The Awakening Evil (4 page)

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.

 

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!

S
arah 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.”