Katrina has escaped the noose and is hiding in Philadelphia. But she can’t escape the legendary Headless Horseman. As before he comes to her window, beckoning her to him. Why her? The truth unfolds when Katrina is forced to RETURN TO SLEEPY HOLLOW.
The compelling sequel to SLEEPY HOLLOW is here! The Headless Horseman has returned!
He was there again…just below. I awoke as always to the power of his presence.
My bare feet hit the cold floor. One peek—just one—out the window.
The steam from Mrs. Allsopp’s kitchen collected in this room—this small room—causing deposits to form on the panes. Seeing out was like looking through damp feathers. That, and the added frost, made spying difficult. But he was there, in the torch-lit alley, his shadow bleeding onto the snow.
It’d been three years since I’d seen this horseman. The Horseman. And, as then, his hand reached out, summoning me to him. Katrina.
A chill deeper than the winter cold embraced me and I wore it like a second skin.
Three times he’s appeared since Ichabod and I fled to Philadelphia.
Why here? Why now? Why me?
But whatever the reason, he wanted me—a want so strong, I was weak to resist.
His gloved fingers summoned me like willows waving in a breeze.
He sat proud in the saddle, his shoulders broad—an obsidian hole where his head should rest. Snapping back his cape, he tilted his hand that I might easily take it. How freeing it would be to throw myself onto the back of his horse and let him whisk me away.
He waited…wanted. Katrina.
“What’s out there?” The voice startled me, causing me to whip around. Violet, the girl I shared the room with above Allsopp’s Pie Shop, sat up, her silhouette resembling a keyhole in the dark.
“Nothing,” I answered. It was true. For when I turned back, he was gone.
She rustled the covers, lying back down. “Sleepwalkin’ agin?”
“Yes.” It was my best excuse.
I stole one last glimpse out the window, knowing tomorrow it would only be a dream—a ghost lingering in my weary mind.
I crawled under the covers, gooseflesh prickling my skin. Though a vast distance divided us, Sleepy Hollow would forever haunt me.
ABOUT Dax Varley
Dax Varley writes the kind of young adult novels she wishes were around when she was a teen. She's a lover of humor, horror and all things paranormal.
When Dax isn't writing, she's collecting odd photos online, reading recaps of her favorite shows or kicked back with a good book. She lives in Richmond, Texas with her husband, a shelf full of action figures and about a dozen imaginary friends.