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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG
Pairing: None, really. Preslash if you squint.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For hannahrorlove.
Summary: Calling up spirits isn’t exactly part of constable training.
***
It was not as if anyone could have expected him to do better. After all, how to summon spirits was hardly in Ichabod’s line of work to begin with, and that kind of magic was not quite within Katrina’s capabilities, either. As it should have been, for clearly this was a particularly suspect subfield of a suspect field of knowledge.
Tired, dirty, and utterly disenchanted with the whole process, Ichabod sat down hard on the ground and stared at the skull he held. “Will you just come up? Perhaps I don’t have the right kind of rue, or it might be the ashes that are the wrong—anyway, I’d like a consultation—I most emphatically do not require your services with a sword, but instead your—”
“Yes?” inquired a low, rough voice, like the Devil carelessly running his nails over a line of iron rods.
Ichabod suddenly felt quite light. And then he felt nothing at all for a few minutes while the faint had him.
***