Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (14 page)

men,
and you apparently, are functioning on faith. And they're not going to stop
believing. Not for any reason." He turned to me. "So I guess we're
screwed."
Jason and I started for the doorway.
Moretti moved in our path. "No, Jason, you aren't. You saw how many men
there were. And more are arriving daily. They are dedicated to you, body and
soul. They will protect you until the death. I wouldn't call that being
'screwed.'"
Hmm.
He kind of had a point.
"Besides," said Moretti, "it seems that the campus community has
become quite supportive of you."
"Yeah," I said. "We're like suddenly really popular. Do you have
anything to do with that?"
"What could I possibly have to do with that?" said Moretti. "It
is the two of you. Your power compels. It has done so before. It will only
grow."
I swallowed. I didn't think I liked the sound of that. I didn't want to be
compelling.
 
"I assure you," said Moretti. "You are safe here. You are safe
on this campus. We are watching. We are protecting you. You are too important
to be damaged."
And then, creepily, he knelt down in front of us.

* * *

Jason sighed as he sat down heavily on a pew in the
old church. "Normally, I'd say let's just get out of here," he said.
After leaving the library, we'd sent the Weem twins on their way and come
inside the assembly hall to talk. It was kind of our spot.
 
"Leave?" I said.
"I've been thinking about it for awhile," said Jason. "I've been
thinking that we aren't having any luck getting into the library, and that the
school year's almost over, and that we're gonna have to figure out what we're
doing next."
Funny.
I hadn't thought about what we were going to do
next. I guess I'd been too caught up in my dreams to worry about anything else.
"Those Brothers all bowing down to us," Jason said. "That's
really strange."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess
it's
better
that those guys we saw are trying to protect us and not kill us though."
Jason nodded. "Yeah, but it's really strange that everyone on campus is
trying to be our best friend." He motioned me over to him. "Come sit
down with me." I did. He put his arm around me and brushed a stray hair
out of my face. "I don't like it, and I think it's creepy, but Moretti's
not wrong. If we stay here, we have an army protecting us. Maybe it's not such
a terrible idea."
"But school is going to be over soon, like you said."
"I don't think those Brothers are going anywhere. We don't have to either.
We'll just stay. Until . . . I don't know, until this whole thing blows
over."
"Blows over?" I didn't think that was going to happen.
 
Jason kissed me. "It could happen," he whispered.
"With people kneeling down to us?
I don't think
it's blowing over. I think it's getting worse."
"But we're safe," he said. "I think we're actually safe."
God.
That sounded too good to be true. But I wanted to
believe it so badly. I lay my head Jason's shoulder and clung to him as tightly
as I could.
Safe.
It was such a nice word.

* * *

The prom was Saturday. I'd barely had a chance to
think about what I was going to do with my hair and makeup. I'd told the girls
at the party that I was just going to do it myself, and that was what I planned
to do. But usually, for events like this, I liked to do a trial run day, where
I tried a bunch of different hairstyles, took pictures of them, and decided
which one I liked. That Friday night, I bounded up the steps to my dorm after
classes, about to ask Palomino if she minded if I used her digital camera and
possibly her laptop. When I got in the room, however, it wasn't just Mina in
there.
My dorm room was crowded with the fifteen most popular girls in the school.
They were sitting in chairs, on both of our beds, and on the floor. Mina was
sitting in the middle, chatting with all of them. When they noticed me, all of
their eyes lit up.
 
"Amy!" said Fairie Weem. She and her sister were both sitting on my
bed, each hugging one of my pillows.
 
"Hi," I said. "Um, am I interrupting something, Mina?"
Palomino shook her head, beaming.
"Absolutely not.
We'll all here for you."
"Me?" I said.
Great.
More weird people
worshipping the ground I walked on.
Really, really great.
 
Faruza patted a square of bed next to her. "Sit down," she said.
"Come on, sit down."
I put down my books and went to sit down next to Faruza. "So," I
said. "What's up?"
"Well," said Fairie, "you remember how Faruza and I were talking
about how you and Jason give all the time and you never get back, and we wanted
to know what you wanted?"
"Yeah," I said. "And thanks for helping us get into the
library." Not that it really mattered anyway, now, did it?
"Well," said Faruza, "I got to thinking that you might not tell
us what you really wanted, so I went to your roommate, because I figured who
would know better, right?"
Palomino grinned.
 
I was not feeling particularly good about all of this. "Mina," I
said, "what did you tell them?" I could think of at least ten really
embarrassing things I'd confided in to Palomino. Who knew what she'd said.
"Okay," she said, smiling. "Don't be mad, okay, because I know
this is something you were worried about, because you were asking me about it.
And I just thought that if we got a whole bunch of people here, we could
really, like, talk about it. You know? Just girls."
 
"What did you tell them?" I repeated.
"Don't be embarrassed, Amy," said Faruza, "because honestly, you
are totally normal."
"Oh my God," I groaned.
 
"We brought diagrams," spoke up one of the other girls, and she
whipped out a poster board. Her name was Rita. She was German—very tall, and
very blonde. I looked at the diagram, and I felt my face get really hot. I
turned to Palomino. "You did not," I said. "You did not tell
them about that."
"Look
it's
fine," said Fairie. "Like
half of the girls here
haven't
ever had one
either."
I looked around the room. A bunch of girls raised their hands.
"Really," said one of them, "this is like a public service
announcement or something.
Because nobody ever talks about
this stuff."
"
Especially not to guys apparently," said another girl.
Faruza nodded. "George can never find anything on my body without my
help."
"You guys are back together?" I asked.
"You said you liked him, right?" she asked, looking worried.
"No, he's fine. I like him fine," I said. I took a deep breath and
looked out at the girls in the room. "Okay, well, you know this is sweet
of you guys and all. But I don't think that we all need to gather in my room
and talk about . . . this. Not really. I'm fine, really. And thank you so much,
but—"
"No," said Mina. "You were asking me how they happened. And I
don't know. So I figured, we'd get a bunch of together and pool our knowledge,
and by the end of the conversation, we'll all be orgasm experts."
I buried my face in my hands.
 
"So," said Rita. "The first thing to talk about is the
clitoris."
 
I looked up. She was gesturing at the diagram. "Whoa," I said.
"Can we just not say that word? I mean, it sounds like the name of disease
or something. Like, 'I can't go out. I caught clitoris.'"
Everyone giggled.
"What do you want to call it then?" asked Mina.
"I don't know," I said. "I think I'm comfortable with just not
talking about it, actually. And put that diagram away."
Rita put the diagram down. "Maybe the
diagram's
a
little advanced," she admitted. "We also have copies of
 
Cosmo
.
Who's got the magazines?"
Several people pulled out magazines. Within a few seconds, they were spread
open in front of me. I looked at the pages, cocking my head in confusion. I
pointed at a picture. "What are they doing?"
"Oh," said Faruza. "That's the
kama
sutra issue. I think that's a little off-topic for now." She picked up the
magazine and closed it.
 
"Look," said Rita, "according to
 
Cosmo
,
the most important thing to remember is that, unless the guy you're with is a
total jackass—in which case you shouldn't have sex with him anyway—he really
wants to make you happy."
"Yeah," said another girl. "But all guys are really, really
stupid about this."
"And embarrassed," said Fairie. "Because it makes them look like
they're bad in bed or something."
"So," said Rita. "We have to help them."
"Because," said Faruza, "let's face it. We have to help guys
with everything."
Everyone laughed again. I couldn't help it. I smiled a little.
"Okay," I said. "So we have to help them." Maybe this
wasn't a totally terrible idea.
Maybe.
I could listen
for a little while anyway.
"There are two kinds of orgasms," said Rita, holding up an issue of
 
Cosmo
.
To avoid saying the word that Amy doesn't like, we'll call them . . . internal
and external."
"Oh God," I said. "That's even worse."
Rita just grinned. "For most girls, the internal ones are harder."
"Not for me," said Palomino. "That's the only kind I have."
Fairie glared at her.
"Lucky you."
Mina beamed.
 
"Don't worry about the internal ones," said Rita. "Start with
the external ones and go from there."
The talk seemed to go on forever, and I was extremely embarrassed the entire
time. Maybe everyone else was too, considering we all kept erupting in giggles
every five minutes. More than once, I just wanted it all to stop, but another
part of me was too curious, so I kept talking and kept listening. I even looked
at Rita's diagram.
Which kind of made sense.
 
Finally, I'd been read about five different magazine articles and listened to
several girls tell me that, like me, they hadn't been able to figure out how to
have orgasms either, and they sometimes thought it bothered their boyfriends
more than it bothered them.
 
"I just don't get it," a girl named Lissa was saying. "I'm the
one who's not getting off, and he gets all pissed off about it. And that really
doesn't turn me on."
I knew what she meant.
"But this should help, right?" said Rita, waving the diagram around.
"Put that away!" I said. "I don't want to look at the diagram
anymore."
We all laughed, but Rita did put it away.
"It helps," I said. "I mean, yeah. I feel like I kind of
understand the whole thing more now, but I still just don't know how to even like
bring it up." I looked around at the other girls. "Like, if I tried
to talk to my boyfriend about this, I would get really, really embarrassed. And
besides that, how am I supposed to explain to him what to do without using
really technical words that sound like diseases and making everything like
robotic or some-thing."
"Yeah, I get that," said Lissa. "Like if I'm telling him, 'Do
this. Do that.' That’s not going to be very sexy."
"Don't tell him anything," said Fairie, giggling. "Just take his
hand and move it where you want it and show him what to do."
I considered. Maybe that would work. Assuming I even had one of these external
buttons or clitorises or whatever we were calling them. Assuming I could even
figure out where it was. That diagram was totally strange looking.
 
"Well," said Rita. "Prom's tomorrow, girls. I hope all of your
after prom experiences are, well, memorable."
 
Everyone laughed again.
"Are you and Jeremy getting a hotel room in town?" Faruza asked me.
"Um . . ." I shook my head. "No, you know, we can't really
afford stuff like that."
"We're switching dorm rooms," said Palomino. "And I'm letting
you guys stay here. I'm going to the guy's room. And I'm making this sacrifice
because I love you. Chance promises he's going to clean, but I don't believe he
knows how."
More laughter.
"How do you sneak in and out of each other's dorm rooms?" asked one
of the girls.
"Magic," I said. "And fire escapes."

* * *

That night I had a dream. It wasn't a nightmare, but
it was vivid. I wasn't in the dream. I could see everything that was happening,
but it was like I was a ghost or a being with no body. In my incorporeal form,
I hovered inside the parlor of Michaela Weem's house. It looked different than
I remembered. It wasn't covered in dust. There weren't cobwebs clinging to the
corners. The furniture was different. Several overstuffed couches slouched
against the wall. They were patterned in some kind of delicate floral pattern.
Michaela Weem was sitting on one of the couches. A man sat next to her, older,
maybe in his late thirties or early forties. His hairline was starting to
recede, but his face was still quite attractive. He looked like Jason.
 
He was holding a leather-bound book. He looked disappointed and discouraged.
"You wrote it all down?" he asked.
 
"It was my diary," said Michaela Weem. "I was a teenager. I
wrote things down."
"This has to be destroyed," said the man.
Michaela rolled her eyes. "Give it back to me."
"
It's
evidence of what we did. If the Sons got
hold of this, everything I've worked for could be destroyed immediately."
"Well, that would be terrible, wouldn't it?" Michaela's voice dripped
with sarcasm. She snatched at the book, but the man pulled it out of her reach.
"You can't keep this," he said.
"Give it back to me!" she said, and she lunged for him, her fingers
scrabbling against his, trying to pry his fingers off the book.
The man shoved her. She fell back against the couch and cracked her head
against the wall. The man stood up. "It has to be destroyed," he
said.
Michaela touched the back of her head gingerly, tears springing to her eyes.
Then she vaulted off the couch, grabbing at the book again.
The man captured her wrist with one hand and squeezed. "Stop," he
said. "I'm going to destroy it."
"But it's my diary!" said Michaela. "It's my own personal
thoughts and feelings, and I want it." She grabbed for it again.
The man slapped her face. She stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, her eyes
full of hatred and anger. "Don't," she whispered. "You'll wake Jude."
The man strode across the room and put the leather book inside his briefcase,
which was sitting next to the doorway. Turning, he said, "And what's this
I hear about you and Arabella's daughter? You've got some group of backwoods
crazies worshipping your ridiculous rabbit god?"
Michaela seethed. "I had my hand in bringing the abomination into this
world. I will do my part to rid the world of his evil."
The man threw his hands up in the air. "This is why I can't come back here
anymore. That abomination you talk about is our son. And frankly, it's just
sick that you want to hurt him."
"You know what we did!" Michaela cried. "It's all there in my
diary. You know what we did. How could anything that came from
 
that
 
be anything but an abomination?"
I floated into the hallway outside the parlor. A small boy with dark hair was
creeping across the floor in the darkness. His hand darted into the briefcase
and retrieved the leather diary. Then he snuck back up the stairs.
 
"I won't be back here, Michaela," the man was saying. "I took
vows. I break them every time I see you."
"Vows?" she spit out. "What about the vows you made to me?
In sickness and in health?"
"
Your sickness is too much," said the man.
"Where is he?" said Michaela. "Where is the abomin-ation?"
"You'll never find him," said the man. He walked into the hallway and
picked up his briefcase. "Besides, he has a lot he needs to learn if he's
to fulfill his destiny. His upbringing has to be perfect."
I awoke with a jolt because Palomino's alarm was going off. I threw a pillow at
her. "It's Saturday!" I said to her.
 
It was Saturday. It was the day of the prom. And I wasn't sure, but I thought
I'd just had a dream about Michaela and Edgar Weem.
And Jude,
as a little boy.
And that leather book he'd had. Where was it? I needed
to find it. I'd put it in my pocket. Had I thrown those pants in with my dirty
laundry?
 
"Mina!" I said. Her alarm was still going off.
Palomino turned off the alarm. "Sorry," she mumbled sleepily.
I rolled over, enjoying the silence.
And slipped back into
sleep almost immediately.