The Awakening Evil
Author: R. L. Stine
Date: 1997-12-02 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Young Adult; Childrens; Historical Fiction; Thriller; Fiction; Gothic; Novels; Paranormal; Mystery Thriller
Description: Everyone thinks they know the story of the Evil that terrorized Corky Corcoran and the cheerleaders of Shadyside High. But the true story has remained hidden. Only Sarah Fear knows where the Evil began. What it wants. And why it kills. Read Sarah’s story and discover the truth at last.
Publisher: Simon Pulse

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Shadyside, 1898

I am going to marry Thomas Fear!

Sarah Burns repeated these words to herself as the black carriage rolled along. She could scarcely believe it. She was going to marry a man she had never met.

Sarah could see her reflection in the polished brass trim inside the carriage. Soft brown eyes. Flaming red hair that framed a pretty, heart-shaped face.

That’s you, she assured herself. The same person you’ve seen in the mirror for twenty-one years.

But she felt as if she were looking at the face of a stranger.

She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart.

I am Sarah Burns and I’m going to marry Thomas Fear.

I am Sarah Burns and I’m going to marry Thomas Fear.

One of the carriage horses gave a shrill, high whinny. What is spooking the animal? Sarah wondered.

She clutched her white bonnet to her head and peered down the forest road. She spotted a tall young man in a dark cloak and a top hat striding toward them. The wind whipped his cloak around him like a dark cloud. Shadows hid his face.

Her driver pulled hard on the reins, bringing the horses to a halt. “Can you direct us to the Shadyside church?” he called down to the stranger.

The horses shied away as the man in the dark cloak stepped over to the open carriage. Silly creatures, Sarah thought. There was nothing frightening about the young man. In fact, he was quite handsome, with closely cropped dark hair, a dimpled chin, and twinkling eyes.

It was his eyes that fascinated Sarah the most. She had trouble pulling her gaze away. Almost as if he were hypnotizing her with his stare.

“You have overshot the Shadyside church by a number of miles,” the young man said. “If you will allow me to accompany you, I’ll show you the way myself. We can’t have the bride be late to her own wedding.”

Sarah ran her fingers across the lace of her bridal gown. “Thank you,” she answered.

The man stepped up onto the riding board, opened the door, and climbed into the carriage. He gave directions to the driver.

Then the stranger turned to Sarah and smiled slightly. He twirled his walking stick between his palms. Sarah noticed the tip had been carved into the shape of a serpent.

“I am Hamilton Davies,” the young man told her as the carriage turned around. “And you are?” he prompted with a smile.

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. They both laughed.

“You will have to excuse me,” she said. “Since my name changes today, I suppose I am a little confused about just who I am at the moment. My name is Sarah. Sarah Burns.”

“May I ask who you are marrying?” he inquired.

“Yes, though I am afraid I cannot tell you much about him. It is an arranged marriage, you see,” Sarah admitted.

Now why was she blushing? What was it about this young man that made her feel so flustered?

“I am rather surprised that a woman as pretty as yourself would agree to an arranged marriage.” He blushed deeply, as if he were amazed by his own words. “I hope you don’t think me too forward for saying this, but I would think you could have the pick of the town.”

She had turned twenty-one last December. But Hamilton’s compliment made her feel like a tongue-tied schoolgirl.

“So you have never met your husband-to-be?” Hamilton continued.

“I’m afraid not. But I know his name, of course. Thomas. Thomas Fear,” Sarah told him.

At the mention of her fiancé’s name, the old driver turned his head sharply.

“Do you know him?” Sarah could not resist asking.

“I do not like to spread rumors,” the driver replied in a low voice.

Even though they were the only ones on the road, he glanced around nervously before he went on. “Everyone in these parts has heard the rumors about the Fears, ma’am. They say they practice the dark magic.”

Wonderful, Sarah thought. Just what she needed to calm her nerves before the wedding—rumors about her husband-to-be’s family!

As if the weather wasn’t enough to make her feel anxious. Her mother always said, “Happy is the bride the sun shines on.” So Sarah knew it was a good sign when she had awoken to a beautiful May morning. The sun shone. Birds twittered.

But once they arrived in Shadyside, the skies had begun to darken. Now a cold wind lashed the trees. It looked as if it were about to rain.

Mother never said what happens to a bride the rain falls on, Sarah thought. But it cannot be good.

Hamilton smiled at her. “You look nervous. I hope you are not frightened by what the driver said about the Fears.”

“Oh, I do not believe in such foolishness,” she promised. But she felt a little chill run through her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The stranger stared up at the black clouds blotting out the sun. He flashed a smile at Sarah. He had such white teeth. “I am afraid your wedding day is not getting off to a very good start,” he observed.

The carriage turned the corner. There was the church, rising up into the dark sky like a pale white ghost.

The driver stopped the carriage. Hamilton helped her to remove her bags.

“Well, thank you,” Sarah told him. “You should continue on and take this carriage to your own destination.”

Hamilton smiled at her. “But I am already here.”

Sarah’s heart seemed to stop beating. “W-what?” she stammered.

He took off his hat. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is … Thomas Fear.”

The driver threw a panicked look over his shoulder. He lashed the horses with his whip, riding off at breakneck speed.

Thomas only laughed.

Sarah’s heart pounded frantically. So this was Thomas! The man with whom she would share the rest of her life!

“Sarah,” he said with a charming smile, “you must forgive me. I came outside to wait for you. I was so excited I couldn’t stand still. I started walking, and ended up far from the church. When you asked for directions, I panicked. I was afraid to introduce myself. What if you didn’t like me?”

She raised her eyes to meet his gaze. She could not speak. She was too nervous, too flustered.

He held out his hand. “I very much hope you will stay.”

She clasped his hand in her own white-gloved one. It was as if some electricity passed between them.

“Yes, I want to go ahead with our marriage, Thomas,” she said. “With all my heart.”

Thunder rumbled again. A second later it began to pour.

Thomas grabbed Sarah’s hand, and they raced up the flagstone walkway to the church. He pulled open the heavy wooden door.

A large crowd filled the pews. All heads turned toward Sarah. Her throat went dry, and she swallowed hard.

An organ began to play, filling the high-ceilinged room with deep, vibrating notes.

Sarah removed her hat and set it on the last pew. She pulled her long white veil over her face. Thomas took her elbow and guided her up the center aisle. Toward the altar. Where the minister waited.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, Sarah thought. I can’t believe I’m marrying a complete stranger.

As the minister began the service, Sarah cast shy glances around the assembly. Something about the crowd seemed strange to her. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

She turned back to Thomas. His eyes glittered like diamonds. She couldn’t pull her gaze away.

“I do,” she said dutifully, prompted by the minister.

The minister looked so grim-faced. And suddenly, Sarah realized what seemed so strange about the crowd that had gathered to witness her marriage.

Everyone was dressed in black and gray, men and women both.

She glanced through her veil at the crowd.

Row after row of unsmiling faces stared back at her.

They don’t look as if they are here to celebrate a wedding. No, they look as if they are attending … a funeral.

Chapter
1

Six Months Later

Sarah stared out her bedroom window at the gray November afternoon. Icy drafts found their way into the room, like a ghost’s fingers trying to reach in and grab her.

She gave a long sigh. Then she turned her attention back to the blank piece of gilt-edged letter paper sitting on the rolltop desk in front of her. The blank paper seemed to stare back at her, as if daring her to write.

Someone knocked lightly on her door. Thank goodness, Sarah thought. She needed company so badly.

She capped her fountain pen. “Come in.”

The maid entered and curtsied. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. But I am going into town. I wondered if you still wanted me to post that letter?”

Sarah smiled. “Thank you, Clara, but I’m afraid I have not yet finished writing it. In fact, I have not even begun!”

Clara wrapped her arms around her skinny body and let out a nervous giggle. She tugged at one side of her starchy black dress. “I’m the same way myself, ma’am. When I try to write anything, I get all tongue-tied. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait,” Sarah said quickly.

She hoped she hadn’t let a pleading sound creep into her voice. But she felt so lonely in her new mansion of a home.

The place was like a castle, with its two large turrets. It looked down on an endless, sloping green lawn, dotted with trees and shrubs.

From Sarah’s bedroom window on the second floor, she could see halfway down into the town. Which meant that she was constantly reminded how alone she was in her huge house.

Thomas seemed to be away so often—either at his mill, or the bank, or on errands he would only describe as business.

Clara cleared her throat nervously. Sarah didn’t want to be alone, but she could think of no reason to keep the maid. “You may go,” she said at last.

Clara stared at her strangely. Then she hurried out, shutting the door before Sarah could ask her to leave it open.

My dear friend, Sarah wrote slowly, beginning the letter she had put off for so many months.

I suppose I must begin by apologizing for not writing sooner. But no word has reached me from you either, so you are equally to blame!

Oh, so much has happened in so brief a time! Just think. I now write to you as Sarah Fear! I have a new name, a new husband, a new home.

I hope you are as happy in your new life as I am in mine. I think of you often, and wonder how you are enjoying your travels. I miss you so much.

I haven’t made any friends here yet. I had tea with a woman named Liza Teasedale, but she’s a horrible gossip. All she wanted to do was tell me awful stories about the Fear family. She claims—

Bang! The bedroom door flew open. Sarah gasped.

Thomas stood in the doorway, grinning at her.

“You’re home!” Sarah cried. She felt so glad to see him. She wished they had more time to spend together. They had been married six whole months. Yet she sometimes felt as if she did not know Thomas any better than she did that first day they met.

“I have a surprise for you,” Thomas told her. “Michael!” he called. “Margaret! You can come in now!”

A loud clatter of footsteps erupted like gunfire in the hallway. In raced Thomas’s niece and nephew. They wore overcoats, and their caps were tied tightly under their chins.

“Aunt Sarah! Uncle Thomas says we can go rollerskating!” Michael cried. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Can we? Can we?”

“Oh, please say we can go,” Margaret squealed. She tugged on Sarah’s other hand. The little girl bounced up and down so hard that her blond sausage curls shook wildly.

Sarah laughed. Such darling children. She hugged them both to her.

Thomas’s eyes shone with excitement. “I kidnapped them from my sister’s house,” he explained.

“But I thought you had to go to the bank,” Sarah said. She stared at her husband. He constantly surprised her. He had never shown much interest in his niece and nephew. But now he seemed eager to take them on an outing.

“Didn’t you warn me that business would make you late today?” she asked.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “The bank can take care of itself. The roller-skating rink is the place I must go.”

Michael and Margaret pulled Sarah in circles. Thomas appeared almost as excited as they were.

“I would love to go roller-skating,” Sarah told them. “We had a roller-skating rink in the town where I grew up. There wasn’t another one for miles and miles and miles. Now it seems as if no place is without one.”

“Hurray!” the children yelled. They tugged Sarah out of the room and down the stairs. She stopped to put on her cloak, and then they all ran outside to the carriage.

“Faster, Uncle Thomas, faster!” Michael and Margaret yelled as the carriage rumbled down the bumpy road. They leaped to the ground the moment Thomas brought the horses to a stop near the rink.

“The rink is crowded for a weekday,” Sarah commented as she and Thomas strolled after the children. Men in suits and women in long dresses with bustles in back skated round and around in big, slow circles.

Sarah put on a pair of skates, then helped Margaret with hers. Thomas tied double knots in Michael’s laces. Then they joined the other skaters in the rink.

The four of them skated in a row: Thomas and Sarah in the middle, with the children on either end. Margaret had a little trouble staying on her feet. But Sarah was a strong skater, and she helped the little girl keep her balance.

“Beautiful children, sir,” an old man with a bushy gray beard called out. He waved at them from his spot against the rink’s wooden railing.

Thomas nodded his head. “Thank you!” he replied proudly.

Thomas glanced at Sarah, eyes twinkling. He moved closer and whispered in her ear. “I do believe that soon we should be starting a family of our own.”

Children! Sarah couldn’t wait to have a family. She would love to have children running through that big, empty house of theirs. Laughing and yelling.

But Thomas had never seemed interested in starting a family before now. He changed the subject every time she brought it up.

“Don’t you agree?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “Yes! Yes! With all my heart.” She squeezed his hand.

It was a perfect moment. Better than perfect. She had never felt so close to Thomas.

“Why are you blushing, Aunt Sarah?” Margaret asked. Her blue eyes were wide with curiosity.

“Am I blushing?” Sarah asked.

Thomas grabbed Michael’s hands and spun the boy in a big slow circle. Michael squealed with delight.

“Faster, Uncle!” he urged. “Spin me faster.”

“Faster? You say you want to go faster?” Thomas picked up speed. Around and around Michael went, grinning with excitement.

“Oh, spin me too!” Margaret begged Sarah.

“In a moment,” Sarah answered. “Thomas,” she warned. “Not so fast!”

Michael’s face had turned pale. He uttered a long, low cry.

“Thomas!” Sarah called. “What are you doing? You’re frightening him. Thomas! Stop!”

Thomas’s eyes glittered. His mouth twisted in a crazy grin. He spun Thomas harder. And harder.

What was wrong with him? Sarah had to stop him now. Before Michael got hurt.

But she couldn’t get close enough. He was spinning too fast. Sarah felt dizzy watching him.

“Thomas! You’re too near the wall!” she yelled.

Several other skaters had stopped to watch. She could see them out of the corner of her eye. All staring.

Thomas swung the boy so hard his skates were lifted from the wooden floor of the rink.

Sarah heard gasps from the people surrounding her. Then she heard another sound. A horrible sound. The sound of Thomas laughing.

Thomas let go of Michael’s hands.

“Nooo!” Sarah screamed.

Michael flew into the air. His head hit the wooden railing with a terrible crack!

Chapter
2

Michael crumpled to the ground.

“He’s dead! Michael is dead!” Margaret wailed.

Sarah skated over to the rail. She pushed her way through the crowd, and stared down at Michael’s body. Still. So still.

“Get a doctor!” someone shouted.

Sarah knelt beside Michael. She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers. It felt cold.

Someone crouched next to Sarah. She glanced over, and saw Thomas. He stared down at Michael—and smiled.

Sarah grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and shook him hard. “Thomas! Thomas! How could you do this?” she shrieked.

He stared at her as if he had never seen her before in his life.

“Thomas, what is happening?” Sarah cried.

He blinked rapidly. He shook his head as if he were coming out of a daze.

“Michael!” Thomas wrapped the little boy in his arms and rocked him back and forth.

And then Sarah heard the most wonderful sound. Michael began to moan.

♦ ♦ ♦

“It is simply a crime that you have not come to see me sooner,” Liza Teasedale rasped in her scratchy, old voice. “I enjoyed our last tea party so much.” She ushered Sarah into the drawing room.

She grasped Sarah’s arm with surprising firmness as she guided her across the plush Persian carpet. “How many times have I invited you to see me since then, my child? Three? Four?”

“Oh, I hope I have not passed up as many invitations as that,” Sarah said. “If I have, I must beg you to excuse my rudeness.” She sat down at the small table across from Mrs. Teasedale.

A maid brought in a silver tray piled high with steaming johnnycakes and set it in front of them. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at Sarah.

“Thank you, Regina,” Mrs. Teasedale said curtly, “that will be all.”

Lowering her gaze, the maid hurried from the room. But not without another quick glance at Sarah.

This happened wherever she went. Most people in town were fascinated by the Fear family. Fascinated and frightened.

She’d overheard a few whispered comments about how dangerous the Fears were. How evil.

She never believed them. Until the day at the roller-skating rink.

Now she wasn’t sure. Thomas behaved so strangely that day. Sarah didn’t want to believe he would intentionally hurt Michael. But she couldn’t forget how Thomas smiled as the little boy lay motionless on the ground.

Sarah wanted to know more about the Fear family. She wanted to hear every rumor, every story. She needed to know if anything could explain what Thomas did to Michael.

That was why Sarah had come to visit Mrs. Teasedale. The woman had been eager to tell her strange stories about the Fears on their last visit. But Sarah kept changing the subject. This time she would encourage Mrs. Teasedale to talk.

“Um, I suppose you heard about my nephew, Michael,” Sarah said.

It had been several days since the … the accident. But she couldn’t shake the images from her mind. Michael hitting the wall. Michael lying so still. And Thomas smiling down at him.

Later Thomas told her he felt paralyzed when he was swinging Michael. He said he felt as if he had no control over his own body. But how could that be?

“Yes, what a horrible thing,” Mrs. Teasedale murmured. She leaned across the table and laid a hand across Sarah’s. “Is he all right?”

“He is fine, I am deeply relieved to say,” Sarah told her.

“And how are you?” the widow asked. “I worry about you terribly, you know.”

Sarah felt her stomach tighten into a knot. “You do? Why?”

I came to visit Mrs. Teasedale because she knows so much, Sarah thought. But now that I am here, I feel almost frightened to hear what she will say.

“Living alone in that big castle of a house.”

“I’m not alone,” Sarah replied, forcing a smile. “I have Thomas.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Teasedale said quietly. “That is better than being alone … I suppose.”

What was she hinting at? Sarah wondered helplessly. How could she find out what Mrs. Teasedale knew?

“You must be a brave and bold young woman,” Mrs. Teasedale said, clucking her tongue.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“To marry a man you had never even met.”

“I suppose so,” Sarah agreed.

Her gaze drifted briefly to the window behind Mrs. Teasedale. In the distance she glimpsed the turrets of her own home. She shivered.

Sarah took a swallow of hot tea. “Actually, Mrs. Teasedale, besides paying a social call, there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Teasedale studied Sarah with shrewd eyes.

Sarah forced herself to go on. “On our last visit, you began to tell me something of, uh … my husband’s family. I wondered if you would mind telling me more about the Fears.”

Mrs. Teasedale took a sip of tea. “Mrs. Fear,” she finally said, “have you ever asked yourself why Thomas Fear, a rich and handsome young man, would arrange a marriage with a woman from another town? A woman he had never met? Surely you can see that there is only one possible explanation for such a strange event.”

“And what explanation is that?” Sarah asked. Her voice had become almost a whisper. For Mrs. Teasedale was asking a question she had asked herself many times.

Mrs. Teasedale smiled sadly. “No woman from these parts would have him. And do you know why?”

Sarah set down her teacup. Her hand shook. Hot tea sloshed onto her skin. But Sarah hardly felt it.

“Why?” Sarah whispered. Now she would learn the truth. Now she would learn the secrets Thomas had been keeping from her.

“The Fear family is cursed,” Mrs. Teasedale answered.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Some people say that hundreds of years ago a Fear had a young girl burned at the stake. The Fears managed to convince the whole town that she practiced the dark arts. But she was innocent. The girl’s family put a curse on the Fears, a curse that is still strong and powerful.”

Mrs. Teasedale’s eyes were bright with excitement.

She’s enjoying herself, Sarah realized. She’s enjoying telling me these horrible things. What an awful woman.

“Others claim that the Fears practice the dark arts themselves. That they have brought suffering, madness … and death into the lives of too many people to count.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. Then she forced herself to open them and look at Mrs. Teasedale. “Go on,” she said.

“I do not know if the stories about the dark arts are true. Or if there was a girl who was burned. But I firmly believe the entire family is cursed. And that evil follows them.”

Mrs. Teasedale reached across the table and took Sarah’s hands. Sarah could feel the old woman’s fingers shaking.

“And I also firmly believe if you do not leave that house, you will die there before much time has passed.”

Chapter
3

She’s a vicious, gossiping old woman, Sarah thought. It was cruel of her to tell those stories to a young bride. Cruel.

I’m not going to die. That’s impossible.

Then she remembered Michael. He almost died. Thomas almost killed him.

Sarah’s heart began to pound. It thundered in her ears, drowning out all other sound.

Sarah stood. “I must go.”

“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Teasedale said.

“No, no. I just … I just have another engagement.” Sarah gathered her long skirts, turned, and rushed from the room. She hurried over to her carriage.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Phillip, the driver, asked. He helped her inside.

“I’m a little tired, that’s all,” Sarah answered. She hoped Phillip didn’t notice her voice trembling. “Please take me home.”

As they traveled closer and closer to her gloomy house, Sarah felt tempted to ask Phillip to stop. To turn around and drive anywhere as long as it was away from the Fears.

You must get control of yourself, Sarah thought. Just because people tell these stories about the Fears does not mean that they are true.

Everyone in town is jealous of the Fears. Including Liza Teasedale. After all, the Fears are the richest and most powerful family in Shadyside. That’s enough reason for people to hate them and tell lies about them.

But Sarah didn’t feel convinced. She let out a long sigh. She allowed her head to fall back on the cushioned seat of the carriage.

Thomas has been nothing but good to me, she reminded herself. What happened to Michael could have been an accident.

I’ll just be careful. I’ll keep my eyes open. And I’ll trust my husband.

Unless something else happens to make me think I shouldn’t.

The carriage turned into the long, winding drive that led to her home. She climbed down without waiting for Phillip and made her way up the long flight of stone steps to the front door.

Sarah hesitated outside the thick wooden doors. Then she took a deep breath and stepped inside the marble-tiled entrance hall.

The library door slid open. “Sarah!” Thomas exclaimed.

She almost screamed. Calm down! she ordered herself.

Thomas grinned at her from the library doorway. “You’re back so early,” Thomas said.

She crossed the room slowly, making a big show of tugging off her white gloves. She didn’t feel like being close to him right now.

“Did you have a nice tea with Mrs. Teasedale?” Thomas asked.

“Quite nice, thank you,” Sarah replied.

“She is a terrible gossip, isn’t she?” he asked, studying her face.

“Horrible,” Sarah agreed, trying to keep her expression neutral.

In the dim recess of the library, someone coughed. Then a thin, well-dressed young man around Thomas’s age rose from the divan.

Thomas pulled her into the room. “Sarah, this is Aaron West, an old school chum of mine. He thinks he may have met you at a party his cousin gave in New York.”

Sarah jerked her head toward the young man. Aaron West had a large Adam’s apple and big ears. There was something horselike about his long face. He looked awfully sad.

Thomas gave her a gentle nudge. Sarah quickly crossed the dark library to greet their guest. “Mr. West, it is an honor. But I’m afraid I don’t remember ever having met you.”

“I must have been mistaken,” Aaron answered. “I had a completely different person in mind.”

Good, Sarah thought. She didn’t want anyone from the past turning up here. That would be a disaster.

“Aaron has visited so many places and met so many people, I’m not surprised he gets a little mixed up. He’s a world traveler,” Thomas explained to Sarah. “And speaking of traveling, I’m afraid I must go to the bank.”

He’s always rushing off someplace, Sarah thought. But does he tell me the truth about where it is he goes?

“Only for an hour,” Thomas added with a charming smile. “Can I count on you to entertain our guest until I return?”

“Of course,” Sarah promised.

Thomas started for the library door, then paused. “Oh, by the way,” he said. “I brought you something. A wedding gift.” He tapped a large wooden box sitting on the side table next to the globe.

“A wedding gift?” Sarah couldn’t help exclaiming. “But it’s been almost seven months since—”

“It seems like only a day to me,” Thomas said with a smile. “I hope you like it. It’s a family heirloom. Well, I am off.”

He hurried over to her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Her skin seemed to burn at his touch. Then he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Sarah stared at the box. She felt a sudden impulse to have one of the servants throw the present away.

“Please sit down,” she told Aaron. “You must be tired from all your world traveling.” She smiled as graciously as she could. “Can I have the maid bring you something to eat or drink?”

She reached for the gold cord that rang the bell. Aaron shook his head. “Thomas and I had tea and lemon cakes. Thank you, though.”

Aaron sat back down on the divan. Sarah took the chair across from him.

Sarah thought about asking her guest if he would like to move to another room. Perhaps the back porch. But he would probably find that a very odd request.

She knew the library was Thomas’s favorite room. But she didn’t understand what he liked about it.

Dusty leather volumes lined the shelves on every side. The smell of old paper and leather filled the air. The stuffed chairs looked as if they might swallow a person up if he sat in them too long.

“When Thomas told me he had married a young lady named Sarah Burns from New York, I thought perhaps we had met at my cousin’s anniversary party,” Aaron said.

Why is he bringing that up again? Sarah wondered. She didn’t want to talk about New York. She didn’t want to talk about anything in her past.

“But the Sarah Burns I had in mind looked nothing like you. She had green eyes and blond hair. And quite a temper. I remember that something I said offended her and she became very angry. I don’t believe she spoke to me again the entire night.” Aaron smiled at her. “I’m relieved I had the wrong Sarah Burns in mind.”

Sarah wanted to change the subject. Her gaze fell on the wooden box that Thomas had brought her for a present.

“Shall we see what my husband has given me?” she asked with a forced tone of merriment.

“Why not?” Aaron said.

Sarah stood and crossed the room. She picked up the box. My, it was heavy! She carried it over to Aaron, and sat down with the box in her lap.

The wood was so dark and glossy, Sarah could see her reflection in the top of the box. Don’t look so worried, she ordered herself. You’ve heard some strange stories. And Thomas had a horrible accident at the roller-skating rink. That’s all. You must stop letting your imagination run away with you.

Sarah tried to open the box, but the lid would not budge. Was it locked? She studied it more closely. No, there was a tiny silver latch. She pushed it open. Slowly she raised the creaking lid.

“Oh!” she gasped. Inside lay ten of the most beautiful, gleaming silver knives she had ever seen. Each knife was held in place with a purple velvet sash.

Only a little light made it through the heavy gold curtains drawn across the library windows. But the knives shone like a pirate’s treasure against the dark, plush cloth.

“Lovely,” Aaron murmured, without much enthusiasm. He leaned over to glance inside the box.

“Yes,” Sarah agreed. She set the open box down on a nearby table.

Almost at once, she heard a sound behind her. A little whooshing sound.

What was that? She glanced around the room. She didn’t notice anything out of place.

“So you aren’t from Shadyside?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Aaron answered.

“I am glad to hear it!”

Aaron looked confused. “Why is that?”

“I am probably speaking out of turn by telling you this, but it seems as if this whole town has turned against Thomas’s family.” She laughed as if to show how silly this was.

But she was curious about how Aaron would react. She wanted to know if he had heard the stories too.

Aaron tilted his head to one side. “They have? I am shocked to hear that. I always assumed Thomas would be incredibly popular wherever he went.”

Whoosh. Whoosh. There was that sound again. It seemed to have come from the wooden box of knives.

She looked over at the box, and felt her heart begin to beat faster. Three of the knives were missing.

She peered at the floor around the box. Empty.

I must have been mistaken about how many knives there were in the box to begin with, Sarah told herself. She noticed Aaron staring at her oddly.

“Well, there are rumors,” Sarah rushed on. “But you know how it is in a small town. People have nothing better to do than gossip.”

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Sarah jerked her head toward the box of knives. Was she losing her mind? There were seven knives missing now.

“Why do you keep looking at that box?” Aaron asked.

“Do I?” Sarah heard her voice quaver.

She now knew what was making that tiny sound, that whooshing noise. It was the sound of metal sliding against velvet. As if someone were in the library and taking out the knives.

Whoosh.

But that was impossible. She and her guest were alone.

Whoosh.

She began to breathe heavily. She felt a drop of sweat run down her cheek, and she raised her hand quickly to wipe it. She hoped Aaron had not noticed.

Whoosh.

She could not hold out any longer. She turned in her seat and stared at the box.

She let out a low moan. She stood up, feeling dizzy.

There were no knives in the box.

“Mr. West,” she began, her voice hoarse. “I’m afraid I have spent too much time by myself in this big, drafty house. I think—I think my mind has begun to play tricks on me. Ha-ha-ha!”

“Oh?” He gave her a worried smile and rose to his feet. “I’m not sure I—”

“Would you humor me, Mr. West, and take a look at the knife box? Do you see any knives in there?”

Aaron frowned. But he did as she requested. He stepped over to the table and glanced in the box. His large gray eyes opened wide in amazement.

He sees it too, Sarah thought. The knives have disappeared.

She heard a whistling sound. And felt a faint breeze, as if something had flown past her.

She whirled around.

But saw nothing.

Aaron hurried over to her and grabbed her hand. “What is happening? That box was full, it was full… .”

Sarah squeezed his hand as hard as she could. “Mr. West,” she whispered. “I think—”

She heard a humming sound. She felt something fly past the side of her head. She gasped.

The door. They had to get to the door.

Sarah turned—and found a silver knife waiting for her. Floating in midair.

She could see her face reflected in the silver blade.

The knife made a humming sound. Its sharp tip trembled slightly as it hovered before her.

Then it darted forward.

Straight at her left eye.

Chapter
4

Sarah dove to the right.

Thwock!

She turned with a gasp.

The knife stabbed into the wooden wall of the library. Its handle shook with the impact.

Sarah and Aaron stared at each other. Sarah was too terrified to speak. Too terrified to scream.

She peered into the dark shadows of the room, trying to see who had thrown the knife.

But there was no one there.

Something glittered in the darkness. She heard the humming sound again. Another knife!

Sarah stumbled forward. She fell hard against the side table. The table and the lamp went over with a crash.

Sarah tumbled facedown on the ground. Aaron crouched beside her, trying to pull her to her feet.

Too late. The knife hurled itself at Sarah. It sliced through her skirts. She let out a long, shrill scream.

“Did it cut you?” Aaron exclaimed.

“No,” Sarah gasped. “It went through my dress and into the floor.” She struggled to stand up. The knife held her skirts pinned to the floor.

She was trapped.

Sarah heard the humming sound. She glanced over her shoulder. Another knife hovered above her.

She threw herself to the side. Riiip. Her skirt tore free.

Sarah knocked into one of the bookcases. Books fell off the shelves. Hitting her on the head, the arms, the legs.

One of the books knocked the knife to the ground and pinned it to the floor. Aaron yanked her to her feet.

Then Sarah heard it.

The tiny sound of metal scraping against wood.

Across the library, the knife that had buried itself into the wall was working its way out. The handle moved back and forth, back and forth.

She heard another sound at her feet.

The second knife was pulling itself out of the floor. The third was inching out from under the heavy book.

And the others. Where were the others?

“Run!” Aaron cried. He pushed her toward the door.

Two knives darted in front of them and hovered there. Blocking the way.

Sarah and Aaron turned. And two more knives sped toward them. The knives stopped inches from them.

Another knife appeared. Then another.

Until all ten knives formed a circle around Aaron and Sarah. There was nowhere to run. No way to escape.

The humming of the knives grew louder and louder. It filled Sarah’s head. It made her teeth ache.

One of the knives darted forward. It slashed Aaron across the back of the hand. He yelped in pain.

Sarah stared down at Aaron’s hand. At first it appeared unharmed. Then a dark red line appeared across it. And his blood began to drip onto the thick carpet.

The knife retreated.

Aaron leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Under them. We have to go under them.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor. Sarah scrambled under the circle of knives. Then she shoved herself to her feet.

Aaron threw open the library door and dashed through, Sarah on his heels.

Sarah heard the sound of metal clicking against metal. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the knives had clustered together. Forming a pack.

They flew at Sarah.

She ran faster, racing through the entryway. She could hear them behind her. Hear their horrible humming.

They had her.

“Noooo!” Sarah screamed.

The knives flew past her.

Sarah wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn’t stop shaking. What happened? Why didn’t they attack her?

She heard Aaron pound up the long staircase leading to the second floor. The knives raced after him.

I’ve got to help him. Sarah forced herself to run up the stairs after Aaron.

Sarah’s stomach turned over when she noticed the bright red drops of blood dotting the white marble stairs.

Aaron screamed. A high, shrill scream. Sarah didn’t know a man could make a sound like that.

She dashed up the last few steps and turned the corner.

Aaron lay in the hallway. Writhing. Twisting and turning, trying to escape the knives.

The knives—

Sarah let out a moan.

The knives clustered around Aaron’s left leg. Slashing into his thigh again and again.

Dark red blood flowed freely, staining his clothes and puddling thickly on the floor. Sarah could smell it. It smelled like the knives. Like silver.

She heard the sound of metal scraping against bone. Aaron shrieked in agony.

Snap!

Aaron’s thighbone broke.

All at once, the knives clattered to the floor.

They lay still.

Aaron rolled over. Sarah felt her eyes widen. She stared at his leg.

Aaron’s leg, his leg … had been severed from his body.

Chapter
5

My dearest friend,

If you do not write to me soon, I think I will never forgive you. May I remind you that you are my best and oldest friend. Thomas keeps saying I should make new friends in Shadyside. But it is not easy. I compare everyone to you and no one measures up.

A ghastly thing happened here a few days ago. Aaron West, an old school chum of Thomas’s, suffered a bizarre accident. Did you ever hear of him? He’s from New York too.

Aaron was carrying some knives, and he fell. Somehow the knives cut off his leg, and he bled to death. And I saw it happen. It was hideous, so hideous I can hardly bear to write about it.

I couldn’t stop screaming. Thomas called the doctor for me. He gave me something to make me sleep, and I had the most horrible nightmare. In my dream the knives were alive. They flew through the air and attacked Aaron.

The dream was so real. When I woke up I felt convinced that it had actually happened.

Liza Teasedale, the woman I mentioned in my last letter, told me some awful stories about the Fear family the same day as Aaron’s accident. She claimed the Fears are cursed and that they may even practice the dark arts.

I believe Mrs. Teasedale’s stories of dark magic and the horror of witnessing Aaron’s accident mixed together in my nightmare.

I imagine this letter makes you feel very happy that you are far away from Shadyside. I hope you are enjoying your travels. You must write and tell me all about your adventures at once.

Love,

Your dearest friend

Sarah placed the letter in an envelope and carefully wrote the address on the front. It’s such a beautiful morning, she thought. I think I’ll have Phillip drive me to town so I can mail this myself.

Sarah hurried outside and asked Phillip to bring the carriage around. She enjoyed the short ride. Birds twittered cheerfully in the trees that lined the road.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she told Phillip when he pulled up in front of the general store.

She posted her letter and headed back to the carriage. She realized she didn’t want her outing to end. She didn’t want to return to the dark, gloomy house.

“Phillip?” she called up to her driver. “You can go on home.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“My husband said he would be at the mill today. I am going to walk over and pay him a visit,” she told him. “I will ride home with Mr. Fear.”

“Very well, ma’am.”

She felt her spirits rise as the carriage rode away, the horses’ hooves raising small clouds of dust. The covered black carriage had begun to feel as confining as a coffin.

Sarah started her walk. How would Thomas react when she showed up at his place of work? She had never even considered doing so before now. He was so private about much of his life.

But maybe this was just the kind of gesture that could help their marriage. She wanted to feel close to Thomas again.

She had let her imagination get completely out of control. Her belief that she saw knives flying through the air proved that. It had taken Thomas hours to convince her that the flying knives were part of a nightmare.

She promised herself that she would put all thoughts of curses and the dark arts out of her mind. Thomas had been so worried about her after Aaron’s terrible accident.

That proved that he loved her. He is a good man, Sarah told herself. He would never want to hurt her. He would never want to hurt anyone.

Sarah started the steep climb to Thomas’s mill. It was a large white clapboard structure built right up against the waterfall on the outskirts of town. The waterfall drove the mill’s huge wooden waterwheel, which turned the huge granite millstones inside.

Several farmers rode past her as Sarah strolled onto the mill lawn. Their carts were laden with sacks of flour. She waved cheerfully. The farmers nodded back without smiling.

This town, Sarah thought. Sometimes she hated living here.

What if she could convince Thomas to leave? They could go someplace where no one had ever heard of the Fear family. Maybe that would solve all their problems.

She entered the large, barnlike mill. It was dark inside. The air felt thick with grain dust. It smelled like new-mown hay.

In the center of the room sat the mill itself—two huge granite wheels. The massive stone wheels filled almost the whole room.

Sarah inched her way through the dark room, careful to stay clear of the hot granite millstones. So huge. So powerful. She had heard the stories. Workers who had lost fingers, whole hands.

The stones moved ever so slowly. But Thomas had once told her that there was nothing that could stop them. Nothing.

Sarah spotted Thomas over by the cistern. Sarah knew the farmers’ horses always stopped to take a drink from the huge pool of cold water.

She headed toward Thomas. It felt strange to watch her husband when he didn’t know she was there. Thomas had taken off his suit jacket and vest, and rolled up his white shirtsleeves to the elbow.

Sarah was struck—harder than she had been in a long time—by how handsome Thomas was. The dark hair, the strong jaw, the flashing eyes.

But what was this?

Thomas and the foreman appeared to be arguing.

Sarah froze. She felt her heart begin to race. They both appeared so angry.

Their voices rose to a shout. The foreman gestured angrily. His hand caught Thomas across the chest.

Thomas staggered back. The foreman reached for Thomas’s arm.

But it was too late.

Thomas fell backward.

He landed with a loud splash, right in the cistern of water.

Sarah’s heart seemed to stop beating.

Thomas flailed his arms, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Sarah wanted to run to him, to help him. But she couldn’t move.

Sarah heard a loud hissing sound. Then a cloud of steam rose from the well.

Steam? she thought stupidly. How could the cool water of the well give off steam?

The steam filled the room, coming at Sarah in hot waves. Hot steam. Burning her face, her hands.

And then the pool of water began to churn and bubble, like a pot of water that has been on the stove for hours!

The bubbles came faster, faster. The well churned and gurgled.

Thomas was screaming. Screaming in agony.

He was burning alive!

Chapter
6

Sarah tried to run to Thomas. She had to pull him out of the boiling water.

But she couldn’t move—not a muscle!

Sarah tried to open her mouth to scream, but she could not even move her jaw.

What was happening to her? What was wrong with her body?

“Help!” Thomas shouted, his voice filled with terror. “It’s—it’s burning!”

The foreman knelt next to the cistern and stretched out his hand toward Thomas. Thomas tried to grab it. But his wet fingers were too slippery.

Thomas disappeared under the surface of the bubbling water.

Help him! Sarah screamed at herself. Why are you standing here like a statue? Run and help Thomas! Move! Now! Go!

But it was as if she had died. She couldn’t even turn her head.

Thomas’s head burst through the surface of the water. He gasped and choked. His skin had turned bright red.

Sarah began to sweat, great waves of terror crashing through her.

Terror for Thomas, and terror for herself.

Helplessly, she watched the water boiling and spitting and bubbling around Thomas. He stared at her pleadingly.

Then Thomas went under again.

And still she could not move. Still she was helpless, forced to watch her husband burn, drown, die.

The foreman flung a rope into the hissing water. Sarah saw Thomas’s red hands reaching for the rope’s frayed edge.

Please let him catch it, she prayed.

He grabbed the rope in both hands! Yes!

The foreman’s neck muscles bulged with the strain as he slowly pulled Thomas from the scalding water.

Sarah stumbled forward. She could move again!

She ran toward Thomas and dropped to her knees beside him. Large white blisters covered his face and hands.

Was he alive? Could he have survived the scalding water?

Sarah was afraid to touch him. She was afraid his burned skin would peel away from his body if she did.

“Thomas,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”

He did not answer.

♦ ♦ ♦

“You were frightened, Sarah. That’s all,” Thomas told her.

His cracked lips began to bleed. She could tell that speaking was agonizing for him.

“Don’t try to talk,” Dr. Pierce ordered him.

“You were frightened,” Thomas insisted.

“Yes, Thomas, I was frightened. But it was more than that. I was paralyzed. And don’t say another word. I beg you.”

“It is only natural,” Thomas went on, ignoring her command to be silent. “Everyone feels foolish and freezes in an emergency.”

Sarah knew that wasn’t what happened. She had been unable to move a single muscle. She couldn’t even open her lips to scream.

“You could have been killed,” she said softly. “And I was powerless to help you.” Sarah shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

Sarah stared down at Thomas. Ointment coated his face. Linen bandages covered his entire body. He had been in terrible pain when Dr. Pierce put them on.

“Do not worry,” Dr. Pierce told her, closing up his medical kit. “These burns look bad, but they will heal. I promise you. Thomas will do just fine. He just needs to rest. Make sure he has few visitors.”

“I will make sure,” Sarah promised.

“Such bad luck,” Dr. Pierce said, shaking his head. “The one day that well turns hot.”

Bad luck? Sarah thought wildly. Something unnatural had happened at the mill. Something evil. How could the doctor dismiss it as bad luck?

Dr. Pierce must have noted the expression on her face, for he continued. “The well is driven by volcanic pressure. From time to time steaming water comes up through the well.” He shook his head again. “Such bad luck!”

Sarah felt herself flushing red with embarrassment. So there was a simple explanation for today’s disaster, after all.

At least for the boiling water.

She knew if she told the doctor that she had been paralyzed, he would agree with Thomas. He would tell her that she was simply frightened.

But that couldn’t possibly be true. Could it?

I was more frightened than I have ever been, Sarah thought.

“I will be back to check on our patient tomorrow,” Dr. Pierce said.

She thanked the doctor and saw him to the door. Then she hurried back up the stairs and returned to Thomas’s bedside.

She vowed to herself that she would stay up all night, keeping watch over her sick husband.

The scene at the mill replayed in her mind again and again. The steam, the boiling water, Thomas screaming for help.

And whenever she closed her eyes, she could feel that awful sensation of being trapped inside her own skin. Unable to move a muscle.

A terrible wracking cough from Thomas pulled her out of her thoughts.

It was a horrible cough that sounded as if it came from deep in his lungs.

He turned, moaned softly, but kept sleeping.

She could see sweat wetting the bandages on his chest. And when she gently felt his forehead in the darkness, he felt as if he were on fire, as if she had reached her hand inside a furnace.

Thomas’s coughing continued through the night.

The horrible coughs seemed to echo in Sarah’s mind.

Taking her all the way back to her childhood.

When she was seven, her mother had passed on after a terrible bout of—

She stood, covering her mouth in horror as Thomas coughed yet again.

Sarah ran from the room, shouting for the maid.

She had one of the servants get word to Dr. Pierce to return at once.

He arrived an hour later. The sun was just beginning to rise.

It took him only a few minutes of examination before he confirmed her worst fears.

Pneumonia. Thomas had pneumonia.

He looked so pale, almost as white as the pillowcase beneath his head. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them.

“Now, don’t look at me like that,” Dr. Pierce told Sarah. He gave a forced chuckle. “Pneumonia is not so terrible an illness for a strong, healthy young man like your husband. Obviously, it would be better if this had not happened. But my prediction hasn’t changed. Your husband will be fine.”

He is lying, Sarah thought. Her heart felt heavy with dread.

Thomas began to shiver horribly.

“It is the fever,” Dr. Pierce explained, when Sarah turned to him with a pleading look.

“I am so cold,” Thomas murmured.

“You feel cold,” Dr. Pierce agreed, “but I’m afraid you are running a high fever, my good man.”

Sarah hurried to the closet. Yesterday, she couldn’t help him when he needed her most. She would try to make up for it today, try to see to his every whim and need.

She found an old robe hanging in the closet, one which she could not remember him wearing in months. She pulled so hard on the robe that the wooden hanger snapped back against the wall with a loud crack.

As she hurried over to the bed with the robe, something fell to the floor at her feet.

She bent down. An envelope had fallen from Thomas’s robe. An envelope addressed to Sarah Burns.

Sarah glanced at her husband. So frail and sickly and shrunken as he lay in the bed.

He must have slipped the envelope in his pocket and forgotten to tell her about it.

She returned to his bedside, studying the stamps. She was hoping the letter had come from Europe. From her best friend. But it was not the case.

Dr. Pierce and Thomas were both watching her. They looked as curious as she felt.

“It’s a letter,” she explained. “I found it in your old robe, Thomas. You must have forgotten to give it to me.”

“I am so sorry,” he murmured in a faint voice. “I only barely remember it coming for you.”

She smiled. “It doesn’t matter, Thomas. Please. We have enough to worry about.”

“Here,” Dr. Pierce said. He took a letter opener from Thomas’s desk and handed it to Sarah.

“Thank you.” Sarah carefully slit open the envelope.

She began to read.

Then she began to scream.

Chapter
7

Dr. Pierce rushed to her side.

Thomas struggled to sit up in his sickbed. He reached toward her.

Sobs welled up from deep inside Sarah. She couldn’t control herself.

No! No!

Through her tears, she could see Thomas staring at her in alarm.

She stumbled to a chair and sat down. She rocked back and forth.

No, it couldn’t be true!

And yet it was.

Thomas and Dr. Pierce waited for her to explain. She forced herself to sit up straight.

She clutched the letter to her chest, as if for comfort. She bit her trembling lip.

“I have often told you about my best friend … Jane Hardy,” she began. “Jane set sail for Europe at the same time I came to Shadyside.”

“The woman to whom you have been writing,” Thomas said.

“Yes. And from whom I have never had a response. Well, this letter is from her stepbrother,” Sarah said in a tiny voice she barely recognized as her own. “It seems that my friend, my dearest friend—”

She began to cry all over again. Thomas put his hand on hers.

Sarah knew she must be strong. For Thomas. Thomas was so sick. Thomas needed her.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Fresh tears wet her cheeks an instant later.

“Jane never got to London,” she told her husband. “The ship sank. Everyone—”

She felt her face crumple.

“Oh, Thomas. It is too horrible. Everyone drowned.”

“I’m so sorry,” Thomas said softly.

Sarah wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand again. “Thomas! It is too awful. And just think. This happened while you and I were on our nuptial journey to Niagara Falls. While we were being foolish and carefree.”

“You mustn’t think that way,” Thomas said. Then he began to cough.

But Sarah couldn’t help feeling a horrible stab of guilt. Niagara Falls. She had been so incredibly happy then. While her best friend—

There was a knock at the bedroom door.

Sarah looked at Thomas in surprise. Dr. Pierce had ordered Thomas not to see any visitors until he was stronger. The servants had been instructed to stay away unless she called for them. Who could this be?

The knock came again. Louder this time.

Sarah felt her body tense.

“Come in,” Dr. Pierce ordered.

The door swung open.

A man entered the room. Tall and stern-faced. With a black mustache that was waxed so stiffly it stuck out like a bird’s wings on either side of his face.

Sarah’s jaw dropped.

The letter fell from her hand.

“You!” she gasped.

Chapter
8

The man stared at Sarah. His eyes widened.

“This—this is Jason Hardy,” Sarah stammered. “I hired him this morning. Uh, Phillip hasn’t been feeling well, so I thought we should have another driver.”

Sarah glanced at Thomas. Could he tell she was lying?

No, she decided. He didn’t appear to think there was anything odd about her hiring another servant without consulting him.

Jason continued to stare at Sarah. His eyes burning into hers.

I have to get away from Jason, Sarah thought. She didn’t know what to say to him. She needed time to think.

She stood quickly and started toward the door. But she couldn’t think of an excuse to leave the room. Couldn’t think at all.

“I’m afraid that Mrs. Fear has just gotten some very shocking and terrible news,” Dr. Pierce explained. “About a close friend.”

“Excuse me, I must be alone for a moment—” she mumbled. Sarah hurried from the room.

She could feel Jason watching her. She could feel his eyes on her back.

She was halfway down the hall when another one of Thomas’s horrible coughs ripped through the air. It felt like a bullet striking her.

She flew down the stairs.

Jason!

Jason Hardy here in Shadyside! Here in her house! Why did he follow her here? Now of all times! She couldn’t bear it.

She banged out the back door. Clutching her skirts with both hands, she ran across the lawn. Up into the woods.

She had to get away. Away from everyone.

Sarah pushed her way through the trees. Branches slapped at her face. She paid no attention.

At last she found herself in the family cemetery.

She fell to the ground.

She leaned back against one of the headstones. Breathing long and slow and deep. Trying to collect herself.

A shadow fell across her face. She looked up.

Jason Hardy stared down at her.

He had followed her into the woods.

“Jane,” he said, his voice catching. “I thought … I thought you were dead.”

She couldn’t speak. She shrugged helplessly.

“Oh, Jane,” Jason said. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

He knelt beside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that his presence would only cause her problems. It only mattered that he was here when she needed him most.

They hugged each other hard. “Oh, Jason!” she cried. “Dearest Jason!”

All her fears disappeared. Relief and excitement took their place. Her darling stepbrother!

“But my head is spinning,” he said. “Jane, you have to tell me what is going on.”

“Stop calling me that,” she said, suddenly horrified. “I am not Jane. I am Sarah Burns. No, no, I am Sarah Fear.”

She shook her head. “I think I am losing my mind. If I have not lost it already.”

“Tell me what happened. You must tell me everything,” Jason demanded.

Jane took a deep breath. “We switched places,” she said.

She felt shocked herself, as she spoke the words out loud. It was really too incredible what she and Sarah had done.

“You did what?” Jason cried. He appeared stunned.

She nodded somberly. “Sarah and I, we switched places. We switched lives. Names. Identities. Everything. It is almost as if we switched souls. She became Jane. And I became Sarah.”

“Why would you—why would anyone do such a thing?” Jason asked.

“Well, you know Sarah,” Jane said. Her voice caught. She realized she was talking about Sarah as if she were still alive. But Sarah had drowned on a ship to London. Her best friend was dead.

Jason reached out and clutched her hand. After a moment, Jane was able to go on.

“Sarah was like me,” Jane continued. “She never liked to be told what to do.”

“That is certainly true,” Jason agreed.

Jason had once courted Sarah Burns. But they were both so stubborn that the match had not lasted a week. It had ended with a horrible screaming argument, and they had not spoken again since.

“You remember when Sarah’s grandmother arranged a marriage for Sarah?” Jane continued.

“Yes. She wanted Sarah to settle down,” Jason said.

“Yes. Well, you can imagine how furious Sarah was. To be told whom she was to marry. She was livid,” Jane told him.

“I am sure.” Jason twirled the tip of his mustache.

The familiar gesture brought tears to Jane’s eyes. “Oh, Jason, I have missed you so. More than I even knew, if that makes any sense.”

“I think I understand,” he responded. “But please go on. You must tell me everything.”

“Well …” Jane pulled up a tuft of grass and let the green blades fall from her fingers. “I was about to leave on my trip to London with my chaperone.”

“Mrs. Manderlay,” Jason added.

“Yes. In any case, the whole thing was my idea. I was going to London to find a husband. Sarah had already found one. Only she didn’t want him. It just seemed to make so much sense.”

“What did?” Jason asked, sounding confused.

“You see, I was terribly envious of Sarah. Because she was about to start a marriage. What an adventure! When I confessed my jealousy, it only made Sarah laugh, of course. Sarah was envious of me because I had the opportunity to travel. She hated the idea of marrying Thomas.”

Jane glanced over at Jason, then stared down at the ground. “So one night I suggested we simply switch places.”

“But how could you ever expect to pull off such a scheme?” Jason demanded.

“But we did pull it off,” Jane said proudly. “You see, it was all so perfect. Sarah’s grandmother, Althea, was too old to make the trip to Shadyside for the wedding. I barely survived the trip myself. Four days in the ladies’ coach of a train is enough to kill anyone.”

“The men’s cars are not much better, I assure you,” Jason grumbled.

“Dear Jason,” she said.

“Continue!” he ordered.

“Well, that’s about it. No one in Shadyside had laid eyes on Sarah Burns before. How would they know if I was Sarah or not?”

“But your life back in New York, your friends—”

“The only person I would miss was Jane. But I would have been separated from her in any case. And you. Of course, I knew I would miss you, too.”

“You’re a liar, but a sweet one. But wait a minute. What about Mrs. Manderlay? Surely she wasn’t so old that she couldn’t tell the difference between you and Sarah?”

“Of course not. But Sarah sent Mrs. Manderlay a message telling her the boat was sailing a week later than it really was,” Jane explained.

Jason shook his head. “I am amazed. I am simply amazed.”

“It wasn’t an easy stunt,” Jane admitted. “The whole trip here I had to tell myself over and over that I was Sarah. Sarah Burns. Sarah Burns.”

“Astounding,” Jason said. “You haven’t changed. You’re the same as you were when you were seven. I remember when you came to live with me and Mother. You broke every rule.”

“It’s true. Your mother probably began to regret taking me in after my mother died,” Jane answered.

“Maybe once in a while,” Jason admitted. “But I loved having a younger sister.”

Jane leaned over and gave Jason a peck on the cheek.

Then she shuddered. She felt as if an icy finger had just traced a line down her spine.

“What is it?”

“Oh, Jason,” she murmured. “I just realized.”

“Realized what?”

“Don’t you see? It is too ghastly.”

Jason groaned. “You’re as frustrating as ever. See what? What is ghastly?”

“That ocean crossing. The accident. It should have been me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I should have died on that ship, not Sarah.” She clutched his arm. “Oh, Jason! I should be dead right now.”

Chapter
9

“You mustn’t think that way,” Jason said sternly. “Not ever.”

“Why not? It’s the truth. I should be dead. I should be!”

“Jane, stop that,” Jason ordered. “The accident was not your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. There was a horrible storm. The ship capsized. It’s a tragedy. But you don’t need to make it any worse by feeling guilty.”

Jason was right. She had not made that ship sink. There was no way she could have known that would happen. She would never have done anything to hurt Sarah.

But somehow these thoughts did absolutely nothing to lessen her pain. She and Sarah had switched places. And look what had happened.

Jane glanced over at Jason. She found him studying her with a strange expression on his face.

“What is it?” she demanded, instantly nervous.

“There is something I must ask you,” he said. He gazed down at the ground, obviously embarrassed. “I came to Shadyside to see Sarah because— Well, to put it bluntly, I was stunned by her behavior.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that Sarah and I had our differences. But I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even bother to write after learning of your death.” Jason cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you contact me after you learned that Sarah drowned? Didn’t you realize how I would feel if I thought you were dead?”

“I only got your letter—the letter you wrote to Sarah—today, right before I saw you,” she explained. “Thomas slipped it into the pocket of his robe and forgot all—”

She stopped short.

Thomas.

The shock of seeing Jason had made her forget her husband for a moment.

Her name had been a fiction, but her marriage was real. And Thomas needed her now.

Jane looked toward the house. She couldn’t see it from here. The woods were too thick.

Suddenly she had the worst feeling. A terrible premonition. Thomas was worse. She knew it. Jane jumped to her feet.

“Now what?” Jason asked, alarmed.

She began to run down the trail.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“I have to be with Thomas!” she called back. “I must not leave his side again!”

She ran all the way back to the house.

When she burst into the kitchen, she found two maids chatting over steaming mugs of tea. They stared at her, looking surprised and a bit guilty.

“Who is with Thomas?” she cried.

“I think Dr. Pierce is still with him,” Clara assured her.

“You think?” Jane cried.

“Do not worry, ma’am,” Clara added. “If Dr. Pierce has left, then your husband is sleeping, I am sure.”

“He needs his rest more than anything,” the other maid, Susannah, agreed.

Jane didn’t listen. She ran from the room. Up the stairs.

Halfway up the staircase, she stopped.

The bell she had placed beside Thomas’s bed. It was tinkling.

Again and again.

“Thomas!” she cried.

She flew up the rest of the stairs. Down the hall. She flung open the door. Rushed into the room.

The small gold bell fell from Thomas’s hand. It clattered to the floor, rolling around and around in slow, lazy circles.

No!

Jane felt her stomach clench.

She ran to the bed.

Thomas’s mouth was open. His eyes stared at the ceiling.

“Thomas!” she shrieked. “Thomas!”

It couldn’t be! He couldn’t die now!

“Thomas!” she cried. “I love you! Do you hear me? I love you, Thomas!”

She hadn’t said those words to her husband in a long time. But they were true.

Thomas turned his head ever so slightly. It was as if her shouts had brought him back from the brink of death.

His eyes rolled to meet hers.

He was trying to say something.

His lips formed a single word.

She couldn’t be sure. But she thought the word was “danger.”

Then his face turned dark red. His mouth contorted into a horrible grimace as he began to choke. His whole body shook violently.

Jane held him. Held him tight.

“No, Thomas!” she cried. “No, no! Don’t leave me! You must never leave me!”

She felt something warm and wet on her neck. She lifted his body away from hers. His head lolled to the side.

Dark red blood gushed from his mouth.

The blood stained his silk robe, and the white nightshirt underneath.

He fell against her.

Jane closed her eyes.

She could have sworn she felt it. His soul.

Felt it leave his body. Like a tiny bird, softly flapping its wings and flying away. And a moment later—

Her husband lay lifeless in her arms.

Chapter
10

“You just need to rest.”

“You will get better soon.”

“Don’t get up, ma’am. I only wanted to bring these flowers.”

“She looks so pale. It is a shame to see it.”

The voices floated in and out. Most of the time Jane didn’t even know who was speaking to her. Or care.

Faces came and went, swimming up at her like creatures emerging from a dark sea.

“Thomas,” Jane cried. Where was Thomas? Where was her husband?

Then she remembered. Thomas was dead. She went to his funeral.

Jane began to shiver. She needed more blankets. Couldn’t the nurses see she needed more blankets?

Before Jane could ask for them, she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, Dr. Pierce stood next to her bed.

Jason stood beside him.

Jason. What was Jason doing here?

Jane started to speak to him. But she felt too weak. Too tired.

She fell asleep again, and when she awoke it was dark.

How long had she been sick? She had no idea.

Dr. Pierce arrived. He gave her something to drink. It tasted foul. It made her stomach cramp. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

She felt hot. As if there were a furnace raging inside her. As if she were burning her own flesh for fuel.

She needed a drink of water. Where were her nurses?

They wouldn’t help her anyway, Jane thought. They were angels of death. She wanted them to stay away from her. But they kept coming back.

Jane’s eyelids felt so heavy. She couldn’t stay awake.

When she woke up, it was dark again.

What day was it? She didn’t know. The days floated by so quickly.

“Thomas!” Jane cried.

She knew he was dead. Knew it was pointless to yell for him. And yet she could not help it, could not believe he was really gone.

Oh, if only he could hear her. Answer her. Come to her.

“Thomas!” she shouted again, sitting bolt upright in bed.

The windows to her room were wide open, a cold breeze fluttering the curtains.

Where were the nurses? Where was Jason?

Everyone had left the room.

The wind that whistled through the open windows felt icy against her skin.

Why would they leave the windows open in a sickroom? Were they trying to kill her?

The wind blew harder. The bedroom door flew open with a bang.

Jane shrank back in her bed.

The cold wind blew through the doorway.

He seemed to enter in a gust of smoke.

He wore the same dark cloak and top hat that he had worn the day she met him. He carried the same walking stick with its carved serpent handle.

“Thomas!” she murmured. “Oh, I thought you were dead.”

He smiled slightly. He looked frail and sickly. But he walked toward her. Using the walking stick to help him.

Just before he reached the bed, his eyes widened in terror.

He raised the stick, as if to ward off an attacker.

His head jerked back, as if someone had pulled it hard from behind.

Then his head twisted sideways with a terrible snap.

Jane screamed.

Something had broken his neck! Some invisible, evil force!

He crumpled to the floor.

Jane jumped out of bed and clasped her husband in her arms. “Thomas!” she cried.

She rocked him back and forth. He felt as light as a feather.

“No!” she cried. “No!”

She pressed her cheek against his. He felt terribly cold. She held him so close that her tears rolled down his cheeks, instead of her own. They turned to ice when they touched his skin.

His lips moved.

He was trying to speak.

She pressed her ear to his mouth. “What? What is it, Thomas?” she exclaimed.

What was he trying to say?

Then she heard his voice. Only a whisper. More like a breeze than spoken words.

“You … are … in … terrible … danger!” he breathed.

Chapter
11

His words chilled her.

“Danger from what?” Jane cried.

Thomas’s body began to fade in her arms. In moments she was holding nothing but air.

She must have screamed, for her nurses ran into the room.

“What are you doing out of bed?” cried the heavy one.

“And opening the windows?” shrieked the thin one. “Oh, she is trying to do herself in, this one is. So we’ll be blamed!”

The nurses lifted her back into bed. Jane’s teeth chattered violently.

She was in danger. Thomas had said so. And she believed him.

But from whom? From what?

Don’t fall asleep, she ordered herself. You must stay alert. You must be ready to fight.

But she was so tired, so weak. Her eyes drifted closed.

When she woke, bright sunlight poured through the windows of her bedroom.

She felt even worse. She no longer had the strength to turn over in bed.

Dr. Pierce forced some medicine down her throat and she fell asleep again.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark. Though the windows were firmly shut, the room felt as frigid as the night Thomas had come to warn her. Rain drummed against the windowpanes.

The bony branches of the cherry tree tap-tap-tapped against the side of the house. The sound sent a shiver through Jane.

“Jason?” she murmured hopefully.

No answer.

She was all alone.

Her body trembled horribly. She wrapped her thin arms around her knees, trying to stop shaking.

I have to get out of bed, she told herself. I am losing my mind lying here in this room day after day.

She swung her legs out of the bed. The cool air stung her flesh. She shook even harder.

But she forced herself to keep going.

She gasped when her bare feet touched the cold floor. Her legs felt as thin and weak as toothpicks. She was amazed that they could support her.

Jane moved slowly across the room toward her desk. Her breath came in ragged pants.

Made it! She grabbed hold of the side of the desk and eased herself into the chair. Then she lowered her head against the desktop, exhausted.

After a moment, she felt better. She lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her heart raced. She had no face!

Then, with a laugh, she realized what had happened. The servants had taken down the mirror, leaving a dusty square on the wall where the mirror had once hung.

They must not want me to see myself, she realized. I must look awful.

She laughed harder. Her laughter sounded strange in her ears. How long has it been since I laughed at anything? she wondered.

On her desk lay her calendar. It was open to February 13.

That was the day. The horrible day that—

“Oh, Thomas,” she murmured. No tears came. All cried out, she thought. But her grief had not lessened. It felt like a large rock jammed inside her throat.

What day is it today? she thought. How many days had gone by since Thomas died?

There was no way to know.

She turned and scanned the room. On the chair where Jason often sat lay a newspaper.

The chair seemed far away, though it was only about ten feet. Jane pushed herself up and started toward it. This trip turned out to be much easier than the first. She was gaining confidence.

She picked up the paper and saw today’s date.

March 13.

The one-month anniversary of Thomas’s death.

How selfish of her to lie in bed! She felt so ashamed, so angry at herself.

Well there was only one thing to do. She would have to visit his grave and pay her respects.

Not just for his anniversary. She had left in the middle of his funeral. She had to finish her own private ceremony.

Getting dressed took a long time. Her fingers shook, and she grew short of breath.

Jane felt burning hot, but she forced herself to dress warmly. She slipped into her thick red cloak and tied on her bonnet as tightly as she could.

She felt so strange opening the door to her room. It had been so long.

She saw no one in the hall. She felt as if she were floating as she descended the long staircase.

Don’t do this, Jane, she told herself when she reached the back door. This is madness. This is death. Thomas would not want you to do this, Jane. Go back to bed.

You are in terrible danger.

Thomas’s words floated back to her. They sounded faint, as if they had traveled a great distance.

But she didn’t listen. She wanted to visit the cemetery, visit his grave. For Thomas’s sake. Whether he would have wanted her to or not.

She opened the door. Cold wind whipped her cloak around her. Needles of rain jabbed her face.

She stepped outside, and slowly climbed down the porch steps. She slipped on the wet grass and almost fell.

But she regained her balance and staggered forward.

By the time she was halfway along the trail to the cemetery, she was soaked through.

But the cold was almost refreshing in a way. It felt good against her hot skin.

Clouds covered the moon, and it was almost impossible for Jane to see. She stretched her hands out in front of her to feel for tree branches.

And then the rain began to let up. The dark clouds parted overhead, and the moonlight shone down on the narrow path. It was as if Thomas were in heaven and trying to guide her way with the moon’s silver beams.

At the cemetery, she quickly found Thomas’s grave. The headstone was shiny white and free of moss.

All at once she realized why she had come here.

Jane began to sob.

She had not come to pay her respects.

She had hoped that Thomas would be here. Alive. That he would be able to speak to her, to hold her in his strong arms.

He was here. But buried six feet under in the cold, wet ground.

She sank to her knees before his grave.

“Thomas,” she murmured. “I know there were times I mistrusted you. Times I had horrible thoughts about you. But on that last day, the last day you spent on earth, I swear I loved you!”

She felt a rush of cold wind caress her cheek. She wished it were Thomas touching her.

Jane rested her head against his cold, wet headstone. She kissed the rock’s smooth surface, trying to imagine she was kissing her husband’s lips.

She closed her eyes.

She had to accept the truth.

Thomas was gone. Thomas was dead.

The dream she had had the other night had been just that—a dream.

“Good-bye, Thomas,” she said at last.

She struggled to her feet. But as she stood, she noticed a large, dark hole in the ground to her left.

She peered at it. It had a familiar shape.

It was a hole dug for a coffin.

Someone was going to be buried.

And that meant—

Another member of the Fear family had died.

But who?

A new headstone had been set into the ground. She moved closer, careful not to fall into the open grave.

She had to press her face close to the stone to read the words.

She traced the letters with her fingers.

SARAH FEAR.

Chapter
12

Her heart seemed to stop.

Jane shrank away from the stone so suddenly she almost fell into the freshly dug grave.

Why, they were so sure she was going to die they had already dug a grave for her!

They had marked the dates. 1877-1899. 1899. That was this year.

Couldn’t they have waited? What was the terrible rush? Jane stood up, feeling the anger flow through her.

Well, she would surprise them. She would get well. There would be no funeral. Not so soon, anyway.

Jane backed away from the headstone.

SARAH FEAR.

That wasn’t her name anyway. Her name was Jane.

All around her, headstones with the name FEAR poked up from the dark, wet ground.

Like scattered teeth.

Waiting to snatch her up and toss her into that dark hole.

“No!” she shouted.

Ever since she came to Shadyside she had been surrounded. Surrounded by the rumors about the family. Stories about curses, the dark arts, and evil.

And now she was surrounded by these headstones.

“You won’t get me!” Jane screamed. “Do you hear me?”

She started to run. Her head pounded. Red dots exploded in front of her eyes. She felt sick and dizzy. But she kept running.

Bony roots seemed to rise up out of the ground to trip her. Wet leaves slapped at her face like the hands of corpses.

She fell. The air flew out of her lungs with a whoosh. She writhed in agony, unable to take a breath.

She was so sickly, so weak, so wet, so cold.

She would never make it back to the house, she suddenly realized.

It had been such madness to venture out into the cold, rainy night when she was already so ill.

They would find her in the morning. Lying dead in the woods.

Or maybe it would take longer. Weeks, months, before they found her.

Birds and worms and other creatures would find her first. Pick away her flesh till she was a skeleton after all.

Then they could have their funeral.

No!

Somehow Jane forced herself back to her feet and stumbled onward in the darkness.

She staggered out of the woods, and started across the wet lawn that led to the back of the house.

She threw open the back door and half fell into the dark hallway.

Strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders. “What are you doing?” a stern voice demanded. “Are you insane?”

Jason. That’s who it was. Jason Hardy. Her servant. Or was he her stepbrother? She was too sick and worn out to remember which.

And then he was carrying her. Carrying her in his arms. She was floating. Up the steps.

“Do you know how I have been praying for you to recover?” Jason growled. “And this is what you do?”

“I had to visit Thomas,” she murmured. “Anniversary.”

He looked furious. His stiff mustache twitched the way it did whenever he was really upset.

It used to be only Sarah Burns who could make him this angry.

But I am Sarah Burns, she thought. A wild burst of laughter escaped her lips.

No, I’m Jane. Jane Fear.

Clara, the young maid, appeared at the top of the stairs. She followed them into Jane’s bedroom.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your senses for sure, ma’am,” the maid muttered, as she helped Jane out of her wet clothes. “Going out on a night like this in your condition. If you didn’t have pneumonia before this—”

Yes, Clara was right. What could Jane have been thinking? Silly, silly Jane.

Wait. You are Jane, she reminded herself.

Clara helped her into bed and tucked the blankets around her.

Then Jason came back in the room. “I assume you will stay here until morning,” he barked.

She nodded, too exhausted to speak.

Her eyes closed.

It seemed only seconds later that she woke up again.

But she could feel sunlight shining on her closed eyelids. She could hear birds chirping.

Hours and hours must have passed, Jane realized.

She felt as if she had not moved, or dreamt, since they had put her back in her bed.

She opened her eyes. And realized she felt completely well!

What a strange feeling. She hadn’t felt well in so long, she almost didn’t recognize the sensation.

But the fever … the fever was gone!

She swung her legs out of bed. She stood easily. She didn’t feel any aches or pains! Her strength had returned! How could it be?

It doesn’t matter how, Jane thought. It only matters that it’s true! And it is! It is!

Jane danced around her room, shouting and clapping.

The door swung open.

The heavyset nurse stuck her head inside. She looked so shocked that Jane roared with laughter.

She grabbed the nurse and danced around the room with her.

“Ma’am, don’t you think you better get back in bed?” the astonished nurse asked.

“No, I do not!” Jane cried. She laughed wildly. “I don’t think I will ever get back in that bed again. I have slept enough for an entire lifetime. Two lifetimes!”

She ran to the bed and began pulling off the bedding and tossing it on the floor.

The thin nurse appeared in the doorway. She gave a loud gasp.

Jane tossed a pillow at her. The nurse was too stunned to move. It hit her right in the face.

Jane ran to her. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It is quite all right, ma’am,” the thin nurse said stiffly.

Jane couldn’t help it. She began to laugh again, laugh so hard it hurt. “I want you both out!” she suddenly shouted. Her voice sounded harsh and husky. “I’m letting you go.”

She grinned into their astonished faces. “That’s right,” she told them. “I don’t need your services anymore. Because I! Am! Well!”

She threw a pillow with every word. Threw them as hard as she could.

What was wrong with her?

She was being so awfully unpleasant!

Well, they would have to forgive her, whispered a voice in her head. They should try lying at death’s doorstep for a solid month, and see how kindly they behaved after that!

Jane hurried out of the room. “Jason! Jason!”

She ran down the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.

Clara, the maid, emerged from the kitchen with a silver tray of cutlery. When she saw Jane, she dropped all the silverware onto the floor with a great clattering crash.

Jane ran to her and kissed first one cheek, then the other. “Yes, it’s true, Clara,” she cried. “I am better! I am all better! Look at me! Just look!”

“I can’t believe it!” Clara started to cry. Which made Jane start to cry as well. “I thought for sure—” Clara blubbered.

“Yes, so did I.” Jane remembered what she had seen last night. In the cemetery. The headstone with her name on it. “So did everyone apparently,” she said with a bitter laugh.

She cleared her throat. Her voice sounded so deep and hoarse. I guess it is because I have used it so little these past weeks, Jane thought.

“It’s a miracle, ma’am. You have your color back. You look just the way you used to. Here,” she said, pulling Jane into the hall. “Look at yourself in the—”

Clara stopped short. She blushed. “But I am forgetting, ma’am. We hid the mirrors.”

“You did what?”

Then Jane remembered the dusty square on her bedroom wall.

“You were looking so sickly, ma’am. We didn’t want you to see yourself and get even more upset than you already were. But it is just a miracle,” Clara repeated. “You’ve changed so! In one night!”

“It is a miracle,” Jane agreed.

They hugged again. “But where is Jason?” Jane asked. “I must tell Jason! He has been so worried about me.”

“He is in his room, I suppose,” Clara answered.

Jane started back up the stairs, then hesitated. She realized she had no idea which room he was staying in.

“Not that way,” Clara called after her. She sounded surprised. “He lives in the servants’ quarters.”

Of course. How stupid of her. Her poor stepbrother had had to masquerade as a servant all this time. Jane turned around and headed back down the stairs.

“Oh, but he will faint with amazement,” Clara said, her eyes twinkling.

“I thought you promised you would stay in your bed!” snapped a stern and familiar voice. Jason. He marched down the servants’ staircase with a frown on his face.

Jane ran to him and kissed him on the cheek.

He stared at her with his mouth dropping open. “Jane,” he cried in amazement. “You look wonderful.”

He turned his head sharply. Jane followed his gaze. Clara stood in the kitchen doorway, watching them.

Jane laughed. She leaned close and whispered in Jason’s ear. “Don’t worry. She didn’t hear you. But do try to remember my name is Sarah now!”

He blushed and nodded. “Sorry!”

She grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

She yanked him along with her as she raced outside. Out into the yard. Out into the sun.

She twirled around and around. She loved the feel of the sunlight on her skin. The smell of the grass. Every sensation felt new—and glorious.

“But … but—” Jason stammered, watching her. “You seem so—”

“Different?” she asked hoarsely.

“Well, yes. You’re—”

“I’m better!” She whooped.

“Can it be?” he murmured. “Can it be?”

Jane held out her arms wide to both sides. “I am living proof that it can.”

“Oh, J—” he began, but caught himself. “Sarah! Sarah!”

She cackled. Then covered her mouth in embarrassment. What an awful sound. She never used to laugh like that.

“But—but we must celebrate,” Jason said. “Tonight! We’ll go to a show. Is there any theater in this little town?”

Jane knew she must refuse. She didn’t want to hurt Jason’s feelings. But she was still in mourning for Thomas. It wouldn’t be right.

But when she opened her lips to refuse, the words “I would love to go!” popped out.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Why did she say that?

“Excellent,” Jason exclaimed. “That’s settled then.”

Jason continued talking about where they should go and what they should do. But Jane couldn’t concentrate.

How could she possibly agree to go to the theater only one month after Thomas’s death?

Jason looked worried. “I just thought of a bit of a problem.” He chuckled nervously. “What will people say if they see you out on the town with me? After all, I am supposed to be your manservant!”

“Let them say what they like,” she said sharply.

Jason looked rather shocked.

Jane felt shocked herself. She didn’t mean that. Of course she cared what people said.

Everyone in town would be gossiping if she and Jason went to a play together. They would say horrible things about her. Surely they would think that she had never loved Thomas.

Jane couldn’t be seen with Jason. She couldn’t do anything that would hurt her husband’s memory.

“You must excuse me, Jason,” Jane said. “This sudden recovery is very confusing for me. I feel as if I am not myself.”

She gently touched Jason’s arm. “I should not have accepted your invitation. I am still in mourning for Thomas.”

“Of course,” Jason said. “I should have thought of that.”

“And now I must go do something that I have been wanting to do since the day I got sick,” Sarah told him. “I am going to take a bath!”

“But—”

“I won’t be long!” she promised. She turned around and hurried back inside the house.

Perhaps she had rushed her recovery. Perhaps that is why she had been behaving so strangely ever since she got out of bed.

Slowly, she climbed the stairs. She stepped into her bedroom.

She gasped. Bedclothes were strewn about the floor. Pillows lay everywhere. What happened?

I did this, she realized. She remembered how she had thrown the blankets and pillows this way and that.

And then I told the nurses to get out.

I must have rushed my recovery, she thought again. It is the only explanation for acting so impulsively.

She closed the door and locked it. Then she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

At least if I lose control again, it will be in the privacy of my own room, she thought. No one will see me.

Then she heard it.

A woman laughing.

Faint at first. But growing louder, louder …

She opened her eyes.

The room was empty.

Chapter
13

“I am truly losing my mind,” Jane said. She spoke out loud, hoping that the sound of her own voice would bring her back to her senses.

For a moment there was silence. Relief swept through her.

Then the woman laughed again. Even louder this time.

Jane began to sweat.

Her bedroom was small. A canopied bed. A few closets. There weren’t many hiding places.

Jane knelt on the floor and searched under the bed.

There was nothing there but some balls of dust.

She stood, feeling dizzy with fear.

The woman laughed and laughed.

“Where are you?” Jane cried. “Show yourself!” Acting braver than she felt, Jane strode across the room and flung open the closet door.

There was no one inside.

The woman continued to laugh. A low, cackling laugh.

Jane pushed all her dresses to one side. No one was hidden behind them.

Then she checked the second closet. And the third.

No one there.

The cackling grew louder and louder. Jane covered her ears. She could still hear it.

Then she froze.

The laughter.

It seemed … it seemed to be coming from inside her own head!

Jane ran to the mirror on the wall. She needed to see herself. Needed to see that she was all right.

But the mirror was gone. Yes, yes, she remembered now. Clara said they had been afraid to let her see herself.

Jane unlocked her door and hurried down the hallway into the bathroom. But they had taken away this mirror as well. My, she must have looked awful for the staff to go to such lengths!

She rushed back into her room. She flung open drawer after drawer, searching for a piece of glass. Finally she found a small, round compact mirror in a tan case.

Her hands shook so hard that she dropped it. She heard the mirror crack.

Harsh, taunting laughter roared in her ears.

She picked up the mirror. It had broken into several pieces, but she could still see herself. She studied her reflection.

She looked healthy. Normal. Red hair and soft brown eyes. Freckled, rosy cheeks.

But wait. Didn’t her eyes look slightly different than usual?

She held the broken mirror closer to her face, studying her eyes intently.

Now she knew what it was. Her eyes looked lighter.

As she stared at herself, she saw her pupils widen.

She noticed tiny flecks of green sparkling in the brown of her irises. She had never seen them before.

Maybe she had never studied her eyes closely enough, she thought. Maybe they had always been just a tiny bit green.

Jane looked away from the mirror, breathing hard.

Maybe I was wrong about the green flecks. I must have been wrong.

Jane looked into the mirror again.

But the flecks of green were still there. In fact, they had grown in number.

As she watched, the green flecks grew longer and longer. Wider. They joined together.

Jane’s heart began to hammer. She could feel it pounding in the base of her throat.

Her eyes. Her eyes were completely green now.

And the green became more and more intense as she watched.

Her eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if lit by a ghastly fire. They burned into her.

Jane could not look away. Could not lower the mirror from her face.

As she watched, her lips spread into a smile.

What is happening to me?

“Looking for someone?” her reflection asked.

Chapter
14

Jane let out a shriek. She dropped the mirror.

The voice in her head shrieked back. Shrieked with laughter.

Jane staggered toward the bed. The roses and vines embroidered on her coverlet looked so inviting. She just wanted to lie down. Sleep.

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?

Chapter
15

Jane 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.

Jane sat down across from Mrs. Teasedale. Mrs. Teasedale beamed at her. “I just can’t get over it. You’re like a new person.”

How true that is, Jane thought. Her stomach twisted itself into knots. What does Sarah have planned for Mrs. Teasedale?

“I was so sorry about Thomas’s passing,” Mrs. Teasedale told her. “I feel terribly ashamed for everything I said to you that day. I should not have repeated those stories about the Fears.”

“It is not your fault,” Jane said carefully. “Everyone in town believes those same stories.”

Liza Teasedale shook her head. “That is no excuse. But my darling, I can’t tell you how marvelous you look! It is simply miraculous.”

Jane suddenly stiffened.

She could feel the evil spirit awakening inside her. Stretching. Fitting its shape into her body. Arm into arm and leg into leg. As if Sarah were wearing her, putting on her body like a piece of clothing.

She must die, Sarah whispered inside Jane’s head.

Die? Liza Teasedale?

Jane gasped.

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Teasedale cried, alarmed.

“I—I think I am—”

You heard me, Jane. Now. Kill her, Sarah ordered.

But why? Jane wondered. What harm did this lady ever do to you?

Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for you. Because you want her to suffer so, Sarah told her.

Jane realized she could talk to Sarah without speaking out loud. Sarah could hear her, just as Jane could hear Sarah.

I don’t want her to suffer, Jane cried.

Of course you do. I am only doing your bidding, Sarah insisted. I have only been doing your bidding all along. You hated Thomas from the beginning. You wanted him dead and out of your life so you could enjoy his wealth without him. So I killed him.

That is a sick and desperate lie! Jane protested.

Oh, now don’t pretend. You hated Thomas and you hate Mrs. Teasedale, Sarah said.

I don’t. Please don’t hurt her, Sarah. Please, Jane begged.

Of course you do, Sarah said. Jane could hear the smile in her voice. You hate the way she tried to frighten you about Thomas and his family. And now she must pay—with her life!

“No!” Jane cried.

“No what, dearest?” Mrs. Teasedale said, looking confused.

Jane realized she had spoken aloud. “You must forgive me,” she said. “This is my first day up and about. I get confused rather easily.”

“Of course, child. That is why I wondered if you should have visited so soon,” Mrs. Teasedale told her.

“If it is all right with you, I will come back another time,” she said. She rose from her chair.

I will get away, Jane thought. Fast. Before I can harm the poor old lady, I will get away.

Where? Where can you go? Sarah asked.

Far away. Far away from anyone I know or care about. Anyone I might hurt, Jane answered.

She heard a distant roaring in her head. The roar grew louder.

Mrs. Teasedale did treat me badly, Jane thought suddenly. That day. That tea party. When Mrs. Teasedale accused the Fears of being evil. Didn’t she know how much that would frighten me? It was cruel of her.

Laughter mixed with the roaring sound in Jane’s head.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mrs. Teasedale asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just wanted to say thank you again for all your good wishes when I was sick. I will come back soon,” Jane promised.

I’ve got to get away. Now. Before it’s too late, Jane thought.

“Perhaps you should rest a moment,” Mrs. Teasedale said. She sounded worried.

“No, no, Mrs. Teasedale. I assure you, I am fine,” Jane said.

It was hard to see. There were bright spots in front of her eyes. And the roaring was so loud. It blocked out all other sound.

She was vaguely aware that she was kissing the old woman on the cheek. Murmuring her good-byes. What was she saying?

Jane picked up her cloak. She hurriedly crossed the lawn. She felt unsteady on her feet.

Saying the Fears were cursed. Saying evil followed them.

Those foul rumors.

Rumors that had made Jane mistrust Thomas. That made her think the worst of him.

If it wasn’t for old gossips like Liza Teasedale, Jane would have been closer to Thomas all along.

None of this would have happened.

But that made no sense. What was she thinking?

And where was she going?

Jane wanted to return to the front of the house, to Phillip and her carriage.

But she seemed to have circled back across the lawn.

She snuck into the house.

No one saw her.

So simple.

The roaring suddenly stopped.

She was thinking clearly now.

Moving carefully, quickly. Her footsteps felt light and soundless.

She darted into the kitchen.

She pulled a long, silver knife from the kitchen drawer.

Dark red blood gushed inside her head, falling down before her eyes in a slow-motion waterfall.

The sight of the blood had jarred her back to her senses, as if she were awakening from a long, deep sleep.

“No!” she said aloud.

“Is that you, Isabelle?” a woman called from the pantry.

Jane didn’t answer.

The roaring began again.

The blood rushed past her eyes, making it hard for her to see.

She blinked. But the blood kept coming.

Because it’s on the inside of my head, Jane thought.

Jane hurried out of the kitchen. Where was she going now? What was she going to do with the knife?

Inside her brain, Sarah laughed. Don’t worry, Jane. We won’t stab her. You have my word.

Jane slipped back outside into the glare of the bright spring sun.

The maid who had been hanging out the laundry had gone inside. The large, billowing white sheets hid Jane as she hacked down the clothesline with her knife.

Her arms felt so strong and powerful. It was a wonderful feeling. She felt strong enough to lift the entire planet Earth and spin it on her finger.

She quickly cut off a piece of the rope. A piece about two feet long.

She slipped the knife into her pocket. Coiled the rope around her left hand with a few quick snaps of her wrists.

Holding the rope behind her back, she marched across the lawn toward Mrs. Teasedale.

She had never felt so wonderful in her entire life. Never felt such a strong sense of purpose.

Mrs. Teasedale opened her eyes and sat up straight as she approached.

“Did you forget something, child?” she asked with a surprised look on her face.

Jane didn’t answer. She darted behind Mrs. Teasedale.

Then she wrapped the clothesline around Mrs. Teasedale’s neck. And began to pull.

Chapter
16

Mrs. Teasedale’s hands flew to her neck. She clawed at the clothesline.

A thin line of bright red blood appeared on Mrs. Teasedale’s neck.

Jane yanked on the ends of the clothesline.

The rope disappeared underneath Mrs. Teasedale’s skin.

Jane watched as the blood flowed out in a perfect ring.

Snap!

Mrs. Teasedale’s neck broke.

Plop!

Mrs. Teasedale’s head landed on the back lawn.

Jane stumbled to her feet. She felt something drain away inside her, as if all her own blood had just flooded out onto the green grass.

She was Jane again. Jane Hardy. Herself.

Those thoughts. Those horrible thoughts she had been thinking. They belonged to Sarah, not her.

Jane stared down. At her feet lay a harmless old woman.

Dead. Dead by Jane’s own hands.

Jane bowed her head. Oh, no.

Oh, yes, Sarah answered.

Jane began to weep.

Stop blubbering and get to work, Sarah demanded.

What now? Jane thought.

Sarah did not answer.

Jane’s body jerked. Sarah has control again, she realized.

Sarah forced Jane to drag the old woman’s body behind a tall hedge.

Apparently, Sarah wanted to delay the discovery of Mrs. Teasedale’s murder.

But why?

Because we’re not finished yet, Sarah told her merrily.

Jane began to retch.

It had to stop. There had to be a way to make this horror end.

No! Jane pleaded. She wrapped her arms around herself.

But it was no use. Sarah shoved her across the lawn.

Jane picked up her cloak, which she had dropped by the clothesline.

Good thing you didn’t wear it. Sarah chuckled.

Jane looked down. She understood what Sarah meant. Mrs. Teasedale’s blood had splattered the front of her dress. The cloak would hide all that.

Where are we going now? Jane wondered.

She got her answer only after she had climbed back into her carriage.

“Leaving so soon?” Phillip asked.

Jane only nodded.

Phillip looked at her strangely. “Everything all right, ma’am?”

She nodded again. She was afraid to open her mouth. Who knew what she would say?

“Where to?” Phillip asked at last.

“Take me to my husband’s mill,” she told Phillip in a hoarse voice.

A voice she now knew was not her own.

Sarah’s voice.

The mill?

Why were they going to the mill?

Phillip hesitated.

“You heard me,” she said crossly. “Take me there at once!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hurt his feelings, Jane thought. But I can’t help that, I have more important things to worry about.

Phillip is lucky. I only insulted him.

She shuddered when she thought of Mrs. Teasedale’s head rolling away from her body.

At least I didn’t kill Phillip, Jane thought.

Yet, Sarah replied.

Jane shut her eyes.

Sarah laughed. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to kill Phillip. Why should I?

Why should you kill anyone? Jane asked.

Oh, don’t sound so glum. You enjoyed that last kill more than I did, Sarah told her.

Jane didn’t have the strength to argue. And what was the point?

Sarah was only toying with her.

No, Jane thought. It isn’t Sarah inside me. Whatever is there isn’t even human. It is pure evil.

Jane stuck her tongue out as far as she could.

She began to gag.

I don’t like being called names, the evil spirit told her.

♦ ♦ ♦

There was no one outside the mill today. The door stood ajar.

But there must be someone inside. Someone that Sarah wanted to—

Let’s go, the evil spirit ordered.

Jane tried to drag her footsteps. But the evil spirit pushed her forward.

She entered the mill. Closed the door behind her.

Everything reminded her of Thomas’s accident. The smell of new-mown hay. The grainy dust filling the air. The large stone wheels grinding against each other, slowly turning.

Jane pictured the water in the well bubbling and churning.

Heard poor Thomas’s helpless cries.

So horrible.

Yes. Wasn’t it beautiful? the evil spirit asked.

I hate you, Jane told her.

Do I need to remind you how uncomfortable I can make it inside your own skin? Sarah asked.

You can torture me all you like. I am dead anyway, Jane said.

Oh, now, don’t say that, Jane. Because I am really and truly dead, you see, Sarah answered. You don’t know what it’s like. Don’t make me teach you a very nasty lesson.

Inside Jane’s mouth a tooth began to wiggle back and forth, pulled by invisible fingers.

Jane twisted her head to the left and right. But she couldn’t get away, couldn’t shake the fingers’ viselike grip.

Back and forth, back and forth.

The tooth was growing looser and looser.

With a terrible sucking sound, the tooth popped free.

Jane let out a yelp of pain. She spat the tooth on the dusty ground. She tasted the blood that flowed freely in her mouth.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she gazed around the mill.

Maybe no one is here, Jane thought. Thomas had once told her that they left the mill open and running so that farmers could bring grain and grind it themselves when the foreman wasn’t here.

Oh, please be deserted, she prayed.

If there was no one around, then there was no one she could harm.

Take off your cloak, Sarah ordered.

Jane did as she was told. She shivered. Perhaps the evil spirit had chosen this place for her death.

She felt a terrible stab of fear.

And yet death would be a relief, as well.

When she was dead, she would no longer be a threat to others.

No one else would be harmed at her hands.

Yes! Let her kill me then! Jane thought.

I told you, that isn’t going to happen. I have plans for you, Sarah said.

A hand touched Jane on the shoulder. She spun around. And saw the foreman standing there. A short, squat man with bright red hair and muscular arms.

He looked surprised to see her. And worried.

“Mrs. Fear?” he asked. His gaze was locked on her bloodstained dress. “Are you all right, Mrs. Fear?”

“I had a little accident,” Jane said. She cackled.

No, Jane yelled at herself. She had to maintain control. She couldn’t let Sarah take over.

“Do you need a doctor?” the foreman asked. He sounded alarmed.

Jane wanted to warn him. She wanted to scream at him to get away from her as fast as he could.

But she couldn’t force her lips to form the words.

Her mouth twisted in a horrible grin. “I am fine!” She shrieked with laughter.

The foreman gulped. “Mrs. Fear? I am sorry, ma’am. Terribly sorry. About your husband’s death. I heard how sick you were from it. I was sick afterward, myself. I only came back here today for the first time. I—I wanted to make sure things were running smoothly. If you want me to resign, I will. If you want me to stay on, I will do that as well. It’s entirely up to you, ma’am. I couldn’t feel worse about what happened—”

“You are sorry?” Jane cried, her voice hoarse. “You were the one who caused him to die, Mr. Taft!”

Mr. Taft’s eyes opened wide. She could tell he was frightened.

Such a weasel.

Such a snivelling fool.

Afraid of a woman. Him with those strong arms.

He pushed Thomas into the well. Pushed him on his way to the grave.

But now he’s up against true strength.

“It was an accident, Mrs. Fear. You saw what happened. We were arguing, yes. But I never meant to lay a finger on Mr. Fear. I always thought the world of your husband, ma’am. He treated me and the other workers fine. Keeping this mill open even though it was losing money and—”

The foreman was talking faster and faster. Practically blubbering.

“You pushed my husband into the boiling water, Mr. Taft! If it were not for you, Thomas would still be alive! True or false?” Jane demanded.

The foreman opened his mouth, then shut it. He didn’t answer.

“True or false?” Jane shrieked. “You caused his death!”

The foreman had turned white as flour. “But now, Mrs. Fear, you saw how I tried to pull him out. You were there. You saw that I—”

Behind the foreman, Jane could see those huge stone wheels slowly, slowly turning.

And suddenly, she sensed the evil spirit’s plan.

“Run!” she shouted in the foreman’s face.

But barely any sound came out of her mouth.

Jane grabbed the mill foreman’s shirt with both hands.

She shoved him backward with all her might. Back toward the huge mill wheels.

Chapter
17

Then Jane dragged his head down, down toward the slowly grinding wheels.

The foreman screamed, a loud, desperate sound.

She pushed his head into the path of the giant stone wheels.

“Noooo!” he howled. He jerked his head back and forth, trying to escape.

But she was too strong.

The wheels seemed to pause for the tiniest fraction of an instant.

Then the foreman’s warm blood spattered across the front of Jane’s dress.

Jane felt the strange draining sensation again. She sank to her knees and began to vomit onto the grain-covered floor.

Inside her head, Sarah began to laugh.

♦ ♦ ♦

The next morning, Jane woke before dawn. She stretched and yawned.

The events of the day before flashed through her mind. Mrs. Teasedale’s bulging eyes. The perfect ring of red blood around her throat.

The foreman’s screams of terror.

Jane moaned. Could it get any worse than that?

Is that a challenge? the evil spirit asked. Get dressed. We have things to do.

Jane found a clean dress and quickly put it on. Then she hurried downstairs and into the kitchen.

Clara had put a huge pot of potatoes on the stove, ready to boil. But there was no sign of the maid herself. And Clara was usually up so early.

Then again, the sun had yet to rise.

Jane wandered out of the house.

Moments later, she found herself at the toolshed, though she could not remember deciding to go there.

Now what is Sarah doing? Jane wondered vaguely. She pulled a long-handled shovel down from its hooks on the shed wall.

Jane looked around and realized she now stood in the garden. She had no memory of leaving the toolshed. I blacked out, she realized.

She had no idea what Sarah had been using her body to do.

This must be how Sarah had killed Thomas, she thought.

Grief washed over her.

No, Jane told herself. She couldn’t get emotional now. She needed her strength to fight this evil spirit.

And I thought we were getting along better this morning, the evil spirit said.

Jane began to dig.

Why are we digging, Sarah? she asked.

You’ll see, Sarah replied.

Jane threw herself into the task. Shoving the metal point of the shovel hard into the dirt. Scooping up a pile of dirt and flinging it behind her.

A trickle of sweat ran down her cheek. Jane wiped it away. She needed to rest. Just for a few minutes.

Jane looked down into the hole. A pink earthworm squirmed at the bottom. She had disturbed the worm in its morning work, no doubt. Poor little creature.

Jane carefully placed the sharp edge of the shovel on the worm. She pressed down hard, neatly slicing the worm in two.

A familiar cackle sounded in her ears.

Leave me alone, Jane begged. You’ve had your pleasure. My life could not be more ruined than it is now. Go away and leave me to my misery. That would be the worst torture you could imagine.

I’m never leaving, the evil spirit answered. This is my life now.

Jane leaned on the shovel, letting the wooden handle hold her up.

She would go insane if Sarah stayed inside her. Who knew what hideous thing Sarah would make her do next.

Two murders! Two ghastly, senseless deaths. Two innocent people. Both killed in one single day!

Two murders? the evil spirit asked. You mean you really don’t remember? Oh, Jane, surely you can remember what you yourself have done with your own filthy little hands.

Remember? Jane thought, her heart suddenly racing.

Remember what?

Sarah shrieked with glee. Yesterday, after killing the mill foreman, you returned to the mansion—and your room.

Jane saw it now. Saw herself taking off the cloak that hid her bloodstained clothes.

Hiding the clothes in the back of one of her closets.

It would have worked, too. No one would have found the clothes in that closet, not for weeks.

But who should walk in at that moment and surprise her?

Clara, the maid.

Jane closed her eyes, trying to stop the images.

But the pictures were in her mind, flipping by like illustrations on the pages of some horrific book.

Young Clara. The expression of horror on her face. Red splotches forming on her pale cheeks, as if she had been slapped.

No, no. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember!

The maid asked why you were covered in blood, the evil spirit told Jane. There was only one way to answer such a question.

Jane saw herself turn to the maid. “You want to see why my dress got so bloody?” she heard herself ask Clara. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She pulled out the knife she had taken from Mrs. Teasedale’s house.

So that’s what I’m doing, Jane suddenly realized.

I’m digging a grave for Clara.

Jane slowly turned.

Please let it all be a trick, a nightmare, she thought. Let Clara be alive.

But no. She saw Clara’s high-laced black shoes sticking out from beneath one of the hedges.

“Poor Clara,” Jane murmured.

She groaned as she struggled to pull Clara’s body over to the freshly dug grave.

They get so heavy when they’re dead, don’t they? the evil spirit asked sweetly.

Jane rolled Clara into the hole. The maid landed on her back.

Jane grabbed the shovel. She scooped up some dirt and tossed it into the grave. Covering Clara’s staring eyes.

She had almost finished filling in the grave when the constable arrived.

Chapter
18

“Mrs. Fear?”

She leaned on her shovel. She squinted. The sun was in her eyes. “Yes?” she answered in a husky voice.

“Constable Childs, ma’am.” The young man took off his cap and scratched his closely cropped head of blond curls. “You’re up early, aren’t you?”

“So are you,” Jane answered with a smile.

“That’s true. May I ask what you’re doing?”

“Gardening. What does it look like?” she asked harshly.

The constable shrugged. He peered at her closely.

He was a handsome young man. He had a cleft in his chin just like Thomas’s.

Maybe the constable should die as well!

No, no! Jane cried.

Oh, how she longed to tell him everything that was going on. Maybe he could help her.

But she didn’t have control of any part of her body.

“I dug a hole for a sapling I intend to plant here,” she said.

Please don’t believe it, Jane begged him silently.

The constable nodded. Apparently, he believed her.

“Mrs. Fear, I don’t know if you heard, but a horrible thing happened here in Shadyside yesterday,” the constable said.

“Oh?” Jane asked.

“You know, this is a small town, ma’am. We don’t get much trouble here. But when it comes, we get plenty. There were two murders in one day.”

Jane gasped. “No!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the constable answered.

Jane put a hand to her chest. “No one I know, I hope.”

“Perhaps we had better talk inside, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Fear,” the constable answered.

They crossed the wide lawn. Jane led the constable around the back, and into the kitchen. “Perhaps I can offer you some tea,” Jane said with a sweet smile.

If he comes too close to the truth, Sarah will make me kill him, Jane realized.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing.

“Tea would be very nice. Thank you, Mrs. Fear,” the constable answered.

“Clara?” Jane called. “The maid,” she explained to the constable. “She’s usually up by now.” Jane called to Clara a few more times, then shrugged. “I will have to make it myself, I suppose.”

“Thank you, ma’am. If it’s not too much trouble,” the constable said.

“No trouble at all.” Jane put the kettle on the stove. Then she lit the fire under the big metal pot of potatoes and water that sat next to the kettle.

“You may want to sit down,” the constable suggested.

“All right.” Jane sat down. She folded her hands. She smiled politely, like a schoolchild waiting for a lecture from her teacher.

“Reginald Taft, the foreman at your husband’s mill was murdered. And so was Liza Teasedale,” the constable told her.

Tears stung her eyes. Tears for the suffering she had caused.

If the constable has any doubts left, the tears in your eyes will erase them, Sarah whispered.

But for once, Sarah was wrong.

The young constable kept asking questions.

Had she noticed anything out of the ordinary when she visited Mrs. Teasedale yesterday?

Wasn’t it kind of a strange coincidence that she had also visited the mill?

“I talked to your carriage driver,” he explained, looking down at his hands.

“Yes, I visited the mill. And yes, it is a most awful coincidence,” Jane agreed. She stood up and poured two cups of tea. She placed them on the table and sat back down.

The constable began to ask questions about the Fear family. About Thomas’s grandparents, Angelica and Simon. About the rumors that the family practiced the dark arts.

Jane could feel Sarah growing angrier and angrier.

The next thing she knew, she woke up in her own bed.

She had blacked out again. A horrible feeling of dread swept through her.

Oh, no …

Jane tiptoed down to the kitchen, terrified at what she might see inside.

Slowly, she pushed open the door. The smell of cooked meat filled her nose.

Several servants sat at the table, eating their breakfast. Jason was among them. He gave her a worried smile.

She nodded gravely.

There was no sign of the constable.

If only she could remember what had happened. She shuffled wearily to the table and sat down heavily.

The servants appeared surprised to find their mistress sitting at the table with them. “Shall I make you some tea, ma’am?” Jason offered.

Jane’s head jerked up.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

She had made tea for the constable. She remembered that, but vaguely. She could see herself and the constable sitting at the table.

And after tea—what happened? She needed to remember.

“Are you all right?” Jason asked.

“Fine, fine. Tea would be lovely. Thank you,” Jane answered.

Perhaps the constable had finally grown tired of asking questions and left.

Now why didn’t she believe that?

Jason brought the tea back to the table and set it before her. She slowly stirred the dark liquid, letting the steam warm her face. Jason looked so very worried.

She tried to smile at him. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to go to a show together,” she said.

Jason blushed. Jane noticed the other servants exchanging glances.

That was stupid of me, she realized. No one knew he was her stepbrother. She had embarrassed him. The other servants probably thought that some odd and shocking romance was brewing between the recently widowed mistress and her young servant!

Jane pulled a piece of toast from a servant’s hand and gobbled it down. She cackled at the startled expression on his face.

“Not bad,” Jane said as she chewed.

Her gaze settled on the large pot of boiling potatoes on the stove. The food seemed to stick in Jane’s throat.

She shoved her chair backward so fast it fell over with a crash.

Her hand flew to her forehead.

The pain—so sharp!

And then the memories—

Flying past one after another—

“No! No!” Jane cried, covering her mouth. She shook her head, trying to make the horrifying pictures disappear. The horrifying pictures of what she had done to the constable.

Jason took her by the shoulders and guided her back into a chair.

But she ripped free. Her body bent double. “What have I done?” she screamed.

All the servants gathered around, watching her in horror. Not knowing what was wrong. Not knowing what she was seeing in her head.

“What is going on?” Jason demanded. “You must tell me. Let me help you.”

The lid on the large pot rattled as the contents cooked and bubbled.

Jane stared at it. Little wisps of steam escaped from under the dancing lid.

The delicious smell of meat grew stronger.

She began to gag.

For now she remembered everything.

Now she knew exactly what had become of Constable Childs.

Chapter
19

The constable is in that pot, Jane realized. I carved him up … like a turkey.

She ran out of the kitchen. She dashed up to her room and locked the door behind her.

“Let me in!” Jason cried. He pounded on the door.

“Go away!” Jane yelled. “Go away! Please, Jason. I’m all right, I promise. I just need to rest.”

A few moments later, Jane heard his footsteps moving away.

There is one more, Jane, Sarah told her. You cannot stay locked in your room. There is one more we must take care of.

No more! Jane shouted back.

But Sarah pulled her to the door.

One more, Jane. Just one more little murder and then we’re done, the evil spirit said.

Jane threw herself to the ground. She tried to crawl away from the door, every muscle straining with the terrible effort.

Sarah only laughed. Have you guessed who we’re going to kill next? Jason. Your stepbrother, Jason!

She could not let that happen.

He belonged to her past, her life before the horror.

He was more precious to her than anything in the world.

Jane gathered all her strength. She pulled herself to her feet, clawing the wallpaper with her bare hands. She backed away from the door.

“You won’t get me to do that.” She shouted the words out loud. “Never!”

She could feel Sarah pushing her, pushing her toward the door.

Jane grabbed onto her desk.

“No!” she screamed.

Sarah seemed to let go.

Could it be that simple?

Jane’s legs began to tremble.

She felt something gathering force inside her body.

She heard a distant hissing sound. Growing louder. Louder.

Jane sank to her knees. The thing that was inside her forced her lips open wide.

Green gas spewed out of her mouth.

It filled the room. The smell was like rotted flesh.

Jane choked and sputtered. The green gas kept pouring out of her.

She fell to her knees, coughing and shaking.

Then it was over.

Jane scrubbed her mouth with the hem of her skirt. Then she stared around the room. The green gas filled it from floor to ceiling, thick as fog.

Jane felt a drop of sweat run down her forehead.

Was it her imagination or was the room growing hot? She blinked as more sweat ran into her eyes, stinging her eyeballs.

And still the room grew hotter.

The green gas began to shimmer, like the air on a hot summer day.

The floor began to burn her knees. She leapt to her feet. But she could feel the floor burning through the soles of her shoes.

I have to get out of here, Jane thought. But she could not move.

The green gas quivered. It gathered in the center of the room, forming into one large cloud.

Dark holes formed in the cloud. Two holes side by side.

Eyes, Jane realized with horror. They began to glow a bright green.

Another hole formed in the cloud, and became a mouth.

The cloud swirled and shifted—forming a face.

The face of Sarah Burns. The face of Jane’s best friend.

“Sarah,” Jane breathed.

It was the first time Jane had seen Sarah since she died.

Jane began to cry. “Sarah … Sarah …”

The glowing green eyes flashed with fury.

Jane cried harder. “Even after all that’s happened, I love you, Sarah. And I miss you—”

“Silence!” the evil spirit roared.

“Oh, Sarah. We never should have done it,” Jane moaned. “It was madness. Thinking we could switch places. Look what we’ve done, Sarah! Look at all the pain we caused!”

“There will be more! More pain! And more and more and more!”

“No more,” Jane said, shaking her head and struggling for breath. “Let it end. Let us both die, Sarah. It’s enough.”

“More!”

“No, Sarah.”

Jane felt a tiny bit of strength gathering force inside her. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else, Sarah. It’s over.”

“You can’t stop me, Jane.” Tendrils of gas darted forward and licked Jane’s face—tearing at her skin with every touch. Burning her. “You can never stop me.”

Hands formed in the gas.

Jane couldn’t move. Couldn’t get away.

The hands reached out for Jane’s throat.

Chapter
20

Jane let out a piercing scream. Her mouth wide open in terror.

The green gas began to shoot back into her.

No!

She had to hold her mouth closed! She could not let Sarah reenter her body!

Jane tried to close her jaws, tried to clench her teeth. But the thick green gas was too powerful. It pushed her teeth apart.

The gas burned Jane’s throat. Her stomach. Her lungs. She could feel it filling up every part of her.

Finally, it was over.

The air in the room looked clear, normal. Still.

Jane breathed in slowly.

She could smell the faint scent of the faded rose in a bud vase on her rolltop desk. Jason had brought her the flower when she was sick.

Jason. Jane had to warn him.

But she was too exhausted. She’s won, Jane thought. Sarah has won.

Jane found herself on her feet.

She headed downstairs.

Every time she blinked, she found herself in a different room of the mansion. I’m having tiny little blackouts, she realized.

She was searching for something. What?

Oh, here it was. The box of knives that Thomas had given her. The family heirloom.

She carried them back to the library. She set the box down on the same table they had been on that horrible afternoon.

Jane watched herself run her hand lovingly over the polished wood. Then she lifted the lid and smiled at the ten shiny knives, each knife held in place with a purple velvet sash.

I liked using these so much the last time, Sarah explained. When I cut off Aaron West’s leg. He deserved it after all those horrible things he said about me.

Jane ran her finger over the handles of the knives.

She stopped at the longest knife.

I am powerless to stop Sarah, Jane thought.

Utterly, Sarah agreed.

And besides, Sarah was only doing what she herself secretly wanted to do all along. Jason, stern-faced Jason, had always been so shocked by her wild behavior as a child. He had snitched to Aunt Betsey more than once when they were youngsters. Like the time she switched the salt with the sugar. He had told. And she had been punished.

Now he would pay.

Jane pulled the gold cord that rang in the servant’s room. She told the servant who arrived that she needed to speak to Jason at once.

She saw the look on her servant’s face. They must have all been whispering about her and Jason. Already spreading their beastly little rumors. Telling everyone in town that she and Jason had planned to go to the theater together.

If only they knew the truth. That Jason was her stepbrother. And that in just a few minutes, he would be dead.

“Jane,” Jason cried. He rushed into the room and slid the door closed behind him. “I’ve been so worried about you. I—”

Something in her expression made him stop.

Jane stepped forward quickly. “I have something for you,” she told him calmly.

She tightened her grip on the knife she held behind her back.

Chapter
21

Jane shoved Jason against the wall. She whipped the knife around and held it at his throat.

There was amazement in his eyes, but no fear.

“You’re not afraid?” she demanded, feeling the anger rush through her.

She could feel her eyes glowing hot.

She could see green vapor wafting out of her mouth with every breath.

She nicked his neck with the blade, and watched the blood run down into his starched white collar.

Still, he didn’t shake or tremble or beg for his life.

“You will die!” she shouted hoarsely. She put her face right up into his. “And I will have fun watching!”

He gritted his teeth. He stared into her face. “Who are you?” he murmured.

She cut him deeper. He gasped in pain. She shrieked with glee.

“You’re not Jane. Jane!” he cried. “Can you hear me?”

It shocked Jane to hear her own name.

For a moment, she felt strong again. She wrenched the knife away from Jason’s throat.

Jason’s hand flew to his neck. He stared at his fingers. At the blood.

It’s all right, she told herself. He isn’t hurt badly. Yet.

“Say my name,” she whispered. “Say my name again. And again.”

“Jane Hardy,” Jason said, his voice loud and firm. “Jane Hardy, Jane Hardy, Jane Hardy.”

Every time Jane heard her name, she felt stronger.

She could feel the evil spirit inside her struggling to control her body. Trying to force the knife back to Jason’s throat.

“Say my name!” she screamed. “Say my name!”

Jason shouted her name. Over and over.

“Don’t stop!” Jane cried.

She could feel more of herself coming back to life every time he yelled the words: Jane Hardy! Jane Hardy!

Jane threw the knife onto the floor. She backed away from Jason.

They stared at each other across the dimly lit library.

Jane covered her face with both hands. “Jason. Oh, Jason.”

She heard him take a step toward her.

Jane jerked her head up. “No!” She pointed at him. “Please, don’t come near me,” she begged. “It is not safe.”

He stood across the room, watching her.

“It is Sarah,” Jane said at last. “Her spirit. She is here.”

“What?” Jason cried.

“She was so angry that she drowned, Jason. So angry. She wants to destroy my life,” Jane told him.

“It—it’s so hard to believe. But it is even harder to believe that you would ever try to hurt me. I knew it couldn’t be you holding that knife,” Jason said.

“Then—you believe me?” Jane shook her head.

“How else could we explain what has happened?” he asked.

“Oh, Jason! I am so frightened!”

This time when Jason hurried toward her she didn’t stop him. She let him hug her, hold her.

She told him everything. Everything that had happened. And what Sarah planned to do next.

As she spoke, she realized an amazing thing.

She no longer heard Sarah’s voice in her head.

“Jason?” she whispered. She was almost afraid to speak the thought out loud. “Could she be gone?”

Jason nodded. “You have defeated her.” He gripped her shoulders hard. “I am sure of it! She would have killed me if you hadn’t.”

Jane wanted to believe him.

But she couldn’t.

“No,” she murmured, trying to push him away. “I have to get away. Away from everyone. But away from you most of all. She will kill you, Jason. If I give her another chance. I swear to you, she will.”

“That’s right. Sarah wanted to kill me,” Jason said. “And if she is still inside you, she won’t be able to resist this chance. Here.” He ran over and picked up the knife she had thrown on the floor. He pressed it into her hand.

“No!” she cried. “Are you crazy?”

He pressed her fingers around the knife’s silver handle. Then he lifted her hand and brought the knife to his throat.

“We have to know. You have to know,” Jason said. “If Sarah is still with us, she will never be able to resist such an opportunity.”

Jane tried to move the knife away, but Jason held it in place against his throat for several more seconds.

Finally he let go.

She lowered her hand and let the knife drop to the floor.

Sarah was really gone.

It was finally over at last.

♦ ♦ ♦

The next morning, Jane sat at her desk. She glanced around the room.

It appeared so normal. So ordinary.

But such horrible things had happened to her here.

She heard a knock on her door. “Come in,” she called.

Jason strolled into the room. “I have a surprise for you. We’re going sailing. And we’re taking Michael and Margaret with us. They’re waiting downstairs.”

“Jason, no. I can’t,” Jane protested. “How can I even be around the children after the hideous things I’ve done? I’m a murderer.”

“You didn’t kill anyone. Sarah did. And Sarah is gone,” Jason said firmly.

He pulled her to her feet. “We mustn’t let Sarah kill another person. We mustn’t let her kill you, Jane. You can still have a life.”

Jason tugged Jane out the door and down the stairs. Michael and Margaret raced up and hugged her.

“Race you to the carriage!” Michael called.

He and Margaret dashed out the front doors.

“Come on,” Jason cried. He ran after them, pulling Jane along beside him.

He helped Jane into the carriage, then climbed up himself. He clucked to the horses, and they started down the road at a fast trot.

Jane tilted back her head and let the sun shine on her face. It felt good.

Perhaps Jason is right, she thought.

Perhaps the thing to do is get on with my life. Try to put the past behind me.

Far behind.

Jane took Margaret and Michael by the hand. “We’re going to have such fun today!” she exclaimed.

Yes, the evil spirit answered. We’re going to have lots of fun.

Chapter
22

Jane stared out at Fear Lake. She could still hardly believe the evil spirit had tricked her. She had felt so certain Sarah was gone.

Sarah laughed and laughed. What a little fool!

A low whimper escaped Jane’s throat. I must find a way to warn Jason, she thought.

But how could she? Sarah controlled her lips, her mouth, her throat. Sarah controlled her hands. Sarah controlled her.

A black-and-gold butterfly fluttered down and landed on Jane’s palm.

“Look at the butterfly,” Margaret called. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It must have stowed away on our sailboat,” Michael answered. “I don’t think it could have flown halfway across Fear Lake by itself.”

Jane felt her fingers close into a fist—crushing the delicate butterfly.

“Why did you kill it?” Margaret demanded. “It didn’t do anything to you.” Her voice quivered. Jane could tell she was about to cry.

Sarah allowed Jane to answer.

“I … I thought it was going to fly away,” Jane told the children. “I just wanted to hold it in my hand a moment longer. I didn’t mean … I’m sorry.”

Sarah cackled. And how will you explain to Margaret why you have ripped out Michael’s throat? she asked sweetly. What will you say to the child when she has to watch you pluck out her brother’s blue eyes?

You will not harm the children! Jane screamed back. By all that I hold holy, I am warning you, Sarah Burns! You will not harm these children!

Who will stop me? You? Sarah asked her.

The boat began to spin wildly. The children screamed. Sarah laughed.

Sarah placed one of Jane’s hands on little Michael’s head. The other on Margaret’s.

So innocent. So trusting. Sarah could have Jane kill them anytime she wanted.

No, Jane thought. No! She would not allow that to happen.

Jane felt strength rush through her. She would stop Sarah. No matter what it took.

I will drown you, Jane said quietly.

What did you say? Sarah demanded.

I will drown you, Jane repeated.

And just how do you plan to drown me? Sarah asked Jane.

I will drown us both, Jane answered. I will drown myself and take you with me.

She felt calm and certain. I can do this, Jane thought. I must. I will never allow Sarah to kill again.

You don’t have the courage, Sarah told her.

Jane felt Sarah’s control over her loosen.

She is frightened, Jane realized. The thought of drowning a second time terrifies her.

Good.

Jane struggled across the deck toward the railing.

What are you doing? Get back down at once! Sarah screamed. She tried to force Jane back down onto the deck of the boat.

But Jane was too strong. So much stronger than she had ever been before.

Jane stared down. The murky water waited below.

It is my only choice.

“Don’t!” Margaret shrieked.

“Come back!” Michael yelled.

Jane glanced at the children. She smiled.

Don’t leave the children! Sarah cried.

I’m doing this for them, Jane answered.

Then Jane turned and dove under the railing.

Sarah screamed as they plunged into the cold water and down, down, down.

Jane kicked her feet. Taking them deeper and deeper.

Shrieking with anger, Sarah forced Jane back toward the surface.

Jane could see the water growing lighter, lighter as they neared the top. They burst through the surface. Sarah pulled in a deep breath of air.

Jane saw the boat. It was overturned. Oh, no. The children, she thought.

Jane did a somersault, taking them under again. Kicking her feet. Heading down, down through the murky water.

You’ll kill us both! Sarah shrieked.

Jane kicked harder.

She felt Sarah gathering force inside her. Sarah tried to force her lips open.

Let me out! Sarah wailed.

No! Jane shouted. She locked her teeth together.

The water around her began to bubble, began to boil.

I can’t get out! Sarah cried.

Red dots exploded in front of Jane’s eyes. Her lungs burned.

But she had to go deeper.

Jane forced herself down, down.

She needed air. She had to have air.

Jane opened her mouth and gasped.

Water rushed in. Trapping Sarah inside her.

Jane felt the water filling her lungs. Her lungs ballooning.

I win, Jane told Sarah.

Then her lungs burst.

Epilogue

Sarah stared out of Jane’s dead eyes.

She wore a beautiful white lace dress. Her gold wedding band was on her finger. A white satin pillow rested under her head.

Was it worth it, Jane? Sarah asked. Was it worth dying to stop me?

But there was no answer from Jane.

And there never would be again.

Jason appeared beside the coffin. He’s crying, Sarah realized. He kissed Jane’s dead cheek. Then he slowly lowered the lid of the coffin.

Sarah felt herself being raised into the air. They are taking the coffin to the cemetery, she realized.

She was trapped. Paralyzed. She couldn’t move inside Jane’s dead body. She could only stare out of the corpse’s lifeless sockets.

Stare endlessly at those four black wooden walls.

Sarah felt the coffin being set on the ground. Then she heard the minister begin the service.

She bucked and writhed and wriggled inside Jane’s dead body. She was running out of time!

She heard the shifting of footsteps. The workmen grunted as they lifted the coffin. Then the coffin began to sway as they used ropes to lower it into the ground.

The fools! Sarah thought. Don’t they know—can’t they sense—that I’m in here? And I’m alive! They’re going to bury me alive!

She heard the first clump of dirt land on top of the coffin.

She screamed, but no sound came out of Jane’s mouth.

Another clump of dirt hit the coffin.

Soon she would be covered in a mound of earth. Trapped here forever.

Jane had murdered her twice!

No! She wasn’t going to let Jane win.

Sarah refused to allow this to happen to her. No matter what it took, she would find a way out. Yes, even if it took her a hundred years. She would find a way… .

About the Author

R.L. Stine is the best-selling author in America. He has written more than one hundred scary books for young people, all of them bestsellers.

His series include Fear Street, Ghosts of Fear Street and the Fear Street Sagas.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, his teenage son, Matt, and his dog, Nadine.

Books by R.L. Stine

The Fear Street Saga
THE BETRAYAL
THE SECRET
THE BURNING
FEAR STREET SAGA COLLECTOR’S EDITION

Fear Street Sagas
A NEW FEAR
HOUSE OF WHISPERS
FORBIDDEN SECRETS
THE SIGN OF FEAR
THE HIDDEN EVIL
DAUGHTERS OF SILENCE
CHILDREN OF FEAR
DANCE OF DEATH
HEART OF THE HUNTER
THE AWAKENING EVIL

Available from ARCHWAY Paperbacks

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK Original

An Archway Paperback published by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1997 by Parachute Press, Inc.

THE AWAKENING EVIL WRITTEN BY ERIC WEINER

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-671-00297-X
ISBN13: 978-1-4391-2111-5 (eBook)

First Archway Paperback printing December 1997

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of
Parachute Press, Inc.

AN ARCHWAY PAPERBACK and colophon are
registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Cover art by Lisa Falkenstern