Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles Book 2)

by Rob Blackwell

  Tim edited it with his usual speed and ferocity. Editors don’t use red pens anymore, and Quinn thought his copy was quite good, but he could see Tim deleting and retyping as he worked on it. He sent the final story to Quinn for approval and then published it on the website.

  Quinn still missed the old days, when he had to wait a whole day to see how readers would react. Or maybe he really missed the cushy deadlines. Back then, you could wait until hours after an event happened to file a story. Now if it was an hour old, it was already yesterday’s news.

  Still, by the time Summer walked in the door, the story was filed, edited, proofed and sitting on the website. Quinn didn’t know how many people read the paper over the weekend, but it would be there if anyone did.

  Summer walked into the Loudoun Chronicle slowly, as if she expected to be ambushed at any moment. Her trip to the editorial section of the paper—tucked away behind administration, advertising and the lone-man operation that was the graphics department—was cautious. Quinn had assumed Summer would walk in with her nose in the air, but that wasn’t the impression he had. She seemed genuinely curious about the paper. All these years of competing with it and she had apparently never been here.

  Even now, Quinn was surprised at how small she was. Maybe it was because he always competed against her, but reading her articles, he always had the sense she was bigger somehow. Taller, maybe, he wasn’t sure. But she was really quite petite.

  Not everyone finds her personality such a drawback, Kate thought in his head.

  They just don’t know her very well, then, Quinn responded.

  Oh come on, Kate responded. You have to admit she’s formidable. She’s a good reporter. The only reason you dislike her so intensely is that you have to compete with her.

  Maybe, Quinn said reluctantly. Still, I can’t imagine finding her attractive.

  Janus did, Kate said.

  What are you talking about?

  She slept with Janus, Kate said.

  Quinn’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Get the fuck out,” he said out loud, but fortunately not loud enough for Summer to hear him. “Janus… He…”

  But there had been something, hadn’t there? Janus had issues with Summer, and they squabbled whenever the two of them met, but it had been more flirtatious than the confrontations Quinn and she had.

  When did you learn this? He asked.

  Something Janus mentioned when we were waiting for you to recover in that hospital in Bluemont last year. He swore me to secrecy.

  Well, she didn’t seem very broken up when he died, Quinn said. I barely remember her at the funeral.

  When I saw her at a county board meeting last December, she seemed really upset, distracted, Kate said. I actually had a human conversation with her. She told me she hadn’t stopped crying since the day he died. All she asked was that I not tell you about it.

  And suddenly Quinn felt badly for Summer, his perennial nemesis. It’s funny when you think you know a person—when you are so sure that your impression of them is all there is. But there are always layers, always something you can’t see. You never really know anyone.

  Why didn’t Janus tell me?

  I think you know why, Kate said.

  Because I would have given him no end of hell about it.

  Exactly, she responded.

  Quinn watched Tim exit his office and walk toward Summer. His editor stuck out his hand and greeted her almost exuberantly.

  “I’m Tim Anderson, the editor of the Loudoun Chronicle,” he said. “Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Mandaville. Welcome to the paper.”

  Summer looked almost surprised at the gracious greeting.

  Quinn nodded to Summer as she approached and Tim gestured for him to follow.

  “Why don’t we all speak in the conference room?” Tim said.

  Quinn followed the two of them in and shut the door.

  *****

  Summer sat down at the conference room table, put her bag on the ground and then dug out a notebook and pencil. Quinn and Tim took seats opposite her and waited, watching as she pulled out a tape recorder, pressed the record button, and pushed it in Quinn’s direction.

  Quinn grimaced slightly.

  Play this right and we’ll get through this, Kate said reassuringly in his head. Just knowing she was right outside was a relief.

  “I’d like to keep this all on the record,” Summer said, using the official voice Quinn always heard her employ at press conferences. In person, she usually sounded petulant (to him, anyway), but this tone was all business.

  “Fine,” Tim said. “We don’t have anything to hide.”

  Summer turned to Quinn and looked at him directly. Her brown eyes met his electric blue ones. For the second time in two days, Quinn felt like a cowboy in a duel on a dusty Western street. Summer’s eyes narrowed and Quinn could almost hear the traditional whistle in his head. He had the distinct impression that Summer Mandaville was really Clint Eastwood in disguise.

  “It’s not you who’s hiding something,” Summer said coldly. “It’s him.”

  “Ask your questions, Summer,” Quinn responded.

  “Are you the Prince of Sanheim?” she asked, still looking him straight in the eye.

  “No,” Quinn responded tersely. “I’m not.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  “That’s a statement, not a question.”

  “I saw you yesterday, Quinn,” Summer said. “I was standing right there, remember?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You saw me disarm a kid playing a dangerous prank. I have no idea why you would conclude I’m the Prince of Sanheim from that.”

  “You were angry,” she said. “Furious, even. I’ve never seen you that mad.”

  “The kid was endangering lives,” Quinn said. “Besides, I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t know if it was the real Prince of Sanheim or not.”

  “Yes, you did,” she shot back.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I saw you,” she said. “I don’t think you were angry because he might harm people—but because he was pretending to be you.”

  “Are you a psychic now?” Quinn said. “That’s quite a leap in logic.”

  “And the sword?” she asked. “You rather suddenly had a sword in your hand. Do you normally carry a sword with you? A weapon, I might add, that the Prince of Sanheim is known to use.”

  This question he had anticipated. Quinn pulled a business card out of his pocket, one that Kate had given him this morning after her trip to Waterford. He pushed it across the table to Summer.

  “I thought you might bring that up,” he said.

  Summer picked it up. “William Burns?” she said. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  “He’s a retired engineer who now makes swords. He’s one of the craftsman at the fair,” Quinn said.

  “And you bought your sword from him?” Summer asked dubiously.

  “No,” he responded. “Kate was talking to him when the whole incident with the Horseman started. She still had a sword in her hand when she came running. She handed it to me right before I stepped into the street in case I needed to defend myself.”

  Summer stared at him in disbelief. She turned to Tim.

  “That’s not true,” she said. “Kate wasn’t there yet. There’s no way she could have given you that sword.”

  “You sure about that, Summer? Because where else did I get the sword from? You were talking to me in the street. Did I have a sword with me then? If I was the Prince of Sanheim, do you think I would carry a sword on me like some kind of damn pirate? If Kate didn’t give it to me, where did I get it?”

  The truth, of course, was that it had materialized out of thin air. Quinn had not intended for it to, but he had unconsciously acquired the Horseman’s weapon when his fury had taken over. But Summer couldn’t know that. She was looking for a man who dressed up as the Headless Horseman, not someone with supernatural powers.


  “I know she wasn’t there,” Summer said stubbornly.

  “Do you have an alternative explanation, Summer? Seriously, if not from her, where did I get the sword?”

  “I… uh…” Summer looked at him in evident frustration.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Quinn asked. “Because if that’s it, you have no right to print my name in your paper. The police would love to drag me in and grill me, but ultimately they’ll let me go. And I’ll sue the Post for everything it’s got. I’ll say you were just out to sabotage a competitor. And your bosses will believe me.”

  “How dare you threaten me?” Summer said.

  “Who’s threatening whom here?” Quinn asked. “You’re accusing me of being a murderer, Summer. I’m sorry if I don’t take that lightly.”

  “It’s not all I have,” Summer said.

  Here we go, Kate said.

  “Then let’s hear it,” Tim interjected. “Because right now, as an editor, I have to agree with Quinn. I doubt if the Post will even let you print any of this. They know better. And they’ll think less of you for trying.”

  “I have a witness,” Summer said with a defiant tone in her voice. “Someone who says she saw you dressing up as the Headless Horseman.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes. He had never “dressed up” as anything, except maybe when he was a kid at Halloween.

  She believes it, Kate said.

  Wait. Can you read her mind?

  No, it’s just a gut feeling. Think about it. Who would her ‘witness’ be? Our real enemy has been whispering in her ear, Kate responded.

  Was it Elyssa or Kieran? Somehow I doubt Sawyer gets his hands dirty.

  Elyssa. I’d stake my life on it.

  But Tim leaned forward at this news, as if he was finally getting interested.

  “You said as much on the phone,” Tim said. “So let’s have some details, please.”

  “I’m not going to reveal her name,” Summer said, seeming pleased she was in control again. “But she said she saw you two weeks ago right near the center of Leesburg. She distinctly saw you getting into costume and saddling a horse.”

  “And she didn’t think to mention this to the police?” Quinn asked.

  “She was scared,” Summer responded. “And she didn’t recognize you until yesterday when she saw you in the street.”

  “And, again, she told you this, but not the police,” Quinn said.

  “I just happened to run into her yesterday,” she said. “After you left in a hurry, I spent the entire day asking witnesses what they saw. When I found her…”

  Tell her about Elyssa, Kate said.

  Tell her what, exactly? Hi, it turns out there’s this other Prince of Sanheim, and this is his consort and she’s trying to frame me? By the way, I’m pretty sure she can turn herself into a horse.

  Tell her about your affair with Elyssa, Kate said.

  My what? Are you mental?

  I said to follow my lead, remember? Kate said. You need to hurt Elyssa’s credibility. She needs to have an agenda against you. Give her one.

  Can’t I just say she’s an ex? No one will believe I cheated on you, Quinn thought.

  Summer will, Kate thought. She’s had two boyfriends cheat on her, for the record, so she’s inclined to think the worst of the male race. We need to target her soft spot.

  You know this how?

  Remember our human conversation? She let that slide.

  I’m not saying I cheated on you, Quinn said stubbornly.

  You have a better idea?

  “Could you describe your witness?” Quinn asked.

  “No, I won’t describe her to you,” Summer responded indignantly. “I’m keeping her identity confidential.”

  “Was she by any chance tall, dark and beautiful?” Quinn said. “Answer to the name Elyssa?”

  “I…” Summer started to say, and he could see the blood drain from her face.

  “Yeah, okay,” Quinn said. “Here’s the thing. Elyssa is an old friend. A very close old friend, if you get my drift. She, uh, hasn’t taken kindly to my relationship with Kate.”

  “What are you telling me?” Summer asked.

  Quinn looked embarrassed. In truth, he felt that way. He hated the very idea of betraying Kate, even if it was totally made up.

  “Let’s just say I met this attractive woman,” Quinn said, and he leaned in confidentially. “We got together, and… she recently found out that I was taken, something I hadn’t exactly been honest about. There you are, asking questions about me, and she saw an opportunity.”

  Summer’s face contorted in anger.

  “You are telling me you had an affair with her?” Summer asked. “That’s what this is about?”

  “Think about it, Summer,” Quinn said. “Did you find her—or did she find you? I saw her yesterday at the fair. You saw me walk away with Kate and two other people, didn’t you? Didn’t one of them look like Elyssa? She came up to us right after the incident with the kid on the horse. She was trying to tell Kate about our ‘relationship.’ I had to think of some pretext to get away. We were finally able to ditch her and then she finds you asking questions a couple hours later. It’s a good opportunity for revenge, don’t you think?”

  Summer stared at him. Quinn was worried she didn’t buy it.

  You were good. Just shut up now, Kate thought.

  I feel dirty, he responded.

  You are so sweet.

  Huh?

  Even the idea of cheating on me bothers you, Kate said. It’s very romantic.

  Did she believe me?

  “Men,” Summer finally said. The word came out like a curse. She reached across and grabbed her tape recorder. “I really thought better of you, did you know that, Quinn? I didn’t think you…”

  “Wait a second,” Quinn said. “You came in here thinking I was a murderer and now your opinion of me is lower because I admitted to a one-night stand? So cheating on someone is actually worse than killing someone in your world view? I think we should discuss your priorities.”

  Summer didn’t even look at him. Instead, she shoved her notebook and recorder in her bag and stood up.

  “You think you’re so clever,” she said, and Quinn couldn’t tell if she was talking about him or men in general.

  “I take it we won’t see an article with Quinn’s name in it?” Tim said.

  “You might,” Summer said. “But not today. I still think you had something to do with it, Quinn. I saw the way you looked at that kid on the ground. There was murder in your eyes. If Kate hadn’t stopped you…”

  She trailed off.

  “Just make sure you call us before you make any accusations,” Tim said. “We want to catch this guy as much as you, you know.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Summer said, and it came out as a sneer. “I doubt that very much.”

  With that, Summer left the conference room. On her way out of the building, she gave Kate what seemed like a pitying look. Kate had enough presence of mind to look puzzled and only waved to her.

  Back in the conference room, Quinn felt lighter. His problems weren’t solved, of course, but at least one issue appeared to be taken care of.

  “She’ll be back, you know,” Tim said.

  Quinn shrugged.

  “If she’s my worst problem, I think we’re okay,” he responded lightly. “I do appreciate the help, Tim. I really do. I didn’t know what she was going to say and I really like knowing that you have my back.”

  Quinn was feeling so satisfied, he didn’t examine the look on Tim Anderson’s face. It wasn’t until he was at the conference room door that Tim responded.

  “You may have fooled her,” he said, “but you didn’t fool me.”

  Quinn turned around slowly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You would no sooner cheat on Kate than you would cut off your own head,” Tim said. “I’ve seen how you look at her. The very idea that you’d cheat on her is laughable. A better reporter would hav
e known that off the bat.”

  Uh-oh, Kate said in his head.

  Quinn considered his response carefully.

  “She has a history,” he said. “Don’t be too hard on her.”

  Tim nodded.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Then you played her very well. I should have guessed it wasn’t dumb luck.”

  “Are you going to ask me anything else?” Quinn said.

  “Not today,” Tim said. “But one day, soon, you, me and Kate are going to have a conversation. And it will be very important that you don’t lie to me.”

  “Or?”

  “I’ll go to the police with everything I have,” Tim said. “And believe me when I tell you this. I may not have caught Lord Halloween, but when it comes to covering your tracks, you aren’t even close to his league.”

  Chapter 22

  The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks startled him. Quinn got up and looked around. He was at the mouth of a cave filled with stones. He could tell at a glance that the tide was coming in. He looked down at his feet, which weren’t wet yet, but would be soon.

  “Where are we?” Kate asked, and he looked over to see her standing next to him. She was wearing a white nightgown—an outfit he had never seen before. She followed his look and glanced down. When she looked up, she shrugged. Quinn looked at his own clothing. He was dressed in an old white linen shirt and dark pants. He felt vaguely like an underdressed pirate.

  “Dream?” Kate asked.

  Quinn nodded. “Dream,” he said.

  But it didn’t feel like a dream. It was as if he’d plugged into the Matrix or something. Everything about the scene—the way the waves moved, the smell of saltwater in the air, the sound the water made as it rolled over the rocks—felt absolutely real.

  “Where are we supposed to go?” she asked.

  But there was really only one direction to go. They walked deeper into the cave. Quinn was thankful to have (dream) shoes on, even if they did get wet as he stepped into the puddles. It was dark outside and he could barely see. Kate stepped gingerly on the stones in her bare feet. He opened his mouth to offer her his shoes and realized the futility of it. His shoes were at least three sizes too big for her, she would be practically swimming in them.