Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (19 page)

He tackled me, knocking the gun out of my hand. It skittered across the floor,
far out of my reach. I was underneath him, the full weight of his body pressing
down on me. He pinned my hands down above my head with one arm—the one with a
bleeding shoulder, if you could believe it. He pulled back his other fist. He
was going to hit me! I cringed.
And Jason dove into the man, knocking him off me.
 
I pulled myself out of the way. Jason and the man were wrestling on the ground.
Jason was on top of the man, his hands around the man's neck, squeezing.
The man entwined his legs with Jason's and forced them over so that he was
pinning Jason. He punched Jason several times in the face.
Wait. This looked familiar. I'd seen Jason make that move before.
Back in Bramford.
At the Nelson farm party.
 
Jason reached up and pushed several fingers into the wound on the man's
shoulder. The man cried out, thrusting Jason's hand out of the wound. Jason
took the opportunity to punch the man squarely on the chin. The man's head flew
to the side. Recovering, the man drove his fist into Jason's nose. Jason
started bleeding.
Shit.
Maybe I should stop sitting here watching this like a damsel in distress and
find the damned gun.
I caught sight of it and ran to pick it up. The man was sitting up, punching
Jason again and again. There wasn't any chance I'd hit Jason instead of the
man. So I took careful aim and pulled the trigger.
Click.
No! Out of bullets? I stared at the gun. We'd stolen it from the Sons when they
were shooting up the prom. Jason had told me the name of these kinds of guns
once, but I couldn't remember. Still, it seemed to me that these were the kinds
that held about thirty bullets. But who knew how many times the gun had been
fired before I picked it up on the floor of the prom? Jason and I needed more
ammunition.
 
I looked from the gun to Jason and the man. The other gun was on the other side
of the room, still hanging on the wall. I couldn't get to it, could I? Maybe I
should try. Maybe I could grab the ball and chain and throw it up there. Maybe
it could knock off the gun.
Jason's head thudded against the floor. His face was broken and bleeding. He
groaned.
I ran for the gun. Halfway across the floor, I heard the man howl. I stopped
and turned to look. He was lying on his back. Jason was standing over him,
kicking him repeatedly in the groin.
"Get the chains," Jason called to me.
At first I thought he meant the ball and chain over by the door. But then I
realized he meant the chains in the middle of the room. He wanted to chain up
the man. I sprinted to Jason and the man, stopping to grab one of the shackles.
I dragged it to the man, clamping one around his wrist. It locked when I
snapped it closed.
"Wait," yelled the man.
Was he crazy? I ran to get another shackle.
"I don't think you're who I thought you were," said the man.
I yanked the shackle across the floor, reaching for his hand.
"You're Jason, aren't you?" the man said to Jason.
Jason held up his hand for me to stop. I paused, but I wasn't really sure why.
So the guy had mistaken Jason's identity.
Big freaking deal.
Like that made any difference. He'd chained us up, nearly strangled me, and
beaten Jason's face mangled and bloody. We should definitely restrain him, no
matter what he was saying.
Jason folded his arms over his chest. "Who'd you think I was?" he
asked.
"Michael Jude," said the man. "He's your brother, right? I had a
picture. You two look an awful lot alike."
Okay.
Intriguing and all.
I gestured with the shackle
at Jason. "Who cares?" I said.
The man twisted to look at me. "I don't mean you any harm," he said.
"I was expecting the other one. Not you." The man's face was pretty
messed up too. Jason had held his own. He held out his hand to Jason, the one
that wasn't shackled. "Cornelius Agricola," he said.
Jason just stood there for a second. Then he moved forward and shook the man's
hand.
"You're amazing," said Agricola. "It's been over twenty years
since a man's bested me in a fight." He grinned, and it looked horrible
because there was blood in his mouth. "I am getting a little older,"
he said. "But you were well trained. And I consecrated you to both Mars
and Mithras myself. I'm in awe."
Jason shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't have beaten you if I hadn't gone for the
groin.
Fought dirty."
"
No such thing," said Agricola, grinning even wider. "How
about letting me out of this shackle?"
"No freaking way," I said.
 
"Azazel," said Jason.
"You two were just beating the living crap out of each other, and now
you're shaking hands and complimenting each other?" I demanded. "This
guy is dangerous. We leave him chained up."
"Your young woman is smart," said Agricola. "Listen, I offer you
my word. I swear to you on my faith in the great power of the bull and its
purifying blood. I will not harm you."
"Screw your word," I said.
"Azazel, I believe him," said Jason. "Besides, we did come here
to talk to him, didn't we?"
I couldn't believe this. Maybe it was some kind of ridiculous male code or
something. Guys could just punch each other and be
friends
right after. Who knew why? It was weird and disturbing and stupid. But we did
want to talk to Cornelius Agricola. And I supposed what he said kind of made
sense.
Maybe.
"Why'd you think Jude was coming?" I asked.
"Jason's father told me he probably would. Edgar said Jude had taken off
after stealing a journal that mentioned me and that the boy would be following
the journal through
Europe
. Edgar wanted the
boy contained and the journal returned to him."
So that was what Jude had been doing at the
Sol
Solis
School
.
Retracing
Michaela's steps.
God.
He hadn't been trying to
kill us after all. Had he? We'd never know.
"So you're in touch with Edgar Weem," said Jason. "And doing him
favors?"
"Ted and I are old friends," said Agricola. "I used to train his
Brothers in hand-to-hand combat. I did that for years."
"Well," said Jason. "Last I checked, Edgar Weem wanted me dead,
so I don't think I’m actually going to let you go."
Thank you, Jason. At least he was being slightly reasonable.
"Dead?"
Agricola laughed as if that were
ridiculous. "Jason, you're his pride and joy. He doesn't want you dead."
I stood by Jason. We both folded our arms over our chests.
 
"All right," said Agricola. "Perhaps he wanted you to think
that. Ted always had a tendency to make things more complicated than they
needed to be. I told him if he really wanted to destroy the Sons to just set a
bomb, but no, no, no. He was convinced about all of this Rising Sun business
and wanted to make you to do it for him."
Jason and I exchanged a look. "Destroy the Sons?" said Jason. "I
thought I was supposed to unite the world under a global government."
"Let me out of my shackle, and I'll tell you all about it," said
Agricola. "And we can all get cleaned up. Maybe have some food?"
Jason looked at me questioningly.
 
"I promise I won't call Ted," said Agricola.
"I swear."
I
 
was
 
hungry.

* * *

About an hour later, we were sitting at the table in
Agricola's dining room. The old woman from the door was bustling about in the
kitchen. She was Agricola's mother apparently. She'd already set out several
plates of food.
First course stuff.
 
Antipasti
.
There were slices of
gorgonzola and mozzarella, a plate of prosciutto and salami, a bowl of olives,
some roasted red peppers, and a basket of bread. I could probably make a meal
out of this, but Agricola assured us there was more
coming
.
Much more.
They really did know how to feed you in
Italy
. Agricola's mother came into
the dining room, carrying a wine decanter. She sat it down on the table and sat
down with us.
"
Mangi.
Mangi
," she said.
"Eat," translated Agricola. He reached for a plate and dipped himself
some roasted red peppers.
 
While we filled our plates with appetizers, Agricola and his mother chatted in
Italian. Jason and I ate quietly. Thus far, everything seemed okay. Agricola
was being very hospitable. He'd allowed Jason and I to shower and had his
mother prepare this massive feast for us. I wasn't sure if I trusted him or
not, but the food was really, really good. Still, I was curious. What did
Agricola know about Weem? Why had he said that Weem wanted to destroy the Sons?
It didn't make sense. Up until a few months ago, Weem had been very high up in
the Council, practically the head of the Sons. If he wanted to destroy them,
why had he worked for them for so long? I wanted to ask Agricola about it, but
I wasn't sure how. Besides, he and his mother were still talking.
Eventually, his mother went out of the room to bring out the first course.
Agricola told us that he'd been explaining to her who we were and that she
would be dining in the kitchen so that we could talk.
"She doesn't have to do that," I said. This woman was preparing our
food. It didn't seem right that she also had to eat in the kitchen.
"It's not a problem for her," said Agricola.
She brought in a several bowls and a large dish of pasta.
Linguine
with onions and tomato sauce.
We served our-selves portions of pasta and
Agricola's mother left the room.
"So," said Agricola,
"I must admit, I'm
curious.
How did you happen to get this instead of your brother?"
He held up the diary.
"Can we have that back?" I said.
Agricola hesitated,
then
slid it across the table to
me. "I was to give it to Ted," he said, "but I'll give it back
to you as a gesture of good faith."
"Jude's dead," Jason said shortly, digging into his pasta.
Agricola raised his eyebrows. "Ted will be saddened," he said.
"He said that the younger boy was unruly, however."
"I don't think Edgar Weem is going to care," I said.
 
"You don't know him," said Agricola. "I'm sure he's appeared
cold and aloof to you, but he's not a bad man. He has his weaknesses, but so do
we all. I know that he is quite proud of you, Jason."
"Yeah," said Jason. "Well, see that's what I don't get. Because
he had one of the Brothers watching me this winter, waiting to see if I got too
violent. According to that guy, Edgar Weem said that when he made me he
'created a monster.' And that if I screwed up too much, he'd have me
killed."
Agricola shrugged. "Ted always wanted you to be violent," he said.
"Not in an undisciplined manner, of course, but he created you to be a
deadly warrior. And it seems he succeeded." Agricola smiled. "I can't
say enough how impressed I am by your abilities. Perhaps he only wanted you
watched because he wanted to keep tabs on your progress. I'm certain he never
intended to have you killed. He's your father, after all."
"I don't have a father," Jason muttered.
 
"I'm sure he'd approve of that sentiment, as well," said Agricola.
"But I'm afraid I still don't understand. You took this journal from your
brother. Killed him—"
"We didn't kill him," I interrupted. "Someone else did."
"I see," said Agricola. "But I don't know what this journal is.
Ted wouldn't explain. He said that if I found it, I'd probably read it, and
that he couldn't stop me. But he wouldn't go any further."
"It's Michaela Weem's diary," said Jason.
 
It was occurring to me that Agricola was asking the questions and not the other
way around. Was he pumping us for information? When he had what he wanted,
would he just lock us back up again? Maybe that was why he'd had no problem
giving back the diary.
"Who?" said
Agricola.
Jason looked surprised. "She was here with Edgar Weem. Eighteen years
ago."
Agricola still looked blank.
"My mother," Jason said finally, but he didn't sound like he liked
saying the words.
"Ah! Yes. She was a pretty girl. You do take after her quite a bit. I
don't know if I ever knew her name."
Really?
"In the diary, she says that you watched
her and Edgar have sex. And you didn't bother to find out her name?" I
asked.
Agricola turned to me. "You are quite a girl, aren't you?" he said.
"You handle a gun well. And Jason, you do rely on her quite a bit, don't
you?"
"She's reliable," said Jason.
 
"She's your weakness," said Agricola. "Women always make men
weak."
Sexist bastard.
I clamped my mouth shut. No wonder he
didn't know Michaela's name.
 
"No," said Jason. "You're wrong about that. Before Azazel came
along, I didn't have anything to fight for. Fighting without purpose makes a
man weak. Having a purpose strengthens your resolve."
I shot Jason a grateful smile.
 
Agricola raised an eyebrow.
 
"Besides," said Jason. "She held her own." He nodded to
Agricola's shoulder.
"Touché," said Agricola.
"So your mother's
diary, then."
"
It explains how she and Edgar Weem went about trying to conceive
me," said Jason. "Azazel and I thought that if we knew more about
where I came from, we could figure out . . . Do you believe in the Rising
Sun?"
"Of course not," said Agricola. "But I do have my beliefs. They
are older than those of the Sons. And they are far less democratic. I don't
believe all gods are the same god. I don't believe that all religious
traditions are equally valid. No. I worship Mithras, and I worship Mars. I am a
warrior and a soldier, and those are my patrons. I believe that the power I
summoned to bestow on you, Jason, was very real indeed."
"I guess that's why we're here," said Jason. "We want to know
what exactly that power was. The diary is pretty vague on what actually
happened."
Agricola raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure the details of the ritual are
really a good dinner conversation."
"
Because they're gross?"
I asked.
"Not gross," said Agricola, giving me a withering look. "They
are sacred, powerful actions. But they might not be appetizing."
"Did you make her drink the bull semen?" I asked.
"I thought you didn't know about the ritual," said Agricola.
"It's vague," said Jason.
"So you did?" I said.
Agricola sighed. "Maybe I should start at the beginning," he said.
 
"Okay," said Jason.
Agricola took a deep breath. "I've known Ted for quite some time, as I
said. For years, I was on the Sons' payroll, because I trained the Brothers in
hand-to-hand combat. Ted and I spoke often during this period. He and I talked
about ancient religions, which was his deepest interest. He sometimes shared
with me concerns about the organization he worked for. He was worried that the
Sons were losing their faith. He didn't feel that they were following the true
path anymore, but had been seduced by the call of power and money. In those
early days, he used to talk to me about the Sons' messiah.
The
Rising Sun.
He said that the way things stood, if the Rising Sun were to
arrive, he'd clean house in the Sons, in much the way that Jesus did with the
moneymakers in the temple.
 
"A few years later, he contacted me again. He was a teacher now, at a
school the Sons ran for rich kids. But now he had a crazy idea in his head. He
said that the Sons needed to be stopped.
Destroyed.
They were too corrupt. And he was going to do this by bringing forth the Rising
Sun. When I asked him how, he started spewing all this ridiculous nonsense
about King Arthur and genealogical lines."
"Yeah," said Jason. "We've heard that too."
"The long and short of it was that he wanted my help to perform a
fertility ritual on him and some girl he was bringing with him. He wanted the
blessings of Mars and Mithras on the
child,
because he
felt that the Rising Sun would need to be a great warrior in order to destroy
the Sons.
 
"I told him that I worshipped the gods of soldiers, and I didn't know much
about fertility. He suggested an initiation of sorts into the Mithraic
mysteries for both him and the girl. I told him this was blasphemous. Women
weren't allowed in the Mithraic mysteries. We worked out a compromise. I
initiated Ted, but not the girl. She was however, bathed in the blood of the
sacrificial bull and as a measure of fertility, drank the bull's semen."
"
Sacrificial bull?"
I said. "You killed
a bull?"
"The mysteries are mysteries for a reason," said Agricola. "I
can't tell you what transpires in the ceremony. It is a sacred secret."
I guessed I knew enough about that ritual anyway. Bathed in bull's blood?
Eeww.
"Further," continued Agricola. "I consecrated you to Mars and
blessed you with a warrior's spirit. Or rather, I consecrated their union, should
it produce offspring.
Which it apparently did."
Jason was quiet for several seconds. Then he said, "Did you do anything
that might make me, like, come back from the dead?"
Agricola raised his eyebrows. He did that a lot. "You died?"
"I got shot in the head," said Jason. "I wasn't breathing. I
didn't have a pulse. And then Azazel kissed me, and I woke up."
Agricola laughed. "Well, it sounds like something Ted would want his
Rising
Sun to do. No. I don't have access to power like
that. I have no idea."
"I thought Mithras was a dying god," said Jason.
Agricola shook his head. "No Mithras sacrifices a bull, which he is tied
to symbolically. But he himself does not die. And the bull doesn't come back to
life. It's not a seasonal religion, you see. It isn't intended to explain why
the crops die. Instead it is about fighting always against the evil that
surrounds us."
I couldn't help laughing a little.
"Why are you laughing?" asked Agricola. "I don't think that was
funny."
"It's just that Brother Mancini told us you were evil."
"That is because Brother Mancini serves the Catholic Church, which is the
most evil institution in the world. I fight against it. Brother Mancini doesn't
appreciate that."
Oh. Well, with everyone thinking everyone else was evil, it sure made things
confusing, didn't it? I guessed this was why my parents hadn't believed in
evil, just constructive and destructive consequences. Maybe fighting against
evil was really the only evil that existed, because it allowed people to do
things they wouldn't otherwise do. If their enemies were evil, then all bets
were off. They had to do whatever they could to get rid of those enemies. It
all seemed so primitive.
"But this warrior power stuff," said Jason. "That could easily
be explained by the fact I was trained by the Sons. And the fact I was able to
beat you is probably because you used to train the Sons, so I know your
techniques. Overall, how is there any proof that what you did to Michaela and
Edgar had any affect on me?"
"
Proof?
Is that what you're looking for?"
"I don't want to be this Rising Sun thing," said Jason. "I don't
care if I'm supposed to be establishing a global government or destroying the
Sons. I just want to be left alone. And I told myself that the Sons were just
nuts.
That there was no Rising Sun.
But this weird
stuff keeps happening. And I just want to know why."
"You think I can answer that question?" asked Agricola.
 
A rock sailed through the window in Agricola's dining room. It shattered the
glass and landed in the middle of the pasta dish.