Free The Awakening Evil by R.L. Stine Page A

to survive his burns, I poisoned him.
    â€œThomas 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.
    â€œNo. 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 itfrom 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

    J ane 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. Hereached out his hand to help her down the short flight of steps to the ground.
    â€œMrs. Fear?” Phillip said.
    She turned. Can he feel it? she wondered. Can he sense the change in me?
    â€œI 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.
    â€œOh, 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.
    â€œYes, I was quite ill,” Jane answered. Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.
    â€œAre 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