Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles Book 2)

by Rob Blackwell

  Quinn didn’t hesitate. Some people were applauding now, as if this had all been some kind of show. But he strode to where the Horseman lay, his sword out. If this was the other Prince of Sanheim, this was Quinn’s chance. As he stood above the Horseman, Quinn took the pommel of his sword with both hands and brought it high in the air. He prepared to use all his fury to bring the weapon down through the Horseman’s chest.

  STOP, QUINN! A voice said in his head and Quinn hesitated.

  He held the sword above the Horseman and struggled with his own instincts. Whoever this was, Quinn wanted him dead. How dare he impersonate the Headless Horseman? How dare he come to his town, his home, and terrorize people? Quinn didn’t care who it was, he deserved to die for this trespass.

  Kate ran up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Put the sword down, Quinn,” she said quietly. “Right now, you’re the good guy. But if you bring that down, that will change. Quickly.”

  “This is our chance, Kate,” he said. “This is the other Prince of Sanheim.”

  “No, Quinn,” she said. “It’s not.”

  She bent down then and pulled at the Horseman’s outfit. The entire upper body came off—it was nothing more than shoulder pads and a mounting of a thin black veil to cover the rider’s actual head. Below him, on the ground, lay a teenage boy.

  “I’m sorry,” the kid said. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  Quinn still held the sword above him. For a moment, he was tempted to bring it down anyway. The part of his brain which was the Headless Horseman would have found satisfaction in the move. Instead, Quinn dropped the sword to his side. He leaned down.

  “Who hired you?” Quinn asked quietly. “Who told you to do this?”

  The kid opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes shifted away from Quinn, to someone behind him.

  “Him,” the teenager said, pointing beyond Quinn. “He hired me.”

  Quinn whirled around to find a man of roughly his own age and build standing behind him. He had brown hair, but electric blue eyes—not unlike Quinn’s own.

  The man stuck out his hand.

  “Come with me if you want to live,” was all he said.

  Quinn just stared at him for a moment.

  “Did you just quote from The Terminator?” he asked.

  The man’s face changed from one of total seriousness to something resembling joy.

  “Finally!” he said. “I was beginning to think nobody watched movies anymore.”

  The man took his hand and shook it vigorously.

  “The name’s Kieran,” he said. “And we have a lot to talk about…elsewhere.”

  Behind Kieran, another figure had walked up. Quinn recognized her immediately: Elyssa, the “reporter” from the Guardian. She was smiling in a way that both Quinn and Kate found disturbing.

  “I should have known it was you,” she said. “Shall we take this discussion somewhere else?”

  Quinn spared one more glance at the teenager, who was now getting to his feet. Firefighters who had been showing off their truck to kids at the fair had arrived and were holding him. Quinn guessed it was only a matter of time before the police showed up—and he didn’t particularly want to be around when they did.

  Let’s go, Kate said in his head, echoing his own thoughts.

  The four of them quickly walked away, disappearing into the crowd, which still appeared stunned by the entire episode.

  Only one person paid any attention as they went.

  Summer Mandaville couldn’t believe what she had seen. She had watched the entire altercation unfold in what felt like slow motion. How could these people not know what they had just witnessed? Summer checked her camera to see if she had succeeded in taking some shots of the showdown between Quinn and the Horseman and was relieved to find some in focus.

  One minute she was yelling at Quinn, and now… She had just been handed the story of her career, the story that was going to guarantee her a spot full-time at The Washington Post, not its quiet spin-off, The Loudoun Extra.

  She could tell that the crowd had no idea of the significance of what had occurred. But Summer did. She had the answer to what everyone had been wondering about for the past six months.

  She knew who the Prince of Sanheim was.

  Part III

  “The battle is won.

  Edward Roahen has fallen by my hand. He arrived resplendent, so certain of his victory. When his cennad flew in, his wings flattened treetops across Mull. When he landed, it shook the earth and caused the foundation of Roahen’s manor to fall.

  But he was already finished. He knew nothing about me and I knew everything about him.

  They say when he died, his scream could be heard across Scotland. I heard that the monks on nearby Iona island believed it was a sign of the end of the world. They spent the next several days praying to God for mercy.

  Their eyes are looking in the wrong direction.

  With Edward finished, I am 10 times more powerful than before. All I need is more moidin at my side and within a few years, I will be unstoppable. I shall invade Sanheim’s world—and take it from him.

  While he sees much, he won’t see me coming. The Spider waited more than a century to attack and the others who have tried—and failed—have taken too much time. They’ve allowed Sanheim to prepare and learn their inner secrets.

  But I will be ready far sooner. The plans are already in motion. Horace is helping me prepare. When I depart, I will leave him behind with instructions on how to share what I have learned.

  Everything in my life has built to this moment. My past has defined and shaped me into the great weapon that I am.

  Soon the Prince of Sanheim will rise to his rightful throne.”

  —Robert Crowley, 1871

  Chapter 18

  No one spoke until they were in the car.

  Kieran was practically sprawled on the seat facing them, his legs spread apart as he casually sipped a Coke he had pulled from the limousine’s tiny fridge. Elyssa, meanwhile, sat straight up, eyeing Kate and Quinn closely as if she worried they would suddenly bolt from the vehicle.

  “Nice ride, right?” Kieran said first.

  He gestured at the Coke and looked at Kate and Quinn.

  “Want one?” he asked. “Seriously, this car is stocked. We have every different kind of Coke product you could want. Not sure why they hate Pepsi, maybe it’s a southern thing.”

  Kate shook her head, but Quinn decided to play along.

  “Sure,” he said. “The original, if you don’t mind.”

  Kieran eagerly dug into the mini-fridge again and nearly threw a bottle right at Quinn, who caught it with the same ease he demonstrated the other day while juggling.

  “Fast reflexes,” Kieran said. He leaned back in the chair again, apparently totally relaxed.

  “How did you know you would need the limo?” Quinn asked.

  “That’s your first question?” Kieran said. “Really? You want to ask me about the car?”

  Quinn didn’t respond. He waited. Kieran reminded him of someone, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on whom. Still, he knew the type well enough. The kind who enjoyed listening to himself talk.

  “Okay,” Kieran said. “Fine by me if you want to talk about the car. I hired a service. I didn’t know you would be there, of course, but the possibility had occurred to me. Besides, Elyssa always likes arriving in style.”

  Kieran gestured his Coke in her direction, as if he were toasting her. She nodded demurely, but the look she shot Kieran was almost hostile, Quinn thought.

  He’s not the Prince of Sanheim, Kate thought.

  What makes you so sure? Quinn replied.

  I can sense the power off her, Kate said. Funny, I should have sensed it the other day when she interviewed you.

  Maybe it’s proximity, Quinn replied. You saw her through me and I don’t sense anything.

  “Now, now, you’re being rude,” Kieran said. “Please no thinki
ng to each other while there are others present.”

  “We’re just trying to figure out who you are,” Kate said.

  “Here’s an idea—try asking,” Kieran replied, sounding amiable but still slightly put off.

  “Who are you?” Kate asked.

  “I’m Kieran and this is Elyssa,” Kieran said. “I thought we went over that one.”

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “To the see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Kieran said.

  Again, Kate caught Elyssa giving Kieran a distinctly dirty look.

  “I’m not sure he’s so wonderful,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, and we don’t have a Yellow Brick Road either,” Kieran said. “Strangely, we do sometimes have lions and tigers and bears—oh my!”

  Kate kept her eyes on Elyssa, whose expression had changed from not amused to hateful.

  “That’s enough,” she said, and it came out in a hiss.

  If Kieran was perturbed, he didn’t show it. He flashed her a thumbs up—Kate had never seen a hand gesture look so blatantly sarcastic before—took another swig of his Coke and looked out the window.

  “All your questions will be answered soon,” he said.

  “Why did you come to see me at the Chronicle?” Quinn asked Elyssa.

  She shifted uncomfortably in the chair and tugged unconsciously at her dress. Kate had already noticed Elyssa’s attire, which seemed more appropriate for a cocktail party than a local fair.

  “We had identified candidates who were possible Princes of Sanheim,” she replied. “You were on the list.”

  “And you crossed me off it, didn’t you?” Quinn said.

  It was Kieran who started laughing.

  “He’s going to love that,” he said.

  “Who’s ‘he’?” Kate asked.

  Elyssa ignored both Kieran and Kate.

  “Yes, I crossed you off,” she said, and leaned toward Quinn, giving him a view of her ample bosom. “I found your speech on Lord Halloween very convincing. What did you say? ‘Whoever killed Lord Halloween should be brought to justice. They don’t have a right to go around scaring people, feeding on fear, and certainly not deciding who should live or die.’ It was a bravura performance, Quinn.”

  “He meant every word,” Kate said.

  “You would know, my dear,” Elyssa shot back. “But a few minutes ago, I watched your boyfriend nearly gut a boy in the street. And for what? Dressing up as a fictional character from some old story? Kieran insisted I watch the cartoon they made out of it. It was… quaint.”

  “Yeah, and your horse was really scary,” Kate replied.

  Kieran guffawed at that, obviously enjoying the repartee. Kate had the distinct impression he was rooting for her and not Elyssa.

  This just keeps getting more interesting, she thought to Quinn.

  “You hired the kid to dress up as the Headless Horseman,” Quinn said to him.

  “It seemed like the best way to catch you out in the open where you could be easily identified,” Kieran responded.

  “People could have been hurt,” Quinn said.

  “Well, that was the idea,” Kieran said. “We needed to get your attention. Having the Headless Horseman show up seemed like the right approach.”

  “Why did you bother attacking the banker and the woman in Leesburg?” Quinn asked.

  “Well, some thought it would be best to catch you as the Prince of Sanheim,” Kieran said, looking at Elyssa. “The theory was that you would be beaten easily and brought back then. You proved more… formidable than expected.”

  “Shut up, Kieran!” Elyssa said.

  “What?” Kieran replied in mock surprise. “It’s a legitimate question. Here you’ve been actually killing people to find them, when we could have spared ourselves the trouble. All it took was someone impersonating your cennad. That and threatening a horde of innocent people, I suppose. It was a brilliant plan. Wish it was mine, but you can’t win everything.”

  Elyssa rolled her eyes and stared out the window.

  Quinn looked out to see them turn off Route 15 onto a long gravel driveway. They had been driving south, but Quinn wasn’t sure how far they’d gone. They were in plantation country now. There were still farms, but this area was dotted with both old and relatively new plantation-style houses. Some historic ones were rented out for parties; others were weekend homes for the exceptionally rich. Most could not be seen from the road.

  They drove for what felt like a couple of miles as the car’s occupants fell into an uneasy silence. When Quinn finally saw the house, he let out an involuntary gasp.

  He had expected to find a big, fancy home, maybe even one of the older, grander types that could still be bought in Loudoun County. What he had not expected, however, was something closer to a castle than a house.

  The building was made out of dark stone and stood two stories high. It wasn’t expansive, but it was impressive. There were windows everywhere, many with stained glass. It looked like something that could have been built in England in the 15th century.

  “Cool, isn’t it?” Kieran asked.

  Quinn nodded, but it wasn’t the size or style that surprised him. It was that the building was so familiar.

  My dream, Quinn thought to Kate. This is where we were in the dream with Janus.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kieran went on, oblivious to Kate and Quinn’s mental dialogue. “But we didn’t build it. Can you believe this was already here? Some retired stockbroker built it 10 years ago. Let’s just say when Elyssa found it, she had to have it. She was very persuasive in helping to facilitate the sale.”

  Everything in Quinn wanted to turn around and go. He remembered only the faint outlines of the dream, but he recalled enough: the red eyes and the crowd surging forward to tear Kate and him apart.

  When he looked at the main doorway, it looked less like an entrance and more like a mouth that would swallow them whole.

  *****

  Kate and Quinn were ushered into a throne room.

  That might not have been the room’s original purpose, but that was clearly what it was now. Two ornate chairs stood at the front. Not exactly thrones fit for a king and queen, but not far off either. As they walked forward, Kate noticed the chair on the left had flames carved into it, while the one on the right had various animals in the woodwork.

  They had expected to be alone, but instead there were dozens of people milling around. There was a whispering buzz of conversation around them and once again, Quinn thought of the dream, in which the crowd had moved as one. These people weren’t doing that—not yet, anyway—but he still found their presence disturbing. He counted more than 40, most of them women and all of them excitedly looking at Kate and him.

  When they got to the front of the room, Elyssa passed them by and sat on the chair with the animals carved into it. Kieran, meanwhile, stood off to the side, as if playing the role of chief advisor in a royal court. Which, Quinn supposed, was the right role for him.

  Only once everyone was in place did the doors at the back open, and a tall man came forward. He looked young and old at the same time. His physique was that of a man in his 30s, but his eyes—Quinn thought his eyes belonged to a man of 70 or more. His short beard gave him an air of menace. He didn’t so much walk into the room as stride in as if he owned the place—and everyone in it.

  He sat on the chair decorated by flames. The chattering and nervous buzz of conversation that had permeated the room vanished entirely. Quinn had a sudden urge to make a loud noise—the silence seemed suddenly deafening.

  “Welcome, my friends,” the man said. “My name is Sawyer. I know you have already met my consort, Elyssa. I’m so pleased to finally have the chance to meet you.”

  Sawyer waited and it took Quinn a minute to catch on to what he was supposed to do. He felt like he was in an actor’s nightmare—abruptly cast into a play in which he didn’t know his lines.

  “Uh,” he started. “I’m Quinn O’Brion and
this is Kate Tassel.”

  “Like the ‘Legend of Sleepy Hollow’?” Sawyer asked. “I confess I had not read the story until I saw your cennad, but I was quite taken with it. And so interesting to see how life imitates art.”

  Quinn was tempted to explain that Kate had changed her name when she returned to Leesburg last year, unconsciously using the same last name as the fictional Katrina Van Tassel, but decided to drop it instead.

  “I seem to be at a disadvantage,” Quinn replied, trying to sound like a diplomat. “You know my cennad, but I don’t know yours.”

  “Interesting that you know I have one at all,” Sawyer replied. He was smiling, but there was only a trace of amusement in it. His eyes glanced briefly at Kieran, who shook his head.

  Quinn had wondered if Sawyer had been behind the graffiti that helped them to translate Crowley’s book, but that now seemed unlikely. The man was clearly surprised Quinn knew anything at all about them.

  “You are a Prince of Sanheim, are you not?” Quinn said.

  “Well, that’s the rub, I’m afraid,” Sawyer said. “Both you and I can legitimately claim that title. But only one of us can ever truly own it.”

  “You came here to fight me,” Quinn said. It was not a question. “To kill us.”

  “No, no,” Sawyer replied, and he stood up from his chair. “You mistake me.”

  “You’ve killed people here already,” Kate said.

  Sawyer glanced at her, but continued talking directly to Quinn.

  “I’ve done what’s necessary to get your attention,” Sawyer responded. “But that’s all. I’ll battle you both if I must, but that’s not my intention. Surely you must realize that by now.”

  “When you attacked us the other night, it was a little hard to tell,” Quinn said.

  Sawyer spread his hands out and appeared wounded.

  “I’m sorry, did I attack you?” he said. “I believe it was you that crashed into me, Quinn.”