“As far as serial killers go, Lord Halloween was more flashy than scary. True, he terrified the area he haunted, but it seems impossible, when compared with some of the more famous killers of the 20th century, that this person should stand out. Yes, LH murdered with impunity. Yes, LH tortured several victims. But his fetish with Halloween is so trite that I give him lower marks than many of his contemporaries. About the only thing that gives me pause is that he got away with the murders. Most killers secretly want to be caught. It’s clear LH didn’t.”
—Arnold Cosgrove, “Stop Me Before I Kill Again: Serial Killers in History.”
Lord Halloween could wait forever. It was hard to say how long he had been standing alongside the road. He didn’t move or speak or show any other signs of life. He just stood there, looking in front of him. Patience was one of his virtues, he knew. Probably the only one.
He had waited 12 years. He thought that was long enough. There was some consideration, even as late as this morning, that he should wait one more year. After all, 13 had great significance among the superstitious. But everything was prepared and he didn’t have the heart to put away the tools of his trade for one more year. The truth, he knew, was that he didn’t want to wait another year—didn’t want to dream about this for another 12 months.
On the road, nothing stirred. Somewhere there was a faint rustling of leaves as the wind blew them around in the darkness, but everything else was still. He certainly did not move. He would wait for the right moment. He had waited this long, he could afford the time now. If today wasn’t the day, well…
He stopped himself. Today would be the day. His hands twitched with the thought of it and he smiled faintly. He stared out at the road. Today had to be the day. He felt it in his bones.
He waited in the darkness.
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (Free edition, with exclusive excerpt from A Soul to Steal) Page 11