A Soul To Steal

by Rob Blackwell

  Kyle took a step forward. Quinn backed up.

  “Hang on, hang on,” Kyle said. “I wouldn’t want you to go running through those woods again. I thought you were acting all crazy. But I guess you aren’t exactly acting, are you?”

  “I’m not the crazy one here,” Quinn said.

  “Oh no?” Kyle asked. “What was all that shit about the Prince of something or other? I thought I must have heard your girlfriend wrong, but you must believe some of it. Why else would you be here? Why not call the police and try to set a trap? I assumed that’s what you were doing, but they didn’t know a thing. I checked.”

  Kyle checked his watch.

  “It’s about 10:30 now, champ,” he said. “I guess you have an hour and a half to take the ‘great power’ and defeat me with it. Right?”

  Before Quinn had time to react, Kyle rushed toward him, flashed his knife and cut Quinn on the arm.

  Quinn didn’t take any time to respond. Instead, he leapt into the middle of the bridge where it was darkest.

  He could still see Kyle closer to the edge of the bridge, but Quinn knew he was well hidden.

  “Fuck,” Kyle said. “That was fast. But I still saw blood, my boy. I still saw you bleed. So I guess you don’t have supernatural abilities after all, do you? What was that bullshit, anyway? Something you cooked up for the girl? Was this just a ploy to get into Trina’s pants, Quinn? Her mom would not have approved.”

  Kyle’s voice echoed in the bridge.

  “Listen, buddy, you can skulk in the shadows all you want,” Kyle said. “But I have all night. Granted, I did have plans, but you know what, this ‘Lord Halloween’ stuff is kinda overblown anyway. I can kill them just as dead on Nov. 1. Oh, but wait. That’s the day you lose your superpowers, right? When you become a real boy?”

  Quinn was shocked Kyle knew about any of this. But he must have been close enough to overhear them at some point.

  “You aren’t invulnerable either, Kyle,” Quinn said. “How did your face get so messed up? Did Janus give you a taste of your own medicine?”

  Kyle stepped into the shadows and Quinn lost sight of him. Slowly, Quinn started moving backwards.

  It was pitch black in there. Quinn didn’t know why they built the beams so close together, but there was no light inside. He couldn’t see where Kyle was and he heard nothing.

  “So it’s hide and seek, is it?” Kyle’s voice echoed inside the bridge. “I can play that. I’m the one with the knife. What have you got?”

  It was impossible to tell Kyle’s position. His voice was bouncing off the walls around them. Slowly, Quinn backed up again and hoped his voice would pull off the same effect.

  “Where are you going to go, Quinn?” Kyle asked. “The minute I see you in the light, I’m going to find you. And believe me, I’ll catch up. You may be younger, but I have had more training, if you know what I mean.”

  Quinn said nothing. He worried he could give away his position.

  “Where is your girlfriend, anyway?” Kyle asked. “She was supposed to be here, wasn’t she? She left the message, after all, asking for us to meet here. So what’s the deal, Quinn? You hoping to take me down by yourself?”

  Quinn had backed now to the other side of the bridge. He was so close to the edge that he worried Kyle could see him. He couldn’t stay here. Eventually Kyle would find him and Quinn had nothing to protect himself.

  He had to complete the original plan. He had to get the hell out of here and face the other monster first.

  “Come on, Quinn,” Kyle said, and his voice sounded frustrated. “Where are you?”

  Quinn knew he had to be quick. He darted out into the moonlight and immediately ran into the woods.

  Behind him, he heard Kyle yell something-obviously aware that Quinn had run away. But Quinn thought he had a jump on Kyle, regardless of his “training.”

  Quinn didn’t know where to head. He wasn’t sure what was in front of him, but he had very few choices.

  Fortunately, the woods on this side of the bank were not as deep, and Quinn quickly came out into a clearing. Ahead of him was a barn-the old Phillips’ place he guessed-and an overgrown pumpkin patch. It was the only place Quinn thought to go. He moved across the field as fast as he could, reached the barn, and collapsed against one wall.

  His insides felt like they were burning. Quinn couldn’t tell what was wrong, but he had been feeling it build up even while he was in the bridge. He lay his head against the side of the barn. Maybe Kyle wouldn’t find him.

  He wished he could hear Kate in his mind, but the connection still seemed to be blocked. From a distance he heard the sound he had been waiting for. There was precious little time left, and while the trial had evidently been delayed, it was not over.

  The sound of horse hooves approached. Quinn didn’t move. He was too tired to face both of them. He had thought he would have some idea of how to defeat the Horseman, but he was just exhausted.

  The sound of hooves got closer. Good. At least it will be the Horseman that gets me and not Kyle. The sound was ringing in Quinn’s ears. The Horseman was almost on top of him. He came pounding into view a second later and wheeled to face Quinn.

  Quinn stood up, still leaning against the barn, and looked at his opponent for what felt like the first time. Nothing about the horse looked right. Its eyes glowed a deep red and there was blood on the edge of its mouth.

  The figure on top of the horse was dressed in black, and now Quinn could tell it was a decayed uniform. Just like the story. A Hessian mercenary hired to make war on the colonists, his head removed during battle by a cannon ball.

  The rider did not move. His horse snorted and pawed the ground, but he remained fixed there.

  Quinn stepped away from the barn and walked toward him.

  “Let’s finish this,” he said.

  It was as if the Horseman had been waiting for it. He swung out of the saddle and dropped to the ground. He unsheathed his sword and took a step toward Quinn.

  Quinn stood his ground. He had no plans or ideas. He was not even sure he could bring himself to fight back. But he was done running. He was done being afraid.

  The Horseman came forward and held out his sword while Quinn stayed motionless. The Horseman raised his arm and prepared to bring down the stroke that Quinn knew would kill him.

  He heard it slice through the air, but at the last moment he jumped forward, straight into the Horseman’s chest. The sword went awry, falling to the ground, and the Horseman momentarily fell back.

  Quinn didn’t know where the strength had come from-he had no idea he was going to make a move until it happened. He realized he would not just stand there and die meekly.

  The Horseman seemed as surprised as Quinn, stopping momentarily. When he bent down to pick up his sword, Quinn jumped for it at the same time, beating him to it.

  As Quinn picked up the sword, the Horseman hit him squarely in the chest, a blow that sent Quinn into the air before crashing near the barn door. But Quinn had held on to the sword.

  Quinn stood up and waved the weapon uncertainly in front of him as the Horseman strode toward him. Maybe this was a way-if he could slice the Horseman with his own sword, he could finish him.

  The Horseman closed the gap between them quickly and Quinn cocked back his arm to swing the sword. But he was too inexperienced and the blow was awkward. The Horseman dodged it easily and then hit Quinn again. This time the blow knocked the sword free from Quinn’s grasp and tossed him against the barn door, which creaked open behind him.

  The Horseman strode over to his sword on the ground and picked it up.

  So much for the idea of killing him with his own sword, Quinn thought. He backed into the barn. Inside was the smell of mold, decaying hay and gasoline. Quinn thought it had not been used in years. Unlike the bridge, the barn’s wood slats were far apart and moonlight streamed in everywhere.

  Quinn saw a ladder to a loft in the barn and headed straight for it. He scurried up it and sta
rted looking around for something-anything-to use against his opponent.

  The Horseman followed Quinn into the barn and never slowed his pace. He started to climb the ladder, sword in hand, but Quinn kicked the top of the ladder, attempting to jar it loose. The Horseman tried to slice at his foot, but missed, and Quinn heard the satisfying sound of tearing wood, as the ladder came free.

  The Horseman jumped off before it crashed to the ground.

  “Did you think this would be easy?” Quinn asked. He moved around in the loft, still looking for a weapon of some kind. There was nothing but an old gas can.

  The Horseman stood on the floor of the barn, his body following Quinn’s movement. But for now he stayed in one place.

  “You got your smarts from me after all,” he said. “So you can’t be that stupid, right?”

  Quinn was talking just to hear himself speak. He wondered how late it was. Was it 11:00 p.m.? He could try and stay up here for an hour, couldn’t he? Then the Horseman would be gone.

  But he would be back next year. And then Quinn would have all year to dream about his return, waiting for next October. Quinn wasn’t doing this again. This had to end tonight.

  Quinn faced him from the upper level.

  “Do you know how long I was scared of you?” he asked. “I was five years old when I saw the Disney cartoon. And you scared the shit out of me. It took my Mom days to calm me down. Every time I walked through the woods, I half expected to see you there.”

  The Horseman stood impassively.

  “I’m not sure why I was so scared,” Quinn said. “I think I didn’t like the idea of poor Ichabod, hanging on to his horse, just trying to get home. And you wouldn’t let him.”

  The Horseman moved suddenly, throwing the sword in the air in Quinn’s direction.

  Quinn dropped to the ground and heard the sword slice barely above his head. The entire loft shook and Quinn could feel it about to give way.

  Below, he heard the Horseman laugh. The sound bounced around the walls of the barn and seemed to come from inside Quinn’s head as well.

  Scrambling to his feet, Quinn saw the sword along the back wall and picked it up. He held it in front of him, but felt ridiculous. He had no idea how to use the thing.

  The Horseman strode over to the right barn wall and began pounding on it. At first, Quinn was not sure what the point was, and then it became obvious. Each blow sent a shiver through the whole building, and the wood groaned beneath Quinn’s feet. The loft was going to fall down, if the whole building didn’t first.

  Quinn would have to get out of here. He held the sword in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

  Boom, another blow came, and Quinn heard his floor giving way. Not thinking, Quinn dropped the sword, grabbed the gas can, still half full, and winged it in the Horseman’s direction.

  Although Quinn had never been much of an athlete, his aim could not have been better. The can caught the Horseman fully in the chest, knocking him back and over. Quinn saw gasoline spill out on top of him.

  He didn’t wait. He picked up the sword and threw it to the floor below, then dropped down himself.

  The Horseman was still on the ground. Quinn picked up the sword and headed straight for him. This could be his only chance. He was not sure where to cut so decided he would hit him right in the chest.

  He never got the chance. The Horseman picked himself up and as Quinn tried to bring a blow forward, the Horseman caught his wrist. And squeezed.

  Quinn felt incredible pain and immediately dropped the sword. The Horseman released him, reached down to pick up the sword, and prepared a blow for Quinn’s head. Quinn punched the Horseman in the chest to knock him back. But the Horseman appeared unfazed.

  Quinn stumbled back and looked around for any other kind of weapon. He ran over to where the gas can lay on the ground. So far it was the only thing that had done him much good.

  The Horseman paused for a moment and seemed to watch Quinn’s movement.

  Quinn picked up the can and stood looking at the Headless Horseman.

  The Horseman came toward Quinn, and Quinn decided to run. He needed to find a better weapon than this. Maybe at least a stick or something outside could help stop any blows. As Quinn ran out into the night again, the Horseman was right on his heels.

  He turned to look behind him as the Horseman brought his sword through the air. Quinn dropped to the ground and kicked at the Horseman’s knees, hoping to throw him off balance. The Horseman fell backwards.

  Grabbing the gas can again, Quinn lurched away from the Horseman, scrambling to stand up. But he tripped over something and fell headlong into the pumpkin patch. The gas can came loose and fell to the ground, spilling gasoline as it went.

  Quinn landed on two pumpkins. Flailing, Quinn tried to right himself. He could hear the Horseman getting up.

  Quinn grabbed a pumpkin and ran forward, trying not to trip over any other pumpkins. At the far edge of the patch, he turned and cocked back his arm to throw the pumpkin, but nearly dropped it. It was too slick and smelled of…

  The Horseman paused for a moment, as Quinn and he faced off across the overgrown garden.

  Kate had assured him he would know what to do. And now-finally-he did.

  Reaching into his pocket, Quinn pulled out Janus’ lighter.

  “You know what?” he asked. “For years, I’ve identified with Ichabod. But I think that’s over.”

  He flicked the lighter with his left hand and lit the pumpkin on fire.

  The Horseman started to move toward him, but it was too late. Quinn cocked the flaming pumpkin back, oblivious to the intense pain in his hand, and let it fly.

  The pumpkin hit the Horseman full on in the chest and he immediately caught fire. The Horseman stumbled back and now Quinn laughed.

  “I’m not Ichabod Crane,” Quinn said. “Go back to Sleepy Hollow, you headless son of a bitch.”

  The Horseman was consumed in flames. The sword disappeared in a flash and the Headless Horseman appeared to burn from the outside in, collapsing in on himself. There was a mist of fire and smoke and then he was gone.

  Quinn sank to his knees. His hand was in pain, but he was happy for the first time in a very long time. He had won. He felt a stirring in his blood, as if the fire were starting to spread through him. But it felt good.

  Quinn had won. He had not believed he could but he had done it.

  He was so relieved that he barely noticed the other figure striding toward him, who moments later stood in front of him.

  “You know, Quinn, a lot of screaming and burning stuff is not the best way to hide,” Kyle said, and pulled a knife from behind him. “Let’s finish this.”

  Kyle brought the knife down toward Quinn’s neck.

  Chapter 25

  Halloween

  Kate stood by the bridge, shining her flashlight into it, and holding her gun. Her connection with Quinn had been lost. She had sensed the Horseman getting closer and then she had been cut off. She came immediately, but was forced to park behind Quinn’s car and walk to avoid the nails on the road.

  There was nothing here and she fought down a sense of panic. Had Kyle gotten him? Or had the Horseman? And were either of those two, or both, now coming for her? Waiting for her?

  But she heard nothing. She shone a light into the bridge and saw no trace that anyone had been there. She should have come along. She should never have agreed to stay back. They were in this together and they needed to face it that way.

  She thought she heard far off laughter from up the hill. She started to walk up it carefully. As much as she wanted to help Quinn, it would not be a good idea to alert everyone to her presence. She was meant to be a surprise.

  She moved up the hill steadily and then felt something strange. She stopped.

  All at once a flood of images came to her, and she fell to the ground. The Horseman riding toward Quinn, dismounting and chasing him. A barn and…

  A flaming pumpkin. She saw that clearly now, and a
ll at once it was like someone had flipped a switch-she felt a burning sensation all through her.

  It was happening. She saw Quinn again clearly now-actually felt him in her head-as he fell to the ground after the Horseman went up in flames. It was like it had been before in the hotel room as they made love, only stronger. She knew everything in Quinn’s head-and more. So much more.

  She could see Kyle approaching and knew his plans. She could see his thoughts, his past, even where he had been hiding since his “death.” She knew it all.

  Just a moment ago, she had been scared, nervous. Now that was gone. The night felt alive around her. She could feel the wind whipping the branches, the snakes on the trees, the worms in the earth. She felt everything.

  There was nothing that could harm them anymore. She felt the power in her like a fire. Sadness, anxiety and doubt had been burned away. Kate started laughing and it was a joyous and awful sound at the same time. It was the laugh of someone who had seen the darkness and been consumed by it.

  She saw in her mind as Kyle walked toward Quinn with the knife. She wasn’t worried.

  (Send him to me.) Kate said in her mind, and she felt the answer hundreds of feet away. She barely needed to bother. Quinn wasn’t Quinn anymore, but her second half: the second part of the Prince of Sanheim.

  Kate turned and walked steadily back down the hill.

  Kyle expected his knife to go cleanly into Quinn’s neck. It was considerably quicker than he would have liked to be, but he had only 40 minutes left before Halloween was technically over. This whole process was taking more time than it should have. After Quinn had disappeared into the woods, Kyle had lost his trail momentarily before he heard Quinn shouting. He really must have driven the guy crazy. He needed to finish this, find Kate, and move on.

  But Quinn moved faster than Kyle thought possible. Quinn stopped the blow and held Kyle’s wrist in his hand without looking up.