A Soul To Steal (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book One) (34 page)

“You said this was connected to the incident out on Phillips’ farm?” Janus asked. “The word ‘Sanheim’ carved into a tree?”

“Yes, why?” Kate asked.

“It’s funny but… Look, I didn’t remember back then, but I know that word.”

“It means Halloween,” Kate said.

“Yeah, but it also refers to something else, I think,” Janus said. “When I was young, my Mum told me about some legend. Some Celtic thing.”

“What are you talking about?” Kate asked.

“The Prince of Sanheim,” Janus said. “Somebody who worships the Celtic God of the Dead and gains great power on his feast day.”

“Halloween,” Kate said.

“Yes,” he said.

“What more do you know about it?”

“Nothing, really,” Janus said. “It was just some spooky story told to kids. There was a rhyme connected with it. ‘Fifty men went up a hill, none of them came down. Fifty men went to see him, none of them were found.’ But I don’t remember any details.”

Kate’s mind was racing. Whatever this was, it seemed significant. If it wasn’t connected to Lord Halloween—a possibility that didn’t make much sense to her—it could be related to this legend somehow. She looked back at Quinn. She needed him to be all right, but she also needed to keep working.

“I’m going to watch him,” Kate said. “But I need a few things. I need you to get some stuff from our hotel, I don’t care how. The files, the security tapes. We need a VCR. And I need an Internet connection.”

“It’s the middle of the damn night,” Janus said.

Kate looked at him. “And you’ve never done a little midnight breaking and entering before?”

Janus smiled. “All right, but if I get put in jail, you are posting bail.”

*****

Quinn was standing on a hilltop, looking out over a grand vista of earth and sky. Lush, rolling green hills spilled out before him and in the distance he could see the ocean. He was standing on a cliff, yet he felt no fear. He wondered if he jumped off if he could even fly.

“I wouldn’t try that just yet,” a voice said.

Quinn turned to find a man standing there. He looked familiar and then he remembered. He was the man from his dream. He hadn’t remembered it when he had woken up, but he remembered it now. The man had given him a hint.

“You told me to find Tim Anderson,” he said.

The man nodded. “It was just a hint.”

“He didn’t know the killer,” Quinn said.

“No, but he knew enough,” the man said. “He told you what you need to know.”

“Which is what?”

“I can’t tell you everything Quinn,” he said. “I’d like to—I really would. But that’s not the way this goes.”

The man looked at the sky, which was a bright blue. Quinn could hear seagulls, feel the wind racing around him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man said.

“Where are we?” Quinn asked.

“Technically, you are in a hospital bed in Bluemont,” the man said.

“The Horseman? He didn’t kill me?”

The man chuckled at that and turned back to Quinn.

“He might yet, but not this time, no,” he said.

“Did you create him? Does he work for you?”

“I’m not familiar with the story, Quinn, but I don’t believe that he works for anyone but himself.”

“He’s fictional. He isn’t real.”

“You made him real,” the man said. “If he works for anyone, it’s you.”

“But he’s trying to kill me.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“What’s going on? Who are you? Why am I here?”

“I’ll tell you a story, Quinn,” the man said. “I can’t say for certain that it’s true. It was a long time ago and it’s hard to remember. Centuries ago, a small village in what you now call Ireland was under attack from a neighboring tribe. They were losing badly. After a raid which resulted in the deaths of most of the young men and the kidnapping of many women, the town elders made a deal.”

“With whom?”

“Sanheim, the god of the underworld. The deal was extreme. They had only a few young men and women left, yet their survival was on the line. They agreed to sacrifice a young man and woman—kids, really—to Sanheim. They tied them to a post, bound their wrists together and left them there to die. But they didn’t die, Quinn. A few days later, they returned to the village and the young man—who had seemed just like a boy—was now a powerful warrior. The woman was his priestess. The town elders were frightened by what had happened, but pleased. Their sacrifice had been accepted.”

“The man and woman left for the neighboring village the next day. Some of the women that had been kidnapped returned after that, but, according to legend, no member of the rival tribe was left alive. The town elders were very pleased. Everything had gone as they wanted. Except when the man and woman returned to them, they didn’t work for the town elders. They were the ones giving the orders. And those that resisted them disappeared. It wasn’t long before the two ruled the tribe openly. When there was battle to be done, the man led the charge. When there were decisions to be made, the woman made them.”

“So you’re the man in that story?” Quinn asked.

“No,” the man said, and chuckled. “Few of the chosen live long. You’ll find out why soon enough. Though he did live a very long time. In the end, he got sloppy, corrupt. They all do. Start out anxious to please and end up living for themselves.”

“Who are they?”

“They are called the Prince of Sanheim. The name just refers to the man, of course. Which is an advantage, really, since no one really knew what a big part the woman played. They are two that can be joined together, in body, spirit and soul. Once they pass the trials of Sanheim, they are like gods on earth. That’s what the legend says, anyway.”

“I still don’t get what this has to do with me,” Quinn said, but he was beginning to understand.

“Oh, I think you do,” the man said, and stared at Quinn. It was unnerving. The man’s red eyes bored into Quinn as if he could see all his thoughts and memories. “You’ve always known you were different, that you were special. You feel it only a few months a year, but in those months you call September and October, you felt powerful, unafraid. If you hadn’t talked yourself into being afraid, you would have reveled in the dark and the night. It’s where you are meant to be.”

“No,” Quinn said. “I don’t believe you.”

He wasn’t sure why the words disturbed him, but he felt like he was being shown a mirror image of himself—one he was afraid to look at.

“You do and you know it,” the man said. “You are a Prince of Sanheim. You had to have the right mate—not any woman would do, not by a long shot—but this was something that was born to happen to you. Your parents knew it. They could have helped you, if they had lived.”

“My parents? Were they the Prince…”

“No, but your mother knew the legend and knew it well,” the man said. “She knew what you were the moment you were born. In every age, a new one is chosen. They face the trial and if they win, great power is theirs. Be glad it is your destiny, Quinn. It’s an honor, and if this honor wasn’t yours, you would be corpses by now. Lord Halloween would have killed you in your sleep and hunted Kate until she had joined you.”

“Kate’s dream? That’s part of this?” Quinn said.

“Sanheim is the god of the dead, Quinn,” the man said. “Who warned Kate that Lord Halloween was coming?”

“Her mother,” Quinn said. “It was her mother.”

“Precisely,” the man said. “Talking to the dead would be a miracle in the modern world, but it’s nothing compared to what power you might have. Take it, Quinn. Take it and hunt Lord Halloween as he has hunted you and so many others. It’s the only way to save Kate.”

Quinn’s mind was racing. He looked out at the vista and felt a surge of power through him. He felt alive in every fiber of his being, like nothing could stop him. For just a moment, he thought he could see Lord Halloween’s face and then it was gone. He felt alone again and empty.

“I gave you a taste,” the man said. “This is the deal that you and I make. Become the Prince of Sanheim.”

“I don’t even know how,” Quinn said. “Besides, what if I can’t stop? The two in your legend—they couldn’t stop, could they? Whatever power this is, it isn’t good.”

“Good and evil are points of view,” the man said. “The only thing that matters in this world is power.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then you are a fool. Power is everything. But it is yours to wield as you want.”

“Why?” Quinn asked. “Why do you want me to take this?”

“I need an emissary in the world,” the man said. “My last one didn’t quite work out. I’m offering you power, the chance to save lives.”

“But I would work for you?”

“In a sense,” the man said. “But I don’t care about mortal concerns. I’ll need you for something else that we can discuss when the time is right. This is a gift, Quinn. Take it, use it as you will. If you want to be a knight in shining armor to those who need help, you can be that. I put no restrictions on you.”

“You are Sanheim,” Quinn said.

The man smiled broadly but didn’t say anything. Even in that moment, Quinn wondered if he was telling the truth. There was something else in play here—something Quinn could not yet understand. He had trouble believing the man was some kind of God, or the equivalent of the Devil.

“What’s the catch?” Quinn asked.

“The trial,” the man said. “You have to prove you are worthy first. Some of the most promising potentials have failed this test.”

“Is there a math test?” Quinn asked. “Because I suck at those.”

The man didn’t smile.

“I can’t tell you more about it,” he said. “Pass the trial and the power is yours, it’s as simple as that.”

“That’s it? Unlimited power if I win?”

“There is no such thing as unlimited power,” he replied. “There are limits. If you live to see November 1, you will experience your first one.”

“What happens then?”

“I can’t say,” the man said. “There are rules to this game. But the time has arrived for you to choose if you are ready to be what you were born to be. Seek this power out and you can save the girl and the day. Reject it, run from it, or ignore it and you’re doomed. It’s as simple as that.”

“What does the Horseman have to do with any of this?”

“I keep telling you, Quinn. You created him. You are what you fear. He belongs to you.”

“I just want him to go away,” Quinn said. “Can I make him do that?”

“Yes, but when the time comes, you won’t,” the man said. “I see that now. Even if you would, she won’t let you. Yes, you two are very promising. I’m afraid our time is almost up.”

“Wait,” he said. “I still don’t know what is going on. I need to know more about the trial.”

“No, Quinn,” the man said and smiled. It was meant to be charming, but the smile instead seemed predatory. “There are some things you have to figure out yourself. I will give you one more hint about Lord Halloween.”

The world began turning then, slowly at first, but then faster. Everything was a blur of shapes around Quinn. Only the man stood out clearly.