The Pumpkin Patch

PROLOGUE

Kingston Falls, Maine. 1899.

Look at the girl. Look at her. You see her don’t you? Watch her sleep. No, don’t! Don’t turn your head. Watch. Wouldn’t you like to know what she tastes like? How she feels? Her flesh is warm. It’s tender. When you touch her, she’ll quiver. Trust me. She is beautiful. She will feel beautiful. Touch her. Go on, do it. Grab hold of her, listen to her scream. Feel her struggle. Touch her. Taste her. Kill her.

The murder had occurred on October 31^st, though the body had not been discovered until two days afterward. The death itself had meant nothing. Sometimes if a girl was too beautiful, she would be killed. This was the way things worked. She had been raised to understand that sometimes a man would be unable to control his urges. Kingston Falls was a young village, but its views, its beliefs, they were old to the core.

No, few cared about the murder, and though a few suitors were troubled by the young woman’s death they knew that there were, of course, other girls. What had frightened people was the message the death had sent. In any other village, the message would be invisible. No one would know, and if they did they would almost certainly not understand. Here, it could not be clearer.

It meant the Beast had returned.

They could try and argue otherwise, they could deny, they could try and lie to themselves but in their hearts they knew the truth. Every single one of them. They all knew the Beast had come to their town, because they could feel him. Halloween was the night that the dead returned. And so it had. The Beast has risen and it had every intent to tear this town apart.

Anna Lynn Mitchell had been stabbed to death in her bed at 3:15 in the morning on October 31^st. It was her brother.