Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles Book 2)

by Rob Blackwell

“I thought it was this way,” she said.

  Both of them looked around in desperation. Quinn heard another crash and this time he was sure the door behind them had finally collapsed. Whoever was chasing them was coming.

  “Quinn, over here!” a voice called.

  Kate and Quinn ran back into one of the rooms they had passed through to find a short man with straight black hair and brown eyes. He was standing at the far end near a room with a small staircase.

  “Janus!” both Kate and Quinn said in unison.

  They rushed toward him. Behind them, they could hear a crowd of people coming through the rooms they had left. Quinn started to hug Janus, but his deceased photographer shook his head.

  “No time for hugs and kisses, mate—get up the damn stairs!”

  He ushered Kate and Quinn through a door and slammed it behind them. Quinn watched as he lowered a heavy wooden bar across it just in time for someone to crash into it. There was a pounding on the door—the sound of dozens of hands furiously beating against it. The door held firm.

  “Damn,” Janus said. “You guys know how to party, don’t you? I didn’t get a good look, but it seemed like half of Manchester United is chasing you. What did you do to them?”

  Janus gave Quinn a cockeyed grin.

  Quinn rushed forward and hugged him.

  “Okay, okay,” Janus said, hugging him briefly before pulling back. “Let’s not get all emotional. It’ll hurt my rep.”

  “It’s just…” Quinn said, looking at him. “It’s good to see you again.”

  They were interrupted by the sound of another slam against the door. It sounded like something heavy was being used to knock it down.

  “We better go,” Janus said. “Even this won’t hold for long.”

  Shaken but unharmed, the three of them started to climb the stairs as the pounding continued behind them.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Quinn asked.

  “Is there another way they can get to us?” Kate said at the same time.

  “No, but that won’t hold them forever,” Janus said. “I’ve bought us a little time, but not much.”

  The stairs were narrow and steep. Quinn had to fight off a wave of unexpected claustrophobia and was practically out of breath.

  “Who is it?” Kate asked as they kept walking.

  “Wish I knew,” Janus said. “He doesn’t exactly keep me well-informed.”

  “Who?” Quinn asked.

  “Who do you think arranged to send me here? I am dead, after all. It’s not easy to show up again, even in dreams,” Janus said.

  Quinn was leaning on the wall as they continued to move up. Kate stopped in her tracks.

  “Sanheim,” she said. “Did he send whatever is chasing us?”

  “No,” Janus said. “I don’t pretend to fully understand it, but he’s trying to help you. At least I think he is. It’s tough to tell with him. Come on, we can’t stop. This ain’t over yet.”

  The three of them could barely talk as they continued climbing. Behind them they still heard a booming sound that echoed up the stairwell. Whoever was coming after them was not giving up.

  After what felt like forever, they arrived at the top. The doorway opened up into a large circular room. Rows of books lined the walls, except for a large door that opened onto a small stone balcony.

  “Who designed this place?” Kate asked. “It makes no sense.”

  “Welcome to dreamland, sweetheart,” Janus said. “It’s all madness and lies, filled with clues. The architecture is the least of it.”

  Janus opened the door to the balcony.

  “Over here,” he said. “They’ll be coming up the stairway soon. And they won’t be happy.”

  “How the hell can we get away from them up here?” Quinn asked.

  The balcony they stood on was small, with barely enough space for the three of them. There was a low stone railing and then a wide landscape far below them. Both Kate and Quinn gasped. He couldn’t tell exactly where they were, but he knew this was no place he had ever seen or heard of, even in a storybook.

  “Where are we?” Quinn asked.

  “Where Sanheim rules forever,” Janus said. “But it’s not important right now. You’re in grave danger.”

  “I figured that out all by myself,” Quinn replied. “What with the chasing and shouting and all.”

  “Who’s behind all this?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know,” Janus said again. “Sanheim wouldn’t tell me. All I know is this: they are hunting you.”

  “They?” Quinn asked. “You mean the crowd?”

  “It’s not the crowd that’s important, mate,” Janus said. “It’s the people calling their tune.”

  At that moment, Quinn once again heard music from far away. It was the same creepy flute that had been playing earlier. He heard a large crash from the stairwell.

  “They’re coming,” Janus said.

  “What did Sanheim tell you?” Kate asked.

  “Just that I had to save you,” he said. “He made it clear there would be ‘consequences’ if I failed. Like I needed any extra incentive to save my best friend and his girl.”

  Kate put a hand on Janus’ arm.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”

  Janus smiled sadly.

  “You tried,” he said. “At least I gave that wanker something to remember me by.”

  As they talked, the door opened and a steady stream of people began to fill the circular room. Instead of charging the balcony, however, they merely filed into the room and stood still.

  “We don’t have much time,” Janus said.

  The flute music increased in tempo. The crowd seemed to be listening intently, their vacant expressions slowly being replaced with anger and hatred. Their eyes, normal until a few minutes ago, now burned bright red.

  “Hey,” Quinn said. “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but we are trapped hundreds of feet above the ground facing a crowd that looks like it wants to tear us apart. Sanheim didn’t by chance send you with a helicopter, did he?”

  Janus shook his head, but Kate stood up on the stone railing and offered her hand to Quinn. The railing was barely the width of his shoe.

  “We might fall,” Quinn said, but he took Kate’s outstretched hand and stepped onto the railing.

  “I don’t plan to fall,” Kate said.

  The crowd remained motionless, but Quinn had the impression they might surge forward at any moment.

  “Who are they?” Kate asked. “Who’s controlling them?”

  “I’m sorry,” Janus said. “He just gives me hints and whispers.”

  “Come up here too,” Kate said.

  “No can do,” Janus replied. “I have to make sure they don’t get to you. Besides, I was never a fan of heights.”

  “What are you going to do?” Quinn asked. “Yell at them loudly? We’re really outnumbered.”

  Janus shrugged.

  “I can’t beat ‘em, but I might slow them for a second,” he replied.

  Janus stubbornly remained on the balcony floor. The music Quinn heard was getting louder. Behind them, the lone figure that had chased Quinn emerged through the door. Quinn only caught a glimpse of him behind the crowd, but he saw his red hands.

  “If you have anything else to share, now would be the time,” Kate said.

  Janus looked nervously at the crowd behind them.

  “Just this: they are hunting you—in your dreams and in reality,” he said. “They don’t know who you are, but they know you exist.”

  “What will happen if they find us?” Quinn asked.

  The music was growing steadily louder. Quinn heard the music stop and he thought he heard a low growling noise coming from the crowd. Their faces were filled with a dark purpose.

  “It’s not a question of if, mate,” Janus said. “It’s a question of when. Don’t make it easier for them to find you, okay? When they do come, they will have a siren song—don’
t listen to it. Don’t trust them. Listen to me: don’t trust any of them. Sanheim doesn’t think I know this, but it’s not just the two….”

  The figure behind the crowd held out his arm and pointed at Quinn and Kate. On cue, the crowd suddenly moved forward as one toward the balcony. Janus didn’t hesitate, but rushed to meet them. Quinn watched as he tried to hold them back.

  “Janus!” Quinn shouted.

  He watched Janus struggle against them. He turned and looked back at Quinn.

  “Go!” he screamed.

  Janus was swallowed up in the crowd. Quinn’s last view of him was of throwing frantic punches as he disappeared under them. The crowd kept coming.

  Just as the mob was about to reach them—and Quinn was sure they would rip the two of them apart—Kate grabbed his hand.

  “You trust me?” she asked him and he looked into her eyes.

  His answer was instant and unequivocal.

  “With my life,” he said.

  The crowd reached the railing and Quinn felt a hundred hands starting to grab his legs and pull him back.

  “Then jump,” Kate said.

  They didn’t hesitate. They jumped off the balcony and plunged into the darkness below.

  *****

  Quinn and Kate woke with a start. He looked at the clock, which showed it was only 5:13 in the morning.

  “Jesus,” he said.

  “That was fun,” Kate said, and it took Quinn a moment to realize she was kidding.

  He sat up in bed and looked down at her.

  Sometimes—hell, usually—he couldn’t believe he was actually with a woman like this. Or that she loved him back so completely. Unlike other couples, he knew with absolute certainty what she felt for him. They had been inside each other’s thoughts and memories, sharing a consciousness. It had been an amazing experience, one that changed both of them in ways they had yet to fully understand. But when it was over—and it ended last November 1 as suddenly as it had started—it left them feeling emptier.

  Quinn wished he could hear her thoughts now. He could ask, but talking was so… limiting. You can’t really describe a feeling, no matter how much you try. When they were the Prince of Sanheim, it had been easy just to share the emotion.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “A warning,” she replied.

  “From Sanheim?” he asked.

  Kate nodded. They didn’t know exactly who Sanheim was. In Quinn’s dreams six months ago, he was a mysterious figure who urged Quinn to become the Prince of Sanheim. Although Quinn and Kate knew he must have an agenda, they were unclear exactly what it was. Since that October, however, Quinn and Kate had never dreamt of him again.

  Quinn got up and headed into the bathroom, nearly bumping into the bed as he did so. He still wasn’t used to the new apartment they had moved into two months ago.

  He turned on the light and began washing his face. Kate followed him in.

  “You’re upset,” she said.

  Quinn looked at her image in the mirror.

  “You saw how the crowd attacked Janus,” Quinn said. “It was hard enough to watch him die once. That was like losing him all over again. What if that was a real place? What if that wasn’t just a dream? What did they do to him?”

  “You heard him: Sanheim gave him a mission—and Janus completed it,” she said. “My guess is Sanheim won’t want him harmed.”

  “Maybe, but it raises another problem,” Quinn asked. “Clearly, Sanheim is using Janus to get to me.”

  “Yes,” she said. “But that’s another good reason that he’ll keep Janus safe. It’s the best leverage he has against you. Don’t forget he used my mother last year. He’s the Celtic God of the Dead—I guess he can use anyone who has died.”

  “And this is a guy who is supposed to be our ally,” Quinn said. “He wanted us to become the Prince of Sanheim, remember? He kept urging me on. Why? What game is he playing?”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said. “But he clearly knows how to punch our buttons—and wants us to recognize that. But he’s not the real problem here. Janus mentioned that ‘they’ were hunting us. That’s not Sanheim. We can worry about what he’s up to later—we have to focus on the more immediate threat.”

  Quinn turned around to face her.

  “Why does it feel like we’re always being hunted?” Quinn asked. “First Lord Halloween and now this…”

  “Well, look at what happened to the last person who came after us, Quinn,” Kate said and smiled. She was still beautiful, but the smile was without warmth. It seemed downright chilly. “And we are a lot less defenseless now than we were then.”

  They walked out of the bathroom and sat back on the bed.

  “So you aren’t worried?” he asked.

  “Of course I’m worried,” she responded. “But I’m just saying it’s different this time. I’m not going to lose my cool over some dream…”

  There was a soft thump at the apartment’s front door. Both of them jumped slightly when they heard it before recognizing the sound: the morning paper delivery.

  “I’ll get it,” Quinn said.

  He padded over to the door still thinking about the dream. Who was coming for them, he wondered. And what did Janus mean about a “siren song”?

  He opened the door and scooped up the two papers outside. He glanced briefly at the Loudoun Chronicle, knowing full well what was in it. Kate and Quinn had left the paper late last night after the first editions were printed.

  Instead, he browsed The Washington Post to see if there was any news he needed to worry about. Nine times out of ten, it had to do with politics or some scandal. But Quinn only cared if the story was set in Loudoun County. Usually he had to flip through the paper pretty far before he got to those articles—Loudoun wasn’t exactly a hotbed of news lately—but not today.

  Today he saw it as soon as he opened the paper. Quinn’s mouth hung open in shock. Of all the stories he had expected, this wasn’t it. He kept reading the headline over and over to make sure he was seeing it right.

  “Quinn?” Kate called. “Are you all right?”

  He walked back into the bedroom and stood staring at her.

  “What?” she said. “What happened?”

  “Forget Sanheim,” he said. “We have a bigger problem.”

  He held the paper out for her and watched in silence as she read it.

  When Kate looked up, she looked angry.

  “I swear to God,” she said, “I’m going to kill her.”

  It took only a few minutes for them to shower, get their clothes on and get out the door. They left the apartment seething.

  Chapter 2

  April 3, 2007

  It was just past 6 a.m. when they arrived at the Loudoun Chronicle office. Quinn wasn’t sure what good they could do by arriving this early, but didn’t know what alternative they had. The Washington Post had just effectively declared war on their little paper, and this was their headquarters. They would just have to wait until others arrived.

  But both he and Kate were surprised when they walked in the door. Instead of a dark, empty building, the lights were on in the editorial section. Rebecca was even sitting at her desk. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw them.

  “What’s wrong?” she said immediately.

  “Have you seen the Post yet?” Kate asked.

  “No,” Rebecca answered. “I’ve been focused on other issues this morning.”

  Kate tossed the paper to Rebecca and it landed soundly on her desk. The managing editor of the Loudoun Chronicle opened the Post to the front page and then issued a slow whistle.

  “Ethan’s not going to be happy about this,” Rebecca said.

  “Ethan?” Kate said. “We’re not happy about this either. Who cares about Ethan?”

  “Me, for starters,” Rebecca said. “And as he also signs your paycheck, I would think you should too. More importantly, is this true?”

  “The story?” Quinn asked.

  “You can’
t seriously be asking that question,” Kate said.

  Rebecca gave them a cold look.

  “Look, let’s get a few things straight,” she said. “I’m taking this entire situation seriously. I haven’t read the actual story, but this is going to get us a lot of attention at a… delicate time. I need to know all the facts.”

  “Just because we don’t have an editor doesn’t mean we…” Kate started.

  “I agree, Kate,” Rebecca said firmly. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to respond. What I said was it’s a delicate situation.”

  She glanced behind her toward the conference room.

  “In point of fact, it’s a good deal more fragile than you know,” she said. “Laurence’s successor is in the back room talking to Ethan right now. That’s why I’m here so early. Ethan thought it best if we had a chance to meet before the entire staff comes in.”

  Laurence had been gone for two months, after taking a job with some financial paper in downtown D.C. Ostensibly, it had been a better job opportunity. Kate knew it was more than that—Rebecca and Laurence were now officially involved and apparently had been unofficially so for at least a year. They had both concluded their relationship would be better if they no longer worked together.

  Laurence’s departure had been a shock—he had been editor for 15 years, with no signs he would ever leave. But Ethan Holden, the publisher, had seized on it as an opportunity. He wanted to pick a successor with some cachet, a nearly impossible task given the meager pay scale. In many ways, Quinn thought, Ethan lived in the distant past. Traditional print journalism was dying, replaced bit by bit by news websites and a horde of opinionated bloggers. But Ethan didn’t see it. He thought if he just picked a better editor, the paper could be saved.

  “Who is he?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know, Kate,” Rebecca said. “I only just got here before you arrived and Ethan’s had him or her holed up in a meeting ever since.”

  “Well, I hope he’s good,” Quinn said. “We’re going to need someone good today. We can’t let this stand and you know it. We have to hit her hard and fast.”

  “Her?” Rebecca asked. “Surely you meant the Post? I’d hate to think this is just a grudge against a single reporter.”