Ichabod Crowley - series 1 Life and Legacy

Chapter 14

Ichabod stood before the circle, double checking the lines and sigils woven into its center.

"Now," he stepped back, "Are you certain, that this is how it's supposed to look?"

"For the hundredth time?" she chuckled, tapping her heel against an overturned log as she lounged back on its stump, "Yes!"

"Just trying to be sure..." he continued to back away cautiously.

As he did, Della leapt up from her spot and wrapped Ichabod up in a headlock.

"Aww, you're so cute when you're serious."

"Get off me," he shoved her back, the both of them laughing before he shook his head and turned his eyes to the rapidly reddening horizon, "It's about time."

"Yeah, hey," she leaned in and gave him a kiss, "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright."

He nodded and went to collect his weapons while Della, to tell the truth, he had no idea where hers were, but, was certain she had them stashed close enough to be of use. Ichabod had to take a more practical approach with a series of shoulder straps he had fitted with the appropriate holsters for the Gatling Pistols, the Glock, and the knife. He also slid a small ammo pouch onto his belt for the spare clips, and another on his left side to hold the sabot rounds, while a third wrapped onto the butt of the shotgun to hold the rock-salt shells. With the last of the blue shells loaded into the shotgun proper, he cocked the weapon and was ready to go.

Climbing a tree was certainly a lot harder than he remembered, and he seemed to have no grace left for it. Reaching through the thicket, tearing down limbs almost more often than using them for handholds, all the while, branches kept swinging back around from his passing, smacking him in the face and arms. Twice over, he nearly lost the wool cap that was supposed to be protecting the burns on his head, and was certain that it had somehow swallowed a share of twigs and leaves.

"You need a hand?" Della called out, legitimately concerned.

"I'm fine," he called back, at last stumbling upon a suitable perch and shaking the debris from his hat before swinging the gun around to hold at the ready, "Della," he called out to her, "You're up."

She lowered her head and nodded, taking her place before the circle. Looking to the sky, the light of the first star reflected in her eyes, she extended a clawed finger from her left hand and jammed it into the palm of her right, drawing a dark red currant of blood which she threw out over the sigil with wild abandon. The moment it touched the chalk lines and ammonia, the whole thing lit up into a pillar of flame reaching upward into the heavens.

"You in there jackass!?" she called out, "Wake up!"

At the absolute zenith of the blaze, something appeared and drove itself downward, slamming into the earth and sending embers flying in all directions. Della covered her eyes from the flash, but, otherwise remained unmoved as flaming debris rained around her.