Chapter 17

Katrina remained in her bedroom for a long time, staring into the flames crackling in her small fireplace. She knew Ichabod stood outside of her door, but refused to acknowledge him. Anger and frustration burned inside of her, yet his innocense to the danger of magic and the unknown helped to put that out a little. It was so difficult to hate someone who only wanted to learn the truth of the world, but all the same, the idea that he accused her beloved father was devastating.

When her father himself came to tell her of Hardenbrook's suicide and the meeting at the church, fear clutched at her stomach once more. She no longer despised Ichabod Crane; she feared for him now, feared for his life, and would rather have seen him sent back to the city than endure an angry mob.

"Have you seen Constable Crane?" she asked as they gathered their cloacks, and Baltus stared at her in surprise.

'No, I have not seen him since breakfast, but I did inform him it would be best if he left for New York at once. It is not safe her any longer. Whether or not he heeded my advice is uncertain at present. But we have no time to ponder what happened to the Constable; we must make haste!" Katrina worried her bottom lip as she followed her father out into the frigid cold evening, shivering despite her wraps. Baltus searched the grounds of the mansion for his wife, and when he as unable to find her, he ordered his daughter to make way for the church ahead of him.

"Are you sure you'll be all right, father? It's dangerous..." Katrina began, and he nodded, insisting she continue, and with a small sigh she did as she was told. As she walked along the dirt road, she realized her anger was not at all what she thought; she was frustrated, frustrated at a man whom she found to be so unique and exciting could think of the world in such narrrow-minded terms! Katrina prayed to the higher being that she would be able to see him again one last time, though as the mist billowed around her skirts, she had a feeling all hope in that regard was more than likely lost.

Ichabod, meanwhile, followed Young Masbath in the direction of the church. He wasn't sure why the Reverend wanted to speak out against him of all people--esepcially when his only intention was to assist the town to the best of his ability.

What confused him most was Katrina--had she told Steenwyck of his discovery about her father? AFter all, the drawing of the Evil Eye remained in his mind, even long after he and Young Masbath scrubbed it off of the floor.

"Sir?" Young Masbath spoke, and he turned his head, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks.

"I'm sorry, lad," he apologized. "my mind is all over the place."

They hid amongst the trees alongside the church when they arrived, watching as the villagers appeared in groups. He searched for Katrina's beautiful face and golden hair, but did not see her amongst them just yet. It was so dreadfully cold, that he found himself shivering so hard his teeth chattered, which was difficult to control.

"Sir," Young Masbath whispered, "perhaps we should go in before you catch cold again?"

Ichabod was about to respond, when Baltus Van Tassell's voice rang out over the commotion. Katrina was just appoaching the gate with hands clutching her skirts, avoiding mud, and she whirled around to find her father galloping madly in the direction of the group. "The horseman!" he cried, and she ran towards him, fear in her eyes. "The horseman, save me!"

He dismounted, and she grabbed his arms, unable to speak for the moment. "What's happened?" she finally squeaked, and he looked into her eyes.

"The horseman's killed your stepmother," he said, and she shrunk back an inch, feeling sick to her stomach. Before she could inquire for further details, he grabbed her and drug her through the gates at once; so quickly that they did not see Ichabod nor Young Masbath come forward.

It was most certainly warmer inside the church, but the shrill whinny and sound of galloping hooves sent more chills down the spines of everyone there. Men grabbed rifles and bolted for the windows, not wanting to take any chances, while the women and remaining children huddled behind pews or in the corners. Steenwyck approached Baltus Van Tassell, fury in his eyes, and no one paid any attention to Ichabod.

"Why should we die for you?" he exclaimed, grabbing the wealthy farmer's jacket collar, forcing Katrina back a few feet, and she stood staring as her father struggled in the large man's fingers. "You're the one the horesman wants! Get out!"

Ichabod's mouth hung open with surprise, and he turned to find Young Masbath at one of the windows, holding a rifle in his own small hands.

"Stop this," he ordered at once, and tried to break through the fighting. "Let's talk about the facts logically!" Ichabod failed to gain their attention, and was whipped backwards, tumbling against the nearest pew. The pain in his back was severe for a moment, and it took a lot of willpower not to cry out. Before he knew what was happening, Baltus snatched the gun from the Reverend's pocket, and aimed it at him, just as Dr. Lancaster rushed forward.

"Out of my way!" he ordered to the group behind him, who broke apart to let him through. "Get back, all of you, get back!"

Ichabod managed to stand fully upright after a moment, but he was officially at a loss of what to do. He needed his ledger, cursing his luck for having left it at the mansion in his hurry to head for the church. Young Masbath called his name once, but Ichabod did not trust to leave Baltus alone with the other two for very long. The stress of the situation was causing the older man to crumble, and fast...it was frightening, actually.

"Sir, come and look!" Young Masbath hurried to take Ichabod's arm, and managed to pull him towards the window. Ichabod found it useless to argue with the boy, and when he peered through the hole that once contained stained glass, he saw the horseman in front of the gate. The black stallion skittered wildly from side to side, occasionally rearing and whinnying loud. He watched as the horseman brandished his axe, and after throwing it in the direction of the church, it disapperated right before touching the ground.

Ichabod rubbed his chin, and turned to Young Masbath, who awaited his reaction. The horseman, due to his interaction with the devil, could not come near the church. As long as they were inside this building, they were safe. "He cannot enter," he muttered to himself, and after thanking the young ward, he hurried to the still bickering Mr. Van Tassell, Reverend Steenwyck, and Dr. Lancaster. They were speaking so quickly that it was difficult to understand, but Ichabod was determined to have his voice heard.

"He cannot pass the gates!" he shouted, but no one seemed to listen; their own panic kept them from thinking sensibly.

Katrina, meanwhile, knelt down in the center of the two sections of pews, her eyes closed as her hands sketched something smoothly against the wood. She appeared to be in another world, one that made sense to her and no other. Ichabod did not notice this in his continued attempt to get the three men to focus on him, and closed his eyes when Baltus shouted, "The next one who lay's their hands on me will have a bullet!" he cocked the pistol, and Dr. Lancaster timidly stepped forward.

"Enough have died already," he began, "it is time to confess our sins..."

The Reverend shoved him sideways, but the doctor did not falter. "What is it that you know?" Baltus hissed, not letting the gun fall. "Tell, or I'll shoot!"

Ichabod covered his face with one hand...it was hopeless; what had he gotten himself into? This case was purely hopeless, and Katrina was right...perhaps it was best if he returned to the city as soon as possible.

"Your four friends played you false," the doctor continued, fiddling with the cross he held in his hands, and Ichabod recognized it as the charm Magistrate Phillips carried with him at all times before his murder. "we were devilishly possessed by one who..." he barely finished his sentence, when the Reverend removed the cross from the wall, slamming the end of it on top of his head. Dr. Lancaster stood rigid for a moment, before toppling dead to the floor. Baltus finally released the bullet from the gun, hitting Steenwyck in the gut, and the heavyset man followed in suit of the doctor. Ichabod stood frozen on the spot as his eyes focused on the victims, watching as a pool of blood began to collect between them.

Screams erupted from the back of the church, and he'd forgotten about the rest of the villagers who remained fearful of their lives. Baltus, horrified by what he'd just done, made his way up to the highest level of the church, right in front of the circular window. He aimed his gun over the crowd, and Young Masbath's eye widened, unsure of what to do. He was under Constable Crane's jurisdiction, but Ichabod seemed at a loss of how to handle the situation himself.

"There is a conspiracy here!!!" Baltus screamed, just as Katrina stepped forward. "and I will seek it out!"

Silence filled the air at last, an eery silence. For the first time that day, Ichabod turned and caught Katrina's gaze, watching as she narrowed her eyes with--was it hatred? Or pity? He didn't have much time to decide, for before he could move towards her, the glass shattered behind Baltus, and the sharp tip of a fence post shot through his middle. Blood sprayed everywhere, causing Katrina to scream, and she ran towards her father, who hung limply as though he were a puppet. No one made a sound, but only watched as his writhing body was pulled like a slingshot through the window, disappearing from sight.

Katrina pushed past Ichabod on her way up the steps, ignoring the blood stains on the wood, and Ichabod followed her at once. "Katrina..." he began, and she fought him, tears flowing down her cheeks as she struggled to move towards the window. For a young woman, she certainly had strength, and managed to wrench herself out of his grasp. The two of them shared the window, watching as the horseman drug her father at full force towards the remaining fence. Within seconds his head was lodged between two more posts, and down came the silver sword, glistening in the hazy moonlight. Ichabod felt his stomach churn as it rolled along the uneven ground, grateful he hadn't eaten much that day.

Katrina fainted a moment later, and when Ichabod whirled around at the sound of a thump, he noticed a light purple stain on her thumb and forefinger. Stunned by this sudden change of events, he looked over the rail of the church, and noticed that she'd drawn the same diagram as Young Masbath found under her bed; this time, in the center of the church. It took quite some time before anyone made a movement; Young Masbath stared at Ichabod with wide, dark eyes, clutching his rifle for dear life.

Ichabod had to take control now, for he was the only one with any authority at this point in time. No one felt safe enough to leave the church, for fear of the horseman returning, but after Ichabod informed them that the suspect behind the murders had been killed at last, they would be safe to go to their homes.

A few men gave him assistance in carrying Katrina home, and once she lay in her bed, Ichabod went outside to throw up. Young Masbath stood with his master while he retched repeately into a bush, shaking and sobbing with anxiety.

"It's all right, sir," Young Masbath soothed as he rubbed the Constable's back. "it's all right."

Ichabod managed to empty everything inside of him, and felt terribly dizzy. He allowed the boy to help him back in, and as he lay upon his own bed, he murmered how he had to leave at once.

"But sir, you can't leave! Not now..." Young Masbath's eyes misted. "we need you!"

Ichabod looked at him darkly, and insisted he go and tell Van Ripper to have a coach ready first thing in the morning. "I have made my final decision," he insisted, "this place is doing more harm than good to what is left of my already weakened mind. I am sorry, Young Masbath."

The boy, devastated, slumped his shoulders and shuffled out of his master's room, at a complete loss of what to do. Van Ripper let him in when he came knocking, and offered a cup of brandy for soothing the nerves.

"No, sir," Young Masbath squeaked as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Knew they made a mistake sendin' an outsider here," Van Ripper muttered. "but ah well, what's the use? Go on, lad...he'll need your assisatance during the night, I'm sure. If you need anything, just give a holler."

Young Masbath thanked him, and headed back to the mansion. He continued to sit in Ichabod's room, remaining as faithful as he could for what it was worth. Despite the Constable's odd antics for a gentleman of his age and status, he'd begun to look to him as a father figure. There was always something new to learn when he followed Ichabod Crane, and without him in Sleepy Hollow, he had no one. Early that morning, Ichabod awoke, and began to pack his bags. He caught sight of the servant boy sleeping in his chair by the window, his small head leaning against the wood. If he had the means, it would certainly be worth taking the boy back to New York, but as it were, he could barely afford to feed himself on a regular basis. He had no luck in sneaking away, for Young Masbath's sharp ears caught the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Sir..." he began sleepily, rubbing his eyes, and Ichabod sighed.

"Young Masbath...if you wish to say goodbye, meet me in the parlor...I wish to pay one final visit to Katrina before I leave."

Young Masbath hung his head as he obeyed, offering to take his masters bags. Ichabod picked up his ledger from the desktop, thumbing through the worn pages. He smiled ever so slightly when he came across a few of the doodles he'd done to pass the endless hours: portraits of his beloved Katrina, the only angel he'd truly known. Katrina Van Tassell, Katrina and Ichabod Forever Love, Katrina Crane...he sighed longingly, touching the tiny replica of her sweet lips, before tossing the leatherbound book into the still cackling fire.

He left his quarters and entered Katrina's modest bedroom, watching as she continued to sleep, her golden hair rippling over the pillowcase. If it hadn't been for the rise and fall of her chest to indicate that she was breathing, he would have thought her dead.

In his usual quiet voice, he moved closer to her bed and spoke: "It was an evil spirit that possessed you...I pray God it is satisfied now and that you find peace. My life is over...spared for a lifetime of horrors in my sleep, waking each day...to grief." he reached over and squeezed her wrist ever so gently, before turning and heading for the parlor. Young Masbath waited for him as instructed, his hands behind his back. It was clear the boy was angry at his sudden decision to depart, but there was nothing more to be done in this place.

"You think it was Katrina, don't you?" he suddenly demanded as they went out onto the porch to await the coach. Ichabod turned at once, and stared into the boy's eyes.

"That can never be counted!" he hissed, and Young Masbath placed a hand on the porch railing.

"A strange sort of witch, with a kind and loving heart!" he cried. "how can you think so?" his eyes shone with a new flood of tears, tearing at the Constable's already damaged heart.

"I have good reason," was all he could think of to say in response, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew how ridiculous they sounded.

"Then you are bewitched by reason," Young Masbath snarled. "I've known Katrina my whole life, and she would never do anything bad to anybody!"

Icahbod sighed heavily, just as he noticed Van Ripper heading up the drive. "Young Masbath," he began slowly, not wanting another row to begin so shortly before leaving. "It is a hard lesson in a hard world, and you had better learn it. Villainy wears many masks...and none so dangerous as the mask of virtue."

Young Masbath's lips tightened, and he stepped back a pace, refusing to say more. "Farewell," Ichabod finally spoke, squeezing the lad's arm, and turned to Van Ripper who waited patietnly.

"It's all ready for ya, Crane," Van Ripper announced gruffly as he opened the door to the coach, waiting until his passenger was safely and somewhat comfortably inside before shutting it. What Ichabod did not notice as the carriage began to pull slowly away from the Van Tassell mansion, was Katrina's sad face peering through her bedroom window. She'd heard the carriage wheels pull up, and upon an investigation, felt her heart break in two. So she did not dream Ichabod's touch to her wrist after all! He had been in her room to say goodbye, and all she could do was sleep...Katrina broke into tears at once, collapsing upon her bed once again.