The Awakening Evil (3 page)

S
he'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.

S
arah 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.