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Cold.
It was the brisk, misty morning that made Johanna's hair frizz from the clip she had secured it in before she'd gone to visit Father Knapp's grave. The sun had yet to rise, but there were tiny rays of orange and pink that were leaking over the horizon. Johanna shivered involuntarily as she stared down at the emotionless metal nameplate; it would be a few weeks before the simple headstone that the sisters had chosen would be installed. The dirt mound had tiny bits of baby grass trying to work its way up through the dust, struggling for life in a cemetery. How ironic.
Johanna laid the single black orchid down vertically on his grave. Father Knapp would have liked it; he'd believed that the simplest things were the most beautiful. She gave her silent goodbye as a single tear fell from her eye. It would be the last tear that Jo would cry for Father Knapp. "Life must go on." She murmured. Johanna sent a tiny bolt of power from her fingertip. It hit the dirt silently, springing up little bristles of fresh, green grass from where her tear fell, until the grave was covered. Johanna turned to leave and didn't look back.
Johanna returned to her motel room to ready herself once again for the arranged meeting with Lieutenant Mills and Ichabod for breakfast. She knew that they wanted to evaluate her, to find out if they could indeed trust her. Abbie had mentioned something about a warning from another witch before they'd left, but didn't elaborate. Johanna looked to the jar of lamb's blood resting on the seat of the closed toilet. Jo was ready to meet this 'other witch.' She wanted to know exactly who and what she was dealing with.
Smoothing back her hair, Johanna stared into the mirror as she opened the jar. She winced at the smell of the blood as she dipped her finger into the cold, red liquid. It was denser than she remembered. With two fingers, she drew the sigil for a summoning; it was sort of like a backwards 'S' mixed with a backwards 'Z,' coupled with a circle right through the middle of the symbol. Johanna rinsed the blood from her hand and closed the jar, placing it back onto the toilet lid.
When she looked back up, it wasn't her own reflection staring back at her. It was a pale, redheaded woman wearing an old fashioned black dress and a rather confused expression. From the look of the denizens lurking around her in the wood, she was in a different realm. "You warned the Witnesses against me." Johanna accused.
"Yes. I warned them against you because I do not know of your intention." The witch spoke with an accent not unlike Johanna's own. An eerie wind rustled through her hair as the shadowy figures shuffled in the background.
"That makes two of us." Johanna said, rolling her eyes.
"What coven do you affiliate with?"
"I don't. I'm alone." As the words fell out of her mouth, Johanna truly felt them. She was alone. She was always alone. There was something about this woman though, that made her feel like she'd finally found a kindred spirit. "Where are you?"
"Purgatory."
"My condolences." Johanna nodded solemnly, "I assume that you care about the Witnesses, yeah? How's about you keep the cryptic warnings to yourself next time, until you find out the real depth of the situation?"
"Moloch must be stopped." The woman's head whipped around at the louder rustling to her left. "I did what I believed was right." Her voice was becoming echo-y now. Johanna was losing the connection.
"So did Hitler." Obviously a reference that the woman didn't understand. "Let me put this to you straight: I don't want to save the world. All I bloody care about is revenge."
"Please! You must help them! They must stop the Horseman, else the future will be ruin." All at once, Johanna felt sympathy for the poor soul. She'd been trapped for God knows how long in that awful place and had just been trying help. In all of Johanna's years, she'd learned one thing for certain. You can't help everyone. "He's coming! You must go!" Suddenly, Johanna was back to staring at her own reflection in a blood-streaked mirror.
Her eyes were rimmed with red and tiny blood vessels had burst in her eyes. She looked gaunt, almost ill. The tiny spell and the fight the previous night had all-but-drained her. Without a coven and complete control over her magic, not to mention her emotional state, Johanna was completely depleted.
Two thoughts came to her.
One: Sugar. She needed sugar.
Two: The witch had severed the connection to save Johanna.
Guilt overpowered all other feelings, including fatigue, for a brief moment. For just an instant, Johanna felt the rage, fear, and sorrow fade away into the background as she realized that the woman had kept her save. The witch had saved Johanna, a stranger and potential threat, at the cost of her own well-being.
And she didn't even know her name.
"I take it you don't believe Ms. Danvers's story?" Ichabod and Abbie were waiting in the car outside of the diner. It was the same diner that Sheriff Corbin had always taken Abbie to after she'd had a change of heart. "Not that it is so far-fetched, considering my own origin story."
Abbie looked away from the diner, "Nope." She said simply, popping the 'p' on her lips. "I want to keep this simple; don't be giving her too many details yet." They'd arranged to meet Johanna Danvers for breakfast after she'd saved Abbie and Ichabod from the demon at the church. Abbie wanted to know exactly how much Johanna knew before they went about sharing anything. Johanna could be the 'powerful witch' that Katrina had warned about. Then again, powerful didn't exactly mean evil…powerful did mean corruptible…
"Understood." Ichabod and Abbie exited the car, crossing the street and brushing beside Johanna's old, black, Dodge Charger as they went to the doors of the diner. Ichabod noticed a jar of something on the floorboard of the back of her car. It was full of a dark, red liquid. "Lieutenant?" Crane tapped on the window at the jar.
"That'd better not be blood." Abbie said before yanking Ichabod away from the car. Ichabod made sure to hold open the door to her, ignoring the little glare that she playfully sent his way.
They found Johanna waiting in one of the booths, her nose buried in a menu as a young waitress chewed on her pen, waiting impatiently for Johanna to order. "I would like…" The witch pursed her lips as she set the menu down on the table, "…three pancakes, sides of bacon, maple syrup, and peanut butter. Oh, and a slice of the chocolate pie."
The waitress scribbled down Johanna's order and snatched the menu off of the table with a moody, "Anything else?"
Johanna, who was looking a little worse for wear, looked to Abbie and Ichabod, who were standing awkwardly to the side. "We'll both just have coffee."
"Does your establishment have any donut holes?" Abbie tried to hide her smile as Ichabod asked.
The waitress rolled her eyes, pointing to a glass container filled with glazed donuts, "We've got whole donuts. You want one with your coffee?"
Ichabod gestured for Abbie to sit, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble." With a sigh, the waitress slouched off.
"You ordered pie at seven o'clock in the morning." Abbie observed, watching as the waitress went to get the slice of pie.
"Yes. The spell that I did last night took more out of me than I expected." Johanna shrugged, taking a sip of her glass of ice water. "Sugar helps." The waitress returned without speaking and put the plate of French Silk pie in front of Johanna. The witch unwrapped her silverware and put the napkin on her lap. Abbie and Ichabod watched in fascination as the petite woman cut a large chunk off of the end, dipped it into the puff of whipped cream, and stuffed it into her mouth. Through her next mouthful of pie, Johanna began, "Who exactly are you two?"
"How about a rule?" Abbie suggested, "You ask a question, then we ask a question?"
Johanna smiled, pointing to Abbie with her chocolate covered fork, "Fair enough. Now answer mine." She took another bite of pie.
Abbie took a breath to begin their spiel, but Ichabod beat her to it. "Lieutenant Mills and I are Witnesses, as I afore mentioned; Witnesses to the coming apocalypse noted in the Book of Revelation."
"Mmm. You mentioned that bit last night." Johanna scooped a bit of whipped cream up with her finger, "An apocalypse of Biblical proportions."
The unhappy waitress returned with their coffee and Ichabod's donut. "We've faced several dangers in the recent weeks; disease, demons, spells…And then we were warned about you." Abbie kicked him underneath the table and he winced.
Ichabod opted to take a bite of the pastry, instead letting Abbie lead with the rest of their story, "I'm a Lieutenant with the Sleepy Hollow Police Department and Ichabod is my consultant for the time being. My turn." Abbie ripped open a packet of sugar and dumped it into her coffee as Johanna finished her pie, "Are you immortal?"
"Yes and no. My body doesn't age, but I am definitely mortal in a sense that I can be killed." Johanna licked her fork, "How do you know about Moloch?"
Ichabod still had a mouthful of donut, and so Abbie continued the back and forth questioning with Johanna until her breakfast arrived, keeping it vague in case Johanna was not on their side. Ichabod licked his fingers clean as he finished the donut, before wiping his hands with the napkin. When he realized that the two women were staring at him, he said, "My apologies." Ichabod took a sip of coffee before asking, "Why are you without a coven?"
Johanna mopped up the remainder of the syrup with the last piece of bacon, "How'd you know?" The previously sweet maple syrup now had a bitter tang to it.
"The food." Ichabod said simply, "You don't have the strength of a coven to fall back on."
Johanna sucked air in through her teeth sharply, "I don't have a coven because—well, they're dead. I didn't kill them, at least not directly." At Abbie and Ichabod's confused expressions, Johanna elaborated, "Long story short: I had to choose between my coven and my husband. I chose my husband, but he didn't choose me. It's as simple as that."
There was an awkward silence after that. Luckily, it was broken by the ring of Abbie's cell phone. She answered it, "Lieutenant Mills."
It was Morales voice that greeted her from the other end, "Mills, you need to get in here now." His voice was a mixture of anger and confusion.
"What is it? What's going on?" When Morales didn't finish, Abbie prompted, "Luke, what is it?"
"My suspect that you were called in for last night, Gerry Mason. He's dead."
Johanna had insisted on coming along if they were going to work together. Abbie was reluctant to share all of the details of the case with her, but there was something about her that made Ichabod want to trust Johanna; and so Abbie was going to make an effort to do the same, so long as she proved truthful and worthy of their trust.
The usual morning bustle at the police station had morphed into chaos as Abbie, Ichabod and Johanna arrived. The phones were ringing nonstop, several of the uniformed officers were running about. There were shouts about extra security as the trio entered the lobby. Wendy, the receptionist, was wide-eyed as she shakily sorted through files and memos, delivering her statement to Morales at the same time.
Luke caught Abbie just as they entered the bullpen, "I've got something to show you before you head downstairs." He glared at Ichabod and then looked to Johanna, "Crane. I take it she's a consultant too?"
"Just go with it." Johanna said, "What did you need to show us?"
"I got ahold of the security disks for downstairs." Luke led them over to his desk and clicked his mouse a few times to pull the computer out of resting mode. The screen blinked to life and Luke clicked on a file. A video feed began to play in fast-motion.
On the screen, it showed Gerry Mason. Gerry paced back and forth in his cell, every so often, he would sit down and put his head in his hands. After a few moments, something changed. "Okay, so this guy enters, hood up." Luke pointed to the hooded figure with a pen as he strolled across the screen, stopping in front of Gerry Mason's holding cell.
He got to his feet and went to the bars. This was a mistake. Unfortunately for Gerry, it would be the last mistake he ever made. The man suddenly grabbed Gerry by the throat, pulling at the man through the bars. Gerry clawed and kicked at his attacker, but it was no use. Gerry did manage to pull his attacker's hood down. This man looked exactly like Gerry Mason…but Gerry Mason was in the cell.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Abbie asked no one in particular.
"They look exactly alike." Ichabod said in awe.
"A doppelganger." Johanna muttered.
Gerry Mason seemed to be asking the same question as Abbie. Suddenly, the doppelganger braced himself on the bars with one hand and yanked roughly at Gerry's neck. Abbie could almost hear Gerry's neck snap. As soon as the man released Gerry, Gerry's lifeless body crumpled to the floor in a heap. The man looked directly up at the camera and smiled before mouthing something that Abbie didn't catch. He paused to put his hood back up and left through the office door.
"Go back, go back; he said something. Can you do that?" Ichabod asked, confused. Luke threw him an odd look before rewinding the video and setting it to normal speed. Luke zoomed the video in to the perp's face, but it turned out to be a little grainy. He hit play. "There!" Ichabod looked from Johanna to Abbie, "Did you see?"
Both women gave the same answer, "No."
"Play it again." Ichabod said excitedly, mouthing the words along with the doppelganger.
"Crane, Mills! My office, now!" The Captain called from across the station. Johanna followed in suit, catching the door just as it was about to close.
"She's here to help." Abbie said at the Captain's confused look when he saw Johanna.
As soon as the door was shut, the Captain asked, "I take it you've seen the footage from Gerry Mason's holding cell."
Ichabod said, "The murderer said, 'Moloch wird auferstehen.'"
"I assume you know what that means." Abbie said, raising an eyebrow at her partner, who was practically hopping up and down with excitement. She looked to Johanna, "All I got was the 'Moloch' part."
"It means—" Ichabod began, but Johanna interrupted him.
"Moloch will rise again."
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A/N: Final Exams are approaching, so I don't know exactly when I will be able to post the next chapter.