Give the Devil His Due (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Three) (6 page)

“Yes, or at least that’s what Kate said during her ramblings,” Tim said. “Where is he?”

“One of my officers saw him in Sterling and thought he might be our guy,” Brown said. “We’ve tracked him for the past two days. He’s staying in a seedy motel, appears to be keeping a low profile.”

“Not long after Kate broke free,” Tim said. “But why would he be back here? It’s suicide. Unless…”

Tim’s thoughts drifted. From what he knew, Kieran didn’t have any supernatural powers. Why would he be back? There was only one reason he could think of, something that Kate had talked about after Kieran’s sudden visit. Tim had tried to track him down after that, but Kieran was crafty. He had completely disappeared.

“How fast can your people be ready to move?” Tim asked.

“We have a 24-hour stakeout on him,” Brown said. “My officers are just waiting to see what he’s up to.”

Tim studied the photo.

“I don’t think we can wait for that,” Tim replied. “We need to bring him in now.”

“Why?”

“Because if she finds him first, she’ll kill him, and we need him,” Tim said. “He may be the only person who can stop this.”

*****

Kieran Collins banged on the wall.

“Could you please keep it down?” he screamed. “Some of us are trying to sleep off an epic hangover in here.”

He heard a brief pause in the rhythmic grunting from the other side of the wall, then it started up again. If anything, the woman’s moans were even louder than before.

“I’ve killed people, you know!” he shouted. “You don’t want to fuck with me.”

Kieran took another swig from the vodka bottle in front of him and then amended his earlier remarks.

“Come to think of it, the last two people I fucked actually died, so I mean that literally,” he said, still shouting. “Wait, no, that’s not right. Three people. Yes, three people I fucked have died. I’m like the Typhoid Mary of fucking.”

The noises from his neighbors continued unabated and Kieran sat back down on the bed.

“To hell with you,” he said.

He took another drink from the bottle and sat with his back against the wall. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was only 3 p.m., but it felt later. How long had he been in town? He couldn’t remember. As for his plan… well, there was a good chance he was going to die before he could implement it. But what else was new? He had been taking crazy risks for so long it felt normal.

He listened to the moaning from next door and tried not to be jealous. It wasn’t that he missed sex; he just missed other people. He had been in Sawyer’s crowd for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to be alone. Only after they were dead and his new companions betrayed did he remember what that creeping emptiness felt like.

After he killed Quinn and fled Kate, he had traveled for a straight month, trying to put as much distance between himself and his past as possible. But what was it Elyssa had said? “Your past is like a band of demons, forever nipping at your heels.”

Elyssa had been wrong about many things, but not that. He could run to the ends of the earth, but he would never get the one thing he really wanted.

The plan he came up with was so insane, he had dismissed it at first. Surely his part in this little drama was over. Sanheim had forced him to play a role and he had done it. He was Judas Iscariot to not one, but two Princes of Sanheim. He could win a medal for betrayal. And where had it taken him?

Over the next weeks and months, the scheme had gnawed at him, taunting him even in his sleep. It had sparked research, followed by trips with an actual destination. Soon he discovered he wasn’t running away anymore, but actively seeking out information.

And then he’d found the key to everything.

He let his thoughts drift off and took another swig of his drink. He’d been a fool to come back earlier this year and seek out Kate at the asylum. He should have known she would still be lost in la-la land. He remembered what it was like to lose Grace. Kate wasn’t ready for him. He had told her the truth — at least as he understood it and tried to share the outlines of his plan.

But it hadn’t worked out. At the end of his visit, she was still crazy and he was left to scheme alone. He did what he did best — he ran. Again. This time there was a purpose. He had more research to do, more secrets to uncover.

And now he found himself back here again. He must still be crazy. Only an idiot would come back here, take a chance like this. But he knew what he wanted now and if he had to risk everything to get it, so be it. He had gambled before and lost. But that just meant his turn had come, didn’t it?

Kieran noticed that the sounds next door had stopped. Everything was quiet. And that made him smile. Not because now he would get the sleep which he desperately craved, but because the next part of his plan was about to come to fruition.

He didn’t even hear them when they came up the stairs of his motel. One minute all was quiet, and the next, the door to his room burst open.

What felt like an entire SWAT team came through the door, and Kieran watched them in slow motion. The officers fanned out across the room in full tactical gear, as if Kieran were a dangerous assassin instead of a pathetic drunk. He had needed the alcohol, of course. He could use any kind of courage, liquid or otherwise, for what came next.

The police pointed their weapons at him and shouted at him to put his hands up. Kieran calmly took another sip before setting his bottle down and raising his hands.

One of the officers spoke into a radio and Kieran watched as a man entered the room. This one was no cop, and Kieran was sure it violated just about every police procedure in the book that he was here.

“Hiya Tim,” Kieran said, and the words came out more slurred than he expected. He hadn’t intended to drink quite so much.

“You’ve been waiting for us,” Tim replied.

“No, no, no,” Kieran said. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to cross the room, look at me and say, ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ I said it to Quinn once, did you know that? And I meant it, too. I just didn’t know I would have to take it back.”

“We have to get you out of here,” Tim said. “As soon as she knows you’re here, she’ll come for you. We’re going to move you to D.C., get you farther away while we sort this out.”

But Kieran just smiled at him and drained the bottle of its remaining contents.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I know what happened at the Leesburg jail. It’s why I came back now. I’m ready, Timmy. I know she’ll come for me. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

Chapter 5

Quinn stared at the world in front of him.

I’ve gone mad
, he thought.
I’ve actually gone mad.

When he was alive, Quinn had been to several amusement parks. Virginia alone had two good ones: King’s Dominion and Busch Gardens. He’d also taken vacations to Disney World as a kid and Universal Studios as an adult.

The park in front of him bore some passing resemblance to all of those but at the same time was fundamentally different. There was a line of ticket stations in front and behind them was a giant map of the park.

But everything looked decrepit and run down. The giant map was rotted through and the words and pictures faded. Several of the ticket stations had shattered windows. There were old soda cans lying strewn about the place, and the trash cans were still filled with garbage — complete with circling flies.

Even in its heyday — assuming this place ever had one — the park would have been creepy. Affixed to every lamp post were large, grinning pumpkin heads that were both malicious and scary. The teeth looked like knives and the eyes glowed a vibrant orange. Above the ticket booths was a huge banner that was dirty and faded. It read, “Welcome to Halloweenland.”

“So hell is an amusement park?” Quinn asked. “Seems fitting.”

“No,” Janus replied. “It’s a
haunted
amusement park, which is even worse. ‘Like wow, Scoob, we need to get Fred and Velma and fire up the Mystery Machine.’”

Quinn couldn’t help it — he burst out laughing. His laughter seemed to echo throughout the park and bounce back to him. For a moment, Quinn thought he heard someone else laughing as well, in a decidedly mocking tone.

“Did I ever tell you that your Shaggy imitation is dead-on?”

Janus looked at him and Quinn could see the genuine fear in his eyes.

“Never had much occasion to use it,” he replied. “But it seemed appropriate.”

“Are we really going in there?” Quinn asked.

Janus gestured to the door behind them.

“Do we have much choice?” he asked.

The door they had come through appeared welded shut and had no handle. Quinn pushed on it for a few seconds before realizing it was futile. It was clearly designed to let them in, but not back out.

“’You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave,’” Quinn said.

“Exactly,” Janus replied. For the first time, Quinn noticed how haggard and pale he was.

He’s been through a lot too
, he thought.
I have to try and remember that. It’s not just about me.

“I don’t suppose staying here is an option,” Quinn said.

Janus looked up at the sky, which was a perfect blue. Quinn followed his gaze and for a moment, he could believe he was back in Virginia.

“Just a guess, but I’d say the sun is going to set soon,” Janus said. “And we may not want to be here at night.”

Quinn nodded.

“Makes sense,” he said.

But neither one budged. The wind picked up and whistled through the abandoned structures. A lose shutter banged against a window, and a broken sign creaked as it swung from a rusty nail. From somewhere close by, Quinn thought he heard something crash.

“I’ll go first,” he said after a moment.

A series of flags lined the entrance path, each with the same grinning pumpkin face on it. “Halloweenland — you’ll positively scream with delight,” read one. “Can you die of fright? Find out in Halloweenland.” The last one before entering the park said, “It’s Always All Hallow’s Scream in Halloweenland.”

The actual entrance was a row of turnstiles, all of which appeared rusted and ancient. Quinn tried to push on one but it was stuck.

“I assume nobody’s going to kill us if we don’t have a ticket,” Quinn said, as he hopped over the turnstile.

“Pretty sure the plan is to kill us no matter what,” Janus replied, and followed suit.

The inside of the park was a twisted nightmare. They were forced to walk through the mouth of a giant pumpkin head to enter. Quinn almost wondered if it would turn out to be real and swallow Janus and him whole.

Instead, the paved pathway continued on the other side, lined with small dark buildings. The structures were vaguely Gothic in design and were both cartoonish and grotesque. Once upon a time, they were meant to look like a haunted village. But now age and disrepair had given them a very authentic ‘haunted’ look.

Many of the buildings still had signs in front. To the right was “Nightmarish Knacks,” which appeared to be a former gift shop, while ahead on the left was “Terrifying Treats,” with a picture of a lollipop on the sign. If Quinn wasn’t mistaken — and he hoped he was — the lollipop looked like it was coated in blood.

“Charming,” Quinn said. “Can’t imagine why this place went out of business.”

“You see that?” Janus asked, and pointed to the buildings in front of them.

All along the roof ridges and gutters, fake birds perched. Quinn thought they looked like crows or ravens. Only when one of them turned its head and cawed at him did he realize they were real. Several other birds took up the cry and suddenly the entire park, which earlier had been as silent as a graveyard, erupted with the sound of birds. Quinn put his hands to his ears. But as suddenly as they started, they stopped, and the park was silent again. Instead, the birds watched them quietly, each head turning in slow motion as Quinn and Janus walked by.

Quinn and Janus exchanged a worried look and kept walking.

The path led to a courtyard with a fountain in the middle. The birds perched on the buildings all around them, still silently watching Quinn and Janus. Their attention was drawn elsewhere, however.

Five scarecrows were propped near the fountain, each one wearing jeans, a flannel shirt stuffed with straw, and a pumpkin for a head. All of the pumpkins were carved differently. Each one looked like it was in pain.

Janus and Quinn approached the scarecrows cautiously, worried they might suddenly start moving. They certainly didn’t look human, but in this place, appearances were deceiving.

Quinn prodded the middle scarecrow, confirming that it was straw, not flesh, tucked inside the clothes. He felt a certain relief until his hands brushed against something sticky on the jeans. When he looked at his hand, it had blood on it.

Quinn jerked back and looked again at the scarecrows.

“Whatever these things are, I think they were people once,” he said.

Before Janus had time to respond, music suddenly blasted over a loudspeaker. Quinn and Janus jumped. The music was dissonant and jarring, with the sound of chains rattling and screams mixed in.