The Awakening Evil (6 page)

“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.”

“Y
ou 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.

“Y
ou 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!”