Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Two) (15 page)

Maybe it was because Sawyer succeeded in making them feel unique. Don’t we all want to be flattered, told we are part of some grand plan? And he could sell it so well. Maybe, even after all these years, he still believed it.

His reverie was interrupted by the arrival of the man himself. Kieran didn’t hear him walk in, but instead saw his arrival on Karen’s face. There she was, laughing and talking to a friend in animated tones, and then she turned. Kieran didn’t follow her gaze, just watched her expression change. All trace of thought vanished in an instant. Whatever she was saying died on her lips. For her, the only person that existed in the whole world was Sawyer. And he was now in the room with her.

Had he thought she was pretty? Had he even considered trying to save her, putting his own neck on the line to do so? What a stupid and foolish thing that would have been. Karen wasn’t in this because she wanted to change the world. She was in love, and that was the most powerful drug in the universe. In that moment, when her gaze went to the man she adored—a man who didn’t return her feelings for a second, who regarded her the same way a carpenter might regard a particularly shiny hammer—she didn’t look pretty at all. To Kieran, she looked like a stupid cow, sitting in its stall, chewing its cud, unaware it was about to be sliced into official, Grade-A beef. He turned away in disgust.

Unfortunately, his gaze now turned to the man who inspired the look he despised so much. He watched as Sawyer took his seat in the front of the room. He nodded slightly in Kieran’s direction and motioned for him to come forward.

Kieran dutifully obeyed, hating himself a little more with every step.

Only for a little longer
, he thought.
Thank God for that.
For good or ill, this will all be over soon.

Sawyer smiled as Kieran approached. He had been sitting up straight, but he slouched ever so slightly as Kieran walked forward, indicating he was relaxed and at ease.

“How’s our search panning out?” Sawyer asked.

Kieran didn’t dare look straight into his eyes for fear he would see the lie there.

“Last night was a bust,” Kieran said.

In truth, it had been anything but. It had been his turn for the watch, tasked with seeing if any strange events occurred. And there had been plenty. From what he could tell, the new Prince of Sanheim had been riding all over the damn place, trying to get noticed. But Kieran had carefully kept that knowledge to himself. The longer he could keep Sawyer from Quinn O’Brion, the better.

“We’re making progress, mostly by ruling out various candidates,” he continued. “Between us, Elyssa and I have seen two dozen already.”

Sawyer abruptly stood up and walked down the steps from his makeshift throne. He looked out at the two dozen or so
moidin
who now stood silently watching his every move.

“This is taking too long,” Sawyer said, and Kieran heard real venom in his voice. “We are running out of time.”

“The plan is in motion. You just need some patience to let it play out.”

Sawyer stepped toward Kieran and stood inches from his face.

“I want this finished. Time only helps them, not us.”

How well I know that, boss
, Kieran thought.

Kieran almost couldn’t believe it. For all of Sawyer’s bluster, he seemed nervous too, just like Elyssa. What had gotten into those two that they were so worried? This wasn’t exactly their first rodeo, as Kieran knew full well.

“I’m saying it’ll happen, boss,” Kieran said. “Give it time.”

“No,” Sawyer said, and he stepped away.

“Okay,” Kieran said. “We can strike again. Elyssa has identified two other targets. One is a rapist. I think she would really enjoy hunting him. That will put them even further on edge and…”

“No,” Sawyer said, and it was practically a shout. “That didn’t work.”

“Of course it did,” Kieran said. “The police and media are buzzing. The Prince of Sanheim knows someone is looking for him. He and his consort will be nervous.”

And they aren’t the only ones
, Kieran thought, but didn’t say.

Sawyer looked out at his crowd of
moidin
but seemed not to see them.

“We don’t know who they are, do we?” he said. “And wasn’t that the idea? Spook them so badly they run or panic, tip us off in some way?”

“That was one of the ideas, but it’s only been one murder,” Kieran replied. “I think if we…”

“Enough,” Sawyer said again and he turned back to Kieran. “It won’t work. Killing the guilty may get the attention of the police, but it’s hardly likely to spook the Prince of Sanheim. I know what they feel like. This is their town. It might have made them angry to see someone cut down in their backyard and them blamed for it, but it won’t really affect them.”

“And what will?” Kieran asked, but he suspected he knew the answer.

“This is their town,” Sawyer said again. “Killing the guilty isn’t enough. To really make a stir, we have to kill the innocent.”

 “Our past is everything. It defines who we are. The entire history of the world—invading armies, plagues, natural disasters—are but exposition to the story of our lives.

I first heard the history of the Princes of Sanheim from Fara at a very early age. By 10, I could have named all of them—and there are more than I care to remember.

But it’s only worth discussing a few.

We must talk about the Bear because he was the first of us and he set the pattern of what was to come. In many ways, he doomed us all.

History has lost his real name, but I know his type. He was imperious, arrogant and—as is often the case with those other traits—deeply insecure. As the first of us, he believed he was unique and immortal.

But he was wrong.

After 34 years, another showed up, also claiming to be the Prince of Sanheim. The Bear felt threatened and did what anyone in power does in such a situation—he eliminated the threat.

Maybe our lot would be different if the Bear had chosen another path. I’ve often wondered if two Princes could coexist peacefully. But it’s an academic question.

Spurred on by the dark musings of another, the Bear made his decision—and the rest of us have paid the price. No Prince of Sanheim has been able to live in harmony with another since that day.

Five more times, the Bear cut down a new Prince of Sanheim—until a young warrior named T’Noughn faced his
cennad
and won. T’Noughn didn’t wait to be killed, but instead slunk off with his consort and plotted. He was the first to realize he didn’t have to play fair.

Only later—at a time and place of his own choosing—did he fight the Bear. The key to victory, he discovered, was to battle with followers, or
moidin,
at his side. And as a result, he won.

It took 200 years for the Bear to fall, which stands as a record for our kind. Since then, the play has been repeated time and again.

The savvy Princes wait and watch for their successors to appear—and kill them before they are a threat. The smart new Princes see danger on the horizon, quickly gather others to their cause—and strike as soon as they can kill their predecessors.

Such is the curse of the Prince of Sanheim.”

—Robert Crowley, 1871

Chapter 14

September 27, 2007

Maggie Frank began the laborious process of double-checking that everything would be ready for the next morning and started shutting off the lights at The Rainbow School. She hated locking up alone. She also disliked doing it this late. She looked at her watch and noticed it was now past 10 o’clock in the evening.

It had been an exhausting few days. She wished she could say that parents’ night was the highlight of her job as director of the preschool, but it was exhausting. Parents wanted to make sure their kids were well cared for and this night was meant to prove it to them. She had to make sure that everything went perfectly.

She had bid the last parent goodbye 20 minutes ago and had stayed behind to complete the final clean-up before tomorrow. As she walked around the rooms ensuring the lights were off, she felt unnerved.

She supposed that any building seemed creepy when there was no one inside it. Last year, she had forbidden anyone from locking up alone. She hadn’t lived in Leesburg the first time Lord Halloween had struck the town in 1994, but she had grown up near enough that it had made an indelible impression nonetheless. She had taken every precaution, starting with a rigid security system at the daycare center that included a buddy system for locking up. Lord Halloween had a penchant for striking out anywhere—including at kids—and she was going to be damned if anything happened here.

Fortunately, despite the complaints of a few parents that it was overkill, the system had worked. Other than a small fire in the building, 2006 had proved to be uneventful, at least where the daycare center was concerned.

After Lord Halloween’s death, she had kept most of the procedures in place, but she had reluctantly let the buddy system slide. Now she wished she hadn’t.

She finished her final round of the building and prepared to go home. Maggie told herself she was being silly for being so nervous. The daycare center, after all, was near the center of town. Even at 10 in the evening, it wouldn’t be completely deserted outside. But when she stepped out, she saw that wasn’t true. And maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. After Lord Halloween, everyone had learned to get home quickly—and shut and bolt their doors and windows. Even if he was dead, who knew what else lurked out there in the darkness?

She shivered at the thought and hurried up. She had only walked half a block when she heard it, a sound that both perplexed and frightened her. Why would someone be out riding their horse this late at night? The sound stirred a memory she couldn’t quite recall, but nevertheless triggered an instinct that told her she needed to get to her car—and fast.

The sound grew louder as Maggie broke into a flat-out run. Whoever was riding this way was in a hurry and sounded like they were coming right for her.

She cut through the streets and ran back to the parking lot. Instead of passing by and fading away, however, the sound got steadily closer. She risked a glance behind her and screamed.

Only 20 yards behind her, a horse was coming straight at her. It was black, but its red eyes shone brightly each time a hoof hit the ground. She looked at the rider on top and screamed again. She had no idea what it was, but knew it was something out of a nightmare.

She broke into a sprint then, hoping to close the distance to the car before the horse could catch up to her.

Instead, the horse blew past her, blocking her path. The rider pulled out a sword and pointed it at her as the horse reared up.

Maggie didn’t wait to see what it did next.  Realizing that going forward was useless, she broke left, running into a neighboring parking lot. She dodged around the cars and heard the sounds of breaking glass behind her. The rider was smashing car windows as it went.

She was thoroughly turned around now, unsure of where she was heading in the maze of parking lots behind the main city thoroughfare of Leesburg. She ducked into an alley, hoping she could be quick enough to elude her attacker. But as she went in, she heard the horse follow close behind. A screeching noise rang out, forcing her to turn around. The thing on the horse was running its sword along the brick wall, making a scraping sound that echoed through the dim alley.

The horse should have been able to catch up with her. It was now only one or two yards behind—a short jump and she would be done for. Yet the horse and rider seemed more interested in staying close than reaching her.

It’s playing with you, Kit
, a voice in her head said. She was surprised to find it was the voice of her younger brother using a family nickname.

She cleared the alley and found herself on King Street again. She moved right and hoped that the thing wouldn’t follow her onto one of Leesburg’s main streets. But the horse never slowed, instead raced after her. She looked behind her to see the horse rear up again and, impossibly, a jet of flame shoot in the air.

It’s a nightmare, she thought. This must be a dream.

It’s no dream, Kit
, her brother’s voice came again.
Move!

But looking back proved to be a mistake, possibly the last one she would ever make. As she turned to face forward again, her feet stumbled over a curb. Her right foot landed awkwardly on the street and bent the wrong direction. She heard a sickening crack and barely managed to stay on her feet. But the damage was done. As she tried to keep running, her right foot shot a spike of pain up her leg when she landed on it. This time she didn’t keep her balance and instead fell to the ground.

Maggie lay in the middle of the road and looked back at her attacker. The horse, far from running, now seemed to take its time approaching her, trotting slowly in her direction. The thing on top of it smiled and Maggie thought it was possibly the worst thing she had seen in her life.

“A school teacher, how fitting,” the thing said. “My old teacher was the first person I killed. I dare say he had it coming—he was a terrible person, used to beat any boy silly for so much as looking cross-eyed. But I have to admit, I’ve always enjoyed killing teachers after that.”

Maggie opened her mouth to reply but no words came out. She was struck by the sheer unreality of what was happening to her.

“What?” the thing said. “No protestations, a little begging perhaps? The last one tried to pay us off, did you know that?”

She didn’t respond. She thought she had understood the meaning of the word “speechless,” but only now did she truly grasp it. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, maybe even beg, but nothing came. She lay there waiting for the inevitable.

The thing brandished the sword in front of it, waving it around with the air of practice and experience.

“This isn’t my usual weapon, you know,” it said, and Maggie had the urge to cover her ears. “But it is
his
weapon. When in Rome…”

The horse leapt forward then, closing the distance between them in a few rapid strides. She saw the sword aimed at her neck. She lay there, unable to move, watching as this thing moved toward her to end her life.

*****

Maggie never saw what saved her.

Her eyes were focused only on the sword coming down at her. One minute the horse was charging straight at her and then there was an explosion of fire nearby. The horse, instead of completing its deadly mission, suddenly veered off course.

Maggie started to stand up, forgetting for a moment what had made her fall. But the pain in her right foot was so bad she stumbled again. She struggled to make sense of what was happening around her.

There were now two horses in the street. Her attacker was just turning around when the second horse and rider plunged in for the attack. The motion was frenzied, nearly blurred, but Maggie heard steel on steel as both horses and riders fought one another. She watched with her eyes wide as the horses became inter-tangled, trying desperately to bite each other. The riders were also locked together, swords clashing, each trying to get an advantage.

It was unclear which one was winning until she saw the new rider gain leverage over her attacker and give him a shove that knocked him off his horse. The thing that had pursued her went sprawling in the dirt. If she was under any illusion it was defeated, however, that was quickly corrected. The thing stood up, brushed itself off, and smiled.

She heard laughter—a terrible laugh that would haunt her dreams for the next year—but she didn’t think it came from the thing in front of her.

Instead she saw it look in her direction, as if it had only just remembered she was there. He smiled and Maggie barely fought down the urge to scream.

Get the woman out of there
, a voice in her head said, but she knew it wasn’t talking to her.

She never saw the second horse start riding toward her, only felt a rough hand reach down and grab her. With inhuman speed and strength, it placed her on the back of the horse, riding behind him. Maggie paid no attention to her savior, but instead watched as her attacker faded into the distance. The last she saw of him, he was moving to get back on his horse.

“He’s coming after us,” she said to her rescuer.

Only then did she realize who it was.

She had been so relieved to be saved, she had never taken a good look at who the other rider was. But the figure in front of her—around whom she had her arms locked tightly—was no hero. His coat was old and frayed. He rode forward with speed and fury, but had no head to guide him. She was riding behind the Headless Horseman. Maggie screamed again.

We mean you no harm
, a voice in her head said, and she was surprised to hear it still sounded like her brother. 
Hold on tight. We have to get you as far away from him as possible.

She was scared, more terrified than she had been in her entire life, but she held on nonetheless. She was now nearly as frightened of the thing in front of her as what she had left behind, but if he had wanted her dead, he could have already accomplished that.

We will take you home
, the voice said again
. But first we have to make sure we lose him.

She nodded her head. The Headless Horseman used no path she knew. It rode through the streets of Leesburg, then suddenly across a field and plunged into a forest. If she had to guess, she would assume they had headed west where the city of Leesburg gave way to farmland and old Virginia woods.

What was that?
she asked in her mind. She wasn’t sure it would work or if she had lost her mind. How could something be communicating with her this way?

But her brother’s voice answered her.

An imposter
, he said.
Someone who wants to pretend it’s us. It killed the banker last week and was hoping to murder you too.

Why?
she thought.

To get our attention
, her brother replied.

Why do you sound like my brother?
she finally asked.

I needed to use the voice of someone you trusted
, he replied.
I wanted you to think it was a voice inside of you or I worried you wouldn’t listen to it.

And you think I trust my brother?
Maggie replied.
You obviously don’t know him very well.

There was a note of wry amusement in the response, which now sounded like a woman instead of her brother Brian.

Fair enough
, the voice replied.

As they talked, the Headless Horseman continued to race through the woods. At this speed, she didn’t know how he could avoid all the obstacles in his path, but he moved so smoothly Maggie was never scared—of the ride, at least. The rider still worried her.

We need you to do something for us
, the voice said again.

You saved my life
, she replied.
What do you need?

We need you to call the police as soon as you get home
, the voice said.
We need you to tell them everything.

Even about you?

Especially about us
, the voice said.
Give them a message too. Tell them we didn’t kill Robertson.

Who’s Robertson?

The banker your attacker killed,
the voice said.

Who are you?
She asked.

We are the Prince of Sanheim,
the voice responded and this time she felt sure it wasn’t just a woman’s voice, but a man too.

And who is the other one? The one who attacked me?

With a start, she felt the Headless Horseman slow down. She realized it had emerged from the woods, possibly several minutes ago. It now stood in front of her house. Before she could move, she felt the Horseman reach around her, grab her by the coat, and lift her to the ground in a smooth motion.

“Thank you,” she said out loud.

She couldn’t be sure since he lacked a head but she felt like the Horseman nodded ever so slightly. She started to walk to her door, only for her foot to give out again. She had forgotten about it during the ride but the second she was on the ground the pain was nearly unbearable. She limped painfully to her door and turned around only when her surprised husband opened it.