“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.
“We can’t come back here,” she said finally. He nodded and they packed quickly. Their visitor was in all likelihood gone, but how could they be sure of anything?
Five minutes later they were at the car and after Quinn first checked the trunk and back seat carefully, they climbed in. He felt like he was being watched from somewhere and knew that was probably right.
He started driving with no real direction in mind.
“Where to?” he asked when they pulled onto Route 7.
“We need to check the hotel,” she said.
“That’s not a safe place,” Quinn replied.
“I agree, but I should pick up some stuff before we hit the road.”
“And where, exactly, are we going to go?”
“For starters-Bluemont,” she said.
“You can’t be serious,” Quinn said.
Kate just stared at him, raising her eyebrows.
“Okay, apparently you can be,” Quinn said. “Even if I got the right guy, how’s that going to help?”
“It’s a lead,” she said. “And besides-we have to find Lord Halloween before he finds us, again. Wouldn’t you rather be on the offensive?”
“Couldn’t we just run?” Quinn said. “We could just take off, you know. We don’t have to stay here. He can’t follow us forever.”
“I’ve done that, remember?” Kate said. “You run now and it’ll never end.”
“That’s all well and good, but this is serious,” he said. “They say that in the movies all the time, but this is real life. Couldn’t we live with a few phantoms over our shoulders?”
She shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder.
“If you want, go ahead,” she said. “But I’m through running. I told you-there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. I’m not going to keep going like that, even if it means I’m dead. Besides, I think he is underestimating us.”
“You do?” Quinn asked. “No offense, but we got caught with our pants down back there. He walked in right under our noses.”
“But we are still here, Quinn. We are still here, aren’t we?”
“Forgive me if I don’t feel that much better,” he replied. “That seems like blind luck.”
“You are thinking of it all wrong,” she said. “He has had the advantage from the beginning. There is no surprise. He knows who I am. He knows who you are. We don’t have that luxury. We can’t follow him home. But he has given himself away too. I don’t think he came here meaning to scare us again, Quinn. I think he came ready to kill.”
“And let me get this right-this makes you feel better?”
“It does,” she said. “Because he failed. And he proved to me one thing-you aren’t helping h
im.”
“How can you be sure?” he shot back. “Maybe I went outside, forced the door open to look like a break-in, left a note, broke down your door, then put it all back up again.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
“I’m honestly not sure,” Quinn said. “So that you’ll be lulled into a false sense of security and trust me? I admit it’s a reach.”
“Yes, a bit too far,” she said. “The only reason he would do all that would be to kill me at my most vulnerable. But you’ve already seen me that way.”
“When?”
“Last night,” she said. “You could have killed me then.”
“Well, you were kinda awake,” he said.
“Not enough,” she said. “I’m sorry I blocked the door, but the other night, I couldn’t sleep at all. I kept wondering what if. What if you are working with him? What if you are him? What if…”
“I get it, I get it,” he said.
“But if last night was a test, you passed. I never heard that dresser come down and I never saw you put it back up either. We were locked in a room by ourselves-so much so that he must have thought he could not get through without waking both of us up. I don’t think this guy plays the kind of psychological game where he pretends to be my boyfriend and then murders me. I think if he had the chance to kill me-just one chance-he would have taken it.”
“Why? He seems to enjoy playing with his prey.”
“No, I think I figured out what he wants,” she said.
“Which is?”
“He wants a story,” Kate said.
“He is a story,” Quinn said. “He is all anybody talks about.”
“But talk is the right word,” she replied. “So far nobody has put his nickname in the paper. People might be talking, but there is no real mention of him.”
“He will get it soon enough.”
“I agree and I think he knows that too,” she said. “But I think he wants the story to be about us.”
“You and me?”
“Me and him,” she said. “I think he would have killed us last night and left a note about who I was. That would have been a two-for-one-it would have proved to the police he is Lord Halloween and it would have splashed the story right on the front page with his name on it. It also would have been a sad story, with pictures of me and my mother and interviews with my dad. And details about how I concealed my identity.”
A Soul To Steal Page 23