Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Two) (34 page)

Kate started nodding her head, thinking of the spirits who had responded to her cry for help the other night. They had responded not to
her
issue—the imminent death of her loved one—but because her problem matched theirs.

“So if I saw ghosts in a cemetery—even several of them—it might not be because they’re buried there,” Kate said. “It might be because their loved ones were.”

“Yes, if they spent much of their lives grieving for them there.”

“Have you ever heard of a ghost taking solid form?” Kate asked, coming closer to the real reason she was here in the first place.

“Yes,” Terry replied. “If their connection is strong enough—if their emotions are powerful enough—they can interact with the real world. Not for very long, of course, maybe enough to move a chair or a table. Indeed, I’ve heard of a ghost that carves his initials into various pieces of furniture in a house near here.”

“He uses a knife?”

“He appears to bring it with him from wherever he is,” Terry replied. “This is all just guesswork, Ms. Tassel, but I believe that whatever defines us in life follows us in the spirit world. If the man was very attached to his knife—perhaps he was a wood carver or some other artisan—then it’s a part of him now, the same way his clothes would be. It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

Kate stopped taking notes, looked at Terry and asked the question that she most wanted to know.

“If I won’t find many ghosts in a graveyard, where would I find them?”

Terry paused for a moment.

“Well, houses, for one,” he said. “But that’s not what you mean, is it? You want to know how many can be found in a single spot?”

“Yes,” Kate said. It was what she needed. She had thought the answer lay in cemeteries, but now it was clear she required something else.

“In my experience, the places we ‘haunt,’ if you will—I dislike the term—in death are the places that caused us the most pain and anguish in life,” he said. “You would need to find a spot that represented that experience not just for one or two people, but for many.”

Kate glanced at the painting behind Terry’s head.

“And is there such a place near here?” she asked.

Terry gave her a shrewd look, following the direction of her gaze.

“I think, Ms. Tassel, you already know the answer to that.”

*****

Tim sat huddled in his chair staring at his Blackberry. It was a Saturday, so in theory he should have the weekend off. But these days, he used the device constantly to send e-mails to Ethan, the reporters and sources—or for research.

He should have put more energy into researching the Prince of Sanheim before all hell broke loose. But he had assumed it was just a name plucked from a legend—the equivalent of Lord Halloween—that didn’t mean much. He had been wrong about that.

He watched Quinn sleeping. It’s what he did most these days. Tim would be more worried about him—the doctors certainly were—but he could see him healing at an unbelievable rate. Whatever powers his two reporters had tapped into, they were literally incomprehensible. Every day, the doctors had new explanations, half-cocked theories to explain the unexplainable. Tim suspected that whatever supernatural powers Quinn had, they were all being used up in fixing him, leaving no room to stay awake.

He liked Quinn and most of the time he liked Kate, but he was still worried about whether he was doing the right thing. The two of them seemed dedicated to stopping the threat out there—and had already proven themselves by killing Lord Halloween—but their powers made him deeply uneasy. Kate’s little show in the apartment had left him with nightmares. Whatever could do that—could it really be good? Wasn’t it more likely that whatever was going on here, it would eventually consume Quinn and Kate? And who would stop them then?

His thoughts were disturbed by a shadow in the doorway.

“Back so soon?” he said, expecting to find Kate.

But a strange man stood in the doorway, looking at Quinn. Tim was out of his chair in a heartbeat, pulling his gun out of reflex and aiming it at the man’s head.

When the stranger turned to him, he looked alarmed.

“Bloody hell, gramps!” he said. “Are you even allowed to have that here?”

“It’s Virginia,” Tim replied. “What do you think?”

The man put up his hands.

“You going to shoot me?”

“That really depends on what you’re here to do,” Tim replied. “Are you Sawyer?”

The man laughed at that.

“If I were, you would be dead now,” he said. “Probably burnt to a crisp.”

“Then who are you? What the hell do you want?”

“My name is Kieran,” he replied. “And I’m here to give a warning.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, no offense, but I didn’t come to give it to you,” Kieran said. “I’m here to talk to the boss.”

“Quinn is asleep.”

“Uh, no, the real boss,” Kieran said. “Where is Kate?”

“If you think I’m telling you that, you’re even dumber than you look.”

“Look, I’m trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t trust you. I don’t really trust anyone,” Tim said.

“How Agent Mulder of you,” Kieran said.

He walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

“Just keep it nice and slow,” Tim said.

“You ever going to lower that weapon?” Kieran said.

“Not planning on it, no,” Tim said.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time,” Kieran replied. “Sawyer and Elyssa are on the move again. They’re planning to attack Waterford tonight.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I work for them, obviously,” he replied.

“What’s their plan?” he asked.

“Their usual,” Kieran replied. “They’re going to walk into Waterford and burn it to the ground.”

“How do I stop them?”

“You don’t,” Kieran said. He gestured at Quinn. “They do. Trust me, you’re no match for these guys. I’m not even sure these two are.”

“Then why help them?”

“Because if I don’t, a lot of innocent people are going to die,” Kieran said.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who cares.”

“I normally don’t. But I’m tired of looking the other way, okay? Sawyer and Elyssa need to be stopped.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“I just told you,” Kieran replied, looking exasperated. “I finally grew a conscience.”

“I know your type. A man like you traded away his conscience a long time ago,” Tim said. “You don’t ever get it back.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Kieran said softly. “You can’t ever really trade it away. It stays with you—even when you don’t want it to.”

“You’ve said your peace,” Tim said. “I’ll pass on your warning. Anything else I should mention?”

Kieran looked over at Quinn in the hospital bed.

“Tell her he’s not going to heal in time,” Kieran said.

“Well, obviously not by tonight.”

“No,” Kieran continued. “I meant by Halloween.”

“Why does that matter?

“Because if he isn’t completely healed by then, they’re going to lose.”

With that, Kieran opened the door and left. Only when Tim was sure he was gone did he lower the gun.

Chapter 31

Kate waited in the dark.

She hadn’t changed form but remained her normal self. For all the usefulness of her new abilities, using them seemed to drain her quickly. She had begun to wonder if the source of her power—like the presence of ghosts—also had to do with the emotional scars left on an area. If so, then the plan she had been hatching since her visit to Terry Jacobsen might actually work. If not—well, they were probably doomed anyway.

The police and most of the county’s firefighters were also nearby. Tim had not wanted to take any chances that the situation could get out of hand. Once again, he had tipped off Sheriff Brown that another attack was imminent.

But the night seemed normal and quiet. She waited at the top of the hill on Main Street looking for any sign of movement. Each time a car passed by, she tensed up. But nothing unusual was happening. There was no sign of Sawyer, no hint of even a few dobhar-chu. The night was still.

Maybe Kieran was wrong, Kate thought. Maybe the attack was coming later. Or possibly Sawyer had called it off at the last moment. She ran through other possibilities in her mind. A dark thought occurred to her.

Just as it did, her cell phone rang. She jumped and answered it.

“They aren’t attacking here,” Tim’s voice came immediately.

She already knew what had happened.

“Where?” she asked.

“Purcellville,” he responded. “We’ve got several firetrucks on the way out—but it’s going to take time. Most of the county’s resources were near here.”

“My God,” she said. “He played us, didn’t he? It was a trap.”

“And we fell for it,” Tim said and hung up.

Kate got back in her car and started to drive the 10 miles southwest to Purcellville.

But in her heart, she knew it was already too late.

*****

Mike Poje stood in his backyard, smoking a cigarette. His wife didn’t let him smoke in the new house. He actually didn’t mind it, but he often pretended he did. He thought if he complained a little, she would make fewer demands in other areas. So far this plan was not working.

He sighed as he blew smoke out of his mouth. He had to admit the new place was great—both the house and yard were bigger. Mike planned to install a swing set back here. Even though the house was close to the heart of Purcellville, Mike was particularly pleased that it backed up to the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. He loved biking—always had, since his dad taught him how to ride more than two decades ago. Now he could take his bike right out the back gate and was just steps away from miles of trail in either direction. It was liberating.

Mike looked back at the dark outline of trees and smiled. No, he really didn’t mind being out here. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. Not that he planned to tell Susan. He took a last puff of his cigarette, dropped it to the ground and stamped it out.

As he was reaching down to retrieve the stub for the trash, he heard it. The sound was clearly coming from up the W&OD trail. Curious, he walked through his backyard, past the spot where he had staked out the kids’ swing set and out the back gate. He stood on the path and looked down it.

He couldn’t
see
anything, that was for sure. There were just various shades of darkness. But he could hear it—a steady pounding of hooves.

He thought of something then. A friend at work had told him that last year near Halloween he had been driving along a back road and had passed—of all things—a black horse and rider traveling at the dead of night. While that was creepy enough, Tom had insisted that the rider had no head. Mike had laughed it off, of course. Tom was lying, drunk or delusional—and in his case, all three were possible.

But the story had remained somewhere in his mind. As he looked down the trail and waited, he shivered. Could Tom have been right? It was ridiculous, of course. But this time of year—and this time of evening—the crazy suddenly seemed possible.

He could just make out a figure now, something riding incredibly fast down the trail. How could this person even see, Mike wondered.

Unless he doesn’t have to
, the voice in the back of his mind wondered.
Unless he doesn’t have a head?

Mike had never particularly liked “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” He’d always found it unnerving. He was just deciding that maybe it was better to go back inside when the figure took on a more defined form as it got closer. For a second, he was relieved. Whoever the rider was, it clearly had a head.

But as it came closer, Mike got a better look. It wasn’t the Headless Horseman; it was much worse. Mike took one look at the insanely-colored hair, the pale white face and the red glowing eyes, and ran.

He hoped it hadn’t seen him as he ran through his backyard, but then he heard a crash behind him. The horse had veered off the path, leapt his fence and now stood in his backyard. The rider grinned at him.

“I had planned to put you all to sleep before I did this,” it said. “Higher body count that way, you know. But I think a little panic and chaos seem like more fun, don’t you?”

Mike didn’t know what the hell it was talking about—and didn’t care. He turned around and ran to his back door.

As he did, he felt a blast of heat behind him. He turned again to see a jet of fire coming his way. Mike tried to scream as the flames engulfed him. But his smoking corpse hit the ground before he made a sound.

*****

Aillen watched in satisfaction as the man’s house went up in flames.  He hoped there was a family inside.

He yanked on the horse’s reins and rode back to the path. He had no intention of sticking to a small suburban neighborhood this time.

If Quinn and Kate wanted to see what kind of damage he could
really
do, he’d show them. They would regret not surrendering to him.

He rode off the path, onto a street and turned left. As he rode toward the town center, he started burning houses and businesses all along the street.

When he got to Main Street, he looked for appropriate targets and laughed with joy when he saw a store to his right.
Purcell Gun Store
, the sign read.

He dismounted, strode to the front of the store—which unfortunately stood closed due to how late it was—and let loose more fire. He watched as the flames consumed the store and then listened to the sounds of exploding ammunition inside. It was like a fireworks display, he thought.

He got back on his horse and rode across the street. His main target stood before him. Destroying the Purcellville Town Hall would be a purely symbolic act. There was no one working there tonight. But a symbolic act would be more important than the number of human lives he took. He aimed a blast at the front columns, then watched as they spread up the façade. He hit the giant white doors with another burst of flame and smiled with satisfaction as the fire started to spread. It was fitting, he supposed. There were no kings to aggravate anymore, no castles for him to burn. This was the closest he would get.

He didn’t wait too long, however. He had given himself a significant head start and confirmed Kieran as a traitor in the process. Most of Loudoun’s firefighting resources were now committed halfway across the county. But that advantage wouldn’t last forever, and he had more on his agenda than burning a few businesses. Symbolism was all well and good, but in this world, if there was no grief attached to it, it wouldn’t really sting.

He kicked the horse beneath him and raced past the burning town hall, now consumed in flames, and past a field until he came to a subdivision packed with homes. There were easily more than 20 houses in this small stretch. All it would take was a few to burn for the whole area to go up in smoke.

By now, the sound of sirens was in the air. The night was lit up with dozens of fires reaching to the sky. Aillen watched as a man stood on the front stoop of his house, gaping at the evening horizon. Behind him, he saw a boy, maybe just 10 or 11 years old. They weren’t looking in his direction, but instead stared up at the rising smoke.

Soon they wouldn’t need to strain their eyes. When Aillen kicked his horse forward, he rode past the row of houses, spreading flames as he went.

When the boy and his father began running, Aillen didn’t let them get very far.

*****

October 28, 2007

Kate threw a small rubber ball at the floor and let it bounce back to her.

The downstairs neighbors would probably complain again. She was making too much noise, but she didn’t care. She had to do something to keep the images of Purcellville out of her mind.

The carnage was unfathomable. Even almost 24 hours later, the full casualty list was still unclear. Sawyer hadn’t succeeded in burning the entire town of Purcellville—if that was his goal—but he had killed more than 37 men, women and children and done untold damage to a large swath of the town.

A part of her knew it could have been worse. Sawyer could have used his flute, lulled people to sleep, and kept destroying the town. Surely that was what he’d done in Crail so long ago.

But he wasn’t just facing firefighters or citizens this time. Kate had raced down the roads to Purcellville at unsafe speeds. When she arrived, she had turned into the banshee and sought to find her nemesis.

But by then, he was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, leaving only fire and destruction in his wake.

Kate had been as powerless as everyone else to stop the fires from spreading. She had changed back into Kate Tassel then and along with other citizens roused from their beds, spent the evening trying to do what little she could to help.

The hospital in Leesburg had quickly been overrun. Quinn had dropped down the priority list immediately, particularly in the burn unit. When he insisted on checking himself out despite his condition, there was no one left to argue against it. His bed was needed for far worse cases—ones that wouldn’t recover mysteriously.

He had hobbled out, grimaced as he got into Kate’s car, and the two had gone home.

He lay now in his recliner and watched her. He knew her mind and it worried him.

“It’s my fault,” she said finally, speaking out loud the words that had echoed in her head for hours.

“You didn’t know,” he responded.

“If I hadn’t told those firefighters to be out at Waterford, there would have been more of them on hand. They could have stopped the worst of it. They could have…”

“It was a set-up, Kate,” Quinn said. “You know that.”

“And I fell for it!”

Kate stood up, letting the juggling ball bounce on the floor and under the sofa.

“Then blame the ones who did this,” Quinn said.

She glared at him.

“Oh, I blame them,” she said. “Don’t worry about that. When I get my hands on them, I will tear them limb from limb. I’ll kill them slowly so they can understand the agony they’ve caused.”

“Kate…”

“No,” she said. “I could have stopped them. If I hadn’t pissed away so much time moping about my own issues. My mother. Lord Halloween. ‘I am the last’—whatever that means. Sanheim was right. I needed to embrace what I was. Then all those lives wouldn’t have been lost.”

“You were being cautious,” he said.

Kate jumped across the room and almost shouted into Quinn’s face.

“I got them killed!” she said. “If I had moved quicker, understood faster, this wouldn’t have happened. These people are dead because I was paralyzed. Because I was afraid.”

It was no use telling her she had a right to be. That the power they tapped into last year wasn’t something that could be wielded for good. Quinn was sure now that it was inherently corrupting. Maybe Sawyer and Elyssa had even been compassionate people once. It wasn’t too hard to imagine. But now…

“All my life,” Kate continued. “I’ve fought to defeat men like Kyle Thompson. I saw my mother’s corpse when I was barely a teenager. Every single day since then has been defined by that moment. Last year, I thought we were free. I thought—together—you and I could put this place right. That’s why I wrote the letter. Not so the police would understand, but so the killers in this county would know to stay the hell away. And I failed, Quinn. I failed them all.”

She sat on the couch. Quinn waited for the tears to start, but they didn’t. He wondered if she was past them now. He wondered if he had lost her already.

“You were being cautious,” he said again. “What we have—what we are—isn’t something to be used lightly. You don’t know that even if you had your full strength, you could have reached them in time. And you can’t lose… you can’t lose sight of yourself. If you lash out blindly, it’s only a matter of time before another innocent person gets killed—then it really would be your fault.”

“Tell that to the people who died, Quinn,” Kate said, but she talked so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

They were disturbed by a knock at the door. As she rose, Kate said, “At least I think we can agree on the next course of action. You’re going to get better and then we hit them—hard. I know where we need to meet them now. And I promise you—Sawyer, Elyssa, their
moidin
, and especially Kieran—are going to pay for what happened last night.”