Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (28 page)

"Chance," yelled Mina from the top of the
steps, "it's your turn to make up a bottle."
Chance and Jason were sitting in the living room of what used to be my
grandmother's house playing
 
Call of Duty
 
on a huge widescreen TV. I was
half-watching them, half-writing in the journal my therapist insisted I keep.
Jason and I, as I had predicted, needed
 
lots
 
of
therapy.
"Two seconds," Chance yelled back.
"Dude,
it's
cool," said Jason. "I'll
pause
it."
Marlena came in through the front door, her keys jingling. "Is Hallam back
from work yet?" she asked, ducking her head into the living room.
"He's got a late class on Wednesdays," Chance reminded her as he got
up to go into the kitchen to make a bottle.
I followed him. Sometimes Chance needed help with this kind of stuff.
"That's right," said Marlena. "I keep forgetting that."
The house was huge, and Chance and I had inherited it after Grandma Hoyt's
death, which had been officially ruled an accident.
So the
six of us lived here.
Hallam and Marlena had apparently struck up some
kind of romance over all the dead bodies at the Sons' headquarters. I liked the
fact they were here, and I liked them as a couple, even if it was only because
I could now tease Hallam about "living in sin" on a regular basis.
 
All of the surviving members of the Sons had indeed committed suicide, and it
hadn't just been the ones in the castle. Apparently, members of the Sons all
over the world had jumped out of windows and thrown themselves into traffic. No
one really had any idea how or why they'd done that, and I wasn't talking. It
was a freak thing, like Jason coming back from the dead, I said.
 
It wasn't that I wanted to hide the fact I might have some kind of crazy power.
It was just that I didn't quite understand it yet, and it freaked me out. With
the help of Agnes, who did indeed exist and live in an inn in
Tuscany
, I'd been able to contact some
people stateside who worked with people with special talents. We were working
on getting it under control, figuring out exactly how it worked.
"You want me to get the bottle?" I asked Chance as I entered the
kitchen.
He shook his head. "It's my turn. I've got to figure out how to do
this." He looked around the kitchen with a panicked expression.
"Where's the formula?"
I pointed to the counter. "In front of your face," I said.
 
"Oh," he said, reaching for it.
"Right."
 
I grinned at him, tousling his hair. He brushed me off.
The threat was really all gone. The Sons were all dead. The Satanists were all
dead. There was no one left chasing Jason and me. Sometimes he still woke up in
the middle of the night and sat straight up, searching the room for danger.
Sometimes, I still had awful dreams. The one I hated the worst was the one
where Jason didn't ever recognize me in that hallway in the castle and shot me
anyway.
But Jason and I were talking. And Jason was talking to a therapist. He wasn't
ever going to be normal. Neither was I. We both knew that. But we were doing
the best we could. We'd enrolled in classes at the local community college. I
was still undecided as to what I wanted to major in. I remembered that,
sometime back in Bramford, I'd wanted to be a fashion designer. I didn't know
why. I'd never sewed anything in my life. I was taking time to try to get to
know who I was.
 
And I wasn't drinking anymore.
 
I didn't want to say anything as drastic as I was an alcoholic. Someday, I
might be able to have a few drinks with dinner or something. But I wasn't even
going to try that until I was legally of age.
 
I heard the screams of my niece Jenna before I actually saw either Palomino or
the baby. I turned to the door, waiting for them to walk in.
Palomino blew wisps of her hair out of her face. "God," she said.
"Can you take her, Azazel? You're the only one she'll get quiet for."
I held out my arms and Palomino placed baby Jenna in them. I smiled down at
her, and she quieted immediately. Chance handed me the bottle, which I popped
into Jenna's open mouth. I watched her suck contentedly. Maybe I was biased,
but she was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen.
I took Jenna back to the living room and sat on the couch next to Jason. He
leaned over me to tickle her tummy,
then
smiled at me.
"She sure does like you," he said, kissing me.
I smiled.
"Yep.
I'm good with babies,
Jason." I winked at him.
He laughed. "Don't go getting any ideas," he teased. "We're
barely eighteen."
I looked back down at little Jenna, so snug in my arms. Impressionable minds,
indeed. It wasn't too hard to convince her to be quiet. And I didn’t think of
it as hypnotism at all.

Finis