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She had dealt with Wendigos, zombies, and even Moloch himself, but this was certainly new.
Abbie swung a fist at Ichabod’s face, her knuckles inches away from landing what would have been a critical blow to his nose. “Dammit, Crane, get. Out. Of. Here,” each of her words were punctuated with kicks and punches, all of them dangerously close to making contact with her friend’s face. “You,” punch, “know,” kick, “I can’t control this.” And with a swift roundhouse to the chest, her partner had the air knocked out of him. She wasn’t even able to give him a chance to catch his breath before she pounced on him with her hands at his neck.
“Both your sister and the Captain are working on finding the witch doctor as we speak,” Ichabod heaved, trying to keep her hands away from his throat. “In the meantime, you must fight this hold she has on you.”
If she hadn’t been so focused on killing him, she would have laughed. It’s not as if she wanted to be controlled by some voodoo bullshit. “I’m trying,” Abbie huffed through gritted teeth as she sat atop Ichabod’s chest, her legs straddling his sides while her hands were still reaching to strangle him. “But I can’t. They’re going to make me kill people, Crane. You need to be ready to stop me, even if that means you have to kill m--.”
“No!” Ichabod bellowed, flipping her over onto her back so that he now had a firm grip on her arms, restraining her from any further movement. His voice dropped into a breathless whisper, “No. Lieutenant. It will not come down to that.”
She involuntarily struggled against him.
“You are strong.”
Her legs kicked upward, violently pounding against Ichabod’s stomach to the point where he was knocked to the side, allowing her to rise up and stand. And now she could feel her urge to kill him growing, the lust for his blood pulsing through her. Don’t kill him! Abbie shouted mentally. Not him, not him, not him.
“You are stronger than her, Abbie.”
And all of a sudden, her head was pounding, causing Abbie to scream in pain while she held her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the conflicting voices in her head.
She didn’t even notice Ichabod stumble to his feet, holding his side, “Please believe that.”
Her arms and legs were numb. Her chest felt like it was collapsing. The skin on her limbs burned, as if a thousand needles had been place inside of her and were now being yanked out. The world started spinning, making her nauseous and woozy. The pain seemed to go on forever until it suddenly faded away. And as if she were a marionette cut from its strings, she fell.
Ichabod barely had time to catch her before they both went tumbling down to the floor in a heap. Both he and Abbie were breathing heavily, lying on the ground of the woods, dead leaves and dirt pressed against their backs. Ichabod spoke into the quiet forest, breaking the silence that shrouded them both. “Lieutenant?”
“I’m back, Crane,” she reassured in a hushed tone, nodding her head, because even though Ichabod couldn’t see her in the dark of night, she just wanted to feel something again. Something she did all on her own. “I’m here.”
“Welcome back, Miss Mills,” Ichabod greeted tiredly.
Abbie reached out, still feeling a slight tingling sensation when she did, and pressed her hand into Ichabod’s palm. It was only when his fingers curled around hers that she knew that was all the welcome she really needed.