Give the Devil His Due (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Three) (3 page)

“Janus,” he said. “Where are we?”

Quinn turned to see Janus giving him a look filled with pity. Janus pointed to an archway above them.

“Can you read the words on that?” he asked.

Quinn looked above him at an archway made of smooth, black stone with letters carved into it.

“
Lasciate ogne speranza
…” Quinn started then shook his head. “What does that mean, Janus?”

“Trust me, you know this phrase,” Janus said.

With a sinking heart, Quinn realized he was right.

“’Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,’” Quinn said.

He looked at Janus, who nodded grimly.

“You want to know where we are?” Janus asked. “Hell. We’re in hell.”

Chapter 2

Oct. 6, 2008

Joe McAdams walked slowly to the jail cell, oblivious to the two guards who were attempting to hurry him forward. The fear on them was so palpable he could practically smell it. It was intoxicating, a perfume like no other. It reeked of power and authority.

He proceeded into the antechamber at a lumbering gait as the trembling officer tried to push his massive bulk inside the jail cell. Joe resisted, but only because it reminded the guards who was the real master here. Once inside, he turned as they were about to shut the cell door and stuck his handcuffed hands out in front of him. The guard reluctantly came back inside and — after fumbling for several minutes — finally succeeded in setting Joe free. He grunted in satisfaction and watched as the two guards practically fell over themselves to shut the cell door and leave the room. They slammed the outer door when they left.

Joe caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall outside of his cell. He was six feet four inches, a towering presence for as long as he could remember. Most of his body was covered in dark tattoos. Along his neck was a drawing of a dog collar with spikes attached to it. On his face were some old Maori war paintings he had seen in a comic book once. His head was shaved bald, but his beard was thick, black and hung to his chest. He knew he looked like a badass. It didn’t surprise him in the least that the cops who brought him here had run. He grinned at his mirror image in self-satisfaction.

“You aren’t why they were so scared, you know,” a voice said.

Startled, Joe looked to see a middle-aged man sitting on a bench at the far edge of the room across from his cell. Somehow Joe had overlooked him when he walked in.

“You a cop?” Joe asked, and his voice mirrored his body. It was big and full of malice.

“No,” the man replied. “The name’s Tim Anderson. I’m the editor of the local paper here.”

“Huh,” Joe grunted. “I figured the media would want to talk to me. But I was counting on that hot chick from Fox News, or maybe the other one from CNN. Not sure I want to bother with you.”

“You mistake me,” Tim replied. “I’m not really here for a story. Or not yours at any rate.”

Joe stared through the bars at the small little man. He didn’t look like much, just an old dweeb with scruffy white hair and the air of a tired history teacher. He wasn’t sure why he was humoring the old man by even talking to him.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Then why are you here?”

Tim looked down at his watch and then back at Joe.

“I’m here to save your life,” he replied.

Joe burst out laughing, a deep rumble that echoed throughout the room.

“You think the cops are going to get rough on me?” he asked. “They can’t touch me. I’m…”

“I know precisely who you are, Mr. McAdams,” Tim cut him off. “You’re the leader of The Destroyers. You’re wanted on suspicion of three murders, grand larceny, grand theft auto, and at least a dozen other fairly serious crimes.”

Joe smiled at the mention of his biker gang. It had been on a roll recently, robbing convenience stores throughout southwest Virginia.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, old man,” he replied. “I’ve worked hard on my reputation. You might have even left out a few things.”

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” Tim replied. “But whatever you think you’ve done or deserve, you don’t know what’s coming for you. And when it gets here, you will very much wish you had opted to stay away from Loudoun County.”

Joe laughed again.

“I’ve heard about this place,” he said. “They said you all went a little nuts after that serial killer struck. What was his name?”

“Lord Halloween,” Tim replied.

“Yeah, him,” Joe said. “I liked him, he had style. The word is he drove this whole area bat-shit crazy. Looks like that’s true.”

Tim stared back at him.

“That may be truer than you know,” he said. “We paid a heavy price for Lord Halloween — and we’re still paying it.”

“Listen, you can save the spook stories, okay?” Joe said. “I’ve been around a long time and trust me when I tell you I’m the scariest thing you will see in your life.”

“Mr. McAdams, you aren’t even the scariest thing I will see all day.”

The door flew open and a cop came running through. His face was white and he looked around until he spotted Tim.

“It’s coming,” he said.

“I know, Officer Kaulbach,” Tim replied. “Where is it?”

“We’ve sighted it on Route 15, out by the battlefield,” Kaulbach replied.

“That’s three times in a row it’s come from there,” Tim replied. “Remind me we need to look again at possible hiding places.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaulbach said. “The Sheriff wanted me to tell you…”

“I’ll be ready,” Tim replied.

Kaulbach turned and started to walk back out the door.

“When it comes, you keep your head down, okay?” Tim said.

“I plan to be here,” Kaulbach replied. “The Sheriff…”

“Wants you to stay alive, and so do I,” Tim said. “Trust me, there’s nothing you can do.”

Kaulbach nodded and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Joe asked. “You guys get together for a little play or something? Nice try.”

“In the past 10 days we’ve arrested three people for murder, with you being the third,” Tim said. “Would you like to know how many are still among the living?”

Joe stared at him.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re going to tell me I’m the only one?”

“Exactly,” Tim replied. “And as I’m…”

“Fuck you, whoever you are,” Joe replied, more shaken than he wanted to admit. “I don’t believe a word you’re telling me. I…”

His words were interrupted by a sound outside. It sounded like someone laughing, a deep sound that echoed throughout the building.

“He’s here,” Tim said and stood up.

“Who’s here?” Joe asked.

Tim ignored him. From outside came the sound of a galloping horse, and then, from within the building, the sound of breaking glass. The officers inside started yelling.

“What the hell is that?” Joe asked.

A voice cut through the sound of men shouting.

“Open fire!” it said.

“That would be Sheriff Brown,” Tim told the prisoner.

There were dozens of shots after that and Joe put his hands to his ears. He looked at Tim.

“What’s out there?” he asked.

The gunfire tapered off. The voice from earlier shouted, “Rush him!” and Joe heard the sound of several people apparently trying to tackle a target. It was followed by a crash, then several more. Whatever was being attacked sounded like it was tossing men aside like rag dolls and barely even slowing down. Hollow laughter rang out again throughout the building. Joe heard more shouts and crashes, and this time they were closer to the outer door of the cell.

“He’s going for the prisoner!” the voice called.

Joe stared at the locked door across the room from him. He heard something approach the other side, its footsteps landing with a heavy thud. It stopped in front of the door. Some part of him insisted this was still a set-up, a bizarre prank played on him by the police. But the darker part of his mind knew that wasn’t right. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms were standing straight up and he sensed something…
wrong
… nearby. When he first began robbing grocery stores as a teenager, his grandmother had insisted that his actions would eventually catch up with him.

“One day, the devil will come for you,” she had said.

It looked like that day had finally come. For the first time in a long while, Joe McAdams was afraid. He backed into the far corner of his cell and waited for his doom to arrive. The door blew off its hinges, hitting the cell bars with a loud clang and then falling to the floor. A figure stood on the other side.

“No,” Joe said. “That’s not possible.”

What strode toward him was the stuff of legend and nightmares, a figure wrapped in a dark, rotting cloak. It was dressed in a torn and faded cavalry uniform, carrying a sword in a scabbard. Its singular feature, however, was what was missing. The figure had no head.

Joe tried to back up farther, but was already against the wall. He looked around in a panic, trying to think of anything that he could use to defend himself. The figure walked forward and raised his leg to kick in the cell door. Joe didn’t doubt he could do it. He didn’t doubt anything anymore.

“Wait!” a voice shouted and Joe turned to see Tim standing up and facing the headless soldier. “Kate, you have to stop this!”

Surprisingly, the figure in front of Joe stopped and turned. It seemed to regard Tim for a moment before its attention went back to the prisoner. The Horseman raised his leg again to kick in the cell door.

“No!” Tim called again and ran forward, putting himself between the Horseman and the cell. “This has to stop.”

The Horseman put his leg back on the floor and once again appeared to regard Tim. A flash of bright light forced Joe to turn away. When he looked again, the Horseman was gone, replaced by an unassuming man in his mid-thirties. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him. He appeared just below six feet tall, thin with tussled brown hair. For just a moment, Joe was tempted to relax. This was the kind of man he could break in half. But he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. One minute the Headless Horseman was in front of him, now just some young guy.

“Get out of the way, Tim,” the man said.

“I’m not moving, Quinn,” Tim replied.

“What the hell?” Joe said out loud. Neither of the other two men in the room looked in his direction.

“She doesn’t want to hurt you,” Quinn said. “You’re not why she came.”

“I want to speak to her,” Tim said. “She can’t hide behind you forever.”

“There are worse people you could see, Tim,” Quinn replied.

In another flash of light, Joe watched as the man morphed into someone else. He grew taller and his muscles beefed out. He even seemed older and his hair had turned jet black. On his face was a fu-manchu style mustache. Joe let his mouth fall open in astonishment, unable to process what was happening in front of him.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Tim said, and he held his ground.

“You should be, Mr. Anderson,” the man replied with a smile.

Joe suddenly realized the man held a knife in his hand. He couldn’t tell where it had come from. One minute it wasn’t there, and then it just appeared. The man put the knife’s edge against Tim’s face.

“I would so enjoy cutting you,” he said.

“She doesn’t want you to hurt me,” Tim said.

“Then why am I out of my cage, old man?” the man replied with a sinister grin on his face. “Besides, she didn’t want a lot of things. She didn’t want Quinn to die, she doesn’t want you here, and she doesn’t want this filth to keep living anymore.”

With that, he gestured in Joe’s direction and turned his smile toward him. For a moment, Joe was reminded of a predator, like a mountain lion. The man did everything but lick his lips as he looked at Joe.

“Why me?” Joe asked, but he knew the answer.

“Because you deserve it,” Kyle Thompson replied. “What was that you told him earlier? You liked Lord Halloween’s style? Well, you’re about to see it up close and personal.”

“You can’t do this, Kate,” Tim said. “You can’t let vengeance rule you.”

“Yes, she can,” Kyle replied. “She understands what we have to do now. ‘There are times in life when one must make a stand. We intend to do so. Our medium is the one best understood by every being on this planet, from the lowly maggot to us — fear.’”

“He wouldn’t want this,” Tim said.

With that, there was another flash and the first man — the one Tim had called Quinn — was back.

“What are you?” Joe said. But the two men weren’t paying attention to him anymore.

“I can’t control her, Tim,” Quinn said. “She’s in here, but she won’t be herself. It changes all the time. Sometimes it’s Kyle, sometimes it’s me. Most of the time, it’s the Horseman. Don’t ask me why.”

“You have to break free of this,” Tim said. “You can’t keep killing people.”

“Yes, we can. There’s nothing to stop us now,” Quinn said with an air of regret. “Besides, we’re only killing the guilty.”