Familiar Spirit

“I need you . . .” Her imagination balked, and she couldn’t think beyond that simple fact.

“Sarah? Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“You sound strange.”

“Could you come over?”

“Why?” There was a sharp note of suspicion in his voice.

Sarah balanced the receiver between chin and shoulder and wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “Look, I can’t really explain on the phone . . . if you could just come over . . .”

“Can’t you give me some idea of what you want me to do?”

She chewed her lip with frustration. “Look, I need you to help me. It’s complicated to explain . . . I need to knock in a wall.”

“Wow, does your landlord know?”

“I don’t want to get into all that—I told you, I’ll explain after you’re here. It’ll be easier.” When he did not reply immediately she said, “You did offer to help.”

He sighed. “All right. When . . .”

“Now.”

“Now? Oh, look, Sarah, I’ve got a class this afternoon . . .”

“That’s hours off. It won’t take long.”

“I could come over tomorrow afternoon, or Saturday morning . . .”

“I want to do it now.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Sarah, but—”

“Brian, please.” Her frustration, her sheer physical need blazed out of the word, and across the distance Sarah sensed his withdrawal.

“I just can’t manage it today, Sarah.” A door had closed.

“Oh, Brian, please, please.” She was crying. “Please let’s try again. I can’t stand it without you. I’ve tried, and I can’t.”

“Sarah, don’t. You’re just making it harder.”

It was hopeless. The telephone was the worst possible connection: it allowed him a safe distance, and deprived her of all weapons except naked words. She didn’t have a chance. She hung up without saying goodbye.

Trembling with frustration, Sarah remained sitting on the floor, staring at the telephone. If only she’d kept her cool, she thought, she might have had him, she might have tricked him into coming over.

With a sudden, shocking sense of dislocation, Sarah saw her thoughts as if they belonged to someone else. Why this desperation? Why such a frantic need for Brian here, in this house, immediately?

Reason shone with a cold, hard light. It wasn’t she who wanted Brian that badly. It was Jade.

It was Jade who wanted Brian here, who wanted them to make love within these walls, to fill the air with sexual tension and sexual satisfaction, providing the power he needed. He had failed with Pete, and so he was using Sarah even more deviously, still trying to turn her desires to his own benefit. If she had been successful, how would Jade have used that power, she wondered. Would it have provided the last key he needed to unlock Sarah’s mind, to allow him to possess her utterly?

Sarah shuddered and stood up, appalled by how willingly she would have gone to her doom. Even now her body wanted Brian, and would have risked all Jade’s terrors for him, would have risked hell.

But she wasn’t going to. She was going to destroy Jade now, forever. She picked up the hammer and walked into the living room. At the sight of that oddly jutting wall came the image of a carved statue wrapped in silk, hidden beneath a loose brick—it was so vivid that for a moment Sarah almost thought she had already found it. But no, it was waiting for her, waiting to be found.

Her own certainty made her hesitate. How did she know? How could she know—unless Jade had put the knowledge in her mind. Could it be that he wanted the statue to be found? Was he tricking her again, playing some subtle game of control?

Staring at the wall, Sarah agonized over the problem, hesitating and fidgeting and rationalizing until finally, annoyed by her own uncertainty, she stopped thinking and simply acted.

Sarah took the hammer firmly in both hands and swung at the wall. At the last minute, unconsciously, she pulled her swing, and the blow merely dented the wall, sending a few cream-colored chips flying. Sarah clenched her jaw angrily and swung again, this time giving the blow everything she had. The hammer cracked into the wall, spraying out fragments of powdery white sheetrock, and leaving a jagged hole.

She grinned, feeling a rush of power. There was something remarkably satisfying about smashing a wall; something liberating in the act of destruction. Jade couldn’t stop her now. She felt powerful and pleased with her thoughts, all doubts vanished. She swung again, splintering the wall and enlarging the hole.

After three more satisfying blows, Sarah put down the hammer and lifted the crowbar. She thought of the darkness behind the wall, and fetched her flashlight. Then she thrust one end of the crowbar into the hole and used it as a lever to pry away the shattered section of wall. She was panting and dripping sweat in a matter of seconds, but finally, with a groaning of nails, the newer section came away from the original wall, and Sarah could look into the cavity.