A Soul To Steal (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book One) (39 page)

He felt a surge of hope course through him.

Janus tugged at his jeans to pull out the lighter and hoped to God it would be enough.

*****

Kate tried to keep the car steady as Quinn pulled a stack of McDonald’s napkins out of the glove compartment and began pressing them to his leg.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It hurts,” Quinn said. “Jesus, who the hell knew it could hurt so much?”

The blood seemed to practically pour out of his leg.

“How the hell did that happen?” Quinn asked.

“I shot the horse. I shot him in the leg.”

“Is it gone?”

Kate looked in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, but…”

“How the hell did a bullet end up in my leg?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Kate said. “Evidently, when I hit it… it must of…”

 “This is just great,” Quinn said. “How the hell are we supposed to defeat this thing if hurting it means hurting me too?”

“The bullet must have severed the connection,” Kate said, and she put her free hand on him in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “It jarred it somehow. Just like you falling and becoming unconscious did it.”

“Fuck,” Quinn said again and held on to his leg. It felt terrible.

“We have to get you to a hospital,” Kate said.

“No time. We need to find Janus or we may never find him.”

As he said it, he saw the bend up ahead.

“Up there,” he pointed.

Kate slowed down and brought the car to a halt.

 On the side of the road was Janus’ Jeep. He dreaded finding him in there. But worse, he dreaded that he wouldn’t.

“Look,” Kate said, and pointed to the side passenger door of Janus’ car. It still stood open.

 “He must have pulled him out of there,” Quinn said.  “Can you check it out, but quickly?”

She looked around the car, found an extra t-shirt in the back seat and handed it to him to put against his bleeding leg. She got out and looked around the wreckage, glancing inside the front door.

“There’s blood,” she called out.

All the windows were shattered and glass lay everywhere. Getting down on her hands and knees, she looked through the vehicle for anything that stood out. Fluttering down at the bottom of the wreck, she saw a yellow note. She didn’t pick it up, for fear her fingerprints would contaminate it. But she could guess what it said.

She crawled out of the wreck and could hear the sounds of sirens far away.

“Come on,” Quinn yelled from the car.

“Where do we go next?” she asked.

“I don’t know. We drive.”

“What if we don’t find him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I just don’t know.”

*****

Janus gripped his fingers around the lighter.

God, he felt weak. He saw more fresh blood on the seat. Whatever the wreck had done to him, it clearly was serious. And maybe that was the best thing, he thought. Better to die this way than in whatever fashion this psycho had in mind.

“God, I’ve enjoyed this,” the man was saying in the front. “It’s been a load off my mind, I can tell you. Always having to think about it, seeing it in your dreams, that’s the worst part. But actually acting again, letting the emotions free. Nothing beats that, Janus, old boy.”

Janus held the lighter like he was holding on to an edge of a cliff. Things were blurry now and he had this kind of sickish feeling all over.

So this is what it feels like to die. Some part of him rebelled against it. He could just lie there, true, and hope to go peacefully. But he wanted something more than that. He wanted to hurt this bastard, maybe stop him for good.

He decided he would settle for just surprising him—stopping that sanctimonious laugh of his. Janus didn’t have to be the victim that got away. He would settle for being the one who helped even the score—just a little.

“You were the icing on the cake, you know what I mean, good buddy?” the man said. “I’ve been looking for a way to win back your friends’ attention. When I heard you were heading out to see old Buzz… man, it was perfect. Today is ripe with blessings, Janus old boy. Not for you, of course, but you don’t matter.”

Janus could feel the car moving at a more reasonable speed now. He felt it turn left at some stage and wondered where they were headed. Somewhere remote, he thought. Somewhere nobody would hear Janus screaming.

He held the lighter, moving his hands to the switch that would turn it on. He had always been proud of this little silver thing, engraved on the back with his initials. His uncle had given it to him for his 18
^th
birthday. His parents had hardly approved, but that made it even better. It was a real smoker’s lighter, the kind that you lit once and stayed burning until you capped it. For him, the acrid smell of the burning oil had been nearly as addictive as the smoking.

 “They’re going to talk about this for ages, you know,” the man said. “I’ve got big plans. I’ll take care of your little cronies on Halloween or before, and once I do, I’ve got a show-stopping number planned. Little kids in a row. I can’t say much, but I can say crucifixion is involved.”

“You’re insane,” Janus managed, not sure if he should just stay quiet or not.

“Oh, you’re awake, are you?” the man said and turned to look at him. His look was one of pure disgust. For a moment, Janus worried that he would see the lighter and know what Janus had planned. But he turned back around again.

“God, I’m disappointed in you. Thought you would put up a fight. But you are such a dumb ass, you didn’t even know your brakes were cut.”

He laughed a dry chuckle, more to himself.

“I’m thinking I will save your buddy Quinn for last. You know his girl and I go way back, don’t you? I should have gutted her after I killed her mom, but I thought it would be more fun to come back later. I stand by that decision. I really do. She’s had years to think about what I will do to her.”

Janus grimaced and started to feel some strength come back as cold fury rose in him. They had trusted this guy, called him one of their own, and instead he was cutting them down one by one. And in his mind he could see Quinn hanging on a cross.

With tremendous effort and nearly crying out in pain, Janus pushed himself up slowly, gripping the lighter in his hand.

“Maybe he will fight a little better than you,” the man continued. “I’m a little worried I drove him crazy. Him and his little girlfriend. What was that obtaining power on Halloween? But it ends on Nov.1? Well, that is inconvenient, isn’t it?”

Silently, begging the man not to look in the rearview mirror, Janus sat up. His head felt like it weighed a million pounds. All he wanted was to lay back down and fall asleep. But he had a feeling that if he did, it would be forever.

Instead, he brought the lighter up with his right hand. For the last time in his life, he lit it, hearing the satisfying hiss as a small flame sprang to life. Janus could smell the oil burning and he breathed it in.

“Your ending won’t be smooth,” the man said. “I’ll keep you alive long enough that you’ll wish you had died in that car crash.”

The man laughed again.

Janus slowly brought himself forward, holding the small flame in his right hand.

“Hey wanker, don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Janus said and as he hoped, the man turned his head to face him.

Moving quickly, Janus stuck the flame of his lighter into the man’s face, shoving it into his right eye.

The man tried to ward it off at the last minute, but was too late. The blow connected and he screamed as he felt a searing pain on his face.

The man reeled, taking his hands off the wheel. The car spun out of control, knocking Janus back.

“Happy fucking Halloween,” Janus said, before everything went black.

*****

Kate and Quinn kept driving while looking for anything that might help them. When they came to a four-way stop two miles past the accident, Kate stopped.

“Where do we go?” Kate asked.

Quinn shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he said.           

Kate tried to reach out with her mind, but it felt like she was running into a brick wall.

“Do you have a scanner?” Quinn asked.

“I should have thought of it before,” she said and reached behind her seat to pull it out.

It had been the first thing she bought in town. Somehow being attuned to police movements was comforting. It could tip you off to a story and tell you what was going on in the world.

He turned it on now, plugging it into the cigarette lighter. They both listened.

They heard reports of an accident and Quinn prayed for something else—a speeding car, somebody yelling somewhere, anything unusual that might tip them off.

Two minutes later it came.

A report of another overturned car, this one off Houseur Road—only two miles away from where they were.

Kate shoved the car back into gear, turned left and sped off.

The pain in Quinn’s leg was gradually subsiding, the bloody T-shirt still wrapped around it. Still, he thought it felt better and wondered briefly what that meant.

In a few minutes, they saw it. A beat up BMW lay on the side of the road, having run straight into a tree.

Kate pulled over beside it and she jumped out with her gun in hand. Flipping the front door open, she saw nothing except some blood on the side window.

But in the back...

“Quinn,” she said.

Quinn was out of the car, limping with severe pain, over to the BMW.

“Oh God,” he said.

In the back was Janus. Quinn opened the door, even as Kate was on the cell phone. She kept her eyes peeled out nervously as well. She could almost sense that
he
was here, the one who had haunted her half of her lifetime.  The one she desperately wanted dead.

But she saw nothing in the woods by the road. She told the police there was an injured passenger and where, knowing they must already be on their way. She wondered who had spotted the accident and called it in.

Quinn was leaning over Janus.

“Will he be alright?” Kate asked, guessing what the answer would be.

But instead Quinn pulled his head out of the car.

“No,” he said quietly. “He’s dead.”

Kate passed him the gun and stuck her head in, but it was no use. There was blood all over his clothes and it looked like Janus had a bad wound on his head. Janus was dead and no amount of CPR was going to bring him back.

Quinn was staring at the tree line. All he felt inside was a blind hatred. All he wanted was to make that bastard pay.

“I know you’re out there,” Quinn screamed finally. “And I’ll bet this wasn’t part of your sorry little plan. I’ll bet he got you good.”

Kate looked again at the blood on the window. A glint of sunlight off something silver caught her eye on the front seat and she stuck her head in the car again. Janus’ silver lighter lay open but extinguished on the seat. She couldn’t think of how it came to be there. She picked it up.

“He must have done something,” Kate said, and handed the lighter to Quinn.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, looking at it briefly before putting it into his pocket. “I’ll bet he did.”

Quinn didn’t cry and he looked again at the trees around them. There was no sense in trekking in there—the killer could have long run away, and even if he didn’t, he would have some advantage.

But Quinn thought Lord Halloween could hear him.

“He died fighting,” Quinn called. “Not like you will, you soulless bastard.”

Kate put her arm around him. She looked into the woods, but there was nothing. No trail, no broken branches. Nothing that said where the killer had gone.

The forest on the other side of the road was more open, but again, they saw nothing.

“You hear me?” Quinn called out. “You want us, then come and get us. You coward. I'll see that you die quivering and alone.”

He stood there, clenched with a bottomless fury.

Kate knew what it felt like, but didn’t join in.

It wasn’t until after the police came, after they made their statements, after they were home, that it all came out.

Then there was sobbing.

Chapter 23

Sunday, Oct. 29

Quinn and Kate were the last ones out of St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church, letting Rebecca and Laurence file out ahead.

Standing on Cornwall Street, Quinn saw Rebecca take another tissue from her purse and dot her eyes. It occurred to him he had never seen her cry before.

“I hope you both will join us for the reception,” Rebecca said, her voice slightly shaky.

(
I can’t
.) Quinn thought. (
I can’t keep doing this
.)

(
You don’t have to
.) Kate replied.

(
But I do
.
I really do
.)

“Sure,” Quinn said out loud. “Your place is…”

“Just off Wirt Street,” Rebecca said. “You are welcome to follow me.”

“We’ll be along,” Quinn said. “I just need to go back to the paper and grab some stuff.”

“Are you sure you want to go back there?” Laurence asked him.

How old he looked, Kate thought. He looked like a different man. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes. How many editors see three of their reporters disappear or die in three weeks? What does that do to you?

“I have to go back there at some point,” Quinn said. “And I wanted to pick up a book Janus left in the darkroom. He brought it in three weeks ago for me to borrow and I kept forgetting to pick it up. I just…”

Quinn broke off. He took a slow breath and waited.

“It’s okay,” Rebecca said gently. She made a move as if to hug him and stopped. Quinn barely noticed. “Take your time. If you end up not feeling like it, that’s okay. We understand.”

Quinn nodded, and Laurence and Rebecca turned and walked down the street.

He and Kate watched them go.

“Laurence is right,” Kate said quietly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Quinn nodded again, and the two walked down the street. St. Gabriel’s was just over a block from the office.

The memorial service had been hard. Quinn had said a few words—said goodbye to his best friend—without breaking down. It had been a quiet affair, just the paper’s (remaining) staff, Janus’ family and a few others.

The truth was Quinn didn’t feel sad through most of the service—he just felt angry. He felt like it was the only emotion holding him together.

“There is this thing inside of us,” Quinn said finally as they walked. “I don’t know if it is good or bad, and I no longer care. I just want to unleash it—to send it toward the bastard that killed Janus, Kyle and maybe Buzz. I want to make their murderer pay.”

“I know,” Kate replied. “You know I’m right there with you.”

Quinn laughed with no humor. He watched leaves blow down the deserted street. It was twilight and the sunset reflected orange off the clouds above. It should be a beautiful day, Quinn thought.

But the day was hollow.

“How do we do it?” Quinn asked. “We’re crazy, do you know that? We shouldn’t even be believing this…”

(
I can feel and hear your thoughts, sweetheart.
) Kate said. (
The time for questioning is over
.)

(
I know. I just wish all my questions had been answered
.)

The least of them was how his leg had completely healed. By Friday night, there was barely a trace that anything was wrong. Quinn was healthy again.

Exactly how that had happened was unclear. From everything they read, somehow Quinn and the Headless Horseman were now tied together.

“It must draw its strength from you,” Kate said out loud. Though they could talk in their heads, sometimes it felt comforting to say things out loud. “It’s based on your fears. So I hurt it, but that hurt you too.”

“So what kind of chance does that give me?” Quinn asked.  “How can I beat him if I can’t hurt him? How can I hurt him if that would only hurt me?”

“I hurt him, not you,” Kate said. “Maybe this has to be about you and him. Maybe I’m just tagging along for the ride. I’m the trigger.”

“No way are you just along for the ride,” Quinn said.

She put her hand in his and squeezed it. Quinn felt lost. His best friend was dead and he was a marked man. His girlfriend was also a target. The odds of coming out of this alive were getting slimmer every day.

“I’m so tired of being afraid,” he said.

“Believe me when I tell you, I’ve been there,” she replied. “But I think we have only one choice. We figure out a way that you beat the Horseman and claim whatever power we supposedly get out of it. This is a fight for your soul. For my soul. If we win, we get power. If we lose, it’s over anyway.”

“What if we win and lose our soul anyway? What if we shouldn’t want this power? I can’t remember, but in one dream, I got a taste of what it felt like and…”

“What?”

“It didn’t feel right, somehow. Whatever I was tapping into. There was no fear, no doubt.”

“Sounds great so far.”

“But I felt less human, somehow,” he said. “Like something had been taken from me. Something basic. What if this power is evil, Kate?”

“Do we have a choice?” she asked. “We’ve been chasing Lord Halloween all over. We aren’t any closer to finding him. What if this is the only way?”

They stopped walking in front of the
Chronicle
building. Quinn took a deep breath before opening the door. Kate and Quinn walked through.

The air felt heavy. None of the paper’s lights were on and the setting sun cast unusual shadows.

Kate and Quinn both waited.

“He’s not here,” she said finally.

(
How can you be sure?)

(
Because I just know.)

The two walked through the paper for the first time in days. The place felt like a tomb to Quinn, and even with Kate’s assurances, he still felt as if someone would jump out at them at any moment.

He glanced around him nervously.

(
God, I’m such a fool.
) Quinn said.

(
Why?
)

(
Look at me. I’m shaking and scared of my own shadow. I’m like…
)

Quinn stopped in the editorial area. He finished his thought.

(
I’m Ichabod Crane
.)

(
Don’t be ridiculous
.)

He let the images wash over her—showing a frightened Ichabod jumping at shadows on his way home at night. Later, the terrified schoolteacher clutched his horse for dear life as the Headless Horseman chased him.

(
It’s not ridiculous
.) Quinn replied. (
Don’t you see? Since this started, I’ve done nothing but run away—from the Horseman, from Lord Halloween
.)

(
We had no choice.
)

(
But still, this is all playing out like the book
.)

Quinn and Kate stood in the middle of the newsroom staring at each other. To any observer, the sight would have been bizarre. Neither was saying a word.

(
How so
?) Kate thought.

(
Well, I’m Ichabod, you’re Katrina van Tassel, and Lord Halloween is Bromm Bones
.)

(
Give me a break. Bromm Bones wanted Katrina for himself. Romantically
.)

(
Lord Halloween still wants you for himself. He just wants to kill you instead of marry you. But the point is that Ichabod never faced up to Bromm or the Headless Horseman. All he did was flee
.)

(
Quinn, you are just upset
.)

(
I know
.)

He sat down in Kyle’s chair. Quinn felt like he was betraying his old colleague even by doing that. Hadn’t he always wanted Kyle’s beat? Hadn’t he tried to…

(
Stop it
.) Kate said.

Quinn put his head in his hands.

(
We have no plan. We have no idea who Lord Halloween is and we don’t know how to beat the Horseman to tap whatever powers we might gain. We have nothing
.)

(
That’s not true
.)

(
It isn’t? Lord Halloween could be anyone. He’s probably Buzz. Whoever killed Janus was in that house and used Buzz’s car.
)

(
Who would be stupid enough to use their own car?
)

(
It could be Josh, or Laurence, or Redacker. It could be Ethan for all we know—or Brown or Bill. Hell, it could be Rob or Steve who work over in the eastern Loudoun office. Or it could be no one we know
.)

(
We’ve been through this.)
Kate thought
. (This seems personal, that’s why we are assuming it is someone we know. Someone wanted to get Janus because they either knew him or wanted to hurt us. Probably both.
)

(
Was that true of Fanton? Or Kilgore? Did he know them
?)

(
Lord Halloween has had a thing about this paper from the beginning, Quinn. Of all the papers that mentioned him, he only sent letters to ours. He killed several employees. Why would he be so focused on the
Chronicle
? Because he either works here or has some reason to hate us. It’s the only thing that makes sense
.)

(
None of this makes sense
.)

But Quinn’s mind was turning now. He saw Buzz’s jacket in the security video. The crime scene at Kyle’s house, the conversation with Anderson.

(
My God
) he thought.

It wasn’t there yet, but he was on to something—pieces of a puzzle he should have put together.

(
What if Lord Halloween does have a motive?
) Quinn thought. (
What if it wasn’t random?
)

(
There was nothing linking all the victims
) Kate responded.

(
Not all of them, no. But you said it yourself. It was about this paper. What if it was always about the paper? From the beginning?
)

(
You mean it’s Ethan? He’s the publisher. He’s doing this for publicity?
)

(
No. No. The man in the dream said we were over-thinking it. Lord Halloween is just a man, he said. So who gained from the murders the first time around? Who got something he wanted?
)

(
Jesus
) Kate said.

And they knew. They both knew. It clicked into place. All of their looking and it had been right in front of them.

(
How do we find him?
) she asked. There was fury in how she asked it. (
He’s hiding
.)

Quinn’s mind was racing furiously.

(
Even the girl. He killed the girl downstairs in the basement. It wasn’t random. Anderson said everyone thought she was hitting on them. What if Lord Halloween thought it too? What if that was just petty revenge, not really about Anderson at all?
)

(
Never mind that now.
) Kate said. (
How do we find him?)

(
We go to the police
.)

Kate laughed out loud and it startled them both.

(
With what? A half-baked theory? They will laugh us out of town, for obvious reasons
.)

(
What do you suggest?)

(
We call him
.)

(
He’s going to pick up his phone
?)

(
We leave a message for him to meet us
.)

(
Where?
) Quinn asked, and Kate flooded his mind with photos. Pictures of a field, a road and a covered bridge—the Old Phillips Farm.

(
Are you crazy?
) he asked. (
I can’t do that. That’s where my dream takes place
.)

(
That’s where the Horseman will meet us
.)

(
And you want Lord Halloween there as well
?)

(
Yes
) she said.

(
This is an awful risk
) he thought. (
What if Lord Halloween doesn’t show? Or what happens if I can’t beat the Horseman? There’s too much that could go wrong
.)

(T
ime is almost up. Halloween is almost here. This is our one chance. Even if we’re right, and it is who we think it is, who’s to say he won’t get away
?)

Quinn thought of all the reservations he had. Even if they won, what would they be then? What kind of power would he have? And wasn’t that also a risk?

But Kate took his hand.

(
Whatever this is, it bound us closer together
.) she said. (
It can’t be all bad. I want this to happen. And so do you. You said it yourself. You’re tired of being afraid all the time. Do this and you will be the thing others fear
.)

Quinn slowly nodded his head.