Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (10 page)

 
As our lips met, I wished as hard as I could that we had some kind of help.
That people supported us.
That we didn't have to struggle
endlessly against everyone in the world.
If only there
was someplace where people really just . . . cared about us.
He kissed me back hungrily, like he was trying to find comfort in my lips. I
opened my mouth to him, letting the sweetness of his tongue into my mouth. I
felt like we were drowning in each other, like there was nothing left in the
world that either of us had besides each other. And we kissed like that until Jude
stirred behind us.
"Could you start hitting me again?" Jude
said,
his voice raspy.
"Because watching you two make out like
that is really a lot worse than when you were just beating me up."
Jason and I stepped back from each other.
 
"Still got it bad for my big brother, huh?" said Jude. "You
know, Azazel, they say it's hard for women to leave men who scare them."
"Jude, don't," I said.
"Did you know she told me that once, Jase? She said you scared her,"
Jude continued. He licked his bruised lips.
"Shut up, Jude," I said. He was making things worse. Maybe he'd been
listening to our conversation. Maybe he knew that he was pushing Jason's
buttons.
 
"I don't get it, honestly," said Jude. "I mean the guy's a
jealous freak. He's killed as many people as Jack the Ripper. What do you see
in him?"
I wrenched the gun in Jason's hands away from him and strode over to Jude. I
put the gun in his face. "Shut
 
up
, Jude," I said.
 
"Come on," he said. "Why don't you just tell him how you really
feel about me?" Jude smiled.
I flipped the safety off the gun. "Listen to me, Jude," I
said,
my voice flat. "If you say one more thing, I will
blow your head off. All that stuff you're saying about Jason . . . We're the
same, Jason and me. Okay? So, don't push me. Don't push Jason." I looked
into Jude's eyes. "Nod if you understand."
Jude didn't move for a second, but then he nodded.
 
I noticed something, next to Jude on the ground. I knelt to pick it up. It was
a leather-bound book. I opened it. Handwritten writing filled the pages.
A journal of some kind?
I held it up. "Jason, you know
what this is?"
Jason shrugged.
"That's mine," Jude said.
"I told you not to talk, didn't I?" I asked him, gesturing with the
gun.
Jude pressed his lips together firmly, but he glared at me, clearly angry.
I stood up, putting the safety back on the gun and handing it back to Jason.
"We'll gag him," I said. "We'll gag him, and we'll make sure
he's tied up really tight. And we'll leave him here until we can talk about
what we're going to do. Okay?"
Jason looked down at the gun and then over at Jude. He nodded.
"Okay."

* * *

As I was falling asleep that night, I thought about
what had happened. I thought about what Jason had said to me, about everyone
coming to the conclusion that he was evil. He was right. His mentor Anton had
found out that Jason was Edgar Weem's twisted creation and decided to kill
Jason. Hallam, under the direction of Edgar Weem, had been ready to kill Jason
if he thought that Jason's violence was getting out of control. Every member of
his family had been ready to kill him. Were all of these people wrong? Was
there something dark within Jason? And if there were, what should I do?
If I hadn't found Jason tonight, and he'd gone ahead and killed Jude, I would
have felt horrified. So much of what Jason had done already horrified me. But
tying someone up, beating him bloody, and then putting a bullet in his head? It
was something that only monsters did. I didn't think Jason was a monster. I
loved him. He was
my everything
. But I was glad that
I'd been able to stop him from killing Jude.
 
How had I stopped it, anyway? I'd found him. But that had been because of my
dream. In my dream, Jason had been about to kill Chance, my little brother. In
reality, Jason had been about to kill Jude, his brother. In the dream, I'd
threatened to kill Jason. I'd said, "This is the line. We're not crossing
it." Then I'd shot Chance anyway, when he'd threatened to hurt Jason.
What did the dream mean? And why did it have such an eerie similarity to
reality?
 
Because I'd put a gun in Jude's face too, just like I'd aimed at Chance in the
dream. And when I'd told Jude that if he spoke again, I would shoot him, I'd
been serious. I would have killed him. I'd said to Jude, "Jason and I are
the same." Were we? If Jason did monstrous things, then so did I.
 
Suddenly, I flashed on the moments before I'd shot Lilith in the head. I hadn't
thought about that in any detail pretty much since I'd done it. But I suddenly
remembered the moments of clear, cold thought I'd had before I'd done it. I
remembered that I had thought about the conse-quences of the action, the ease
of casual violence, the fact that I'd be haunted and disturbed by it. And I'd
chosen to do it, anyway. Because, I'd thought, no matter what anyone said about
fate or Shiva or the power of Azazel, in the end, it was my responsibility.
My choice.
But I'd dreamed last night, and my dream had come very close to true. Jason and
I had done things that had no explanation. If we were what they said we were,
then we didn't have choices. Because then we were only fulfilling destiny.
I couldn't have it both ways. I couldn't believe that I had choices and
responsibility and also believe that there were mystical forces interfering
with our lives. So what would I believe? What was the truth? And how did I
decide how to proceed?
One thing was for sure. Jason and I were falling further and further into an
abyss. It was like black water closing over our heads. And even if we
remembered how to swim, I didn't know which way was up anymore. For all I knew,
all our flailing was doing nothing more than dragging
us
down deeper.
 
Right before I fell asleep, a note of panic stole into my thoughts as I
realized I hadn't had anything to drink. But I shook it away grimly. If the
dreams were coming for me, I'd have to face them. And with that thought, I
slipped into black and dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and we didn't have any
classes. In the morning, when I woke up, Jason called me because he wanted to
talk about what to do with Jude. I wasn't ready to talk about it. Instead, we
decided that we'd check on him periodically throughout the day. I went right
after breakfast, and I even brought him some food. Jason and I hadn't talked
about whether we were feeding him or not, but I wasn't going to let Jude just
die of thirst or starvation down there. That was a crueler way to kill him than
simply shooting him. I couldn't believe that I was considering the most
merciful way to kill someone.
 
I untied Jude to let him eat. As he shoved food into his mouth, he asked me,
"What are you guys going to do with me?"
I didn't want to talk to Jude, especially because I didn't know if he was going
to die soon. I wanted to distance myself from him emotionally. "What do
you think we should do?" I said. "We clearly can't trust you."
"Listen, I want that diary back," said Jude.
"Eat," I said.
"You took it from me, and I want it back," said Jude.
"How did you get away from the Sons anyway?" I said. "And why
should we trust you? Aren't you just trying to kill Jason?"
Jude guzzled some of the iced tea I'd brought him. "I just want my diary
back, okay?"
I left Jude as soon as I could. Jason was going to check on him in the
afternoon. I made sure that Jude's bonds were as tight as possible and gagged
him again, even though he begged me not to. When I left him, I felt dirty
somehow, like I needed to take a shower to scrub off the inhuman part of me. I
told myself that being tied up and gagged in a basement was better than dead. Jude
should be grateful.
Palomino's mother had sent her some money for a prom dress. She wanted me to
come shopping for one with her. Our school wasn't too far from
Milan
, and I had to admit there was something
appealing about going shopping for a prom dress in the fashion capital of the
world. Palomino had a car. A good portion of the kids at school had them, but
students were forbidden to use their cars except on the weekends. So Palomino
and I took off for
Milan
.
 
We did our shopping in the square near the Duomo, which was an awe-inspiring
cathedral that looked like something out of a fairy tale. Built of light gray
stone, with at least fifty intricate spires reaching for the heavens, it was
impossible to look away from. It simply didn't look real. I wanted to go
inside, since it was a major tourist attraction. However, for Palomino, the
Duomo was old hat. She'd seen it too many times to count and didn't seem the
least bit affected by it. She had to pull me away as I stood staring at it,
open mouthed.
Even though
Milan
is the fashion capital of the world, not all of the stores around the Duomo
were priced in the stratosphere. Of course, Palomino wanted to visit those, but
when I told her my budget for my prom dress, she took me to a more
reasonably-priced store instead. "Actually," she said, "I should
get one here too and save the rest of the money my mom gave me. You know, for
the baby."
The store had various levels. Formal dresses were on the top floor. After we
climbed the steps, I began sifting through the dresses on the racks.
"Mina," I said, "seriously, what are you going to do about this?
If you do manage to hide the fact you're pregnant from everyone, they're still
going to know when you, like, have a baby."
"Yeah," she said. "I know." She held up a hot pink
strapless dress with black polka dots. "What do you think of this?"
"Um . . . it's very
 
Pretty in Pink
, I guess," I said.
"Yeah, it's ugly," she said, putting it back on the rack. She pulled
out a long shimmery green dress with spaghetti straps.
"Pretty," I said.
"You try it on," she said.
"You saw it first," I said.
"Azazel, try on the dress. Let's try to have some fun girl time for
once."
 
Right.
Fun girl time.
When
Jude was sitting in a basement tied up and bloody, and my roommate was pregnant
with my little brother's bastard child. Okay. She held the dress out to me.
 
"What size is it?" I said, sighing.
 
"Oh, who can understand this ridiculous Italian sizing? It says it's huge,
but it's made for dwarves, so don't worry about it and try it on."
I took the dress and went into the dressing room.
 
It was low cut and bunchy around my waist. I surveyed myself in the mirror.
"I don't think so," I said.
"Let me see," said Palomino.
"No, it's bad."
"Show me!"
I emerged from the dressing room. Palomino was waiting for me in a long black
dress with a halter top and an empire waist.
 
"That dress is awesome on you!" I exclaimed.
 
"Thanks," she said. "I wanted something that would hide my
belly."
I rolled my eyes. "Mina, prom is in a week. What kind of belly do you
think you're going to have?"
"I already have one!" she exclaimed.
 
"You do not!"
 
"Besides," she said. "This dress is cheap. My parents give me
money for all kinds of things, like dresses and stuff. If I don't spend it all
and save it, and maybe if I sell my car, then, when they find out about the
baby and they kick me out on the street, maybe Chance and I can . . ."
I hugged her. "You don't really think your parents are going to throw you
out, do you?"
She shrugged. "They're going to be really, really mad, Azazel."
"That sucks." My parents would never have done something like that to
me. Of course, they'd tried to keep me pure so I could participate in a
Satanic
ritual. Parents pretty much sucked no matter how you
sliced it. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," she said. "I'm glad you told Chance. He's been
really, really awesome. And I think it's gonna be okay. I really do." She
smiled. Then she looked at my dress. "Oh God," she said. "That's
awful."
"I told you," I said.
We ducked back into the dressing room and changed out of our dresses. Mina hung
hers up on the door and helped me hunt through the racks some more. I tried on
at least ten dresses. Some of them were okay. One of them looked really, really
nice on the hanger, but didn't look so nice on me. One of them I really liked,
but cost way too much money.
 
And just when I was beginning to despair ever finding a dress at all, Palomino
rushed forward with a dress in her hands and gave it to me. "This
one," she said.
She was right. That was definitely the dress. As I zipped it up in the dressing
room and surveyed myself in the mirror, hardly able to believe how well it fit
me, my phone beeped at me.
Text message.
I dug in my
pants on the floor to get it out.
It was from Jason. "Get back here. NOW," it said.
 
"
what's
up?"
I texted
back.
"NOW!!!" was all he replied.
 
"Mina," I said, "we've got to go back to school."

Chapter Six

April 26, 1990
Ted had a lot of information for us to
go through this evening. He says he believes the Rising Sun could be born from
the Weem line and that we needed to try to find someone young among his cousins
that could possibly bear the child. Then our business would be to prepare that
person as best we could. But I've been spending a lot of time with Ted, and I
have an idea. It's crazy and weird, and I'm afraid to even bring it up to him,
because I'm not sure what he'll think about it. But if we go the route that
Ted's suggesting, it could take years to really get things rolling. And he says
that we're running out of time, because the Rising Son is a key player in 2012.
 
Jason met us at the entrance to the dorm. He grabbed me by the arm and started
to drag me away with him. "Come with me," he said.
I had my dress in a bag draped over my arm, so I shook it in front of his face.
"I have a dress I need to put away," I told him.
He took the dress bag from me and shoved it at Palomino. "Take that
upstairs for her," he said.
Mina took the dress and stared after us as Jason pulled me along. "Where
are you guys going?" she asked.
"Don't worry about it!" Jason called over his shoulder. Once we were
out of earshot, he said, "We've got a problem."
"
Problem?"
I said.
 
"I'll show you," he said.
We went to the assembly hall. It was open and there was a guard at the door.
Inside, the drama club was on the stage up front, practicing the spring play.
 
"Someone's gonna see us," I hissed at Jason as he pulled me towards
the basement door.
"No, they won't. They're not paying attention." He
thrust
open
the door to the basement and pushed me inside first. I went down
the steps. "Is Jude gone or something?" I asked.
 
But when I emerged in the basement, Jude was still in the place we'd left him.
His head was slumped over, and he wasn't moving. I turned back to Jason.
"What?" I asked.
Jason strode over to Jude and lifted his face up by the hair. Jude's eyes were
open. They stared dully out at the dark basement. There was a large bloody
wound in his forehead.
A gunshot, most likely.
Jason
dropped Jude's head. It thudded back against Jude's body. "He's
dead," Jason said.
"I see that," I said.
"You were the last person to see him," said Jason.
"What?"
"After all that stuff last night about not killing him, then you just
come
in here after breakfast and shoot him?"
"I didn't do it!" I said. "You must have." Although it
didn't make sense for Jason to accuse me of killing Jude if he'd actually done
it. He wouldn't lie to me, would he?
 
"You wouldn't lie to me?" Jason said, echoing my thoughts.
"Of course not."
"
I didn't do it either," said Jason.
I let this sink in. If neither Jason nor I had killed Jude, then someone else
must have. Someone else knew about Jude.
"Are you sure?" said Jason. "Because you've been drinking a lot,
and maybe you blacked out or something—"
"No, I haven't had a drink since before we found him," I said. I
paused. "Maybe he did it to himself?"
"Then where's the gun?"
"Oh.
Yeah."
"
This is not good," said Jason.
"No," I said. "It's not."
We didn't have any idea who would kill Jude. Could it be someone with a grudge
against Jude already? Someone who'd followed him here? Someone who didn't care
about us at all?
 
That seemed too good to be true. We were concerned that the body of Jude was
less about him and more about us. Maybe it was a message, letting us know that
 
someone
 
knew who we were and where we were.
Whoever that someone was, he wasn't afraid of putting bullets in people's
heads.
 
Jason and I didn't know what to do. We couldn't leave Jude's body here. It
would start . . . smelling at some point, and so we were going to have to try
to get it out of here. We agreed to meet back at the old church after lights
out that night.
With trash bags.