A Soul To Steal (54 page)

Quinn saw a ladder to a loft in the barn and headed straight for it. He scurried up it and started looking around for something—anything—to use against his opponent.

The Horseman followed Quinn into the barn and never slowed his pace. He started to climb the ladder, sword in hand, but Quinn kicked the top of the ladder, attempting to jar it loose. The Horseman tried to slice at his foot, but missed, and Quinn heard the satisfying sound of tearing wood, as the ladder came free.

The Horseman jumped off before it crashed to the ground.

“Did you think this would be easy?” Quinn asked. He moved around in the loft, still looking for a weapon of some kind. There was nothing but an old gas can.

The Horseman stood on the floor of the barn, his body following Quinn’s movement. But for now he stayed in one place.

“You got your smarts from me after all,” he said. “So you can’t be that stupid, right?”

Quinn was talking just to hear himself speak. He wondered how late it was. Was it 11:00 p.m.? He could try and stay up here for an hour, couldn’t he? Then the Horseman would be gone.

But he would be back next year. And then Quinn would have all year to dream about his return, waiting for next October. Quinn wasn’t doing this again. This had to end tonight.

Quinn faced him from the upper level.

“Do you know how long I was scared of you?” he asked. “I was five years old when I saw the Disney cartoon. And you scared the shit out of me. It took my Mom days to calm me down. Every time I walked through the woods, I half expected to see you there.”

The Horseman stood impassively.

“I’m not sure why I was so scared,” Quinn said. “I think I didn’t like the idea of poor Ichabod, hanging on to his horse, just trying to get home. And you wouldn’t let him.”

The Horseman moved suddenly, throwing the sword in the air in Quinn’s direction.

Quinn dropped to the ground and heard the sword slice barely above his head. The entire loft shook and Quinn could feel it about to give way.

Below, he heard the Horseman laugh. The sound bounced around the walls of the barn and seemed to come from inside Quinn’s head as well.

Scrambling to his feet, Quinn saw the sword along the back wall and picked it up. He held it in front of him, but felt ridiculous. He had no idea how to use the thing.

The Horseman strode over to the right barn wall and began pounding on it. At first, Quinn was not sure what the point was, and then it became obvious. Each blow sent a shiver through the whole building, and the wood groaned beneath Quinn’s feet. The loft was going to fall down, if the whole building didn’t first.

Quinn would have to get out of here. He held the sword in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

Boom, another blow came, and Quinn heard his floor giving way. Not thinking, Quinn dropped the sword, grabbed the gas can, still half full, and winged it in the Horseman’s direction.

Although Quinn had never been much of an athlete, his aim could not have been better. The can caught the Horseman fully in the chest, knocking him back and over. Quinn saw gasoline spill out on top of him.

He didn’t wait. He picked up the sword and threw it to the floor below, then dropped down himself.

The Horseman was still on the ground. Quinn picked up the sword and headed straight for him. This could be his only chance. He was not sure where to cut so decided he would hit him right in the chest.

He never got the chance. The Horseman picked himself up and as Quinn tried to bring a blow forward, the Horseman caught his wrist. And squeezed.

Quinn felt incredible pain and immediately dropped the sword. The Horseman released him, reached down to pick up the sword, and prepared a blow for Quinn’s head. Quinn punched the Horseman in the chest to knock him back. But the Horseman appeared unfazed.

Quinn stumbled back and looked around for any other kind of weapon. He ran over to where the gas can lay on the ground. So far it was the only thing that had done him much good.

The Horseman paused for a moment and seemed to watch Quinn’s movement.

Quinn picked up the can and stood looking at the Headless Horseman.

The Horseman came toward Quinn, and Quinn decided to run. He needed to find a better weapon than this. Maybe at least a stick or something outside could help stop any blows. As Quinn ran out into the night again, the Horseman was right on his heels. 

He turned to look behind him as the Horseman brought his sword through the air. Quinn dropped to the ground and kicked at the Horseman’s knees, hoping to throw him off balance. The Horseman fell backwards.

Grabbing the gas can again, Quinn lurched away from the Horseman, scrambling to stand up. But he tripped over something and fell headlong into the pumpkin patch. The gas can came loose and fell to the ground, spilling gasoline as it went.

Quinn landed on two pumpkins. Flailing, Quinn tried to right himself. He could hear the Horseman getting up.

Quinn grabbed a pumpkin and ran forward, trying not to trip over any other pumpkins. At the far edge of the patch, he turned and cocked back his arm to throw the pumpkin, but nearly dropped it. It was too slick and smelled of…

The Horseman paused for a moment, as Quinn and he faced off across the overgrown garden.

Kate had assured him he would know what to do. And now—finally—he did.

Reaching into his pocket, Quinn pulled out Janus’ lighter.

“You know what?” he asked. “For years, I’ve identified with Ichabod. But I think that’s over.”

He flicked the lighter with his left hand and lit the pumpkin on fire.

The Horseman started to move toward him, but it was too late. Quinn cocked the flaming pumpkin back, oblivious to the intense pain in his hand, and let it fly.

The pumpkin hit the Horseman full on in the chest and he immediately caught fire. The Horseman stumbled back and now Quinn laughed.

“I’m not Ichabod Crane,” Quinn said. “Go back to Sleepy Hollow, you headless son of a bitch.”

The Horseman was consumed in flames. The sword disappeared in a flash and the Headless Horseman appeared to burn from the outside in, collapsing in on himself. There was a mist of fire and smoke and then he was gone.

Quinn sank to his knees. His hand was in pain, but he was happy for the first time in a very long time. He had won. He felt a stirring in his blood, as if the fire were starting to spread through him. But it felt good.

Quinn had won. He had not believed he could but he had done it.

He was so relieved that he barely noticed the other figure striding toward him, who moments later stood in front of him.

“You know, Quinn, a lot of screaming and burning stuff is not the best way to hide,” Kyle said, and pulled a knife from behind him. “Let’s finish this.”

Kyle brought the knife down toward Quinn’s neck.

Chapter 25

Halloween

Kate stood by the bridge, shining her flashlight into it, and holding her gun. Her connection with Quinn had been lost. She had sensed the Horseman getting closer and then she had been cut off. She came immediately, but was forced to park behind Quinn’s car and walk to avoid the nails on the road.

There was nothing here and she fought down a sense of panic. Had Kyle gotten him? Or had the Horseman? And were either of those two, or both, now coming for her? Waiting for her?

But she heard nothing. She shone a light into the bridge and saw no trace that anyone had been there. She should have come along. She should never have agreed to stay back. They were in this together and they needed to face it that way.

She thought she heard far off laughter from up the hill. She started to walk up it carefully. As much as she wanted to help Quinn, it would not be a good idea to alert everyone to her presence. She was meant to be a surprise.

She moved up the hill steadily and then felt something strange. She stopped.

All at once a flood of images came to her, and she fell to the ground. The Horseman riding toward Quinn, dismounting and chasing him. A barn and…

A flaming pumpkin. She saw that clearly now, and all at once it was like someone had flipped a switch—she felt a burning sensation all through her.

It was happening. She saw Quinn again clearly now—actually felt him in her head—as he fell to the ground after the Horseman went up in flames. It was like it had been before in the hotel room as they made love, only stronger. She knew everything in Quinn’s head—and more. So much more.

She could see Kyle approaching and knew his plans. She could see his thoughts, his past, even where he had been hiding since his “death.” She knew it all.

Just a moment ago, she had been scared, nervous. Now that was gone. The night felt alive around her. She could feel the wind whipping the branches, the snakes on the trees, the worms in the earth. She felt everything.

There was nothing that could harm them anymore. She felt the power in her like a fire. Sadness, anxiety and doubt had been burned away. Kate started laughing and it was a joyous and awful sound at the same time. It was the laugh of someone who had seen the darkness and been consumed by it.

She saw in her mind as Kyle walked toward Quinn with the knife. She wasn’t worried.

(
Send him to me.
) Kate said in her mind, and she felt the answer hundreds of feet away. She barely needed to bother. Quinn wasn’t Quinn anymore, but her second half: the second part of the Prince of Sanheim.

Kate turned and walked steadily back down the hill.

*****

Kyle expected his knife to go cleanly into Quinn’s neck. It was considerably quicker than he would have liked to be, but he had only 40 minutes left before Halloween was technically over. This whole process was taking more time than it should have. After Quinn had disappeared into the woods, Kyle had lost his trail momentarily before he heard Quinn shouting. He really must have driven the guy crazy. He needed to finish this, find Kate, and move on.

But Quinn moved faster than Kyle thought possible. Quinn stopped the blow and held Kyle’s wrist in his hand without looking up.

When Quinn did look at him, he wished he hadn’t. Kyle looked down into a face he barely recognized. Quinn’s eyes glowed a deep red and there was nothing in them that indicated fear. Or anything at all.

Startled, Kyle tried to free his wrist, but found he could not.

“Am I scaring you?” Quinn said, and the voice wasn’t right either. It was both lower and higher than it should have been. It sounded like the voices of several people talking out of one mouth.

Kyle let the knife drop. Quinn released him and smiled.

Kyle’s mind reeled for a minute.

“What the hell is happening?” he asked.

Quinn’s smile turned into a grin.

“I thought you would have figured that out,” Quinn said, still in that strange voice. “You heard it so clearly with all your eavesdropping.”

“No,” Kyle said. “That stuff was shit. You are nuts.”

But Kyle faltered. Something had come up behind Quinn—a huge black horse whose mouth looked like it was dripping blood.

“Holy fuck,” he said out loud.

Quinn did not turn, even as the horse’s head hung over his shoulder.

“You know, I told Kate recently that our fears do not define us,” Quinn said. “I said it was what you do with your fear that matters. I was wrong. We are what we fear. Or what we fear is us.”

“This isn’t happening,” Kyle said, but he took two steps backward. “This is a trick. You dressed up that horse.”

“It’s just a ghost story, Kyle,” Quinn said. “Only this time it’s Bromm who loses.”

Kyle took another step back. He did not even pause to pick up his knife.

Quinn was changing. For him, it was as it had been in the dream—that brief moment when everything was suddenly right with the world. He was no longer afraid. He didn’t need to be. All the dark places of the world were open to him now. The horse—the horse that had only moments ago terrified him—was calling to him. Quinn knew who he was; what he was.

Before Kyle’s eyes, Quinn began to change form. His image seemed to shudder in the moonlight and transform. Kyle was forced to look away.

“This is a trick,” he said again, but even he didn’t believe it anymore.

When he looked back, Quinn no longer stood in front of him. He had been replaced by another figure, a man in a black fraying uniform. A man with no head.

“Impossible,” Kyle said under his breath.

He kept backing up and nearly tripped over his own feet.

Slowly the Headless Horseman moved to the horse and swung into the saddle. He unsheathed a sword from the scabbard at his side and held it aloft, letting the moonlight reflect off it. There was a terrible ringing in Kyle’s ears. The horse reared back as the rider swung his sword in the air.

The image stayed burned in Kyle’s mind as he turned to run. He could already hear the sound of hooves behind him.