Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Two) (12 page)

“Yes, of course,” Quinn said, and both Elyssa and Kate registered surprise. “He was a psychopath and a threat to the citizens of this city. I’m honestly not sorry he’s dead. But murdering a killer doesn’t make it right. The world can’t be populated by vigilantes. Whoever this Prince of Sanheim is, he or she was wrong to kill him unless they had no other choice and it was self-defense.”

“So you don’t really….”

But Quinn wasn’t finished yet.

“This town doesn’t need another masked demon running around,” Quinn said. “Lord Halloween was bad enough. Now there’s the Prince of Sanheim. We’ve had enough. I’m not a huge fan of moral equivalency. No, it wouldn’t be all right if Mr. Robertson was a murderer. And whoever killed Lord Halloween should be brought to justice. They don’t have a right to go around scaring people and certainly no right to decide who should live or die.”

Elyssa looked stunned.

Wow
, Kate thought.
You really meant all that
.

Even Quinn was taken aback.

I guess I did.

Elyssa turned off the tape recorder.

“Well, Quinn, I want to thank you for your time,” she said. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

“Sure,” Quinn said evenly. He tried not to show that his hands were shaking.

They both stood up and Quinn walked her out of the building. As they passed, Quinn felt all the men’s eyes watching her walk out. When she got to the exit, she paused.

“I want to thank you for seeing me, Quinn,” she said and smiled at him. “I was wondering, I’m going to be in town for a few days and I could really use someone to show me around the place. I’m free tonight, if you want to meet for dinner.”

Quinn didn’t need Kate in his mind to tell him how to respond. Their interview had deeply disturbed him. Instead of an attractive woman, he had the sense that she was some kind of spider—a form meant to lure you in and then drag you down.

“Thanks, Elyssa,” he replied and smiled back as if this was the most pleasant conversation. “But I’m sorry—I have plans.”

Elyssa looked surprised. Quinn had the distinct feeling she wasn’t used to being turned down. Her smile faltered a bit, but held in place. Her eyes, however, seemed almost hostile.

“Of course,” she said, and turned and walked out the door.

She seemed a bit put-off
, Quinn thought as he watched her go. He couldn’t be sure, but as she walked down the street, even her stride seemed different.

No, Quinn, that was anger
, Kate thought back.
I’m just not clear exactly why.

*****

Kieran looked up from his book to find Elyssa in the doorway.

“You’re back,” he said and waited. The next two minutes could determine the fate of his little side venture. One misstep and it might spell his doom as well. So he didn’t rush. Kieran was very good at waiting.

“It’s not him,” she said.

Could she see him let out a sigh of relief? He hoped not.

“Why not?” he asked. “He fit the profile. I thought he was a good candidate.”

Elyssa brushed past Kieran and went to the liquor cabinet. He watched as she poured herself a drink. She sipped it slowly and barely looked at Kieran.

“He’s a coward,” she said. “Afraid of his own shadow. There’s no chance a man like that faced down his
cennad
and won. Ergo… it’s not him.”

Kieran grunted noncommittally.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “Princes come in lots of different shapes and forms.”

“Do you know what bothered me most about him?” Elyssa asked as if she hadn’t heard Kieran at all. “His sanctimoniousness. His self-righteousness. Not only was Robertson’s death a tragedy, but even the murder of Lord Halloween was wrong. As if he’s a judge.”

“I suspect you may have missed his point,” he replied.

Elyssa glanced at him sideways, as if he were making fun of her. He got up and fixed himself a drink as well.

“I’m just saying I know the type,” Kieran said. “I didn’t hear what he said, but I’d guess he was trying to say he
wasn’t
the judge. Hence why those murders were wrong.”

Elyssa’s face darkened with renewed anger.

“Some people,” she said slowly, “deserve to die.”

Kieran nodded.

“On that score, my dear,” he replied, “we definitely agree.”

He held his glass in the air in what he hoped looked like a peace offering. He had thought his plans would be disrupted by Sawyer’s little escapade. Instead, the situation now appeared to be fully in control. The next phase of the endeavor could begin.

Elyssa clinked her glass against his.

“Some people definitely deserve to die,” she said again.

Yes, Elyssa
, Kieran thought.
And you are one of them.

Chapter 11

September 20, 2007

Kate was trying not to look bored. She had worked for two newspapers before the
Chronicle
, and the staff meetings here seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She idly wondered if hell would be like this: a big, long editorial meeting. They held them once a week and Rebecca had threatened to start holding them more often if people didn’t shorten their story pitches. Kate thought she should raise the ante and give people electric shocks once they went beyond two minutes.

“One more thing,” Alexis said, and Kate had to resist the impulse to groan. She could tell Quinn felt the same way; he was thinking repeatedly about his conversation with the British reporter a few days ago. “I’ve received complaints again about graffiti at Park View High School. Some concerned parents think this might be gang-related activity.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said. “Have they filed police reports?”

“Yes, that’s what they told me,” Alexis replied and looked at Quinn, who was rather obviously staring off into space.

“Quinn?” Rebecca asked. Quinn looked around in a panic, as if a teacher had just called on him.

They want to know if there have been police reports about graffiti at Park View High School
, Kate thought.

How the hell should I know?
Quinn responded.

Well, honey, I think they are under the impression that you are the crime reporter
, she responded.

I’ve been chasing a murderer
, he thought back.

So, tell them that.

“Sorry, Alexis, I haven’t been checking all of the police reports,” Quinn replied with a touch more defensiveness than he intended. “I’ve been a little distracted by the murders. I’ll look into it.”

Both Rebecca and Alexis nodded as if that was the end of the matter when Helen jumped in. Kate could sense Quinn tense up as soon as she started talking.

“Well, it’s not just parents who are concerned,” Helen said. “I’ve talked to several people on the school board who are worried about increased gang activity in Sterling. Delegate Reger told me yesterday that he’s concerned the community will soon be overrun.”

“Overrun? Seriously?” Quinn responded. “In Sterling?”

“Quinn, have you ever considered the fact that the two murders could be, in fact, gang related?” Helen said, staring at Quinn imperiously. “You need to keep an open mind.”

“An open…”

Keep your cool, Quinn
, Kate thought at him. She knew how hard it was for him though. Helen had never particularly liked Quinn, viewing herself as the star reporter at the
Loudoun Chronicle
because she covered politics. But she had turned openly antagonistic after the Lord Halloween story had earned Kate and Quinn so much praise.

“Yes, an open mind,” Helen continued, not bothering to let Quinn finish. “You keep chasing these ghost stories, when gangs might fit the profile better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were suddenly an expert in violent crime, Helen,” Quinn said. “Or that I was off chasing ‘ghost stories’?”

“Well, really, what’s more believable? That some masked vigilante has taken to killing people or that South American gangs have infiltrated Loudoun County?” she replied.

Bill started chuckling in the corner while most everyone else except Rebecca and Tim looked awkwardly away.

“When you put it that way…” Quinn said, and theatrically rolled his eyes at her.

“I’m serious,” she said. “It’s a growing problem in this county. Everyone is concerned about it. You just have to open your eyes.”

“You really believe everything they tell you, don’t you?” Quinn said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Helen asked.

“If Delegate Reger told you that radical homosexuals had joined forces with the immigrants to corrupt our youth, you’d buy it hook, line and sinker,” Quinn said. “I’m not worried about gangs in Sterling because there are no gangs there. It’s something the media and politicians dream up to distract citizens from what’s really going on.”

Helen glared at him.

“It’s a very real problem,” she said.

“Right,” Quinn said. “Just like dog poop in people’s yards was a real problem.”

Both Josh and Bill, the two photographers who spent most of their time trying not to talk during staff meetings, started laughing at that.

“Oh, please, not this again,” Alexis said.

“If there are no gangs in Sterling, how do you explain the graffiti?” Helen asked.

“Gee, I don’t know, Helen,” Quinn said. “I’m sure there’s no other possible explanation than gangs for someone drawing on a wall. It’s not like any bored high school student could do that. It’s a good thing Janus isn’t here for this. He spent most of his teenage years in Sterling and…”

“Well, he’s not here, is he? He’s dead,” Helen said, and Kate could tell the moment it was out of her mouth that she regretted it.

Quinn leapt to his feet and slammed his hands on the table.

“I don’t need you to tell me he’s dead, Helen,” Quinn said with a cold fury. “I found his body, remember?”

“Quinn…” Tim began.

“And where were you, Helen? Where were you when our dear friend and colleague was picking off Janus and others here one by one, huh?” Quinn said. “Hiding somewhere like a scared rabbit. Laurence called you a dozen times, did you know that? He was worried something had happened to you too.”

“Quinn, stop it now!” It was Rebecca who broke through.

Quinn remained standing, staring at Helen.

Sit down, Quinn
, Kate thought.
This isn’t helping.

Lord Halloween should have killed her instead,
he thought.

“Sit down, Quinn,” Tim said.

With obvious reluctance, Quinn took his seat. Kate was bothered by the entire episode. Despite his feuding with Helen over the years, the sheer rage Quinn felt toward her was rare. She wondered how much the stress of everything they were going through—the murders, knowing something was hunting them, the re-transformation into the Prince of Sanheim—was getting to him.

I miss Janus
, he thought.

I know
, Kate said.
I miss him too
.

“I think we’ve agreed Quinn will look into the graffiti,” Rebecca said. “And continue his look into the recent murders. Now I’d like to talk about Sports. Steven…”

Quinn didn’t even hear her anymore. He just sat there brooding on everything.

We’re spinning our wheels
, he said.
We’re waiting again. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for another clue. And I’m through waiting.

We’ll find the answers,
she said.
We always do.

But he just sat there, quietly fuming. The rest of the meeting passed him by entirely and when others filtered out, he still sat there.

Kate waited for him, watching his mind turn through a continuous series of dark images. Finally, he stood up.

“Where are you going?” she asked, but she knew.

“I’m going to grab Bill and take a look at the graffiti,” he said, before adding sarcastically, “Who knows? Maybe it will be the clue we need.”

He had no idea just how right he was.

*****

It was Kate who made the connection.

Quinn was only focused on punching out a story, never thinking or even looking closely at what the drawings were. He studied them when Bill excitedly dropped the photos on Quinn’s desk.

The graffiti was impressive—whoever had done it had real talent. In one, two serpents were intertwined so that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Another was the picture of a giant bear. They seemed vaguely familiar and didn’t look like typical gang symbols, not that Quinn knew what those were.

They’re not
, Kate said in his head. She was out on assignment in Purcellville.
They’re from the book.

Book?

The Crowley book. The one we found at Zora’s.

Crowley’s book was divided into 17 chapters. At the top of each one was a drawing. They never seemed to connect to what Crowley was writing about, but it was hard to tell since the words themselves didn’t make much sense.

Quinn looked at Bill’s prints. There were only four graffiti prints, but they were clearly some of the same drawings from Crowley’s book: The serpent, the bear, a spider and a flaming sword.

Strange
, Quinn thought.
So they’ve moved from killing people to defacing public property. Aren’t you supposed to work your way up in criminal activity, not down?

Kate chuckled in his mind.

Actually, it’s a good point
, she thought.
These drawings were clearly meant for us, but were they done by the same people who killed Zora and Robertson?

I find it hard to believe that this isn’t connected to someone pretending to be the Prince of Sanheim
, Quinn thought.

I’m sure it is
, she replied
. But how? Presumably Robertson’s murder was the obvious message to us. Why bother doing this?

Unless it’s not a message
, Quinn thought suddenly. His mind was racing. Robert Crowley’s book was one of several. The only reason it was any different was that it was unpublished. Kate and Quinn could find no record of it in his official bibliography.

What if the symbols drawn here aren’t just in the book we have?
He thought.
What if they are in others?

The drawings aren’t a message,
Kate agreed.
They’re the key—the key to a code.

*****

They had to wait until the evening to test their theory. Quinn quickly filed his story on the graffiti, suggesting that it didn’t look much like gang activity. Helen and the local politicians wouldn’t be pleased, but Quinn didn’t care. He knew it wasn’t a gang. However, his story did not make any connection between the drawings and the Prince of Sanheim.

But that evening their discovery was more frustrating than fruitful. All told, there were 17 symbols in Crowley’s unpublished book—one for each chapter. All of them were repeated in his other works, but there was no discernable pattern or connection.

“We have nothing,” Quinn said finally.

They had been staring at the books for hours. An interesting side effect of their Prince of Sanheim abilities was that they seemed to need less sleep. As they got closer to Halloween, they were less tired. When evening came, it felt like their energy-level was higher than ever.

That wasn’t to say they didn’t sleep at all. It was still mid-September and they needed at least four hours a night, as far as Quinn could tell. But he was starting to wonder if soon he wouldn’t need any at all.

Kate looked at the clock. It was 4 a.m. Even if they slept now, they wouldn’t have much time before they needed to return to work.

“We have something,” she said. “We have a start.”

“A lead that’s sending us in circles,” he said. “Someone is out there killing people and sending us riddles.”

“I’m not sure it’s the same person,” she replied. “I think these drawings are meant to help us.”

“Why would they do that?” he asked.

“Not sure,” she said. “Maybe someone knows what’s going on and wants us to know more too.”

“Next time they should just send a note,” Quinn said.

“That’s the thing,” she replied. “I think this is the equivalent and a test at the same time.”

“Awesome, because we haven’t had enough of those,” Quinn replied, thinking of his test against his
cennad
last year. It had nearly killed him.

“We beat that one,” Kate said, and laid her hand on top of his. “We’ll beat this one too.”

“Easy for you to say,” Quinn said. “I had to face my
cennad
alone.
You
didn’t have a test.”

Kate laughed.

“So you’d like me to face my worst fear?” she asked.

Quinn smiled.

“If you do, could you make sure it’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?” he said. “I’ve always wanted to build a proton pack.”

Kate’s smile faded and she looked at him seriously. Quinn could stare at her forever. He loved everything about her, but particularly her eyes, which were a brilliant shade of blue. All the heads had turned when that British reporter, Elyssa, had walked through the office, but Quinn thought Kate was a thousand times more beautiful.

“I think you may be a bit biased,” Kate said, reading his thoughts. “The only thing I fear is losing you.”

“Never going to happen,” Quinn said.

The words hung in the air as they kissed.

“Better not,” she said when they broke apart. “Because I’m never letting you go.”