A Soul To Steal

by Rob Blackwell

  “Let’s just hope you have enough time,” Janus said.

  “For what? We aren’t really planning to face this thing down, you know,” Kate said. “I don’t know that we can defeat the Horseman and we’re a little busy trying to avoid someone else who wants to kill us.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Janus asked. “It’s the only way, right? Lord Halloween is smarter than you.”

  “Hey.”

  “Face it, he’s smarter than everybody,” Janus said. “He’s one step ahead of the police, he’s one step ahead of us. We have all these details on him, we know his pattern, and we have nothing. It could be anybody.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kate said. “I think it is someone connected with the paper.”

  “Then who?” Janus asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Exactly,” he said. “But if you beat the Horseman, you have powers, right? Who is to say you don’t know who the killer is then? Who’s to say you don’t know where he is hiding? You get the upper hand, for once. He thinks you are harmless Kate and Quinn, but no, you’re the fucking Prince of Sanheim. You’re a legend.”

  Kate thought about what he was saying. When they had initially heard about the trial, Quinn had been confident they could win it, but she hadn’t been so sure. She had convinced him they had to wait. Deal with Lord Halloween, then wait until next year to face this trial. If they could even delay it. But they were no closer to figuring that out. But Janus had a good point, the one that Quinn had made himself. It was an all or nothing bet. If they couldn’t beat the Horseman, they were dead anyway. But if they could…

  But Kate thought of the man in Quinn’s dream. That was what the man wanted. Something told her that whatever he wanted, it wasn’t good. What if it really had been the Devil?

  (He’s not the devil.) Quinn thought.

  (You don’t know that)

  “I can see you are hearing voices again,” Janus said. “Tell Quinn I said hi. Look, just think about what I said, okay? I’ve got to run.”

  Janus turned and walked up the street toward his car.

  “Be careful,” she called after him.

  Janus stuck his arm in the air and flashed the V-sign.

  (I think he is flicking you off.) Quinn said.

  Kate laughed and turned to walk back toward the paper.

  Lord Halloween could not believe what he was hearing. He had been so close, so close to dealing with Kate. He had been watching her for over an hour go into various shops, being a reporter. He had liked watching her move. She was very good looking. And he was enjoying the hunt. There were two more bodies the police hadn’t found and he was already moving on to body number three.

  And then that little fucker had gotten in the way. He had been close enough to hear them-there was an abandoned shop nearby-but he hadn’t understood a word. Instead of being afraid of him, Kate was talking about the Horseman. Who the fuck was the Horseman? He briefly considered that there was some rival serial killer, but if there were, it was news to him. And what was this about the Prince of Sanheim?

  I must have driven her insane, he thought.

  It was the only explanation and it did nothing to soothe his spirit. If she were crazy, it seemed Janus and Quinn were too. They should be worried about him. In fact, Kate and Quinn should be dead already. But Lord Halloween knew he could not have gotten through Quinn’s door without waking them up. He had decided to wait.

  Now it appeared something else was going on and he didn’t like that one bit.

  He was keenly aware every minute he stood there was a risk. What bothered him more than anything was that whatever they were talking about seemed to be connected to Halloween. And Halloween was his day-his day. Look at this place, he thought. Shops are closed, people have fled. Because of one man. Because of him. Halloween was all about fear-dressing up as the thing you are afraid of-and he ruled it.

  But Kate and Quinn didn’t seem afraid. He had almost been close enough to kill them both and they were worried about people on fucking horses. Kate was meant to be his great comeback story-one that would have even brought CNN to town. Not only had that failed, but she didn’t even seem worried about him.

  Kate and Quinn would regret their distractions, he thought as he watched Janus walk down the street. If they had forgotten about him, then he would just have to remind them.

  There were just a few days to Halloween and he planned to use them well. Long enough to do what he wanted. Long enough to make Kate and Quinn pay.

  Chapter 22

  Friday, Oct. 27

  Quinn was considering turning off the video when he saw it. He had concluded the entire process was a waste of time. Lord Halloween was too careful to simply walk past a security camera. But for some reason he kept coming back to it. In the hospital room, he had been out of it, but he had felt sure he had seen something.

  Now he was sure he saw it again. It had been quick, just out of the corner of his eye, something like a flash of metal. It could have been a watch, but Quinn didn’t think so. He rewound the tape and paused. It was the arm of a jacket-nothing more. He couldn’t see the man or woman it was attached to. The jacket was olive green and Quinn thought the shade looked familiar. Like he had seen it before. Like he knew who the jacket belonged to.

  It felt like a song that he couldn’t place. He knew who that jacket belonged to, but he couldn’t place it. It was just on the tip of his tongue. Work backward, he thought. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He was mentally flipping through the people he knew like old photographs when it came to him.

  The piece of metal he was looking at was a medal-from the Vietnam War. He only knew one person who wore such a thing. He pictured it sitting on the chair at the Loudoun Chronicle. How many days had he seen it just lying there? And yet he didn’t recognize it when it was out of place.

  Dear God, he thought, the jacket. It belongs to Buzz. He had been in the hotel just before Kate’s room was ransacked.

  “Jesus,” Quinn said.

  (Where was Janus headed?) he asked Kate.

  Kate had stopped in mid-interview when he had figured out who the jacket belonged to.

  (Buzz. He was going to see Buzz.)

  (We have to get there. Now. He’s in trouble.)

  Janus drove to the end of the cul-de-sac in Ashburn, parked the car on the curb and got out. He sighed. Every time Janus saw Buzz’s house, it looked like a run-down mess. Buzz had inherited it from his mother, who had died only about four years ago. But he did not seem to inherit the ability to keep it up.

  The grass was long, at least three of the shutters hung at slightly crooked angles. If he didn’t know better, Janus might think a crazy person lived there. Only he supposed one did. Buzz was the most paranoid person he had ever met-he had been worried about Lord Halloween way before it was fashionable.

  How long had Buzz worked for the paper? As long as Janus knew about, that was for sure. And all that time, Buzz talked about sinister conspiracies concerning county supervisors or the police and when Laurence had transferred him to the business beat, Buzz had relentlessly pursued some bank in Waterford, claiming there was some check kiting scheme.

  Holden and Buzz had never gotten along. Rebecca tolerated Buzz’s eccentricities because he produced good copy. He showed up at odd hours, but he did consistently deliver good stories for the paper.

  Janus glanced at the house. For a second, he felt a twinge of anxiety, but he brushed it away. The killings, the telepathic twins back at the office and Laurence’s general attitude of panic had put Janus on edge.

  He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. It sounded deep through the house and Janus jumped a little.

  Jesus, he thought, I’m way too skittish. He rang the bell again and listened to it echo through the house. But he did not hear anything else.

  Maybe Buzz blew town, like he had figured. Buzz had told Laurence he was staying indoors, but that could have been a lie. It was possible Buzz was out
shopping, getting supplies. But honestly, Janus thought Buzz seemed like the kind of guy that had supplies stockpiled in the basement. He would be prepared for this.

  Of course, Buzz could be ignoring the door. That made sense, since Buzz might believe the killer would actually show up and ring the doorbell.

  Or Janus thought Buzz could be in some kind of danger. Maybe he was hurt, or…

  He didn’t let himself complete the last line of thought.

  I should get out of here, a voice in his head said. The neighborhood was oddly quiet and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Everyone was either gone or had locked themselves in. Four days to go before Halloween and people would not come out if they could help it.

  So why am I here? Buzz was either gone or dead. Either way, Janus could not help. He turned on the doorstep and prepared to walk away.

  And then a crash came from inside the house.

  Janus stood at the doorway for a minute.

  “Buzz?” he yelled from outside the door. “Are you fucking in there, mate?”

  There was silence. Janus wet his lips with his tongue. Reluctantly, he tried the front door. It was locked. Janus sighed in relief.

  “Buzz? You there?” he called again.

  He took a step backward. Well, there was nothing he could do, he thought. He should get in the car and get the hell out of dodge.

  But he knew he should check the back of the house as well. He should be sure that Buzz was not just lying somewhere, bleeding, maybe getting his guts ripped out even now…

  Janus worked to get the image out of his head.

  He looked around. There was no one in sight. I have to be sure, he thought. Besides, it’s a bright sunny day out. He should not be this spooked.

  Moving carefully, he looked through the front windows and saw nothing. With a longing glance back at his car, Janus disappeared around the side, stopping for a second to look in the garage window. He saw only Buzz’s brown BMW.

  Janus continued around the house and stopped on the back patio. There were a few rust-covered chairs there, but the yard looked overgrown.

  Janus’ heart stopped when he saw the back door, however.

  It was wide open.

  Shit, he thought.

  “Buzz?” he called moving cautiously to the door. “Look, are you in pain? Do you need help? It’s me, Janus.”

  But there was no answer. Janus could see clearly into the kitchen and there was no one there. He should go, he realized. The thought of Buzz in there hurt, or tied up, kept him from running away.

  Janus walked through the doorway tentatively. He tried to look around corners. But he could not see anything.

  “Buzz, are you in here?” he asked again. “Listen, man, don’t blow my head off ‘cause you think I’m someone else. I’m just trying to make sure you are alright.”

  He took another step forward into the house. He saw nothing.

  This, Janus decided, was rapidly becoming the dumbest move he had ever made. He reached for his cell phone and realized he had left it in the car.

  Here he was, with a murderer on the loose, walking around in a deserted house. He was like one of those idiots in a horror movie. That thought stopped him from moving forward.

  If Buzz was in trouble, the police could help him.

  “Buzz, I’m coming in, okay?”

  But Janus wasn’t going to. Instead he backed slowly up, preparing to turn and run if he had to. Fuck this, he thought. He wouldn’t do anybody any good if he got picked off so easily.

  He walked back out the door and then turned and ran around the house to his car. He had left Buzz’s back door open, but the police could deal with that.

  Janus dug into his pocket for his keys and pulled them out. He kept looking behind him waiting for something to come out of the house.

  But nothing did.

  He flipped the key on his ring and practically jumped inside the car, keeping his eyes very carefully on the house. He turned on the car, shoved it into drive and tore out of the cul-de-sac.

  It was only as he looked back at the house in the rearview mirror that he saw it. There in his rearview mirror was a single yellow piece of paper-a post-it note stuck right on the glass. Still driving forward, Janus read it as a feeling of dread washed over him.

  “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Janus,” it said.

  Kate pulled up outside the building and Quinn rushed outside.

  (Gas it.) Quinn thought as he jumped into the car.

  Kate tore through the streets of Leesburg and they both hoped the police had better things to do than watch for speeders.

  (It’s Buzz.) Quinn thought, as the car turned on to Route 7 toward Ashburn, where the business editor lived.

  (He was at the hotel) Kate thought. (But that doesn’t mean he’s Lord Halloween.)

  (It means there is a damn good shot he is. And Janus was heading right towards him.)

  (PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME)

  The voice in their heads jarred them both and nearly caused Kate to drive off the road.

  (What was that?) Quinn thought.

  (That was Janus.)

  In her mind, she could see him. He was being moved from his car and he was in incredible pain. There was blood. She had to fight to keep her own car on the road.

  (He’s dying.)

  Janus turned around while driving and looked at the back seat, bracing himself for a blow. But there was nobody there.

  “Fuck,” he said, and faced the road again as he continued driving. His heart was pounding in his chest. He immediately reached around for his cell phone.

  But it was not there.

  “Fuck me,” he said again.

  The bastard had taken it. Janus could not remember locking his car, he had been so concerned about what was going on in the house.

  He pulled the note off his mirror and slammed on the accelerator again. He would head straight for the police station. If someone was going to jump out at him from his trunk or somewhere, let it be there.

  He looked in the rearview mirror and felt his heart skip a beat.

  A car was behind him. And not just anyone’s. It was Buzz’s beat-up BMW and it was gaining on him. The sun reflected off the car’s windshield, so Janus could not make out who was behind the wheel, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be someone who wanted to stop and chat.

  “Fuck you, then,” Janus said and sped up. He flew through a stop sign and turned right abruptly, narrowly missing a parked car on the street.

  The key is to stay calm and get to the police station. There was no way whoever was behind him would think of going there. He hoped.

  He rounded another corner and noticed that while the car behind him was gaining, it did not seem to be trying to overtake him. For the life of him, Janus could not figure out why.

  Janus tried honking his horn-though he did not see other cars on the road. Everyone was hiding from the guy that was behind him. But maybe someone would hear the noise and call the police. No sense stopping at any of the houses on the way. There was no guarantee they would be home, and even if they were, no guarantee they would let him in or not be killed as well.

  Without even attempting to brake, he swung out onto Reservoir Road and started to pray. He had gas, he thought, looking at the meter.

  The key was to stay ahead of him and to stay calm.

  But the BMW had gained on him and was now very close. If he braked at all, the car would ram into him. Janus floored it. If a cop pulled him over for speeding, that would be a good thing.

  He had just six miles to Route 7. There were bound to be other cars on Rt. 7-someone who could help him.

  With new fear, he saw the curve ahead. Since he came to this county, he had hated this curve. It was the kind where you had to slow down a lot or risk flying into the ditch. Janus had covered at least four accidents here and none of them were pretty.

  But if he had to slow down, so did his pursuer, right?

  He reluctantly pressed the brake.

 
Nothing happened.

  “Fuck a duck,” he said. He hit the brake again. The car didn’t slow. He felt no resistance and instead saw the curve coming up at a rapid 60 miles an hour.

  Behind him he noticed that the BMW had dropped back.

  And then Janus knew what had happened. The killer had cut his brake lines. In his mind, he saw the image of a man underneath his car cutting his brake line as Janus stood on Buzz’s back patio.

  Janus pumped the peddles and watched the speedometer crawl down. It was 45 miles an hour now on a curve recommended at 15. He would just have to hope he was slow enough.

  He braced himself and tried to take the turn as best he could. At first, he thought he might make it. But his Jeep leaned heavily to the right and then he could feel it tipping.

  At least I’ll probably die in the crash, he thought.

  The Jeep ran off the road, hit the ditch and flipped on its side.

  Janus came to moments afterward. He was hanging in his seatbelt, the windshield shattered and he thought he could taste blood on his tongue.

  Please think I’m dead, Janus thought. He hung there attempting to look lifeless, wondering if soon it would not be an act.

  He heard footsteps approaching the car, heard the car creak as someone climbed up on it and opened the door.

  “You almost made it, Janus,” the voice said.

  Janus felt a hand reach across him and undo his seatbelt.

  He was insanely tempted to look at the man, but he didn’t. He had to appear to be dead. It was the only thing that could save him.

  “But close doesn’t quite count, does it?” he said.

  Please think I’m dead, Janus thought again.

  He could almost sense the man looking at him.

  “Hmmm, maybe it got you worse than I thought,” the voice said. “Or maybe you’re just faking. Like you faked all those photos.”

  Janus felt a sharp pain in his leg as the man dug in a knife.

  He didn’t think quickly enough to stop himself from crying out.