A Soul To Steal (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book One) (26 page)

“Well, I guess most of us are against it,” he said. “I mean, it’s historical land, isn’t it? That fantastic dirt road, you know? George Washington used it. And they keep that covered bridge in great condition. Well, the Phillips used to at any rate. It’s a little worse for wear now.”

“Right.” But Quinn didn’t have any idea what he was talking about. The feeling in his stomach had gotten worse. He felt queasy and the sense of being watched was stronger.

“You know the one, right?” Comizio asked. “People still use it occasionally to get out to Waterford, especially during the craft fair like the one last week. You have to go slow, of course, but people still use it.”

Quinn now remembered the bridge, but couldn’t remember taking it. He also couldn’t remember the last time he was in Waterford.

“Right,” he said.

“We’re almost there,” Comizio said again, as they walked up a short hill.

“I’m bloody out of shape,” Janus said finally. “I mean, I’m doing okay. I’m pretty sure Bill would have keeled over already. But still…”

“I started hearing it about a week ago,” Comizio said as they came to a clearing. There was a small, narrow field in front of them.

“Hearing what?” Quinn asked.

“Horses,” Comizio said quietly.

Quinn’s heart skipped a beat.

“Multiple horses?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Comizio said. “Believe it or not, you can hear a lot from the house. But the first night I thought I was dreaming.”

“What did you hear?” Quinn asked. He felt like he had to concentrate just to get the words out. Now he knew why he felt so terrible. The field, the woods, everything had a familiar feeling. In his head, he turned over Comizio’s words again. The road. The bridge. He felt like he wanted to run.

“It would be in the middle of the night,” he said. “I mean—it’s impossible to ride at that speed in the dark, especially through here, you know?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said.

“So I thought I was just imagining it,” Comizio continued. “It was the same thing every night. I would hear it at one o’clock one night, then two hours later. It was a little freaky.”

“I bet,” Janus said.

“I’m sorry again, guys,” Comizio said and looked down at his shoes. “This probably has nothing to do with what you are working on.”

“Why did you think it did?” Quinn asked.

“Because I thought I was crazy, right?” Comizio said. “Then I came down here and started seeing stuff, too.”

Comizio walked forward a bit and pointed at a patch of mud near the edge of the field. Quinn did not even have to look. There were hoof prints in the mud.

“That was the first thing,” Comizio said. “Then it was other stuff.”

“What other stuff?” Janus asked.

Quinn could not move. He felt his heart pounding. He wanted very much to run or stay immobile. He could not decide.

Comizio and Janus appeared not to notice.

“Look up here,” Comizio said. He and Janus walked over to some trees near the edge of the field. Quinn couldn’t hear them anymore.

“You coming, Quinn?” Janus called back, but without looking.

Quinn did not know how he could. I won’t be able to take it, he thought. Last night a very real killer had been in the same room with him. He might be watching him even now. And now this guy was seeing Quinn’s phantom. Something that should not be real. I can’t take both of these things, Quinn thought. I’ll lose my mind.

“Quinn?” Janus called.

With tremendous effort, Quinn moved forward. He walked stiffly across the distance and could feel his legs wanting to break into a run.

“What?” he asked. His voice came out as a whisper.

Janus looked at him for a minute.

“What?” Quinn asked again.

“Cuts in the tree,” Janus said. “Look at the limbs on the right side.”

Quinn looked down the right side of the field. Branches hanging over the right side were broken, as if something rode through them.

“Someone has been riding up and down the field,” Janus said. “Apparently in the middle of the night. And look at this.”

Janus pointed to the tree in front of them. There were a series of cuts on it. Quinn knew what kind of instrument had done the cutting: a sword. The Horseman had been here.

“I think it forms a word,” Comizio finally said.

“Really?” Janus asked. He looked at the tree harder. “Is that an S?”

Comizio nodded.

“It took me a bit,” he said. “But I figured it out. Or at least I think I did.”

Before he could say it, Quinn knew what the word was. He did not know how or why.

“Sanheim,” Quinn said.

Comizio turned in surprise.

“Yeah,” he said. “But it took me a couple of days to figure that out. You have to step back. How did you even see it?”

“Sanheim?” Janus asked. “That’s just another word for Halloween.”

“What?” Quinn asked, suddenly turning to Janus.

“He’s right,” said Comizio. “I looked it up on the Net. It’s similar to the spelling of the Celtic word for Halloween. He was the God of Halloween, I think. All these Christian groups are going on about how Halloween is a pagan festival and stuff. They keep using his name. That’s why I thought you guys would want to see it. Because of that killer. I’ve only lived here six years, but I’ve heard the stories. Lord Halloween, right? Isn’t that his name? It wasn’t in the paper, but I thought…”

“That’s his name,” Quinn said. He stared at the word on the tree. It should mean something to him, but it didn’t. Or it did, but he couldn’t remember it. It was like having something on the tip of your tongue, but not being able to say it. He knew the word, but why? Was it in his dream too? Everything else about this place was so familiar.

“Right,” Comizio said. “So I thought this was the God of Halloween, right? The killer calls himself Lord Halloween? It can’t be a coincidence, right? Maybe the killer has been out here, riding around. I know I must sound pretty stupid.”

“Well, it is weird,” Janus said.

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Quinn said.

“I’m glad to hear you say it,” Comizio said. “Should I call the police? I mean, I didn’t want to if it was a waste of time. I know those guys are busy.”

“You might want to,” Quinn said. “They might not get it, but it can’t be a coincidence. I talked to someone else who thought they saw a horseman late at night, too.”

“Really? Oh, thank God, I thought I was going crazy.” Comizio was visibly relieved. “I thought maybe you guys would laugh at me. It’s just… this place feels weird, you know? I just wanted to tell someone…”

Quinn stared at the word in the tree. The hunt for Lord Halloween had pushed a lot of what Dee said out of his mind. He had been focusing on something real. But this was something different, he could just feel it.

“Are you okay?” Comizio asked. “I mean, you don’t look great.”

“I’m fine,” Quinn said. “Janus, why don’t you take some photos? See if you can get the word in it.”

“Right,” Janus said. “I actually forgot.”

“So you think I should call the police then?” Comizio asked. “To be honest, you are kinda weirding me out, too, you know? You keep staring at that thing.”

Quinn wrenched his attention away for a moment.

“It’s just unusual,” he said. “Yes, you should call the police. And one other thing.”

Quinn looked around him. He still felt watched and he felt that every minute pretending to be okay was a tremendous effort.

“What?” Comizio asked.

“Move,” Quinn said. “Pack a suitcase, take your stuff and get the hell out of here.”

Comizio stared at him for a moment.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I mean, it is weird, but I’m okay at handling myself.”

“Not at handling this,” Quinn said. “If it is Lord Halloween, no one tangles with him and lives. And it could be something different but I don’t think you want to find out. Because if it is, I think that would be just as bad. Honestly, I think it could be worse.”

Chapter 17

“
When they found me, I was unconscious. At first they believed I had something to do with it. As if I alone could harm 100 people or make them vanish into thin air. I knew the truth, I told it to them. But they would not believe. They still scour the countryside for those that can never be found. I have been left behind as an emissary. The Prince of Sanheim has come. His time is at hand
.”

—Horace Camden, “The Prince of Sanheim”

Saturday, Oct. 21

Quinn stared at the clock. If he had fallen asleep at all, in his dreams he had still seen the clock. But he wasn’t sure he had actually fallen asleep. It was too risky. He could not afford to dream about the Horseman anymore.

He and Kate had barely spoken in the evening. She was still sleeping in his bedroom and he was out on the sofa again. There was an unspoken assumption that his place was somehow safer. Quinn wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just that his place was better stocked with food.

But he and Kate didn’t feel like partners anymore. She seemed angry again last night and Quinn was reasonably sure she had barricaded her door before she went to sleep. So either she still didn’t trust Quinn or she didn’t care if the killer got him first.

He was not sure he blamed her. After going to Comizio’s house, nothing seemed real anymore. He felt like he had gone crazy—like this is what it felt like. He didn’t tell Kate. She had hardly been in a talking mood, for starters, but mostly he just could not bring himself to. What was he supposed to say? She had a real problem—a madman with a penchant for carving his victims was after her.

And what was his problem? A phantom Horseman from a fictional story? One that has lived in his dreams for years and now appeared to be hounding the citizens of Loudoun and stopping off for a little tree graffiti? If he was trying to convince Kate he could be trusted, somehow he didn’t think that story was the place to start.

But what was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to run and nothing he could say to anyone. Janus had tried to talk as they walked back from Comizio’s place, but Quinn could not bring himself to say any of this out loud. It was too nuts.

Quinn’s reverie was interrupted by screaming. Acting without thinking, he was out of the sofa bed and ran toward where Kate was sleeping.

He collided with the bedroom door with a thud. He started pushing on it as hard as he could and then backed up to launch himself at the door. It worked well enough and Quinn thought wryly that it was not much protection against any real intruder.

His dresser had been placed behind the door and had now tipped over. He got his door open just far enough and then squeezed his way through.

The screaming kept coming. Quinn could hardly see. He tried to flip on his light to see what was happening, but missed the switch. He didn’t pause, but kept running to the bed. Other than Kate, though, there was no one there.

She was screaming in her sleep. He grabbed her arm and her eyes flew open, but she kept screaming for a moment. And then she stopped suddenly.

“Kate,” he said, as gently as he could. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond, but just stared at him for what felt like several minutes. She looked like a person in shock.

Quinn instinctively moved closer to her and put his arm around her in a kind of half hug.

“It was a dream,” he said. “It was just a dream.”

Her eyes followed him carefully, watching him as if he were about to do something suddenly.

“It’s okay,” he said, and tried to smile. “It’s okay. You were screaming in your sleep. I came in to wake you up.”

Her eyes drifted to the door. Enough light was peaking through the doorway that Quinn could now see his dresser on the floor. It flashed through his mind that he was glad he had gotten the furniture for free from an old friend. Otherwise he might have been sorry to see it so abused.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and sat up looking at her.

“Yes,” she said finally, with what seemed like a tremendous effort.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked.

She shifted her eyes away from him and back to the door.

“The door is open,” she said. She sounded like a robot.

He looked back that way.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I had to break in because you were screaming in your sleep.”

“Oh,” she replied, still with a strange monotone quality.

And suddenly it clicked.

“You’re still sleeping, aren’t you?” he asked. He had heard someone talking about this once. Some people could carry on entire conversations in their sleep. It explained why she had that strange tone of voice and it took so long for her to answer.

She didn’t respond.

“Okay,” he said. “I want you to put your head back down on the pillow and close your eyes. Okay?”

She seemed not to hear him.

“Kate?” he asked. “You need to go back to sleep. You need to get rest.”

“You should shut the door,” she said.

“I promise I will when you go back to sleep,” he said and ran his hand through her hair in the hopes of calming her down.

“You should shut the door now,” Kate said again, still in the eerie voice. “My mom says he is coming.”

The hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck stood up. Suddenly the room felt colder and he looked at the door too.

“She told you that just now?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “She said he has been watching us.”

“When will he come?”

“My mom says soon,” Kate said. “You should shut the door.”

“I will, Kate,” he said. “I’m going to go back over there and shut the door on my way outside. I’ll be outside and I won’t let anyone through. If you need anything, just shout… again.”

“No,” she said simply. “Stay here. You should stay here in case he gets in.”

Quinn paused for a moment. He was freaked out now, too, and somehow being in a smaller place with only one small window seemed safer.

“Okay, Kate,” he replied. “I’ll shut the door and I’ll be right over there.”

He pointed at the computer chair. He got up and shut the door, then wrestled for a minute with the dresser to right it again in front of the door. He was not taking any chances. It took a minute for his eyes to get used to the dark, but when he looked back at Kate, her eyes were closed. She was sleeping again.

Quinn sat down in the chair and waited.

*****

“How did you get in here?” a voice asked.

Quinn woke up with a start. He felt disoriented and it took him a while to figure out what was going on. He was in his room and he realized that somehow he had fallen asleep.

“What?” he said groggily.

Quinn looked around. Kate was sitting up in bed (his bed) and looking at him.

“How did you get in here?” she asked again. She was looking at the door, which still had the dresser propped up against it. “I never heard you get past that. The noise should have woken me up.”

It took Quinn a moment to remember everything. He was surprised he had fallen asleep. One moment he had been waiting for something to happen and then… nothing. And he appeared to have slept pretty deeply too. He wiped some drool off the edge of his mouth.

“You were screaming,” he said. “You started screaming and I busted down the door enough for me to get in.”

“I don’t remember that,” Kate said. Her tone sounded accusatory.

“Well, that’s not my fault, is it?” he snapped back at her. She had acted like this all the previous evening—cold and distant. On the one hand, they were together and supposed to be partners in this mess. But he felt like he was just dead weight in her eyes. He was simply an obstacle the killer would have to mow down before he got to the real show.

“I didn’t…” Kate said and stopped. She took a deep breath. “I just meant, what happened? Why was I screaming?”

“I’m not sure,” Quinn said. “I thought I woke you up, but you were sleep walking. Well, not walking. I guess sleep talking. You stopped screaming at any rate and we talked for a little bit.”

“What did we say?” Kate asked.

“Look, is that important?” he replied. “You had a bad dream. You kept looking at the door and telling me I needed to close it. So I said I would on my way out and you said I should stay here. So I fixed the dresser back up against the door and stayed here. I just thought it was safer that way. What is the point of one of us staying in a boarded-up room and the other one left outside it?”

“I put it there because…”

“I know why you put it there, Kate,” Quinn said. He suddenly didn’t feel like playing nice anymore. “Because either you don’t trust me and think I might kill you, or you don’t care what happens to me out there.”

“That’s not true,” she said.

“It isn’t? So if I had started shouting for help out there, how fast could you have been out there with your gun? How long do you think it would take for somebody to kill me? Jesus. If we’re supposed to be safer together, then let’s be together. But instead you want it both ways. I’m out guarding the main door, but if he makes it through there, then at least you get some time to prepare before I’m out of the way.”

“Quinn, I…”

“Look, I know you are scared,” he said. “I understand that. But I’m scared too. I know this guy is gunning for you, but do you really think he is going to stop and have tea with me when he finds us? I’m staying near you because I want to help. But between yesterday’s ‘I don’t need your help Quinn’ and physically locking me out of my own room, what the hell am I supposed to think?”

He was really angry now and knew he should drop it. She had been through a lot and it wouldn’t help if he blew up at her. But damn if he didn’t feel better.

Quinn got up and walked over to the door, taking a minute to work the dresser out of the way.

“Either trust me or don’t,” Quinn said, more quietly this time, as he opened the door. “If you can’t trust me, then take shelter somewhere else, because then I’m just one more thing to worry about.”

He walked outside. And stopped dead cold when he saw the note.

Right on the outside of the door was a small post-it note. It simply had one word on it.

“Almost.”

*****

Fifteen minutes later they had checked the apartment with her gun and satisfied themselves that there was no one else there. The front door had clearly been forced from the outside. If Quinn thought he would have satisfaction from finally having proof that he wasn’t involved, he didn’t feel it. Instead, he concentrated on the fact that if not for Kate’s nightmare, he could have been dead. Likely would have been.

Of course, he had been awake in the living room. Maybe he would have been awake when the guy came through the door. But he didn’t feel like it. He felt that somehow the guy must have known when he was sleeping. Even after checking every nook and cranny of the apartment, he did not feel safe. Would the guy hit them on the way out the door? Would he be waiting in Quinn’s car?

Kate, for her part, appeared better than she had been for several days. She checked the apartment with a strange calm that Quinn was grateful for, since he was definitely lacking it. For the only time he could remember, Quinn was glad he had few rooms—and fewer places to hide.