The Awakening Evil (8 page)

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.

“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.

J
ane 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.