The memorial service had been hard. Quinn had said a few words—said goodbye to his best friend—without breaking down. It had been a quiet affair, just the paper’s (remaining) staff, Janus’ family and a few others.
The truth was Quinn didn’t feel sad through most of the service—he just felt angry. He felt like it was the only emotion holding him together.
“There is this thing inside of us,” Quinn said finally as they walked. “I don’t know if it is good or bad, and I no longer care. I just want to unleash it—to send it toward the bastard that killed Janus, Kyle and maybe Buzz. I want to make their murderer pay.”
“I know,” Kate replied. “You know I’m right there with you.”
Quinn laughed with no humor. He watched leaves blow down the deserted street. It was twilight and the sunset reflected orange off the clouds above. It should be a beautiful day, Quinn thought.
But the day was hollow.
“How do we do it?” Quinn asked. “We’re crazy, do you know that? We shouldn’t even be believing this…”
(I can feel and hear your thoughts, sweetheart.) Kate said. (The time for questioning is over.)
(I know. I just wish all my questions had been answered.)
The least of them was how his leg had completely healed. By Friday night, there was barely a trace that anything was wrong. Quinn was healthy again.
Exactly how that had happened was unclear. From everything they read, somehow Quinn and the Headless Horseman were now tied together.
“It must draw its strength from you,” Kate said out loud. Though they could talk in their heads, sometimes it felt comforting to say things out loud. “It’s based on your fears. So I hurt it, but that hurt you too.”
“So what kind of chance does that give me?” Quinn asked. “How can I beat him if I can’t hurt him? How can I hurt him if that would only hurt me?”
“I hurt him, not you,” Kate said. “Maybe this has to be about you and him. Maybe I’m just tagging along for the ride. I’m the trigger.”
“No way are you just along for the ride,” Quinn said.
She put her hand in his and squeezed it. Quinn felt lost. His best friend was dead and he was a marked man. His girlfriend was also a target. The odds of coming out of this alive were getting slimmer every day.
“I’m so tired of being afraid,” he said.
“Believe me when I tell you, I’ve been there,” she replied. “But I think we have only one choice. We figure out a way that you beat the Horseman and claim whatever power we supposedly get out of it. This is a fight for your soul. For my soul. If we win, we get power. If we lose, it’s over anyway.”
“What if we win and lose our soul anyway? What if we shouldn’t want this power? I can’t remember, but in one dream, I got a taste of what it felt like and…”
“What?”
“It didn’t feel right, somehow. Whatever I was tapping into. There was no fear, no doubt.”
“Sounds great so far.”
“But I felt less human, somehow,” he said. “Like something had been taken from me. Something basic. What if this power is evil, Kate?”
“Do we have a choice?” she asked. “We’ve been chasing Lord Halloween all over. We aren’t any closer to finding him. What if this is the only way?”
They stopped walking in front of the Chronicle building. Quinn took a deep breath before opening the door. Kate and Quinn walked through.
The air felt heavy. None of the paper’s lights were on and the setting sun cast unusual shadows.
Kate and Quinn both waited.
“He’s not here,” she said finally.
(How can you be sure?)
(Because I just know.)
The two walked through the paper for the first time in days. The place felt like a tomb to Quinn, and even with Kate’s assurances, he still felt as if someone would jump out at them at any moment.
He glanced around him nervously.
(God, I’m such a fool.) Quinn said.
(Why?)
(Look at me. I’m shaking and scared of my own shadow. I’m like…)
Quinn stopped in the editorial area. He finished his thought.
(I’m Ichabod Crane.)
(Don’t be ridiculous.)
He let the images wash over her—showing a frightened Ichabod jumping at shadows on his way home at night. Later, the terrified schoolteacher clutched his horse for dear life as the Headless Horseman chased him.
(It’s not ridiculous.) Quinn replied. (Don’t you see? Since this started, I’ve done nothing but run away—from the Horseman, from Lord Halloween.)
(We had no choice.)
(But still, this is all playing out like the book.)
Quinn and Kate stood in the middle of the newsroom staring at each other. To any observer, the sight would have been bizarre. Neither was saying a word.
(How so?) Kate thought.
(Well, I’m Ichabod, you’re Katrina van Tassel, and Lord Halloween is Bromm Bones.)
(Give me a break. Bromm Bones wanted Katrina for himself. Romantically.)
(Lord Halloween still wants you for himself. He just wants to kill you instead of marry you. But the point is that Ichabod never faced up to Bromm or the Headless Horseman. All he did was flee.)
(Quinn, you are just upset.)
(I know.)
He sat down in Kyle’s chair. Quinn felt like he was betraying his old colleague even by doing that. Hadn’t he always wanted Kyle’s beat? Hadn’t he tried to…
(Stop it.) Kate said.
Quinn put his head in his hands.
(We have no plan. We have no idea who Lord Halloween is and we don’t know how to beat the Horseman to tap whatever powers we might gain. We have nothing.)
(That’s not true.)
(It isn’t? Lord Halloween could be anyone. He’s probably Buzz. Whoever killed Janus was in that house and used Buzz’s car.)
(Who would be stupid enough to use their own car?)
(It could be Josh, or Laurence, or Redacker. It could be Ethan for all we know—or Brown or Bill. Hell, it could be Rob or Steve who work over in the eastern Loudoun office. Or it could be no one we know.)
(We’ve been through this.) Kate thought. (This seems personal, that’s why we are assuming it is someone we know. Someone wanted to get Janus because they either knew him or wanted to hurt us. Probably both.)
(Was that true of Fanton? Or Kilgore? Did he know them?)
(Lord Halloween has had a thing about this paper from the beginning, Quinn. Of all the papers that mentioned him, he only sent letters to ours. He killed several employees. Why would he be so focused on the Chronicle? Because he either works here or has some reason to hate us. It’s the only thing that makes sense.)
(None of this makes sense.)
But Quinn’s mind was turning now. He saw Buzz’s jacket in the security video. The crime scene at Kyle’s house, the conversation with Anderson.
(My God) he thought.
It wasn’t there yet, but he was on to something—pieces of a puzzle he should have put together.
(What if Lord Halloween does have a motive?) Quinn thought. (What if it wasn’t random?)
(There was nothing linking all the victims) Kate responded.
(Not all of them, no. But you said it yourself. It was about this paper. What if it was always about the paper? From the beginning?)
(You mean it’s Ethan? He’s the publisher. He’s doing this for publicity?)
(No. No. The man in the dream said we were over-thinking it. Lord Halloween is just a man, he said. So who gained from the murders the first time around? Who got something he wanted?)
(Jesus) Kate said.
And they knew. They both knew. It clicked into place. All of their looking and it had been right in front of them.
(How do we find him?) she asked. There was fury in how she asked it. (He’s hiding.)
Quinn’s mind was racing furiously.
(Even the girl. He killed the girl downstairs in th
e basement. It wasn’t random. Anderson said everyone thought she was hitting on them. What if Lord Halloween thought it too? What if that was just petty revenge, not really about Anderson at all?)
(Never mind that now.) Kate said. (How do we find him?)
(We go to the police.)
Kate laughed out loud and it startled them both.
(With what? A half-baked theory? They will laugh us out of town, for obvious reasons.)
(What do you suggest?)
(We call him.)
(He’s going to pick up his phone?)
(We leave a message for him to meet us.)
(Where?) Quinn asked, and Kate flooded his mind with photos. Pictures of a field, a road and a covered bridge—the Old Phillips Farm.
(Are you crazy?) he asked. (I can’t do that. That’s where my dream takes place.)
(That’s where the Horseman will meet us.)
(And you want Lord Halloween there as well?)
(Yes) she said.
(This is an awful risk) he thought. (What if Lord Halloween doesn’t show? Or what happens if I can’t beat the Horseman? There’s too much that could go wrong.)
(Time is almost up. Halloween is almost here. This is our one chance. Even if we’re right, and it is who we think it is, who’s to say he won’t get away?)
Quinn thought of all the reservations he had. Even if they won, what would they be then? What kind of power would he have? And wasn’t that also a risk?
But Kate took his hand.
(Whatever this is, it bound us closer together.) she said. (It can’t be all bad. I want this to happen. And so do you. You said it yourself. You’re tired of being afraid all the time. Do this and you will be the thing others fear.)
Quinn slowly nodded his head.
(I have to take the Horseman first) he thought.
(We, Quinn.)
(No, last time we tried that, I ended up shot. The Horseman is my fear. I have to be the one to face him.)
(Do you know how to defeat him?)
(No. But I’m beginning to have an idea. Not running from him would be a start.)
(I’ll help you if I can) Kate said. In the dark of the Chronicle building, she pulled his head towards her and kissed him. It felt good, and that overpowering sense of lust started creeping back in.
(We have to stop) Quinn said. (If we win, we will have plenty of time for that.)
(You have to promise me something) Kate thought. (If you beat the Horseman, and Lord Halloween shows up, you wait for me.)
(If I’m as powerful as you said I would be, do we need to risk it?)
Kate shook her head.
(It’s not that) she said. (I want to be there when you face him. I want to watch him die.)
24
“Fear is your salvation, my friends. Do not shy from it. Do not run from it. If you do, it will control your path. It is only by grasping it and absorbing it that we can truly understand it, that we can revel in it and turn its power into our own. Fear is not the enemy. Fear will set you free.”
Letter from Robert Crowley, Oct. 31, 1873
Tuesday, Oct. 31
All Hallow’s Eve
Quinn pulled onto the road feeling the butterflies in his stomach. He eased the car back from his not-very-fast speed of 15 miles an hour. It was tough even to go that fast without feeling like the car was shaking all around him. Easy does it, he thought. Easy does it.
Some part of him still wanted to run. No matter how angry he was, no matter that he wanted to face this thing once and for all, it was hard to put himself in a position where two bad things were liable to happen, maybe at the same time. Even if ol’ Headless didn’t show up, Kate and Quinn had made sure someone else would.
My God, we are desperate, he thought. There must have been another choice or some other way. But they couldn’t think of any. The Horseman would be here. To defeat Lord Halloween, Quinn must destroy the Horseman. And Quinn could think of no more worse spot than here, heading into a trap of his own making.
And what did Quinn have to protect him? Nothing. Not a gun, which he had no idea how to use and would probably end up in the hands of his assailant anyway. Not a knife or a sword. Nothing.
He had come empty-handed, unless he counted Janus’ lighter, which he still carried in his pocket. It was the only thing he had of Janus. And if he was going to do this, he needed all the support that he could get. He hoped it would be his good luck charm.
Not that he was entirely alone. Kate was waiting a couple of miles away. When he needed her, she would be there. He just wondered if it would be in time.
(I’ll be in time) she thought.
(I know.)
The road got bumpier and Quinn knew he was only a mile from the bridge. Not that he believed it would keep him safe, as it had in the dream. Quite the contrary, given whom he thought would be waiting for him. But it was one of the few landmarks he knew on the road.
A large popping noise came and Quinn felt the car shift violently to the left. He pressed the gas to keep it steady, but knew immediately one of the tires had blown.
He brought the car to a stop and got out.
Outside the car, he saw the problem immediately. The two front tires were both blown. He leaned closer to the road and saw why. Nails had been laid across the road.
Quinn shivered.
(Well, we knew he would do something.) Kate thought.
(Yeah, but I thought I would at least get to the bridge.)
(Don’t let it throw you.) she thought.
(Easy for you to say. Or think, rather.)
So Quinn’s car was out of it. And this meant the trap had been sprung. Lord Halloween was here.
Quinn looked up the road and then behind him nervously. The scene was too familiar. The moonlight shone brightly through the treetops, which waved slightly in the breeze.
How many times have I dreamt this scene? But this time it’s real. He took some comfort in the fact that this was the last time he would have to make this trip. One way or another.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and walked down the road. He was only about a mile away, he thought. He moved slowly, however. As much as he wanted to run, he was afraid of doing so. Whatever was planned for him at the other end of this little trip, he did not want to run in blindly.
And then he started to hear it. The sound was far away now, but in the distance he could hear a horse at full gallop. Quinn knew it would be here soon. He started jogging, but did not push himself too fast. It would not be good to run out of energy already.
He looked behind him, as he had hundreds of times before in his dreams, and saw nothing. Nothing but the forest on all sides.
Looking ahead, he hurried. Maybe the Horseman would find him too soon. Or finish him off. And Lord Halloween would find nothing out here.
Quinn picked up the pace and saw the field on his right. He had stood there only a week before, looking at a tree carved with the word Sanheim.
The sound of the horse was louder now. Quinn chanced a look behind him. Did he see it already? That figure at the end of the road, riding with his cape unfurled behind him?
(You will have to face him.) Kate thought.
(I know.)But he kept running instead. Now that the moment was on top of him, he did not want to face this thing. He was not ready.
Quinn reached the curve in the road, ran around it and could see the bridge ahead.
In that moment, the question of who might be waiting for him under the bridge was gone. Instead, the dream reasserted itself—he needed to get to the bridge.
Quinn hoped he would make it in time. He looked at his watch. It was almost 10 o’clock. Quinn heard the hooves louder now and then heard something else—the sound of menacing laughter.
He turned to look, actually stopping dead in his tracks. And there in the distance he came, tearing around the bend in full fury. A headless figure astride a horse, with a blade swinging at his side.
(How could I ever think this was a good idea?)
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(You have to face him, Quinn. You have to face him before you get to that bridge. You can’t go in there. It’s not safe.)
But he could feel her fear as well as she saw the thing bearing down on him. The Headless Horseman crossed the distance between them as if it was nothing.
(Move, Quinn, now!) she called.
Quinn’s only thought was for the bridge. But he knew he would not reach it.
Instead, he panicked and darted into the trees on the side of the road. Quinn ran through the forest, with tree limbs tearing at him. Everything seemed horribly familiar.
The Horseman did not stop. He followed at full speed, and the noise sounded as if the trees themselves were being thrown aside to make way for the headless Hessian.
(What do I do?) he yelled out in his mind.
But now he heard nothing, nothing but the terrible sounds behind him. Quinn suddenly felt very alone.
He ran deeper into the woods, afraid to look behind him. He went to the left, hoping the Horseman would not see the change fast enough to cut him off. But he seemed to predict Quinn’s moves. The crashing sounds were near deafening.
Quinn turned to the right again, back the way he had come earlier. He had to reach the bridge. Some part of him knew he would not be safe there either. He had to find a way to face this thing before he got there. But he couldn’t think clearly anymore. Around him, he heard what sounded like trees being ripped from their roots.
Quinn’s hands were now scratched and bleeding. He saw ahead of him a break in the trees and knew that the bridge would not be far beyond it.
The Horseman was almost on top of him. Quinn looked behind only to see the horse’s hooves about to crush him. He dropped and rolled to the right, and the Horseman shot by.
As the Horseman sliced his way through the forest and came about, Quinn threw himself to the left again and heard the sword slice near his head as the Horseman came by.
Quinn darted forward and zigzagged through the trees. He had to get out of there.
And suddenly he was out. He stumbled up the hillside. The bridge was 20 feet away.
Quinn ran and waited to hear the sounds of the Horseman behind him. But now he heard nothing.
Dead and Gone Page 176
