Bleak
Chapter Five
Hawley ran his fingers through his blonde hair, absently scratching a portion of his scalp near the crown of his head. He shifted his hips towards the front of the chair's cushion and leaned back, resting the bottom edge of his book on his stomach. A short moment later, he placed the book on the table and shifted towards the back of the cushion. His elbows landed on the table, his head in his hands. The heels of his palms pressed against his forehead, forcing his eyelids to remain open as he read.
"Holy shit," he muttered. His hands fell to the table and he dropped his head onto the book. "Is this really what you guys do all day – sit in this dungeon and read?" he muttered against the paper. Jenny laughed lightly.
"No." She licked the tip of her index finger and flipped to the next page of her book. "Sometimes we read at the cabin." He lifted his head and pinned her with an irritated stare.
"You used to be fun, Mills," he stated. "What happened to you?"
"Musty old books not your style, Hawley?" she smiled.
"Yeah, nope." Jenny uncrossed her legs and placed her feet on the floor, her smile sobering.
"I think I found something." She placed the book on the table, leaning over it as she read. "It says the Yuki-onna is summoned with the offering of a human sacrifice. Bound to a tree…facing the east." Her eyes scanned the next page. "But being left in the cold isn't enough; there needs to be an approaching winter storm." She looked at Hawley. "Abbie said there were six bunks in that alley, but only five bodies. What if that missing person was the sacrifice?"
"Whoa, slow down," he said, holding up a hand. "Six bunks doesn't mean six people were living there. I mean, there's a reason it's called 'Drifters' Alley', they wander from place to place."
"True," she shrugged.
"And there are a lot of nooks and crannies on that side of the city that they use." She nodded. "You're seriously suggesting this?" he sighed.
"It's the best lead we've found so far."
"Provided there's a body to find," he started, "do you realize how many trees are in and around Sleepy Hollow?"
"Yeah." Jenny stood from the chair and moved to the far side of the room to dig through a small stack of folded papers. "Here," she said, removing a map of the city. "Maybe we can narrow it down a bit." She stood to Hawley's left, unfolding the map and spreading it over the table. "The Yuki-onna attacked five homeless men in Drifters' Alley." She placed her finger on a spot near the top of the map. "Everyone knows this place exists, but it's not a heavily populated or travelled part of the city." Hawley nodded.
"Accessible, but out of the way."
"Right."
"Okay, so all we need to do is find all of the easy-to-get-to, out-of-the-way wooded areas around the city." He shook his head. "That shouldn't be so hard." Jenny lightly slapped his arm.
"Way to be optimistic," she drawled. "Find me a pencil."
SH
"I know it's not the ideal option. Enlisting Irving's help…" Abbie tsked and shook her head. "It's a big risk." She diverted her eyes from the snow-covered road before her to glance in Crane's direction. "It's just a thought."
"It is perhaps the only option we have," he responded, continuing to stare at the glove compartment. "With Henry away from Frederick's Manor and Abraham unable to venture into the daylight…"
"How do you want to do this? Can you lure Katrina outside? Keep her attention long enough for me to sneak in and kill the host?" He looked at her, his eyebrows knit with concerns.
"I do not think it is wise for you to go in alone," he said. "Though the host has the appearance of a mere child, we do not know the power it possesses." He shook his head and shifted his gaze to the passenger window. "No, I do not like that at all." Abbie drummed her fingers on the top of the steering wheel as she guided the jeep over the compacted snow. She parked near the porch's entrance and pulled the keys from the ignition.
"Don't worry, Crane," she said gently. "We'll figure out a way to take out the host."
"Do not misunderstand," he started, "for I do have great concerns about the task." He turned to her. "However that is not what currently unsettles me."
"Then what's on your mind?"
"Your reaction to Henry's words earlier this morning," he said carefully. "Your reaction to his conjecture about you and I." Abbie nodded slowly.
"We're hunting a demon that freezes people, looking for a way to kill the being that's supposed to host Moloch, and you're worried about my reaction to Henry's assumption?" He took a turn to nod. "Hmm, okay. Let's grab the books we need. I have to see Reyes, let her knew where we stand on the deaths." She opened the driver's door and slipped her legs over the edge of the seat. "She should be finished with her meeting by the time we get back to the archives."
"Lieutenant," he called as she shut the door. He unbuckled his seatbelt and followed her through the chill of the snow into the warmth of the cabin. "Lieutenant," he called again. She gathered a few books from the dining table.
"Here are three of the books you're looking for." She walked past him towards the sofa. "Is the other one in one of these piles?" she asked, purposely refusing to look at him.
"It is possible," he answered slowly. She rounded the sofa and plucked a book from the top of one of the stacks.
"Look at that," she smiled tightly. "Lucky pick." He stepped to the side as she moved to the door, collecting her backpack from the hook on the wall. "Okay, got 'em." She shoved the books into the bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. "Let's go." As she opened the door and crossed the threshold, Crane caught her wrist and pulled her back into the cabin.
"Lieutenant," he said, quietly closing the door. He gently removed the bag from her shoulder, deposited it on the floor and walked her backwards. "Your reaction." He pressed his palms against the door to either side of her shoulders, caging her in. "What troubled you?" She stared up at him, offering no answer. He bent his elbows, lowering himself just enough to level their eyes. "I can stand here all day, Miss Mills." She sighed and shifted uncomfortably.
"Remember when I told you Katrina was returning to Abraham?" she asked.
"Quite well," he nodded.
"There may have been part of that conversation that I…left out." He raised an eyebrow. "Not intentionally," she said quickly. "It just…I didn't think anything of it. It wasn't important; it didn't mean anything."
"Until Henry's comments." She nodded. "Katrina was to tell the horseman that I had found my place in this world." She nodded again. "What else did she say?"
"You found your place…with me…by your side. By your side by your side." She watched the pensive movement of his eyes as the possible insinuations of Katrina's words registered.
"By…my side," he mumbled. "Oh." His brow crinkled as he looked at her again. "Oh. Meaning that we are…partners…in more than one sense of the word."
"Yeah."
"I see. Why would she need to deceive the horseman in such a manner?"
"To gain his trust?" she offered weakly. "Maybe it makes her return more credible. I-it gives her a believable reason to sever her ties with you…and to renew them with Abraham." She looked away, blinking back a trickle of tears.
"If Katrina's intentions were true and untainted at the start, such pretenses would have been beneficial," he agreed. "And it would stand to reason Henry has heard the same from Katrina."
"I didn't realize what she meant. I'm sorry." He flexed his fingers against the door.
"That being the case, you still have not given reason as to why this upsets you so. Do not," he added quickly, "tell me that a simple misinterpretation of words has you so disturbed."
"Katrina isn't immune to Henry's influence. He proved that when he revealed the true appearance of the host this morning. She doesn't see it as the monster it is. If she did, she would have killed it already." Abbie bit her bottom lip. "And then Henry taunts you with the whole 'there's a family waiting for you' speech."
"I realize he was provoking me."
"But do you understand your response?" He frowned. "Katrina believes that thing is her child. She believes Henry can be redeemed. All you have to do is leave my side to be with your wife and your son. And you said 'no'." His hands slid down the door as he straightened his posture. "Right in front of Katrina, you said 'no'." She stepped around him and moved farther into the cabin. "If Henry can make her see and care for a child that isn't even real…" She shook her head, turned and walked into the kitchen. Crane trailed after her. He found her facing the cupboards, her head down, her hands gripping the edge of the countertop.
"You are worried that Henry will grow the seeds of Katrina's deception, that she will come to believe this presumption," he said quietly.
"I don't want to fight that, too. You and Katrina have enough to worry about as it is." She turned around and lifted herself onto the counter, but would not look in Crane's direction.
"Katrina's decisions are her own," he said as he approached. "And to your point, Lieutenant, it is for Katrina and I to fret over. It should not be your burden." He stopped a step in front of her, searching her face as a single drop of water rolled over her cheek. "Lieutenant, look at me." Keeping her head down, she closed her eyes, releasing a string of tears. "Abbie." He closed the distance between them, standing just inside the space between her knees. "Do not let this upset you," he said softly. His hand moved to cup her cheek, as though the action would assist in conveying the sincerity of his words. "My place here is with you by my side." His words were quiet, slowly spoken, as his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip. "And I by yours. I have chosen to forge my fate with you. It is a decision I do not regret; a choice I would make a thousand times over."
The words left Crane's mouth in a whisper, drowned by the realization of their proximity, the intimacy of his contact with her skin. They were too close; he needed to step back, to regain – I can sense your desire. He turned his hand, sliding the backs of his fingers under the line of her jaw. Her lips parted slightly as she took a soft, ragged breath. It burns strong… Every thought of Abbie, every feeling he harbored for her… Crane lifted her chin, gently coercing her gaze upward. He slowly searched her face, taking in each detail of her features as though for the first time. When he finally met her eyes, he found the pinnacle of his debauchery reflected in her dark orbs. Everything he tried to bury threatened to surge towards the surface in a flood he knew he would not be able to control. He took a deep, careful breath, harnessing the little bit of strength he could find, forcing himself to speak instead of giving in to the urge to lean forward and press his lips to hers.
"Did we…did we not discuss this…last night? You are not to worry yourself over Katrina."
"We didn't discuss anything," she said lightly. "You gave me no room to argue."
"That is correct; I did not." He offered a small, sad smile. "I have not been…entirely forthcoming with you. There are thoughts…personal thoughts…I have not shared. Perhaps it is time you and I had such a conversation."
"I don't expect you to—"
"Expectations are irrelevant," he interrupted. His hand moved from her chin to settle again along her cheek. "Neither of us gave thought as to how personal this war could become. If we do not understand the reason behind each other's actions, how are we to keep the other safe? Solitude will not be our guide in this venture."
"Fair enough," she said quietly. "Not now though; I have to see Reyes. If I blow off this meeting, she'll never trust us."
"Agreed." Crane stepped back slightly, taking her hands in his. "Let us regroup with Miss Jenny and Mr. Hawley," he said, pulling her from the counter. "We shall hold our discussion at another time."
SH
Jenny looked around the room and sighed. She and Hawley had combed through the books in the archives, pulling nearly seventy from its shelves. They read every excerpt mentioning the Yuki-onna, regardless of how trivial some seemed. They searched through details in myths and supposed real-life accounts of the demon's attacks, hoping to zero in on the location of its summoning. With no significant reduction in possible sites, and Jenny's focus stuck at square one, she had declared a break in the research. Now, she sat slumped over the book-laden table, drumming her fingers against its flat surface as she tried to clear her head.
An echo of boot heels against the floor floated from the hallway into the archives. The gentle thump, the drawn-out gait were unmistakably those of Crane. Jenny lifted her head and listened, frowning when she could not detect a second set of footfalls. The tall English man entered the room, Abbie's backpack slung over his shoulder. With his eyes turned downwards and a crease of concentration present across his brow, he mumbled quietly to himself.
"Crane," Jenny greeted with a smile. "Welcome back." He stopped just inside the doorway, raising his hands as though to surrender.
"Miss Jenny." He breathed a relieved sigh. "You startled me." She laughed.
"Sorry."
"It is I who should apologize," he said as he approached the table. "I have been…distracted." His eyes scanned the spread of books. "You and Mr. Hawley have been rather busy, from the looks of things." He glanced around the room. "Where is your research companion?"
"I sent him on a search for food," she shrugged. "Where's Abbie?"
"Meeting with Sheriff Reyes." He slipped the backpack from his shoulder as he rounded the table and sat in the empty chair next to Jenny.
"You've been distracted, huh?" she asked.
"Hmm." He settled the bag next to the table's leg and turned to her. "It has been a rather…trying string of days." She nodded. "I have received explicit orders from your sister to share the details of our morning with you," he said.
"Lay it on me," she said, shifting in her chair to face him. He raised an eyebrow. "Uh, tell me."
"Ah, of course." He cleared his throat. "Before we arrived at the station this morning, the lieutenant and I encountered Henry and Katrina."
"Really? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"
"The sheriff's information about the five homeless victims needed immediate attention."
"Of course," she nodded. "Where did you see Henry and Katrina?"
"Just outside, on the walk. A child accompanied them." Jenny nodded, her eyes widening with curiosity.
"Baby Moloch?"
"Yes." He held up a finger. "And no. The child appeared to be a six, maybe seven years of age."
"What?" She frowned. "Then how did you know it was the host?"
"Henry must have cast some sort of perception spell over the creature, for it first appeared as a human child, then transformed into…" He rolled his wrist as he searched for the words. "Miss Mills described it as 'one ugly-ass demon'."
"Oh, Crane," Jenny snickered. She leaned an elbow on the table and tugged at the shell of her ear as her smile sobered. "Abbie said the incordata was collecting souls and that Henry was using them to feed the host."
"From the visions that Katrina had, that is what we surmised," he nodded.
"The Yuki-onna collects souls. Do you think they're for…"
"It is a plausible conclusion," he agreed. "One that would explain the accelerated growth of the host."
"Two more nights of soul stealing and we're going to have an adult-sized body ready to host Moloch." He nodded.
"I am afraid my research on the Yuki-onna has yielded nothing in the way of answers."
"We found a couple of things," she said, reaching across the table for two books. "The Yuki-onna," she started, opening a red, leather-bound book, "doesn't have a solid physical form. She's like a fog, or a mist. Once she starts to breathe on her victim, he can use the mirror to reflect her breath. This will freeze her, bring on that solid state, and then she can be destroyed." She opened the other book. "This one describes summoning the demon. It requires a human sacrifice. On the eve of an approaching winter storm, this person needs to be tied to a tree, facing the east." Crane frowned.
"Is that all?"
"Isn't that enough?" He shot her a sideways glance.
"Was there mention of an incantation to call her forth? Perhaps one to banish her?"
"No, nothing of the sort. This one will have to be done the hard way." She tapped her finger on the book. "It also says that she typically goes after people who are lost or stranded in the snow and the cold."
"Yet another reason the homeless victims were targeted," he nodded.
"So this sacrifice… Henry doesn't travel much. He would have stashed this person someplace remote but close enough for him to access." She stood and motioned for him to follow. She led him to another table. "These are our best guesses." Crane leaned his palms on the edge of the table as his eyes roamed over the map, taking in the myriad of circles scribbled across its surface.
"Impressive," he breathed.
"Sixteen places, all within a reasonable distance of Frederick's Manor. I was hoping to narrow it down a bit more than this, though," she mumbled.
"Do not fret, Miss Jenny," he said. "This shall be helpful." He looked at her and smiled. "Imagine if we were to scour every patch of wooded area around the city." He nodded and returned to the map. "This will be most helpful, indeed. Was there any information on how frequently this demon feeds?"
"No."
"Then searching these locations is of the utmost importance." He straightened. "We cannot afford another lot of souls lost to the host."
"Crane? Can I ask you something?" He nodded. "How…how did Katrina react when the host changed into its ugly-ass self?"
"Katrina…had no reaction," he said, dropping his eyes. "Your sister and I do not believe she is privy to any view other than that of the human child." He met her eyes. "Katrina contacted me last night, as you said she would. During that time, and again this morning, she referred to the creature as 'Jonathan'."
"Oh," Jenny sighed. "She's in deep." Crane nodded. "What does this mean?"
"Katrina now has an agenda of her own, one that does not include ending Moloch's reign of terror." He looked down again. "It is a rather convoluted situation, yet it means simply this: Katrina is no longer an ally, no longer to be trusted."
"Crane, I'm sorry," she whispered, her large, brown eyes glassy with tears. "I wish there was something I could do…"
"Actually," Abbie stated as she entered the archives. "There is something you can do." Jenny looked at her sister, then at Crane.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"
"We need you to talk to Irving," Abbie said.
"Frank? Talk to him about what, exactly?"
"Tomorrow morning, Captain Irving must place a call to Henry and ask for his presence at Tarrytown," Crane explained. "Shortly after Henry arrives, Lieutenant Mills and I will descend upon Frederick's Manor and kill the host."
"Whoa." Jenny looked at Abbie. "Going in guns blazing, huh?"
"Is there any other way to go?" Abbie smiled gently.
"No," Jenny replied, returning her smile. "I'll have to stay at Tarrytown, make sure Henry doesn't leave before you're finished." Abbie nodded. "Hawley can go with me. Two sets of eyes will make it easier to keep tabs on him." She crossed her arms. "You know this isn't fair, using Frank like this."
"With Henry out of the manor and the Horseman of Death unable to be in the daylight, it is an opportunity we would be amiss to ignore."
"What about Katrina?" she asked. "The two of you do remember that she's a witch, right? She can do things."
"We know." Abbie moved to Crane's side and lightly tapped her fist against his arm. "We're still working on that part." Abbie walked towards her sister and placed her hands on her shoulders. "This isn't easy, Jenny. But the sooner we get this host thing taken care of, the sooner we can get back to finding a way to free Frank's soul."
"Yeah," Jenny nodded. "Okay." She slung her arm around Abbie's shoulder and looked at Crane. "Why don't the two of you get to work on your plans and Hawley and I can start searching these sights."
SH
Crane sat at the dining table, listening to the wind that whipped around the cabin. It whistled as it rounded the corners of the small dwelling, bringing a phantom shiver to his body. Sitting forward, he anxiously tapped his fingers on the tabletop and let his eyes wander over the crossbow. He inspected the ties, plucked at the string. With a shake of his head and an irritated sigh, he sat back in the chair and turned his attention to his left, to Abbie.
One by one and with a careful hand, she studied each arrow from the small pile before her. He watched as her fingers traced the length of the arrow's shaft, seeking to discover any flaws in its stability. He watched as she leveled her eyes with the nock, arrow pointing outward, ensuring the structure was straight. He smiled inwardly as she gently nodded her approval and slipped the arrow into the leather quiver.
Though her movements were controlled and efficient, their slowing piqued Crane's curiosity, offered a hint of exhaustion. He shifted his focus to her face, the weariness in her eyes confirming his suspicions. He had expended the majority of the previous evening laying on his left side, watching Abbie as she slept. Her slumber had appeared peaceful; she did not toss and turn beneath the bed linens, she did not wake in a panic. Yet he knew from his own experiences that the body could rest without the acquiescence or following of the mind. Your head is so full of questions, my dear Ichabod, even as you sleep, his mother had once told him. When you can learn to stop thinking so much, maybe you will find yourself in a more favorable opinion of morning. He was certain both ideas were unachievable goals.
The hours had passed quickly, filled with Crane's ponderings of Abbie's dreams. Were they soothing memories or intimidating meanings? Did she remember them after waking or were they foggy and indescribable? Or were they simply and seemingly non-existent? He would have filled every minute of the night listing his questions had Abbie's touch not pulled him from his reverie. Her hand, in a small, unintended movement, had fallen from the edge of her pillow and into his hand where it rested beside his own pillow. Soon after he had laced their fingers and determined she remained in the midst of inactivity, his eyes had closed.
"I know these are blessed and all," she said, stuffing another arrow into the quiver, "but are we sure they will kill the host?"
"No," he answered. "I have found much information on the creation of the host, but nothing of its destruction." He tapped a finger on the table. "However, the host is simply a body until Moloch takes over. It is not immortal on its own."
"Even so, tell me we're taking more than just the crossbow."
"Undoubtedly," he smiled. Abbie laughed and gently shook her head.
"Well, we can stop by the archives in the morning before we head out to the manor. Stock up." Her phone buzzed, the vibration causing the device to jitter along the tabletop. "Jenny and Hawley are on their way over," she said as she read the message.
"Let us hope they bring good news."
"Yes," she nodded. "I know it's late, but do you mind if I take a quick shower before they get here?"
"Not at all," he answered. Abbie reached over the corner of the table, wrapping her fingers around his arm.
"Are you all right?" Crane nodded slowly.
"There is no changing this situation. I will find a way to persevere." She rose from the chair and moved to stand behind him.
"Way to answer without answering, Crane," she said, playfully leaning her hands and her weight on his shoulders. "I'll just be a few minutes." He nodded and watched her disappear into the bedroom. His attention returned to the crossbow. He was thankful for the few hours of sleep he had commandeered the night before. With apprehension of the following morning's danger, he was certain this evening's sleep would be fitful, should it come at all.
"Such a simple weapon," he said quietly. "Yet one clean shot should be enough to bring Moloch to his knees." He smiled to himself and moved to the sofa. The fire in the hearth burned brightly, its warmth fierce. "Here we sit again, my friend. How many nights have we gazed upon each other?" he asked. "How many nights have I sought answers within your light? All you have ever offered is spits of sparks." The fire crackled and popped. "And still you mock me so," he chided. Crane crossed his arms over his chest, his head falling against the back of the sofa as his eyelids fluttered to a close. The soft rush of running water slowly overtook the harsh snap of the fire. The water's patter against the shower's basin, muffled by the bathroom's closed door, lulled his mind. He relaxed farther into the cushions, a symbolic offering of support to his weary mind. "Just for a moment," he slurred. "A quick pause while we wait for the others."
Slowly, he turned in a circle, eyes searching the line of trees around the barren field. The air around him was thick, frigid and silent, marred only by the puff of fog released from his lips as he exhaled. His fingers twitched at his sides. She was near; he could feel her. He pushed all thoughts from his mind, focusing only on his partner, on their bond. He turned again, his focus grazing the white snow covering the field. Abbie? he called gently. Where are you? Something in the distance caught his attention. He titled his head to the side, squinting as he zeroed in on the movement. A misty cloud hung in the air near the trees, floating close to the ground…floating over…
Abbie? he called again. As he ran towards the trees, the mist dissipated, revealing the still body of his partner. He fell to the ground, crawling the last few feet to her side. Abbie? His fingers clenched, digging into the ice-encrusted snow that covered her back. Abbie? Abbie, no. Sliding one hand under her head and gripping her arm with the other, he rolled her onto her back, over the tops of his thighs. Her eyes were wide with terror, her skin ashen and covered in ice. He tried to fight the wave of nausea, the well of panic that ravaged his soul, the well that flooded his body and spilled over his lips in a scream.
"Crane?" Abbie dropped to her knees, just to the left of Crane's position on the floor. "Crane?" She wrapped her fingers around his wrists in an effort to calm his arms. With her touch, his eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up. As he looked around, attempting to reclaim his place in reality, his breathing remained rapid, his features locked in confusion. "It's okay," she said softly. "It was just a dream." He looked at her, his eyes questioning her statement.
"Lieutenant?"
"Yeah, it's me," Abbie smiled. Crane shifted his legs to the side and leaned towards her, roughly grabbing her shoulders. "Hey!"
"You are not frozen?" he questioned, fingers playing across her cheeks.
"Frozen? What? No, I'm not…" She batted his hands away. "I'm not frozen." He stilled her effort to thwart his advances by capturing both of her wrists in one hand. Lowering her arms, he moved his free hand, again touching her skin, concentrating on the warmth beneath his fingertips. Satisfied with his findings, his body relaxed. He released her hands and slid closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She laughed gently and wound her arms around his shoulders as he pulled her into a tight embrace. "You sure have some pretty crazy dreams, Crane."
"Indeed."
"Are you all right?"
"I am."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Abbie tried to pull back, but Crane's arms were solidly around her. His hand moved to the damp curls on the back of her head, holding her in place, asking without words for their embrace to last just a little longer.
"Not at present," he answered. She sighed softly, contently, and rested against him. "You may not be frozen, Lieutenant, but you are very wet," he laughed quietly.
"Sorry. You were calling my name and I thought coming to your rescue was more important than drying off." He released her and took in the wet splotches on her loungewear, slightly darker than the light blue of the soft fabric.
"You are going to catch a chill," he frowned.
"I'm fine, Crane."
"You may appear that way at present, Lieutenant." He rose to his knees and pulled the throw from the back of the sofa. "However, there is no knowing what ailment might befall you." He returned to the floor, unfolding the blanket. She leaned back, out of his reach. "Miss Mills, you are sodden—"
"It was just a shower," she laughed. "Most of what's wet is my hair. I'll live."
"Nonetheless," he stated, holding up a finger, "one must not tempt fate." He shifted closer. "Come," he said, urging her towards him.
"For crying out loud, Crane."
"There shall be no lamenting, Lieutenant, regardless of volume." He slipped the blanket behind her back and over her shoulders. Bringing the edges together in front of her, he tightly gripped the fabric with both hands. "I have just awoken from a nightmare in which you perished," he said quietly. "The least you could do is indulge my efforts to protect you." She studied him carefully, noting the hint of mischief in his eyes.
"Are you giving me a guilt trip, Crane?" He shrugged and she smiled. "All right. I'll let you have your way. But just for a little bit. Once Jenny and Hawley get here, deal's off."
"Agreed," he nodded. She slipped her hand through the opening of the blanket and placed it on his arm.
"Crane, I'm worried about you," she said. "I leave you alone for ten minutes and here you are, again, buried in a nightmare."
"I assure you, Lieutenant, I am quite well. Perhaps once we have defeated the host and removed that stressor from our days, there will be time to rest…to recuperate."
"And what if there isn't?"
"I will cross that bridge if and when it is necessary." They sat in silence for several moments before Crane removed one hand from the blanket to brush the wet tendrils of hair from Abbie's face. "Lieutenant, you and I are due a conversation."
"You were right," she said, dropping her eyes. "Neither one of us thought this war would be so personal. But I still don't expect you to share," she said quickly.
"And I told you expectations are irrelevant." His eyes focused on a stray drop of water trickling down her cheek and he gently wiped it away. "I believed once Katrina was freed from Purgatory that she and I could start anew," he explained, his gaze still settled on her cheek. "I thought being physically near one another and not mere visions would allow us to rediscover our path together." He looked away. "During the few days Katrina was here, our encounters were…awkward, those of strangers. I considered that she simply needed time to transition into this world. However, in the time since Katrina's departure, I have arrived at a very different and disheartening conclusion."
"Is this about what the incordata said to you?" Abbie asked. "You haven't been very…vocal about your experience, but, Crane, come on. We've talked about this. The incordata was trying to push your buttons, trying—"
"The incordata is effective in her marksmanship because she is able to perceive desires and feelings that are not disclosed," he interrupted. "Regardless of her motives, her abilities are real."
"No." Abbie shook her head. "I won't accept that. I'm not going to let you give up on your marriage because of some ridiculous demon Henry cooked up."
"I am not the one who has given up on—"
"Just because Katrina made the decision to kill the host—"
"Lieutenant."
"—without consulting you first doesn't mean she—"
"Lieutenant."
"And who knows what's going to happen once we kill the host. There is still a chance we can break Henry's spell over your—"
"Lieutenant!" Abbie stopped and pulled back as far as his hold on the blanket would allow. He saw the muscles in her jaw tense, the walls settle in place. "Miss Mills," he started gently, "it is true that I have not had very much time to arrive at my conclusions, however, your point is moot. Katrina spent each day for the last two centuries focused on one objective: visiting the church to pray for Henry's soul. All of those years trapped in Purgatory have…warped her senses. The reality of the matter is that the woman I loved, the woman I married is no longer. She is now simply a woman looking for that which she has lost. The only way to reunite is to concede to Katrina's belief that Henry is still our son, to believe that we can pull him from Moloch's control. I cannot do that." Abbie tore the blanket from his hand, stood and walked away.
"So that's it?" she asked, turning to face him as he rose from the floor. "Just like that, it's over?"
"It has been 'over' since long before my death; since Katrina chose not to divulge her true nature as a witch, since she withheld details of my role as a witness, and after my resurrection when she deliberately denied me news of our son. We have been doomed from the very beginning of our coupling," he said as he approached her. He lifted his hand, wiping away another streak of water, this one along Abbie's temple. "As far as the misconceptions Katrina spreads about you and I… If she chooses to believe there is more to our relationship than that of partners and friends, then so be it." He dropped his head and lowered his voice. "I cannot in all fairness and honesty say that—"
"Knock, knock!" Jenny called as she and Hawley entered the cabin. "The two of you are not going to believe what we found."