. I've got your back," she said, playfully shaking him.
"And I, yours, Lieutenant," he smiled.
"See? We're good." She took his hand and stood, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, let's go."
"Go?" he inquired with a lift of his eyebrow. She tossed the blanket over the back of the sofa.
"To bed," she answered. "I won't be able to move tomorrow if I spend the night on the sofa. And since you don't mind sharing the bed…" She shrugged.
SH
"It truly is sickening, isn't it?" Abraham asked as he turned away from the mirror. "How can he lay with another woman in such a fashion?" Henry slowly shook his head as he took in the offered scene, Crane sleeping soundly beside the lieutenant. "This is the second night he has spent with her."
"Why does it matter?" he asked. "Katrina has returned to you. If she is genuine in her feelings and not playing on your affections as you claim…" He looked at Abraham. "You still seek validation."
"I do not need to see such things to know Katrina's return is of her own accord," he said, eyes narrowing defensively. "However, there have been others once important to me that have taken advantage of the relationships we held. One can never be too careful."
"No, I suppose not."
"I could not be happier with her change of heart," Abraham said quietly. "Though I wish it did not come on the coattails of such a betrayal."
"Betrayal seems to be something in which Ichabod Crane is well versed." Henry moved slowly behind Abraham, taunting with quiet words as he circled to his side. "His country, his father," he started. "His best friend." A slow smile spread across his face as he plucked at the sore cord of disloyalty, causing Abraham's shoulders to tense. "His son, and now…his wife. All victims of a heart that tries to be so noble but is unable to think of anyone but itself." He dropped his eyes to the floor as he stopped in front of Abraham. "I, too, am sorry that Mother has to experience this," he lied. "Some of us learn the hard way. Apparently, Mother is no exception."
"Ichabod Crane will pay for the pain he has caused all of us."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Henry smiled. As Abraham left the room, he turned back to the mirror. He did not buy into the reason for Katrina's return, yet the mirror presented the evidence, all too conveniently. "Curious," he murmured, his voice low and rumbled.
SH
Crane followed the path of the sidewalk, hands joined behind his back, eyes taking in the thick layer of snow covering the city. Though he found wonder in the rebirth of spring, fascination in the degeneration of fall, winter had always been his favorite season. There was something about the manner in which the untouched snow glistened in the sun, drawing attention to the surrounding scenery as though each tree, each field, each object masked by the white blanket was new to the landscape.
"Nothing is as pleasing as freshly fallen snow," he smiled. Abbie looked up at him from her position at this left side and nudged his side with her elbow.
"Nothing?" she questioned with a wide smile. Crane smiled softly and raised an eyebrow.
"I chose to ignore your goading, Lieutenant."
"Oh come on," she laughed. "That 'one way or another you're joining me in the bedroom' remark…that was permission to goad you."
"It most certainly was nothing of the sort."
"You're playing along," she teased. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, smiling smugly.
"For the next time, provided we are not in a hurry, may I suggest we park farther from the station? The time it takes to walk a mere block is not nearly enough to enjoy the crisp air."
"I'll drop you off anywhere you'd like but I'm not walking in the cold any more than necess—"
"Lieutenant." Crane stopped walking and took Abbie's elbow, halting her forward movement. His features hardened, his eyes narrowed, as Henry and Katrina approached. Between the pair, walked a small, blonde-haired boy, his hand securely folded around Katrina's fingers.
"Crane? Who's the boy?" Abbie asked quietly.
"I do not know," he responded.
"Remember, we're right in front of a building full of cops. Let's not start anything."
"Ah, Miss Mills, Captain Crane," Henry greeted with a warm smile. "Good morning." Crane and Abbie exchanged a quick glance.
"Mr. Parish, Katrina," Crane returned.
"It is a lovely day for a walk, isn't it?" Henry asked. "Sleepy Hollow is fortunate not to have received as much snow as was predicted."
"Yep," Abbie agreed curtly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned her weight into her left hip. Crane flexed his fingers. He could feel the tension rising from his partner's body.
"Who is your…friend?" he asked. Katrina smiled and looked at the boy.
"Ichabod, Miss Mills, this is Jonathan, my son." She lifted her eyes to Henry. "My second child," she clarified. He returned her smile.
"Do you see what stands before you, Father?" He looked at Crane. "A family." With his arm remaining at his side, he gently waved his hand. The air around the boy rippled and shimmered. His blue eyes turned black, his curly blonde hair disappeared. His rosy skin and his clothing evaporated, revealing a slick, grey membrane. Henry chuckled as Crane and Abbie subconsciously took a defensive stance, as revulsion sickened their faces. "A family," he repeated. "All you need to do is leave Miss Mills' side." He frowned at the young lieutenant. "Renounce the hold she has on you and join us."
"I will do no such thing," Crane stated. The creature turned its gaze to Katrina and tugged on her hand.
"We must be going," Katrina said. Speaking no other words, but sending an intense glare in Crane's direction, Katrina passed the pair, leading the creature along the street.
"Well, well, well," Henry chuckled. "Perhaps you are not welcome in this family after all." He stood in front of Crane. "Though one cannot blame Mother for her anger. I suppose it is…difficult to suppress such an emotion when one has lost her husband to the wiles of another woman." A sour expression crossed his face. "You disgust me," he spat.
"Jeremy?" Katrina called. Henry smiled at the Witnesses and tipped his hat as he walked away. Crane and Abbie stood silently by each other's sides, watching the odd trio move out of sight.
"That was…quite an assumption on his part, wouldn't you say, Lieutenant?" Abbie shifted, her eyes searching the ground. She did not look at him nor answer. "Lieutenant?" He stepped in front of her, his hand gently taking her elbow to gain her attention. "Are you well?" Slipping his finger under her chin, he lifted her gaze. He took note of the uneasiness in her expression.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She pulled back and took a deep breath. "That creature…Baby Moloch is growing up."
"Indeed. Yet how is that possible? It has been little more than a week since its…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to say the disgusting words aloud. "Since its birth."
"I don't know. Let's go see what Reyes wants. Then we can make a plan to go after the host."
SH
Reyes stood outside her office door, signing a form for one of her deputies. Her hand shook, making her normally legible signature a scribbly mess. She was anxious, running on very little sleep and more coffee than she had ever consumed any other morning, fueled by the adrenaline the anxiousness pumped into her body. A tight twinge was developing behind her eyes, strain from spending the night and a significant portion of the morning sifting through every site Google introduced to her.
"Ma'am?" Abbie called. "You wanted to see us?" Reyes handed the paper and the pen to the deputy and motioned Crane and Abbie into the office. She closed the door and moved slowly towards her desk, roughly rubbing her fingertips across her forehead. "Sheriff?" Abbie frowned and stepped towards Reyes. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she answered. "No." She sighed heavily and moved to stand behind her desk chair. "I don't know." Her fingers tightly gripped the padded back of the chair. "There are some things happening in Sleepy Hollow that the two of you did not share with me." Abbie looked at Crane.
"I assure you, Sheriff, if we did not share something it was not intentional," he said.
"Bullshit." Reyes took a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yesterday, I had a very…let's just say 'interesting' conversation with Frank Irving. Quite honestly, I'm worried. I'm worried about Irving; I'm worried about the two of you." She looked at Abbie. "I am worried about your sister."
"Ma'am?" Abbie started. Reyes held up a hand.
"Don't. Irving said that the two of you would…make me work for this." She pushed the chair aside and pulled a file from the top desk drawer. "Sheriff Corbin's death was…the official autopsy has a few holes." She tossed the file onto the desk. "There was no blood?"
"No, Ma'am."
"You're sure?"
"I am. I was close when it happened. I found him…" Abbie closed her eyes, pushing back the frightening memories of that night. "I found him seconds after he died."
"And the wound was cauterized?" Abbie nodded. "The killer was never found?"
"Correct."
"I can't believe I am going to ask this." Reyes straightened. "Tell me about the horseman." She received no response. "Please. Tell me about the horseman," she repeated gently. "About Ancitif, about Moloch."
"Uh, if I may, Sheriff Reyes," Crane started, stepping forward, concern heavy across his face. "This may be a conversation best held elsewhere."
SH
Reyes slowly brushed the tips of her fingers along the worn edges of the old map. The black lines that depicted Sleepy Hollow in its origins were now a dull brown, faded by time. They marked a handful of streets, some now main roads, others long forgotten. They outlined large forests, now cut to less than a third of their original sizes, making room for the expansion of the city. Lifting her eyes, Reyes scanned the room. Every book, every paper, called her, taunted her. Yet she knew they offered no answers, simply more questions.
"This either means that everything Irving told me is true or that the two of you are as delusional as he is." She looked to her left, sadness touching her features as Abbie entered her line of sight. "I don't know which of those I want to be true."
"We know this is a lot to take in," Crane gently offered.
"Is it ever," Abbie mumbled.
"However," he continued, flashing a mildly amused look at his partner, "that makes it no less real." Reyes nodded slowly.
"Why do I get the feeling there's more to this story?" she asked.
"There's a lot more, Ma'am," Abbie answered with an apologetic shrug.
"There is no time like the present, Lieutenant."
"All right, well…" As Abbie hesitated to dive into more of the proposed end of the world, the door to the tunnels opened.
"Look who I found," Jenny sang as she and Hawley entered the archives.
"Did someone order an old, junky looking…mirror…" Hawley reached for the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder, his fingers protectively clutching the band as he caught sight of Reyes.
"Sorry, Abs," Jenny said flatly, staring at the sheriff. "I didn't know you had company."
"It's all right, Jenny. She talked to —"
"I know who she talked to," Jenny interrupted.
"You lied to me, Jenny," Reyes started. "This is much more than a leap." The youngest Mills sister smiled softly.
"And to think, you're just getting started." Abbie looked between the two women.
"You did this?" she asked. Jenny shrugged.
"Frank asked."
"Jenny," Abbie whined.
"Abbie, Frank doesn't have much time left. This whole…" She glanced quickly at Reyes. "This whole thing with Henry, it's getting stronger. He can feel it taking over. We need all the help we can get."
"Nick Hawley," Reyes said with a shake of her head. "He's involved in this, too?" she asked the lieutenant.
"We've come to learn that Hawley has…resources helpful to our cause," Abbie explained.
"Speaking of resources," Crane interjected. "Mr. Hawley, have you the mirror?" He looked uncertainly around the group. "You are in no danger, Mr. Hawley."
"Right. Okay." He moved to Crane's side, setting the backpack on the table. "It looks like it's had better days," he started as he pulled a cloth bundle from the bag, "but it's in one piece." He shrugged. "Figured that's all that really counts."
"Indeed." Crane moved the backpack and set it on the floor, making room for Hawley to place the bundle on the table. The women joined them, all watching as Hawley removed the last layer of fabric. Crane moved to the other side of the table and picked through a stack of books. He opened his selection to a page near the middle and handed it to Reyes. "This mirror was created by Susanoo." She took the book, eyes comparing the old drawing to the mirror before them. The illustration perfectly captured the pattern of winding vines carved around the mirror's frame. "Susanoo is an ancient Japanese deity, ruler of all elements of a storm. It is believed this mirror can stop a demon by the name of Yuki-onna."
"I know what that is," Reyes said. Crane lifted an eyebrow. "I have a nephew that loves anime," she explained.
"Ani…may?" he questioned.
"Later, Crane," Abbie dismissed. "If we were ever to encounter the Yuki-onna, we could use this to kill it."
"If?"
"Yes, well…we haven't been able to establish a pattern of demons. We don't know which one to expect."
"How do you know it will work?" Reyes asked. "If you run into this Yuki-onna."
"We don't," Jenny answered. "But we've made it this far with very few answers."
"As we stated earlier, these books are centuries' worth of information, research and clues to aid us in this war," Crane said.
"So you wait for a demon to appear, research its demise and act accordingly?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Reyes reached into her pocket and removed her ringing phone.
"Excuse me, I have to answer this." As she stepped away from the group, Jenny leaned her elbows on the table, staring at the marred glass.
"It's amazing," she started, her fingers playing around the edges of the light colored wood. "This is thousands of years old. And yet, here it sits. All of the things I collected for Corbin…it's unbelievable that they've survived for so long."
"It is truly remarkable," Crane agreed.
"Does this mean we have another demon to fight?" Hawley asked.
"At the moment, no," he answered. "Acquiring this mirror is simply a precaution."
"We need to be prepared for every possibility," Abbie said.
"So what does this Yuki-whatever-it-is do?" Hawley asked.
"Yuki-onna," Crane said with a hint of irritation to his voice. "She strikes during winter storms, freezing her victims and relieving them of their souls." Reyes quietly returned to the group, standing between the Mills sisters.
"Freezing them?" Crane nodded. "How many victims would she take at a time?"
"It is impossible to say," he answered. "Upon awakening, she may need to feed at a greater rate than needed when she is merely roaming." He frowned at the contemplative look that flashed across her features. "Sheriff?"
"What if I told you five people were found in an alley on the north side of the city, frozen?" Abbie quickly looked across the table to meet Crane's eyes.
"Where on the north side?" Abbie asked, still connected to Crane.
"Drifters' Alley," she responded.
"A lot of homeless people out that way," Abbie stated.
"Excellent targets," Crane said. "Though without proper shelter from the weather…"
"It could a coincidence." The corner of Abbie's mouth lifted slightly. "But what have we learned about coincidences?"
"They are rarely simply that," he answered.
SH
Abbie walked slowly through the alley, her trained eyes picking up every detail of the scene displayed before her. Five men, homeless and abandoned in a dark, lonely niche of the city, lay lifeless on top of their blanket and cardboard mattresses. Two possessed looks of terror on their faces. Two looked as though they had slept through their entire debacle, oblivious to their demise. Abbie pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves and knelt next to the body of a younger man buried in the night's snowfall. The flakes had piled like grains of sand around the contours of his body. His face remained visible through the heavy dusting, purple and black, bitten by the half inch of ice that coated his body. She reached forward, using her gloved fingers to brush the snow from the man's collar. Though the ice caked his skin, it did not cover his worn, red- and blue-checkered shirt.
Crane crouched beside Abbie, his eyes curiously following her hand as she removed the snow from the man's shoulder and chest. As she pulled back, he looked at her, gaging her reaction to what she saw, wondering if they were drawing the same conclusions. She hummed quietly, thoughtfully.
"The ice on his skin is quite thick," he commented quietly. She nodded. "If he were to have perished due to the state of the weather…the ice should cover his clothing, should it not?"
"Yeah. But it doesn't." She bit her bottom lip and looked at Crane.
"We're too late," he said. "The Yuki-onna has struck." Abbie nodded slowly.
"All right, well, ten points to you for calling this one," she said somberly.
"Still, we are steps behind Henry." He stood and offered his hand to Abbie.
"We have the mirror," she said as he pulled her to her feet. "We can stop this thing before it takes any more victims."