Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (12 page)

* * *

Maybe Jude hadn't really been dead, I wondered. But
Jason assured me that he had been. He hadn't had a pulse. He'd been fatally
wounded. Jude had definitely been dead.
 
Jude had been killed. We didn't know who had done that. Whoever had done it had
known where Jude was, and no one except us knew where Jude was. Then someone
had come in and moved his body. It was probably the same someone who had killed
him, but we couldn't even be sure of that. It was unnerving. We were worried.
Was it the Sons? Had they killed Jude to silence him? Was it Edgar Weem? Had he
had Jude killed to silence him?
 
Who could have done it and why?
 
And part of me, no matter how much I told myself it was crazy, couldn't shake
the worry that Jason had killed Jude and moved the body and that he was just
lying to me about it, because he knew I didn't want him to kill Jude.
 
I didn't want to go back to the party, but Jason said we had to or it might
look suspicious. The only bright side the evening was that my clothes hadn't
actually been ruined. We walked back across campus to the rec center, where the
pavilion was lit up with Christmas lights and filled with people laughing and
drinking. Almost immediately, we were jumped by the Weem twins and their
entourage, but Jason and I stayed close this time.
 
I wanted to find Chance and Palomino, so we wound through the bodies looking
for them for nearly a half hour. Finally, we found them on the fringes of
everything. Chance was drinking an expensive bottled beer, and Mina was
drinking coke. They were sitting alone, just talking to each other.
 
Jason and I sat down with them. I motioned the crowd who had followed us to go
away. Reluctantly, they did.
"You guys okay?" I asked.
 
Chance and Mina both smiled at us brightly.
 
"We're great," said Chance.
 
"Yeah," said Mina. "We're having an awesome time."
"Sorry that we got sidetracked by all those people," said Jason.
"No problem," said Chance. "I can see why they'd want to talk to
you."
"We get to talk to you guys all the time," said Mina. "It would
be selfish of us to hog you."
Hog us?
"Um . . ." I said, "well, we hang out with you guys because we
like you, you know. We want to hang out with you."
Mina beamed. "That's sweet. It's so cool that you said that."
"Yeah," said Chance. "But the two of you have people to see.
Don't worry about it, okay?"
Jason and I exchanged a look over their heads. Was it just me, or was everyone
suddenly starting to act really, really weird?

* * *

The week continued with increasing weirdness. On
Monday, Professor Moretti read my paper on
 
Things Fall Apart
 
to the entire class, praising
it as the most insightful and comprehensive treatment of the novel he'd ever
read. When he was done, the entire class applauded.
 
At lunch that day, Jason and I were barraged with people who wanted to sit with
us. Fifteen people gushed over my outfit. The rest of the week continued the
trend. Jason and I were excused from two tests because the teachers thought
we'd "already proven our capabilities adequately." The head of the school
invited us to a private lunch with him on Wednesday, where he told us how happy
he was that we'd chosen his school and how the Sol Solis family was honored to
count us as part of their ranks. Confused and a little fed up with this
treatment, I'd asked him why. Did everyone know who we were, suddenly? Was that
why everyone was behaving differently towards us?
The head had replied that we were special. He knew that we weren't just normal
students. And then he'd winked.
Jason had looked positively sick when he saw the wink. He'd leaned forward
across the table we shared with the head and asked, "
How
did you find out who we are?'
The head had looked confused. "I think I always knew," he said.
"But I had this idea to have you for a special lunch on Friday of last
week, I think. It was late."
Friday again.
Faruza had mentioned that same night to
me.
 
It wasn’t conclusive evidence that the head knew Jason was the Rising Sun. He
never used those words. But we were definitely getting special treatment. And we
were getting it from everyone.
Thursday we were back to our crowded lunch table. Faruza and Fairie flanked us
on either side, both with plates full of salads.
 
As Faruza shook red wine vinegar on her salad, she looked at me. I had a plate
with pasta salad and a hamburger. "Wow," said Faruza. "Amy, how
do you stay so thin eating all of that?"
I looked down at myself. "I'm not that thin," I said. I was kind of
average looking. Not really skinny, but not fat either. Faruza and Fairie were
both thin enough to be models or
Hollywood
actresses.
 
Faruza speared a piece of lettuce with her fork. "You're totally
thin," she said. "I really wish I looked like you."
"Aren't you going to put some oil on that salad?" I said. "I
thought it was supposed to be oil and vinegar, not just vinegar."
"Oil is fat," spoke up Fairie.
 
I looked around Jason at Fairie, who looked so earnest. Then I looked back at
Faruza, also very serious. If being that thin meant I couldn't have olive oil,
I didn't think I cared that much. Also, it was pretty clear that Faruza and
Fairie had kind of unhealthy eating habits. Maybe I could use my newfound (and
totally weird) celebrity for some kind of good. "If you want to look like
me, Faruza," I said, "you should eat a hamburger."
"White bread buns?!" exclaimed Fairie.
"Red meat?
Saturated fat?!" said Faruza.
 
I nodded.
"Yeah."
"
Hamburgers are good," said Faruza.
 
"I'll go get some," said Fairie, running off to the lunch line.
Jason laughed quietly to himself. I grinned at him.
 
When Faruza took a bite of her hamburger, she made a small moaning sound.
A satisfied sound.
It was thanks enough.
 
But not for Faruza, apparently.
"Gosh, thank you
so much for telling me to eat this," she said.
 
"No problem," I said.
"No, seriously," said Fairie, "you two seem to give so much, and
you never get anything back."
Jason arched an eyebrow. "What exactly do we give?"
"So, so much," said Faruza. "Don't be modest."
This whole situation was really, really weird, but it wasn't exactly all bad. I
mean, it was kind of nice having people complimenting us all the time.
 
"There's gotta be something we could do for you," said Fairie.
 
"We're fine," I said. "Lots of people have been doing lots of
nice things for us lately."
Faruza sighed at Fairie. "This is why they're so great," she said.
"They recognize the smallest kindnesses."
The two of them looked at us with huge, admiring eyes.
 
"Please,"
said
Jason. "It's not that
big of a deal."
"What is it you guys want?" asked Faruza. "I mean, what is it
you really want?"
I want the Sons to stop chasing us
,
I thought.
 
I want Jason and me to be normal kids. I want all
of this to be over.
 
"We have been trying to get into the library," said Jason. "But
we haven't had any luck.
Can't get around the guards."
"
You guys?" said Fairie. "I bet the guards would just let
you in if you asked."
"I bet they would," said Faruza. "Let's try this evening.
After dinner?
You want to?"
I looked at Jason. It couldn't be that easy, could it?

* * *

It was a warm spring evening, still light as Jason,
the Weem twins, and I crossed the lawn towards the library. The library loomed
ahead of us in its somber glory. It was an old building, with ornate stone
architecture decorating its corners. In front, as always, were the guards. They
glared out at us. Overall, the library looked just as impenetrable as it always
did. I didn't think this was going to work. But the Weem twins were sure that
no one could deny us anything we wanted. And for the past week, it had seemed
to be true. Even at dinner earlier, one of the cooks had asked Jason and me
what we thought about the food. She'd offered to prepare something especially
for us if we didn't like what was offered. We'd assured her that everything was
fine.
What was going on? I didn't know. It was creepy, but part of me didn't exactly
want it to stop. Was that wrong? I didn't know that either.
As we approached, one of the guards called out to us. "What are you kids
doing here?"
Great.
See, I'd known this wasn't going to work. We
should just go back to our dorms.
Really.
 
But Fairie just waved and scampered up to him. "We want to go into the
library," she said.
The guard looked us over. He gestured to Jason and me. "You two want to go
in?" he asked.
Jason nodded.
"Yeah, for weeks now."
"
Why haven't you come by?" asked the guard, going to the door
and unlocking it with one of his keys.
 
"You're letting us in?" I asked, shocked.
"Well, we don't just let anyone in," said the guard, "but you
two and your friends, well, that's no problem."
Okay, if things hadn't been officially weird before, they most definitely were
now. The guard opened the door, a large, heavy wooden thing, and we walked
inside.
 
Inside the library, it was dark. There were a few hanging chandeliers, but they
did little to shed light in the huge room. The library was exactly that—one
enormous room. It was at least three stories high, and every wall was lined
with books, all the way to the ceiling. In the center of the huge room were
rows and rows of bookshelves, each groaning under the weight of their
tomes.
The ceiling was covered in an intricate mural
painting of mythological creatures. Half-bulls, half-men, chimeras, Poseidon
with his trident, mermaids, men carrying flaming swords, dead dragons. In
certain places, the plaster was chipped and there were holes in the painting.
We all stood inside the entrance for several minutes, simply taking the place
in.
 
"Amy, Jeremy," said a friendly voice.
It was Professor Moretti. "Or," he continued, "
should
I say Azazel and Jason?"
The Weem sisters both made identically confused faces.
"Who?"
they asked.
Professor Moretti chuckled. "Don't worry about it, girls," he said.
He nodded at a few computers along a desk near the entrance. They looked
completely out of place in the ancient room. "You two want to check some
email or something while I talk to them?'
"Sure," said Faruza, bouncing over to the computers with her sister
in tow.
"You know who we are," said Jason to Moretti.
"The Rising Sun and his consort," said Moretti. "It's an
honor." And he
 
bowed
 
to us.
Deeply.
 
I took a step backwards, grabbing Jason's hand. Jason squeezed my fingers.
 
"Um," said Jason, "you don't have to do that.
The
bowing thing."
Moretti straightened, raising his eyebrows. "It's simply a token of respect,"
he said.
"Respect which you both deserve."
He was our
 
teacher
. He wasn't supposed to bow to
us. He was an authority figure.
 
"So," said Moretti. "What brings you two to the library?"
"We're looking for information about the Rising Sun," Jason said.
 
I shot Jason a sharp look. Should we be admitting this? We really should have
talked strategy before getting into the library. But I hadn't really believed
that we'd actually be able to get in. So it hadn't occurred to me to think
about what we'd do after.
"Actually," said Jason, "we kind of think the whole
thing's
a crock."
Moretti raised his eyebrows even higher.
"A crock?"
"
Yeah," said Jason. "I don't want to be the Chosen One or
whatever, all right? People are always chasing us and trying to kill us, so we
have to keep running. It sucks. We thought if we could find some information in
this library that proves that I'm not the Rising Sun, then maybe everyone would
just leave us alone."
"You can't be serious," said Moretti. "There have been signs. You
two experienced them. You can't honestly think that it isn't true."
Jason and I looked at each other. We shrugged.
 
Moretti sighed. "This is going to be harder than I thought," he
muttered. "Come with me."
He started walking back through the stacks of books, without looking back to
see if we were following.
"Guess we go after him," Jason said, leading me forward.
In the back of the room, there was a staircase. It was twisting and
narrow
, built entirely of stone. We followed Moretti down
into the bowels of the building. As we descended, the air got mustier. The
stone walls on either side of the staircase went from orderly rows of perfectly
cut pieces to rougher stones, fit together at crazy angles. There were electric
lights fastened to the walls, but their light seemed to get dimmer and dimmer
as we made our way down the stairs.
 
Eventually we emerged into a room about the size of a living room. The ceiling
was low, and everything—walls, ceilings, and floor—were all composed of
interlocking stones. The room was empty except for a few desks, which had
laptop computers on them (of all things). Moretti held up a hand and told us to
wait there. He disappeared through a small dark doorway on the other side of
the room, and we could hear him calling out something in Italian.
 
Suddenly, a group of men came rushing through the doorway. They were all
dressed entirely in black, many of them carrying guns.
The Sons!
I didn't wait. I didn't think. I just took off back up the stairway as fast as
I could. We'd seen them.
The guy outside the church.
And the figure I'd seen leaving the library. How could we have been so
trusting?
As my feet pounded against stone, I thought about how many times Jason and I
had trusted a teacher. They'd always betrayed us. Why had I thought this would
be any different?