The Sign of Fear (13 page)

Her aunt didn't notice. She had her back to Christina as she pulled a pie out of the brick oven. She cooed and clucked at it—as if it were a baby.

Christina felt a sharp, bitter taste at the back of her mouth. That's disgusting, she thought. She cares more for that pie than she does for me.

“I make the best pies in all Shadyside village,” her aunt murmured.

“I thought vanity was a sin, Aunt Jane.”

Aunt Jane cried out and whirled to face Christina. She almost dropped her precious pie, but caught it at the very last moment.

The red juice oozed out to stain the top crust. Strawberry, Christina thought. Always her aunt's favorite.

Aunt Jane's eyes blazed with anger. “Look what you made me do, you stupid girl,” she shouted. “You almost made me ruin my beautiful pie.”

Christina's heart hammered in her chest. Her tongue felt dry. Her throat felt dry. The silver pendant burned against her chest. Hot as a cinder. Hot as her rage.

Hot as her hatred.

As hot as Christina's desire for revenge.

“What are you doing here?” Aunt Jane demanded. “I just saw Mistress Peterson. She did not say anything about giving you permission to come into town.”

“I gave myself permission,” Christina answered.

Aunt Jane's eyes narrowed. “You'll pay for your boldness, Christina Davis,” she muttered.

“We must talk, Aunt Jane. It was wrong of you to send me to work at the Petersons' farm. You seemed to care for my father. How could you do this to—”

“Wicked girl. Who are you to question my decisions?” Aunt Jane lunged at Christina. The pie slipped and tilted. The red juice bubbled and hissed.

Then the juice exploded out of the slits in the top crust. It spewed over Aunt Jane's hands. More juice than could ever have been contained within the pie.

Christina began to tremble. What is this evil?

Aunt Jane screamed in agony.

Christina wanted to rush to her aunt. Help her. But Christina's feet felt rooted to the ground.

“What is happening? What is happening?” she
cried. Her voice sounded small and weak. She tried to force herself to take a step toward Aunt Jane. Just one step. But she couldn't. She couldn't.

Christina watched in horror as the hot, red juice scalded her aunt's skin. Huge blisters rose on her hands. Then they burst. Thick white pus oozed out and dripped down onto the ground.

Her hatred of her aunt still pumped through her body. But she would never wish this on her aunt. Never. No one should endure such suffering.

The pie slipped from Aunt Jane's fingers. Steaming and hissing, it plummeted to the ground. Splashing the bubbling juice all over the front of her dress.

Christina felt the silver pendant grow hotter against her chest. It is causing this, she thought. “Stop this!” she screamed. “Stop this now!”

Aunt Jane frantically clawed at her hands. Trying to scrape off the sizzling juice. Blood poured from the open blisters.

Aunt Jane's clothes began to smoke. Christina could hardly believe it—the hot juice ate right through the cloth. Then it ate through the skin underneath.

Christina tried to squeeze her eyes shut. But she couldn't. She couldn't stop staring at her aunt.

Burning flesh fell away from her aunt's body. Christina could see sections of white bone.

The stench of rotten meat filled Christina's nostrils. She choked and coughed.

Aunt Jane twisted her head back and forth in agony. A thin trail of blood and saliva dribbled from the sides of her mouth. She held her hands out toward Christina. Skinless hands.

“Help me, Christina!” Aunt Jane cried.

“I
can't,” Christina wailed. “I don't know how.”

Aunt Jane shrieked—a thin, high sound. “Help me,” she begged again.

“I didn't mean for this to happen.” Hot tears ran down Christina's face. “Oh, Aunt Jane, I didn't mean to do this to you.”

Aunt Jane staggered toward Christina. Her clothing smoked and smoldered. The steaming juice continued to burn her flesh away.

Christina's nostrils filled with the smell of burning fabric and cinnamon. Sweet strawberries and smoking flesh.

“Please,” Aunt Jane gasped. “Please, Christina, I'll do anything you ask. Help me.”

Christina almost couldn't bear to look at her aunt's face. It was swollen and bleeding. Her cheekbones poking through her skin.

Aunt Jane opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The hot pie juice squirted into her mouth. She gurgled and choked as the searing juice ran down her throat.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. Then her legs collapsed beneath her. Aunt Jane lay still upon the ground.

Christina began to shake. Her teeth chattered together. Her knees could barely hold her up.

But she could move again. She had been released from the force that held her in place.

When Christina bolted from the yard nothing remained of Aunt Jane but a pile of smoking bone and steaming grease.

C
hristina gagged. She raced around to the front of the house. She pulled in deep breaths of the fresh spring air.

What have I done? What have I done?

Nothing, she told herself. You have done nothing. You did not want Aunt Jane to die.

Christina hurried away from the house. Her stomach twisted inside her. There were times when she had wished for Aunt Jane's death. The day of her father's funeral she wished Aunt Jane had been the one to die.

But wishing was not the same as truly wanting her aunt dead. And no one deserved the torment her aunt had received.

Christina rounded the corner—and ran straight into Matthew.

“Christina!” Matthew cried. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I had an errand to run in town,” Christina answered. Should I tell Matthew what has happened?

She decided not to confide in him. Not yet. He could not possibly understand. She did not understand what happened herself. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked instead.

“The most wonderful thing happened!” Matthew exclaimed. Excitement shone in his dark eyes. “I felt a burst of power, just a moment ago. It could only come from the object I'm seeking. I'm sure it must be very near. I know I will find my family heirloom now.”

“That's wonderful news, Matthew!” She tried to sound happy. She knew how much the heirloom meant to him. “Can you tell where the heirloom is now?”

Matthew cocked his head to one side, as if he were listening for something. “The burst of power has faded,” he said. Some of the sparkle left his eyes.

“I can no longer tell where the heirloom is,” Matthew continued. “But it's here, Christina,” he assured her. “It's somewhere in this village. I know it is. When I find it, we can go away together.”

“Oh, yes, Matthew,” Christina said. She wanted to go far away, where nothing would remind her of Aunt Jane or the Petersons. Where she could start a new life.

Her aunt's death began to fade from her mind. It didn't seem quite real to her. Am I still under the influence of the pendant? she wondered.

Then Matthew pulled her to him, and Christina forgot about everything but him. She could feel his heart beating deep inside his chest. He tilted her face up and stared down at her. Then he pressed his lips to hers.

Matthew's lips felt warm and tender. Matthew, she thought, I love you with all my being. I love you until the end of time.

“It's been so hard to stay away from you, Christina,” Matthew whispered in her ear. “I've thought about you every single day. But I couldn't come to the farm. I couldn't allow myself to get distracted. I have to find my family heirloom. Nothing can stand in my way.”

“It is all right, Matthew,” Christina assured him. “I understand.”

He thought about me. Christina's face broke into a huge smile. Maybe as often as she thought about him.

But what will I do until he finds his heirloom? I can't stay at the Petersons'. Where will I live? What will I do for food?

Christina felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn't cried at the Petersons'. Not even when Mistress Peterson had locked her in the cellar. She didn't want to cry now. In front of Matthew. She pulled away from him.

“Christina! What is it?” Matthew cried.

“The Petersons are horrible, Matthew!” Christina burst out. She could no longer keep the truth to herself. “I know they were kind to you. But they have never been kind to me. Not for one instant. They are not the good people you think they are.”

Matthew shook his head. “I'm sorry. I don't know what to say.”

“Come back with me, Matthew,” Christina begged. “Come back with me to the Peterson farm. Then you'll see what they are really like. They won't be able to hide the truth this time.”

“Very well,” Matthew agreed. “If the Petersons mistreat you, I can't let you stay with them. I want to
search the area. Maybe I'll feel the power again. Then we can ride to the Petersons' on Thunder.”

Matthew led Christina to his horse and helped her mount up. Together, they set off for the Peterson farm.

♦ ♦ ♦

Christina could hear Emily screaming as they rode up to the farm that night.

“I went into her room,” she admitted to Matthew in a low voice. “I saw the evil things she hides there . . . and I destroyed them. Now she wants to punish me for it.”

“Don't worry,” Matthew said. “I'm not going to leave you alone with her for one moment.” He jumped off Thunder. Then he swung Christina out of the saddle and gently placed her on the ground.

Christina knew she would have to face Emily any moment. But she did not feel fearful. Matthew loved her. Their love would survive. It would triumph over Emily's evil.

Emily ran out the front door. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “Christina Davis, there you are!” she cried.

Christina stood up straight and stared Emily in the eye. “I've seen what's in your room, Emily. I know what you are. I know that you practice the dark arts.”

Emily uttered a high-pitched laugh. She sounds hysterical, Christina thought.

“You stupid fool,” she exclaimed. “You can't even begin to know what I am.”

There's something different about her, Christina thought. Something wrong. Her face has changed. But how?

“You went into my room without permission. You destroyed my property!” she cried.

“Emily, I don't—” Matthew began.

“Stay out of this,” Emily snapped, her eyes locked on Christina. “You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

Emily rushed at Christina. Her hands curled into deadly claws.

Christina sidestepped quickly. She ran around Thunder so the horse stood between her and Emily.

Emily screamed and reached out to scratch Christina's face. Thunder shied and jerked his head up. Matthew grasped the bridle and tried to calm the horse.

Emily squealed in frustration. She darted forward and bit the horse on the flank.

She is insane, Christina thought.

Thunder pulled his lips back over his powerful teeth. He reared up on his hind legs. His razor-sharp front hooves flailed in the air.

Emily ducked under the horse and grabbed Christina by the hair.

Thunder bolted, pulling Matthew along with him.

Christina jerked her head back and forth, fighting to free herself. I can't let Emily take me! I can't go back inside the Peterson house. If I do, I'll never come out again.

But Emily was stronger than Christina. Inch by inch, she dragged Christina across the yard. “Noooo,” Christina moaned, her voice filled with pain.

Christina turned and twisted, trying to loosen Emily's grip. Emily yanked Christina's head so hard Christina saw stars.

“Oh, no, Christina Davis,” Emily muttered. “You're not going to get away from me.”

Bump. Bump. Bump.