Just an honest thanks for all the kind words and love for this story. Some of you expressed concerns and al i can say is to let the story tell itself.

Rock on

'Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;
For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.

W. Shakespeare

Abbie fingered the worn pouch and sighed. She wanted to read it in private but knew she owed Jenny a share in what happened. It was Jenny who found the historian and Jenny who had been there with her throughout the most painful six months of her adult life.

But whatever was in that letter had the potential to break her down to nothing and leave her gasping for air.

"Jenny," Abbie started

Jenny pushed herself away from the heavy table and stood. "I'm gonna go and get us some food." She announced grabbing her things.

Abbie mouthed a silent thank you to her sister who nodded and spoke again. "No matter what's in there, Abs. He loved you, and I like to think that, with your bond as strong as it is, he is still loving you no matter where he is." Jenny turned and left before Abbie could respond.

She reached across the table and touched the pouch again. The leather was soft and supple and smelled of age. She frowned as she considered where this would lead her and what sad truths lie within.

Jenny had been right; losing everything had taught her to stop running. Crane, with his absence had truly given her a precious gift.

Fingers dipped into the now opened pouch. She expected to find a solitary letter. Instead, she found a leather bound journal. In her hands the old leather felt like him, and bringing it to her nose she realized it even smelled like him. There were small markings along the binding and the covers where she imagined Crane held onto the tome for long periods of time. Abbie imagined him seated in some high winged chair with his long limbs folded neatly before him. The image of her Crane seated and writing in this journal sent an involuntary cry from her that split the silence of the large room.

The journal was large and reminded her of the old books surrounding her in the archives The paper was old but thick and Abbie guessed he researched to figure out which paper would survive over a 100 years of wear and tear.

Opening the first page and seeing his meticulous script announce her name was too much. Before she could read anything below the words of the text, Abbie slammed the book shut and slid it across the long table. It landed on the floor with a heavy and ominous thud.

Abbie sighed deeply before pushing herself onto the floor and crawling to the other side of the table where the journal had landed. On the floor, next to it was a neatly folded piece of arcane paper. Abbie slid the book to her, and then reached for the paper. She figured it must have fallen out when the book fell. Imagining a hastily written note from Frederick or some garnered research from a past descendant.

But the note had her name scrawled across the top in a handwriting that was not Crane's, but one she recognized.

Abbie rolled over on her back on the floor of the large room and fingered the folded piece of paper. She was certain the handwriting was Katrina's loopy large script/ Abbie wasn't sure how to proceed. She looked at the large journal next to her and then stared down at the note in her hands. Something some thing pulled at her to open the note first.

She pulled at the corner of the note and blew a breath as she opened it.

Miss Mills,

I am not the person you wish to hear from, quite possibly the last person in the entirety of human existence in fact. But I wanted, no needed to pen you this missive in an effort to both explain myself and possibly right a terrible wrong that I have done upon my husband.

I chose to come through form Purgatory, it was my only wish to leave that barren place and return to the life I once had with my husband by my side. I didn't care about the repercussions. I didn't care about anything. For that I have paid and continue to pay the dearest of debts. My husband, upon his return wanted nothing to do with me. I am sure you know why. I am sure you believe, as I do, that this is my fault. I do not vanquish my own hand from the turn of events, Miss Mills. It may come as some modicum of surprise to you that I too regretted returning to our time, but not because I no longer garnered my husband's affections.

I was wanted by my own coven. Hunted like an animal. They came for me not long after Jeremy's birth, forcing us to return to England. Another thing I caused my husband to lose. Another nail in the coffin of our 'marriage.' The only thing that made this bearable was our love for Jeremy. He was the only thing that kept us even living in the same house. But no more than that Miss Mills.

Abbie could not fight the smile that softened her scowl at reading those words. Still lying on the floor she scooted out into the light and continued to read

I am most certain that I have made terrible mistakes in my life, both before and after, and yet this one. This one thing that I have done to Ichabod has been the worst. It would have been far better to live eternity in Purgatory than watch the man I love live as a ghost for sixty years. He lived, make no mistake. And he fought. But, he was never the same. I have had over two hundred years to be angry, and bitter, and now? With age comes wisdom, Miss Mills. And with this newly found wisdom I can see the mistakes I have made, though with the best of intentions, were nonetheless mistakes.

I have been the holder of these secrets until the right time. You were compelled to look upon this letter first because I placed a binding upon it. I needed you to see this before you read Ichabod's words to you. He wrote in that journal every day, every single day Miss Mills. To you. He fought against slavery in England and for women's rights, fights he only mused over before but your influence, his love for you created a greater need in him to alter history, or at least his fated role in it. England ended the practice of slavery nearly a hundred years before America managed it. I had wished he would have looked upon the news with his own eyes, but alas.

I have and continue to live an unnatural life. My son grew to manhood and outlived my greatest joy to become my deepest sorrow. You may know of an old house that the town's children whisper of being haunted. You may have whispered these same fears once upon a time in your youth and chose to forget them. Find the old Fredrick's manner Miss Mills. It is where I replaced one Purgatory for another.

Katrina.

Abbie sat up from the floor and read through the letter twice more before shaking her head in disbelief. How could Katrina Crane have survived all of this time? And what were the secrets she spoke of?

"You all right?" Jenny asked bringing her sister out of her lethargy. "There's a perfectly good chair over there, I'm sure it's much more comfortable th—"

"You remember that old house at the edge of the woods? The one we used to run past when we walked through the woods?" Abbie asked as she stood.

Jenny placed the white bag with its tantalizing aromas of melted cheese and overcooked onions. "Yeah, the Fredrick's house? Why?"

Abbie shoved the note into her sister's hands and dove for the French fries. "Is this what was in the pouch?" she asked without looking at it.

Abbie nodded. Amongst other things." She said picking up the old journal from the floor. "Just read it and tell me I'm not crazy."

Jenny flipped the note over twice before waving it in front of her sister's face. "I hate to be the one to tell you that you have lost it. Abbie there is nothing on this paper."

Abbie snatched the note away from her sister and stared at the blank page. "What the fuck?" she said to the empty page.

"What is it? Abbie are you sure you are all right."

Abbie balled the paper up and landed a three point shot into the circular file on the other side of the room. "It was there!" she shouted.

Jenny placed her hand on her sister's arm, Abbie's first instinct was to shake it off but she sighed instead. "It was a note from Katrina."

"Katrina?" Jenny scowled. "As in Katrina Crane? As in Crane's wife? As in—"

"The one that caused all of this grief." Abbie finished with a nod. "Yeah, that Katrina."

Jenny's eyes darted to the trashcan before she spoke. "So, if she was a witch then it makes sense—"

"Is a witch." Abbie corrected with a huff. "IS as in still alive."

Jenny removed her hand from her sister's am and stepped back regarding her sister as Abbie once had back when they were teens and had disappeared for four days. "Wait, she's still alive?"

"That's what the note says. Says she is at the old Fredrick's House, Manor as she called it."

Jenny shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sense or not, I gotta go see this for myself." Abbie finished off the fries and made for the cheeseburger.

"What do you mean 'go see this,' Abbie?" Jenny interjected. "If this note really did exist—"

"It did, Jenny. She said she put a binding on it because it was for my eyes only."

Jenny nodded. "Okay, all right. Let me be the Devil in this one."

Abbie swept her hand magnanimously as she made quick work of her overdue meal. She could not explain why her appetite had magically returned and in full force, but she was going to ride it for as long as she could.

Jenny slid into the seat across from her and took a sip of Abbie's Coke. "If she really is still alive, and if she really is here in Sleepy Hollow, Abbie, she has to be a bit angry about…you and her husband banging uglies."

"Nice, Jenny. What is this? Fifth grade?" she asked snatching her Coke back from Jenny and taking a long sip.

Jenny shook her head. "Abbie, listen. If she is alive, and at Fredrick's house or manor whatever. Don't you think this might be some sort of a trick to get you over there? To, I don't know change you into a toad or something?"

Abbie laughed before she realized what she was doing.

"It's not funny, Abs." Jenny answered concern dripping from every word. In truth, Jenny was starting to worry if this was some delayed reaction to all that her sister had been through in the last six months. Maybe seeing that guy that looked so much like Crane had sent her sister over the edge, the final straw in a very large bale of hay that had been slowly pissing shards all over both their lives for years.

As if reading her mind, Abbie spoke. "This isn't the grief talking, Jenny. I know 15 years ago I left you out in the rain when we both knew the truth. But," she leaned over and placed her hand on her sister's/ "You have to trust me on this one." Abbie smiled and took Jenny's last French fry.

Jenny balled up the paper from her fries and tossed it into the trash. "It's not that I don't believe you, or even trust you, Abs. This," she shrugged for want of words. "Thing, it could all go tits up."

"I know that," Abbie answered. "But that note. There was something she was trying to tell me without telling me." Abbie finished off the last of her Coke and shook her head. "I have to see this through."

"You're not going alone." Jenny asserted.

"I have to this alone, Jenny." Abbie answered, but relented at her sister's glare. "You can ride shotgun. But, stay in the car."

"You're talking like you are going tonight."

Abbie tilted her head in disbelief. "wouldn't you?" she asked softly.

Jenny nodded and cleaned up the rest of their dinner. "Fine, but I am coming armed."

"Would not expect anything less," Abbie said with a smile and followed her sister to where they had hid their stash.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"This place has always given me the creeps." Jenny said from the passenger side of Abbie's Jeep."

"This from the woman who was has travelled the world finding magical items." Abbie chuckled. They sat down the lane from the large Colonial house.

"Yeah, well." Jenny shrugged. "There's demons, and then there's haunted houses." She shivered at the thought.

Abbie nodded from her seat. "Yeah, I feel you on that one." The two fell silent for a time in the darkness. Abbie noted the time on the dashboard and shivered herself when she realized it was Midnight.

Witching Hour.

"Abs," Jenny spoke into the silence.

"Jenny, you know I am doing this." Abbie answered.

Jenny nodded and grabbed her bag off the floor. She handed her sister another gun.

"Jenny," Abbie said. "The woman has been alive for over 200 years, do you really think a gun is going to stop her?"

Jenny shrugged. "Can't hurt. Besides, I have seen you. You shoot at everything."

Abbie laughed despite herself. "Can't argue with that." She took the second weapon and placed it in her coat pocket. "What else you got, Q?"

"How do you know I have anything else?" Jenny asked. "Oh all right." She handed Abbie a small golden cross on a slender chain.

"What the hell, Kenny, she's not a vampire." Abbie said with another laugh.

Jenny huffed. "See the next time I try to help you fight the forces of evil."

Abbie laughed and opened her door. "Listen, keep my radio open to channel 342. If anything goes pear shaped, don't come in. You call for Irving, give him your location."

"Don't Thelma me, Daphne." Jenny fired back with a smile.

"Oh, you can come in, but you need to have back up."

"So, back up for your back up?"

Abbie hopped down onto the gravel road and came around to her sister's side of the car. "Listen, Jenny. Whatever happens in there. I want you to know I would not have made it through any of this without you."

Jenny scowled at her sister. "Stop talking like its your last will and testament. You're starting to freak me out."

Abbie dipped her head and laughed. "Okay, but just…."

"Hey, be careful in there. See you when you get out." Jenny said. Abbie nodded and began to walk away. "Fifteen minutes." Jenny said in a near whisper. "And God himself will have to hold me down from coming in there."

Abbie made a gun sign with her hand without turning around. She walked the distance to the back of the house. Somehow, knocking on the door didn't feel right. Weeds, moss and vines covered the ancient house that she had always imagined as beautiful in its time. But, its time was long enough ago to leave the place in shambles

Her bravado began to falter with every step nearing the house. She had always been braver, but braver still for her little sister. Abbie wasn;t sure if she had made the right choice in coming alone, or even coming at all. But, that letter, the thing she had been denying that she found in Katrina's words penned in that disappearing ink.

Hope.

Hope was a funny thing; it had more power than fear, than anything after all she had been through, there was a kernel of hope. Part of her hated having that bit of hope. Abbie had been ready to read of Crane's life and accept whatever closure his final message to her had to offer. But, this. If this was another of Katrina's games, then it would be fitting that the ancient witch kill for her own stupidity in having that small bean of hope poke its head through the soil of despair she had relished in for so long.

The concrete steps were cracked and beginning to sink into the soft soil of the back yard. Abbie advanced into the house after finding the wood door cracked open as if expecting her. She shrugged to herself realizing, someone was waiting for her.

The back entrance opened into a kitchen of some sort. She knew it was a kitchen from the endless rows of jars on the back wall. The jars looked to hold nameless gelatinous material probably older than the witch who resided there now. The house was dark save for a distant glow that lighted her way enough to follow.

The smell of burning wax and an intangible pungency of age left a near serenity inside the diminutive woman as she made her way through rooms filled with ancient furniture long turn asunder and cobwebs. Lots of cobwebs.

In the second room she moved through, she heard what sounded like skittering and muffled voices, Abbie placed her hand on the butt of her holstered gun ready to draw. She recalled her own admonishment to her sister and smiled at the validity of Jenny's words. Guess I would shoot at anything. Abbie shrugged to herself.

"Miss Mills, you've come." Katrina's voice came to her from the shadow that emerged around a corner suddenly. The woman stood in shadows and Abbie could not make out anything but her form. She was no longer tall and erect, the ancient woman stoooed and held herself up with a cane.

"Yeah," Abbie answered while willing her heart rate to go back to normal.

"Nothing to fear from me Miss Mills." Katrina answered and began to lead the young woman through to the main room of the house. "I have been waiting here for you for nearly two centuries."

"Maybe you could have decorated in that time?" Abbie said. But Katrina was not fazed by her humor. Katrina moved to the lighted fireplace in the once grand room. There was something cooking in a large pot on the fire there, and the old woman stooped to throw something into it.

"So, I got your note."

"Of course you did." The old woman answered. The light from the fire cast crazy shadows upon the haggard and craggy face of Katrina Crane. Abbie shuddered when she realized that Crane's wife now looked like the stereotypical witch.

"Live for two centuries and see how good time is to you." Katrina answered as if reading Abbie's mind.

"I think Yoda said that in a movie once." Abbie fired back. "Look, I am not here to trade beauty secrets—"

Katrina moved quickly for her age. She seemed to float as she can=me nose to nose with Abbie. "No," Katrina said. "You did not come here for beauty secrets, or glamours. You'd not need them anyway. Still young, fertile and beautiful."

Abbie took a step back, more from surprise than fear. Her hand found the butt of her gun unconsciously and the old woman cackled in laughter at her gesture. "Why, Miss Mills? Are you going to shoot me?"

Abbie took another step back, but Katrina closed the distance between them again. "Katrina, if you got me here to kill me, then I—"

Katrina floated back to the fire at lightning speed. "No, Mills. I did not bring you here to kill you. I brought you here to undo what I have done. To Ichabod." She turned from the pot on the fire. "And to you."

Abbie kept her hand on the butt of her gun and spoke. "I don't understand what you are saying. How can any of what happened be—"

Katrina's quick movement brought her back to Abbie's side. She took the hand that Abbie had rested on her weapon and tipped it into the light for a better view. "You lost the child, I see." She said.

Abbie tried to pull her hand from the cold clammy grasp of the witch, but Katrina held firm. "I did." She admitted finally. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask the witch how she knew of it, then realized she was talking to a witch; how would she not know?

Katrina nodded and rubbed a cross into her palm. "I am terribly sorry for your loss. A child's death is a horrible thing for any mother to live through. Even with all of the sorrow that Jeremy brought upon us, I still cherish the time I lived as his mother."

"What happened to Jeremy?" Abbie asked. Katrina let go of her hand and moved back to the fire.

"You've met Frederick then?" she asked over her shoulder as she stirred whatever bubbled in the pot over the fire.

"Yes," Abbie answered, not sure if Katrina wasn't still planning on killing her after she had the information she wanted.

Katrina nodded and turned to ward Abbie. "Then you know it is possible. I have worked tirelessly to ensure that the right lines carried through. All of my hard work cannot come to naught."

A voice crackled through the police radio Abbie wore on her shoulder. "Abbie, you all right in there?" Jenny asked.

Abbie held up a finger to the woman by the fire who nodded her compliance. "We are all good in here, Jenny. Mind waiting a little longer?"

"What the hell is going on in there?" Jenny fired back though the radio.

"Yeah," Abbie answered. "It's just Katrina likes to talk." She answered with a smile toward the witch. "In riddles."

"All right, Abs. Five minutes, you buzz me or I am coming in."

"Got it." Abbie answered and released the talk button. "Katrina, I really need to know what all of this is about."

"Before we go on, before I do this for you, and for Ichabod. You have to promise me a favor, which would be most kind."

Abbie tilted her head, I don't know if I can." She said slowly as if coddling a small child or a mental patient wielding a gun.

Katrina moved to her again, taking both her hands Abbie could see the pleading in her ancient eyes. "Miss Mills, I need you to end this for me. Once I do this, I need you to kill me. I have tired of living, I have seen too much and I cannot do it myself." Katrina lowered her gaze to the floor. "It is my punishment for what I have done. To live and lose everyone I have ever known or loved."

Abbie felt a pang of sadness for the old woman that Katrina had become. Everyone says immortality would be fun, hundreds of books have mused it. But, the reality of a life immortal stood in front of her near weeping and still speaking in riddles. "I still don't know what it is you are going to do for me, and Crane."

The smile that creased the old woman's face was an echo of the bright one Abbie had seen long ago by the lake with her feet in the water. "That is what I have brought you here for." Katrina crooned pulling Abbie near to the fire.