Ichabod Crowley - series 1 Life and Legacy

Chapter 3

Stepping from the car and watching Toulon tear off into the distance, Ichabod took one last deep breath to steady himself before checking his weapons one more time. He could hear them all baying in the darkness, the Hellhounds howling while impish creatures with devilish eyes skittered through the grass, chirping with giddy laughter.

"Come to see the show," he muttered, stepping over them on his way to the house.

Healia's new home was not nearly so grand as her old one, but still managed to convey a somewhat humble charm. He found himself wondering how much of her diminishing funds had been sunk into it, since she was no longer acting in films he could only imagine how her coffers had been drained. Still, the lawn looked well groomed, and the flowerbeds were full to bursting with azaleas, so either she had become a particularly skilled gardener in the interim, or her funds were not nearly so depleted. In either case it didn't matter to the job at hand, putting that out of his mind, he walked up to the door and knocked three times.

"Good evening Miss Morgan," he briefly removed his cap and bowed to her, "My name is Ichabod Crowley, we met some ten years ago, I believe you requested and exorcist?"

"My God..." she whispered back.

Assuming she must have seen his horns, Ichabod quickly replaced his hat, but was surprised when Healia lay a hand against his cheek, a warm and comforting touch.

"You haven't aged a day," she told him, "You must tell me your beauty regimen."

"Um...orange juice?" he backed away, glancing at the horizon to see the sun set already in its twilight, the sky turned purple by its absence, "If you will excuse me Miss, now seems hardly the time."

The howl of a wolf pierced the encroaching night and the color drained from Healia's face.

"You're right," she nodded, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he stepped inside, quickly examining the house, ascertaining that his instructions had been followed, "You did well," he commented, seeing the lines of salt arranged before the entrances, "The second floor was treated the same way I trust?"

"Of course."

"And does this place have a basement?"

"Yes, but I ran out of salt and could only cover the doorway," she nervously glanced towards the kitchen, "Should we...be down there."

"No!" he insisted, "Never enter into an area that has no easy escape, you're basically signing your own death warrant," then he let out a sigh, making a conscious effort to be less intense, "Where is your daughter? I will do my best to explain."

With a nod, Healia lead him into the living room where a girl, the spitting image of the one he had carried from the burning house sat on an old kitchen chair, rocking herself back and forth as she hummed a slow tune. Aged now to fifteen she seemed closer to a woman, and even more like her mother as her long hair gently swayed with the movements of her skinny frame. The room had also been arranged per his instruction, with sofas and chairs shoved against the walls to make space for the circles and the pentagram.

"Hello?" he took his hat off again to bow to her, "I don't believe we have ever been properly introduced, my name is..."

"Ichabod Crowley," she finished for him, "I heard you at the door."

"Apologies then, I didn't realize I was being so rude," he doffed his cap once more while leering at the girl, there was something off about her, a glazed over look in her eyes, like she was listening to a song no one else could hear, "Perhaps then the young Miss could offer her name?"