couldn’t think of how it came to be there. She picked it up.
“He must have done something,” Kate said, and handed the lighter to Quinn.
“Yeah,” Quinn said, looking at it briefly before putting it into his pocket. “I’ll bet he did.”
Quinn didn’t cry and he looked again at the trees around them. There was no sense in trekking in there-the killer could have long run away, and even if he didn’t, he would have some advantage.
But Quinn thought Lord Halloween could hear him.
“He died fighting,” Quinn called. “Not like you will, you soulless bastard.”
Kate put her arm around him. She looked into the woods, but there was nothing. No trail, no broken branches. Nothing that said where the killer had gone.
The forest on the other side of the road was more open, but again, they saw nothing.
“You hear me?” Quinn called out. “You want us, then come and get us. You coward. I'll see that you die quivering and alone.”
He stood there, clenched with a bottomless fury.
Kate knew what it felt like, but didn’t join in.
It wasn’t until after the police came, after they made their statements, after they were home, that it all came out.
Then there was sobbing.
Chapter 23
Sunday, Oct. 29
Quinn and Kate were the last ones out of St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church, letting Rebecca and Laurence file out ahead.
Standing on Cornwall Street, Quinn saw Rebecca take another tissue from her purse and dot her eyes. It occurred to him he had never seen her cry before.
“I hope you both will join us for the reception,” Rebecca said, her voice slightly shaky.
(I can’t.) Quinn thought. (I can’t keep doing this.)
(You don’t have to.) Kate replied.
(But I do. I really do.)
“Sure,” Quinn said out loud. “Your place is…”
“Just off Wirt Street,” Rebecca said. “You are welcome to follow me.”
“We’ll be along,” Quinn said. “I just need to go back to the paper and grab some stuff.”
“Are you sure you want to go back there?” Laurence asked him.
How old he looked, Kate thought. He looked like a different man. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes. How many editors see three of their reporters disappear or die in three weeks? What does that do to you?
“I have to go back there at some point,” Quinn said. “And I wanted to pick up a book Janus left in the darkroom. He brought it in three weeks ago for me to borrow and I kept forgetting to pick it up. I just…”
Quinn broke off. He took a slow breath and waited.
“It’s okay,” Rebecca said gently. She made a move as if to hug him and stopped. Quinn barely noticed. “Take your time. If you end up not feeling like it, that’s okay. We understand.”
Quinn nodded, and Laurence and Rebecca turned and walked down the street.
He and Kate watched them go.
“Laurence is right,” Kate said quietly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Quinn nodded again, and the two walked down the street. St. Gabriel’s was just over a block from the office.
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.
