A Soul To Steal

by Rob Blackwell

  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 He had been replaced by another figure, a man in a black fraying uniform.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.

  The Headless Horseman was riding again.

  “Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this,” Kyle said, fleeing down the hill he had tracked Quinn up just a few minutes before. He nearly lost his footing three times, but stayed moving. He ran through the trees with all of his might, pushing branches out of his way.

  He didn’t know what was going on or what had happened. One minute Quinn was kneeling on the ground, just Quinn. The next? He didn’t know. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be.

  He arrived at the bottom of the hill and looked back. In the moonlight at the top of the hill, he could see the Headless Horseman. Kyle heard a deep laugh that felt like it rippled across the landscape.

  For the first time, it occurred to Kyle that he might die. He took off running again, hearing the crash of trees as the Horseman began to descend the hill.

  Kyle ignored the bridge, running to where he had parked his car earlier in the evening. If he could make it there…

  The laugh followed him and seemed to echo everywhere. But Kyle never stopped running.

  He raced down the road and looked behind him. The Horseman came down the hill at a full gallop, his sword slicing through branches along the way.

  Kyle saw his car ahead and frantically tried to pull his keys from his pocket. But he had trouble grabbing them and he felt terribly slow.

  He could hear the Horseman gaining on him with every step.

  I’m not going to make it, he thought.

  Kyle wrestled the keys from his pocket and signaled to unlock the car door.

  As the Horseman closed the distance between them, Kyle threw open the driver’s side door and jumped inside. He started the car and threw it into reverse, pushing it as fast as he could.

  The Horseman was almost to the car.

  “Shit,” Kyle said again.

  He backed up, trying simultaneously to keep an eye on the rearview mirror so he could see behind him, and look in front to where the Horseman was gaining.

  He could not keep driving like this. If he did, he would crash into a ditch and be stuck on foot. Kyle slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel, trying to turn the car around as fast as possible.

  The Horseman kept coming and vaulted over the car. Kyle strained his neck even as he shifted into drive to try and see where it was.

  When he brought the car forward, he saw the Horseman facing him on the road.

  Kyle fought to hold down his panic. The man astride the horse looked more like a decaying corpse than a person, his rotted uniform on and a tattered cloak cast out behind him. As Kyle watched, the Horseman pointed his sword in the car’s direction.

  Figuring it was his only chance, Kyle floored the accelerator. Cars can run over horses and besides, there was no other place to go.

  The horse stood there, Kyle waiting for the inevitable collision or to see the horse move out of the way. At the last minute, the Horse jumped again, easily moving out of the car’s path.

  Kyle pressed the accelerator down and the car lurched forward faster. He would just have to pick up enough speed to outpace the thing.

  How far was it to the highway? He cursed the dirt road he was on. He needed to get real speed, but the traction was keeping the car going only 45 miles an hour.

  The Horseman appeared to be keeping up easily, gaining ground even. As Kyle watched, the Horseman disappeared from his rearview mirror to the right.

  “Shit,” Kyle said again. It was coming up alongside the car. “You aren’t real, you fuck.”

  Kyle watched in his rearview mirror as the Horseman swung his sword. The blow connected, smashing the rear windshield. Kyle felt glass shards hit him in the neck and he shut his eyes momentarily.

  The car jerked to the left. Kyle opened his eyes quickly and tried to keep it on the road. He moved his car to the right and the Horseman dropped back.

  Kyle saw with some relief that the main road was in front of him.

  He saw the Horseman fall back even further in his mirror.

  “What are you playing at?” he asked himself.

  He accelerated to Route 7 in front of him and did not even pause at the stop sign as he finally pulled his car onto a paved road. Kyle shouted in triumph and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  “Let’s see if you can keep up with this,” he said.

  He looked in the rearview mirror and saw nothing.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, but kept the car moving fast. Its speed edged up to 80 miles an hour.

  He was uncertain what his next step should be. Quinn knew who he was-if Quinn even still existed-so staying put was out of the question. He sped past houses, through stop signs and streetlights. If the cops were out here, they would just have to pull him over. He could deal with them.

  Kyle knew he had to go back to his base of operations. There was too much stuff there for someone to find. If he acted now, hopefully Quinn would seem like a lunatic. After all, the DNA test would still confirm his “death.”

  He kept his eye on the rearview mirror. Still nothing.

  He had left the Horseman in the dust.

&nb
sp; He sighed again and slowed down. It wouldn’t do to get a ticket. He should go back to base, pick up his stuff and leave town. Maybe someone would believe Quinn or maybe not. It wouldn’t matter. Kyle Thompson would disappear.

  God, but it was frustrating. He had been so close to finishing up here. And now he was just running away. He checked the clock in the car. It was 11:40 p.m.

  Just 20 more minutes and he wouldn’t have to worry about the Horseman anymore. That part he remembered from Kate’s conversation with Janus. Given what he had seen, he had no choice but to acknowledge some of that shit must be true.

  He just hoped the deadline was one part that was real.

  He pulled off on Mulberry Lane, still constantly keeping one eye out for anything behind him. At an empty post where a mailbox should have been, Kyle turned left, confident that no one had followed him.

  Go in, grab the stuff and go. Deadline or no deadline, it wasn’t worth sticking around to find out. Winding his way down the long driveway, he pulled the car up to the house and stopped.

  For once, he wished that this house had not been his choice for a base of operations. It was rundown, its steps were treacherous, and every creak of the floorboards could be heard throughout the house.

  But that was what had made it perfect. It was Charles Holober’s house, the poor schmo whom police had tapped as Lord Halloween the first time around.

  From the beginning, Kyle had known it was a perfect spot. Nobody wanted to buy the land, even in the days where everything was being plowed down to make way for new luxury townhomes. Not here. A house built in a swamp standing on rotten stilts.

  Kyle could not keep his collection items at his own house. That would have made for easy discoveries by any curious person. So Holober’s it had been. Kyle had befriended him 13 years before, a lonely schizophrenic hermit with a house in the swamp. Kyle had set him up of course-he had wanted a patsy for police to find so they would stop looking for the real killer.

  And Holober’s place remained an excellent hiding spot. No other houses for miles, and the creaky floorboards would easily tell him if anyone else was around. It was like a built-in alarm. Kyle had kept all his trophies there. The news clippings, the stack of post-it notes, mementos.

  But now he wished he hadn’t. Kyle had never been afraid of the house before. After all, he was the thing that other people should fear. He was what went bump in the night.

  Kyle got out of the car and checked his watch. 11:45 p.m.

  But he was growing nervous. Far away, he thought he could hear a sound and it was getting louder.

  “Damn,” he said, and climbed the steps.

  He would be safe in here. He opened the door and went through.

  The air in the place was stale and had a rotten odor. The house still had electricity, thanks to a generator Kyle had maintained in good order.

  Kyle flipped on the light. But nothing happened.

  “Damn,” he said again, and the sound of his own voice made him jumpy. He must not have charged the thing, he thought.

  He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, which they did only slightly, and moved forward. He banged his leg into the couch as he tried to make his way to his bedroom.

  He crossed the living room and heard the floorboards groan beneath him. He stopped a minute and listened for any other sounds. Kyle shuddered.

  Outside, the sound was unmistakable and getting closer. The pounding of horse hooves. How the hell had it followed him? But, really, was that the most surprising part of the night? He doubted it.

  Kyle knew he did not have much time.

  He went into the bedroom and pulled a duffel bag out of the closet. He could barely see, but he knew where most of the things he needed were. Just the newspaper clips and mementos and he would be on his way. He checked his watch again. 11:48 p.m. In 13 minutes, he would not need to worry about this anymore.

  He reached onto the bed for some of his papers. He couldn’t see them, but he had prepared them just this morning. They were a new identity for himself, so he could move this show to some other town and start over.

  But instead his hand closed around a single small piece of paper.

  In a panic, he reached all over the bed. But all that remained was a note.

  He picked it up-a small yellow post-it note with writing on it. He pulled it close to his face so he could read it.

  “You are not alone, Kyle,” it read.

  Kyle dropped the note in shock. He wheeled around and faced the living room.

  “Who’s here?” he yelled.

  But no sound came back. Just silence.

  Kyle bent down to the duffel bag and pulled out his emergency back-up plan. A gun.

  “I hate using this thing, I really do,” he said out loud. “But don’t think that I don’t know how. I was in the service for a long time, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” a voice in the darkness came back. It sounded like a woman’s, or was it a man’s voice as well?

  “Quinn? Is that you?” Kyle called out, and held the gun in front of him.

  “He’s here, in a manner of speaking,” the voice came back. “But he is also outside, getting closer. And when he gets here…”

  “Fuck you,” Kyle said. “Fuck you and your parlor games.”

  He held the gun in front of him and walked out of the bedroom door. He left the duffel bag behind. Let the cops find him. He just needed to get out of here.

  “Come on, Kyle, you were always the one who liked parlor games,” the voice said. “You played one with me, remember?”

  “Who are you?” Kyle asked, but he knew. He had known from the moment he found the note on the bed. It made no sense. How could she have known where to come?

  “See you real soon, remember?” Kate’s voice came back.

  Kyle tried to tell where the voice was coming from. He tried to look for her, but he couldn’t see.

  Outside, he could hear the sound of the horse getting louder.

  “Look, Trina,” Kyle said. “I’ll cut you a deal. You call all this shit off and I will go away. I’ll leave you guys alone-I will be out of your hair forever.”

  Nervously, Kyle lit the light on his watch. It was 11:52 p.m.

  “I don’t think so, Kyle,” Kate said.

  Kyle thought now he could hear where the voice was coming from. He turned to the right and fired the gun. The blast was nearly deafening in the small house. He heard the bullet slam into the wood grain.

  “Nice try,” Kate said.

  “You see? There is still something left in me,” Kyle said. “Let me go and I will just walk out of here.”

  “Oh, you are free to leave, Kyle,” Kate said. “But I think you will find a friend waiting for you outside.”

  The sound of horse hooves had stopped. It meant only one thing, Kyle thought.

  “He’s here,” Kate said.

  His knees felt weak and he noticed his hands were shaking.

  “He can’t get me in here,” Kyle said.

  And then he heard a large crashing noise from below. The whole house shook.

  “Think again,” Kate replied. “Actually, he could walk up the steps if he wanted to. But we have a different idea.”

  The large crash came again and again. The whole house felt like it was breaking apart.

  “Not very stable here, is it?” Kate asked.

  “If this house falls in, it will hurt you too,” Kyle said.

  “I doubt it,” she replied. “I think I’m beyond that kind of thing.”

  Kyle looked at his watch again. 11:54 p.m.

  “I’m not going to let the clock run out here, don’t worry,” Kate said.

  “Then come and get me,” Kyle said. “I’m not moving.”

  A large crash happened again and Kyle felt the floor shake. It was going to fall in.

  But then a figure moved across the floor. He could not believe he hadn’t seen her before. She grabbed the gun out of his hand and punched Kyle in the face.

 
He stumbled back and heard the floorboards creak as he landed. There was another crash from below, and the house now tilted on its stilts. Furniture started sliding. Kyle felt the coffee table hit him in the leg.

  Before he could move, something hit him in the stomach. Kyle went sprawling across the floor.

  “Looks like the house of cards is beginning to collapse, Kyle,” Kate said.

  Kyle tried to get up. He got to his knees and was hit in the head from behind, falling forward again.

  A voice was in his ear.

  “I could kill you, you know,” a female voice whispered. “I would even enjoy it, as you did. But I think I would rather see you run.”

  He turned over and tried to throw the figure back.

  But when he looked into the face above him, it was not Kate that he saw. It was her mother.

  “What’s the matter, Kyle?” Sarah asked him. “Seen a ghost?”

  With all his might, he tried to push her backwards and get up. She easily dodged him, but stepped back.

  “This is not real,” he said.

  “I could have taken another form,” Sarah said to him. “I could have been your worst nightmare. But this one felt the most fitting.”

  Kyle stumbled back and looked at her. He blinked hard again.

  “This isn’t happening,” he said again, and nearly lost his balance as another crash caused the floor to tilt even further. “What are you?”

  Sarah crossed the floor and leaned into Kyle’s face before he could block her.

  She whispered in his ear.

  “We are the Lords of Halloween, Kyle,” she said, and pushed Kyle through the front door. “The real Lords of Halloween.”

  Kyle landed on the front stoop and felt intense pain in his back. His arms flailing, Kyle tried to pick himself up. He did not look back into the house. Instead, he tried to make it down the stairs, which were coming apart even as he walked down them.

  He stumbled off them and tried to run to his car. Even from here, he could tell that the tires were slashed. Cut by a sword.

  Kyle heard the pounding of hooves behind him. He did not dare look back. Instead, he ran forward as fast as he could and looked at his watch. 11:58 p.m.

  Just two more minutes. Just two more minutes and he would be safe. I can’t die like this, he thought.