The Awakening Evil (9 page)

And when she woke up, she would realize this was all a dream.

Jane took another step toward the bed. She couldn't make it. Her legs were trembling too hard. She sank to her knees in the middle of the room.

I have lost my mind, she thought.

No, you haven't,
answered the voice in her head.

“Yes, I have!” Jane cried.

No. You. Have. Not!

The voice was harsh. And somehow strangely familiar.

There is something inside me. I have been possessed, Jane realized. A shudder raced through her body.

That's right, Jane. I'm in control now,
the voice replied.
You are powerless.

I've heard that voice before, Jane thought. But where?

If only she could remember, maybe it would help her decide what to do. How to fight it.

Jane sat perfectly still. She waited for the voice to speak again.

Silence.

Was it gone?

Who knows how such things happen, Jane thought. Maybe spirits from the other world pass by quickly, like dark clouds overhead. Maybe encounters with them were brief nightmares to be endured, and then one could go on as before.

Jane pushed herself to her feet and shuffled over to the bed. She sat down and stared at the floor.

Was it gone? Was it truly gone?

For a moment, she felt hopeful.

Then her body began to vibrate.

She could feel something big and powerful gathering force within her.

Heat rushed through her body. Beads of sweat popped out on Jane's forehead.

The bed began to tremble beneath her.

Jane uttered a low, deep moan.

And the bed itself began to lift into the air.

Then it spun.

Faster and faster.

Jane threw herself facedown on top of the coverlet. She grabbed the edge of the mattress with both hands. She held on so tightly her fingers began to cramp.

Wham!

The bed banged back down onto the floor.

Jane let out a long, shuddering breath. She lay with her cheek pressed against the coverlet. She was too stunned to move.

This is it, she thought. This is the danger Thomas warned me about in my dream.

Jane felt something move under her cheek. Was the bed going to start spinning again?

She jerked her head up. And saw the vines on her coverlet begin to wriggle like snakes.

They rose up, wrapping around her. She felt their thorns cut her.

The vines lifted Jane into the air—and threw her.

She hit the wall face first. She felt her teeth rip through the soft flesh in the side of her mouth.

Jane slid back down onto the bed. She tasted blood. She spat.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please leave me alone!”

She felt a hand caress her cheek.

She turned her head to get away from the invisible hand's clammy touch.

But no matter which way she turned, the clammy
hand followed her. Gently smoothing her face, her hair.

The voice in her head began to speak.

You can never get away from me. Do you hear me? So don't even try. Because it makes me
angry!

The voice screamed the last word.

Jane tensed, waiting for the next attack.

It didn't come.

She lay still, trying to regain her strength.

A bubbling and crackling sound made her raise her head.

What is happening? What could possibly be happening now, Jane thought.

The walls seemed to be melting.

Paintings, paint, and plaster—all turned into a steaming brown liquid that dripped onto the floor.

The brown liquid flowed into the center of the room. Where it rose in a wave.

The wave rose higher, higher.

Then it crashed down on Jane, scalding her skin.

She writhed in agony.

Please! Please, stop, Jane begged. Why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve this?

Jane could smell her own flesh burning. Her skin peeled away from the bone in long strips.

If only I were dead, she thought.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She prayed for death.

Oh, but I won't let that happen, Jane,
the voice answered calmly.

The smell of burnt flesh disappeared.

Jane slowly opened her eyes. She stared down at herself. Her skin was smooth. Not even one tiny burn marked her body.

She stared around the room. It looked completely ordinary. The walls. Her coverlet. Everything was back to the way it had been.

You can't keep me from death, Jane vowed.

I won't let you die until I am done with you, you miserable creature,
the voice promised.
You think you recovered from that illness by yourself? You were more than half dead last night before I revived you, Jane.

“You call me by my own given name. Do you know me?” Jane asked.

It no longer felt odd to be speaking to a voice inside her head.

She knew the presence was real.

And she knew better than to doubt the power of the being inside her ever again.

Do I know you?
the voice repeated.

“Oh, please, please, please,” Jane cried. She couldn't think of what else to say. She could only beg.

Oh, please, please, please,
the voice taunted.

Jane gasped.

That voice.

She knew who it belonged to now!

“Sarah!” she exclaimed. Jane sprang to her feet.

Sarah. Sarah Burns's spirit had entered her body!

It should have been you on that boat, Jane. You know that, don't you?
Sarah asked.

“Yes, Sarah, I do,” Jane whispered.

Jane felt hope rise up inside her.

This was Sarah Burns's spirit.

Sarah Burns, her dearest friend.

Sarah would soon forgive her for what had happened. It wasn't her fault, after all.

“Oh, Sarah! I am so sorry,” Jane said.

Sorry?

“I would give anything if we could trade places again. If I could drown as you did on that boat, as I should have, then I would, Sarah,” Jane told her.

Stop it!
Sarah shrieked inside Jane's head.
Careful, Jane. Do not make me angry again. I warn you. What happened just now was mere child's play compared to what I could do to you the next time.

Jane could barely breathe, she was so frightened.

Don't you see, Jane? The life you have now should be mine! Mine! Do you know how jealous that makes me?
Sarah asked.
Do you have any idea of the hatred I feel for you?

“Jealous? My husband is dead, Sarah. I have no life anymore. If you were going to feel jealous of me nine months ago, I could understand,” Jane told her. “In those days I too felt as if I were embarking on a wonderful adventure. Marrying a rich and handsome husband. Moving to a new town.”

Jane sighed. “But since then, it has been one accident after another. Such a horrible string of bad luck. If you only knew some of the things I have been through, you would not be jealous for an instant.”

Sarah giggled mischievously.

Jane shivered.

You haven't
figured it out yet, have you, darling Jane?

Jane felt faint. “Figured out what?” she asked.

I can't have the life I was meant to live here in Shadyside, Jane. You took it from me forever. But I can still destroy it,
Sarah explained.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Jane cried. “You wouldn't. Not the Sarah I know. Not my best friend.”

I've been doing it ever since you got back from your honeymoon,
Sarah informed her.

“But—”

Jane's jaw locked. She couldn't open or shut it.

She gazed down at her left hand. Could she lift that hand now, if she wanted to? Or was she paralyzed? Just as she had been when Thomas fell in the well.

Jane tried to jerk her hand up. It remained frozen at her side.

Do you believe me now?
Sarah taunted.

Jane stumbled forward. She could move again.

“You,” Jane breathed.

Sarah shrieked with glee.

“You did this?” Jane asked.

Yes, Jane,
Sarah answered.
I've been with you for months. I made Thomas throw Michael into that railing. I stopped you from pulling Thomas out of the well. And when I saw he was going to survive his burns, I poisoned him.

“Thomas died of pneumonia,” Jane said dully. She shook her head, trying to clear it. This was too much to take in.

Wild gales of laughter rang inside Jane's head. She felt stabbing pains in her temples.

Arsenic,
Sarah explained.

Any grief that Jane had felt at Sarah's passing was now gone. Turned to stone.

Sarah had killed Thomas. In cold blood.

I couldn't have murdered your husband without using your body, Jane. It was your hands that fed him the poison.

“No. Oh, no,” Jane murmured. She felt tears sting her eyes.

Now let's hurry up and get dressed, Jane,
Sarah said.

Jane looked down at her nightgown. The clothes she had worn during her long illness.

She didn't feel sick, but she felt wearier than she had ever felt in her life. She didn't think she could find the strength to get dressed. Not now. Not after what she had just learned.

Suddenly, her head snapped up, as if she were a marionette and the puppeteer had just yanked on the strings. Pain shot through her.

I said get dressed,
Sarah snapped.

Jane rose to her feet. She couldn't stop herself. Sarah was controlling her motions now.

She found herself crossing the room to the closet. She flung off her nightgown, practically ripping it
from her body. She began to dress in a terrible hurry, swearing when a clasp or button didn't close immediately.

There is so much work to be done,
Sarah said.
You know Thomas was just the first to die, don't you, Jane?

J
ane sat stiffly in the carriage as it bumped up and down over the dirt road. Her eyes were open but saw nothing.

The voice in her head was silent. Sarah left her in peace—for the moment.

When Jane had finished dressing, she knew she must visit Liza Teasedale. That was all.

She had no idea why.

But she suspected the worst.

Using Jane's body, Sarah had killed Thomas.

What would Sarah make Jane do to Mrs. Teasedale?

Phillip pulled the carriage up in front of Mrs. Teasedale's mansion. He jumped down and hurried around to open the carriage door for Jane. He
reached out his hand to help her down the short flight of steps to the ground.

“Mrs. Fear?” Phillip said.

She turned. Can he feel it? she wondered. Can he sense the change in me?

“I just wanted to say,” Phillip began shyly, “that I am very happy about your recovery.”

Jane blinked. “Thank you, Phillip,” she mumbled.

She wanted to hug him.

Phillip knew the old Jane. Knew her and cared about her.

If only she could be the person he thought she was!

From the outside it looked as if she had made a total recovery.

No one would hear or see the evil that had awakened deep inside her.

And that made her dangerous. That made her deadly.

Jane found Mrs. Teasedale resting in her backyard. She sat beside her bubbling stone fountain with its statue of Cupid. She appeared to be enjoying the sunshine.

Not far away, a maid hung wash on a clothesline strung between two weeping willows. The white sheets fluttered gaily in the spring breeze. Insects buzzed. Birds chirped.

It was a beautiful scene. So calm. So peaceful.

Except for what is inside me, Jane thought.

Jane quietly made her way over to Mrs. Teasedale's side. She cast a dark shadow over the woman's wrinkled face.

Mrs. Teasedale opened her eyes. She gasped in amazement.

“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Teasedale exclaimed. “I must admit I never thought I'd see you out and about. I came to visit you on your sickbed. Your fever was so high. You didn't even know who I was.”

She stood. Her arms opened wide and Jane submitted awkwardly to the old woman's hug.

“Yes, I was quite ill,” Jane answered. Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.

“Are you sure it's all right for you to be outside?” Mrs. Teasedale asked. She gave a worried frown. “You don't want to rush things, as sick as you've been. But what am I saying? Look at you. You're the picture of health!”

She rang a bell that sat on the glass-topped table next to her wicker chair. A servant hurried across the lawn. “Bring Mrs. Fear a chair at once,” she instructed. “And a glass of sweet tea.”

It was warm in the bright sun. Jane removed her heavy red cloak. The servant hurried back across the lawn with a chair. He placed it next to Jane. Another servant set two glasses of tea on the little table.