Give the Devil His Due (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Three) (10 page)

“Kieran’s lying to you,” Kyle told her, pacing around the room. “He’ll wait until your guard is down and then he’ll strike. He can’t do what he promises.”

“He deserves to be punished,” the Horseman added. “He has our blood on his hands.”

Kate turned to face them both.

“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “Why would he lie about this?”

“Liars don’t need a reason,” Kyle said and smiled wryly. “Just trust me on that.”

Kate hated that Kyle was here, yet try as she might, she couldn’t seem to banish him. Every time she thought she had, he came back, often stronger. He was a part of her now. He had infected her.

“Death is forever,” the Horseman said.

“Look who’s talking,” Quinn broke in.

Kate was always glad when he spoke up. Despite all the company in her mind, Kate felt so alone. Or more precisely, she felt constantly attacked, assaulted by the thoughts of Kyle and the fictional phantom of Sleepy Hollow.

“You’re dead and yet you’re here,” Quinn continued, looking directly at the Horseman. “There’s only one person here who isn’t dead, and that’s Kate. So spare me the lecture on what’s possible.”

“This is different,” Kyle said, “and you know it. He’s blathering on about saving you, bringing you back. It’s just a distraction so she won’t kill him.”

Kate tried to reassert herself into the conversation.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Kieran’s right. He could have run.”

“We would have found him,” the Horseman said.

“Eventually, maybe,” Quinn said. “Last I checked, we weren’t trying very hard. What with killing all the random prisoners.”

“Your objections have been noted previously,” Kyle said. “They needed to die.”

“So glad to know you need a reason,” Quinn said.

“Oh, I don’t. It’s those two who do,” Kyle said, gesturing to Kate and the Horseman.

“Enough!” Kate said. “This has been decided already. Quinn says we should listen to him.”

“I’m glad you listen to me sometimes,” Quinn said.

Kate gave him a wounded look.

“I’m doing this for you,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” he replied. “You know damn well I wouldn’t want any part of this. You’re doing this for yourself.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Kyle asked. “You abandoned her, after all. Give her what pleasure she has left.”

Quinn crossed the white room and poked a finger in Kyle’s chest.

“Sometimes I wish you were real so I could kill you again,” he said.

“I’d like to see you try,” Kyle responded.

“Please stop,” Kate said, and she sat down on a chair that suddenly materialized in the room. She cradled her head in her hands. “Just. Please. Stop.”

She closed her eyes and willed the room to be empty. When she opened them, Quinn, Kyle and the Horseman were all gone. Only the banshee's skeletal form remained, staring at her through hollow sockets.

“Can we save him?” Kate asked her.

But as she had before, the ghost remained stubbornly silent.

*****

“Kate, are you with us?” Kieran asked.

He looked at Tim for help. Kate was sitting on a chair, staring off into space.

“I’m not sure I want to know what’s going on in her head,” Kieran said. “It’s like she’s not even here.”

The three of them were sitting in Tim’s apartment, having decided that a jail cell was the wrong place for this conversation. Despite the fact that Kieran was a “person of interest” in last year’s murders at Ball’s Bluff battlefield, Tim apparently had little trouble securing his release.

When Kieran asked him why, Tim had responded obliquely.

“Right now, the sheriff will do anything — and I do mean anything — to stop a certain person from running amok in his county,” Tim said. “As long as the murders stop, I have fairly wide latitude.”

“So he’s just going to let Kate and me go?” Kieran asked.

Tim smiled.

“Only until November 1,” he said. “Once she can be contained again, he will do everything in his power to capture her. You’re less of a priority, but I’m sure he'd like you too.”

“How comforting,” Kieran said.

“You should have thought about that before you murdered Quinn,” Tim said.

“Believe it or not, the police weren’t what I was worried about at the time.”

Kate stirred in her chair and suddenly stood up.

“Where are we?” she asked.

Kieran gave Tim a concerned look. Even now, Tim wondered if Kate might suddenly change her mind and kill Kieran.

“At my place,” Tim responded. “We drove here from the police station. Don’t you remember?”

Kate shook her head.

“I have trouble...” her voice drifted off.

Tim took a long look at her and a wave of sympathy overcame him. The woman he met two years ago had been strong and confident. He had tried to frighten her off by firing warning shots at her car. He had been surprised when she boldly stood up, daring him to kill her.

When he saw her, he guessed who she was immediately. He had met Susan Blakely a few times at various police functions he had attended as the local crime reporter. As the wife of one of the senior officers, Susan was kind, hospitable and striking, with long blond hair and stunning blue eyes.

Kate was her spitting image. Tim had wanted nothing more than to frighten those troublesome reporters away that day. He wanted to be left alone to wait for the killer that he knew still lurked out there. Instead, he had let Quinn and Kate in. They had found a broken man. A man who only remembered himself when he learned his old nemesis, Kyle Thompson, or Lord Halloween, was finally dead.

Now Kate was the one who was broken. In the months since she had been in the asylum, she had lost a lot of weight. Her once beautiful face appeared gaunt and drawn. Tim noticed the dark circles under her eyes, which appeared sunken and distant.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, almost involuntarily. “I know this is hard.”

Kate seemed as if she hardly heard him. Instead, her eyes fixed on Kieran, who was pacing the room while casting anxious looks in her direction.

“You,” she said simply.

Kieran stopped and faced her.

“Me,” he said.

Kate seemed to recollect herself.

“How do we save Quinn?” she asked.

It was the question for which Tim had been waiting. Despite what he told Kate at the jail, he knew only the bare outline of Kieran’s plan and could process very little of it. There were so many key details still to understand.

But now that he had finally been asked, Kieran seemed uncertain.

“I...” he said.

Both Tim and Kate looked at him expectantly as he stared blankly at them.

“If you don’t start talking soon,” Kate said, “I’m going to kill you.”

Kieran closed his eyes and took a long breath.

“Okay,” he said. “But give me a little time, okay? This requires some background.”

Kate nodded.

“Just make it good,” she said.

*****

“The more I thought about it, the more I started to believe that you are the key,” Kieran started. “When Sanheim first told me to betray you, he wanted me to kill you, not Quinn.”

“I wish you had,” she said.

“By the time the battle was going down, that wasn’t possible. You were fighting Sawyer out in the middle of the field and Quinn had just killed Elyssa. So he ordered me to kill Quinn.”

“So far, I’m not loving this story,” Kate responded.

“My point is simple: Sanheim would have preferred you to die,” Kieran continued. “The question is: why? It could have been random, of course, but say what you want for that guy, he's always precise. I don't think he just chose your name out of a hat.

“The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if there was something I was missing. I had been so focused on playing out my role, I wasn't thinking clearly.”

“That’s an understatement,” Kate added.

It came out as a growl and sounded distinctly like a man’s voice, not hers.

“Before the battle, you asked me if I knew what being ‘the last’ meant,” Kieran said. “I honestly had no clue. I've never heard of that, and I’ve studied more about the supernatural than most. So I asked Sanheim.”

“What did he say?” Tim asked.

“He blew it off,” Kieran said. "He was pretty casual about it, but he seemed distinctly annoyed. When he asked me how I knew about it, I said Carol had mentioned it."

“Who’s Carol?” Tim asked.

“The Leesburg psychic who called herself ‘Madame Zora,’” Kate answered. “Yet another person Kieran murdered.”

“Anyway,” Kieran said, smiling sheepishly, as if he had been caught for some minor infraction. “When I said that, Sanheim said ‘meddlesome woman.’”

“So?” Kate asked.

“So why is she meddlesome if it doesn’t matter? Why did he even care who I heard it from? It just didn’t seem right.”

“That’s it? That’s all you had to go on?” Tim asked.

“It was enough to convince me he was hiding something. Maybe a clue to why he wanted to kill Kate, rather than Quinn. So I started digging. I wasn’t sure it would even matter anymore, but it was that or do nothing. The interesting thing about the legend of ‘the last’ is that once you know to look for it, you find it referenced in several places. There were books I'd read two or three times that made a passing mention of it, but I’d never thought it was important, so I hadn't remembered it.”

“You’re taking a long time to get to the point,” Kate said. “I don’t know what ‘the last’ has to do with saving Quinn.”

“Everything,” Kieran replied. “Just hear me out.”

He was pacing again, trying to determine how best to put what he knew into words.

“You know all about ghosts, right?” Kieran asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. “The spirits of the dead who feel compelled to stay in the land of the living. Usually, it’s because of unresolved issues. For a brief moment when you die, there’s an opportunity to cross over. If you don’t take it — for whatever reason — you’re stuck. And the conventional wisdom is that you’re stuck forever.

“But there’s a legend. I don't know how old it is, but I think it's ancient. Way beyond anything to do with Sanheim or the Prince of Sanheim.”

“What is it?” Kate asked.

“It’s a prophecy,” Kieran replied. “And it exists in at least twenty different cultures that I could find.”

“A prophecy about what exactly?” Tim asked.

“The end of the world,” Kieran replied. “According to several versions of the tale, the world eventually becomes filled with what they call the ‘aching dead.’ Before you ask, that doesn’t mean zombies. I think it means spirits of the departed who don’t actually depart. They stay here, unchanged and suffering — and they influence the world around them.”

“Directly?” Tim asked.

“No, subtly,” Kieran responded. “It’s mostly unintentional. You ever spent time near the site of a massacre and all you feel is sadness? Most people would say that’s because you know what happened there, but I don’t think that’s it. I think the ghosts of some of the victims remain and they influence how you feel about it.”

“So what’s the connection to me?” Kate asked.

“Well, according to the legend, the world eventually gets too many ‘aching dead,’” Kieran said. “Their influence becomes pervasive. Mankind, never the most sensible of creatures, grows consistently more violent and irrational. The prophecy talks about the ‘time of reckoning’ when there is a massive tipping point. The world is, quite literally, overrun with ghosts.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Tim said.

“It’s not,” Kieran said. “But the texts also speak of the ‘guardian’ of the dead who rises to determine their fate. According to the prophecy, the guardian does one of two things. It either gathers the spirits to lead them to the underworld or, succumbing to the despair and madness around it, actually makes things worse. It gathers ghosts together and leads a wholesale slaughter of the human race.”

Kieran paused and looked at Kate.

“You’re telling me I’m going to destroy the world?” Kate asked.

“Why are you assuming it’s her at all?” Tim asked.

“Because in Celtic lore, banshees are the ‘guardians of the dead,’” Kate said.

“Yes,” Kieran said. “That’s not the only reason, however. I found a text from a Celt named Draghir, who wrote in a precursor to Gaelic. I had to go all the way to the Aran Islands to find this document. Draghir went further than just talking about a guardian. His prophecy was much more specific. He told an actual story.”

“This had better be good,” Kate said.

“Draghir described the last age of mankind, which he said was fueled by unchecked greed, lust, and thirst for power.”

“That’s every age of mankind,” Tim said.

Kieran shrugged.

“Yeah, but he was pretty ahead of his time,” he said. “He spoke about giant buildings that could ‘scrape the sky.’ He wrote about giant birds that flew through the air carrying people. He talked about ships that could go underwater.”