Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (3 page)

George shot me a look. "She'd be kind of hard to
compliment, wouldn't she?"
Jason stood up, knocking over his chair. "You should really reconsider
that statement."
I watched his fist, clenching and unclenching at his side.
 

Chapter Two

April 19, 1990
Professor Weem stopped me after class
and had me stay after. We talked for nearly an hour about ancient religions and
mythology. I couldn't believe it, because he really talked to me like I was an
equal, not a student. It was neat. If the other girls in class found out,
they'd be so jealous.
Me, hanging out with dreamy Mr. Weem.
 
I stood up next to Jason. "Don't," I whispered in his ear.
"Don't attract attention."
"What did you say to me?" asked George, an arrogant smile playing on
his lips.
 
Jason looked at me, and I could see the unchecked fury in his eyes. He turned
to George. "I don't like it when people insult my girlfriend," he
said evenly. "And you don't want to make me mad."
George laughed. "Is that a threat?"
I grabbed Jason's hand, squeezed it.
He looked back at me. He was struggling, and I could tell.
Jason ripped his hand away from me and tore out of the dining hall. When the
door slammed behind him, it got quiet in the room.
 
Everyone looked up with startled expressions on their faces.
 
The silence hung in the air for several seconds, and then conversation
returned.
 
George started laughing. "What the hell was that?" he asked Faruza.
"Hey," I said. "He's serious. Don't make him mad, okay?"

* * *

When Jason and I were in
Rome
, things were easier. Things were nicer.
Things were idyllic. Sometimes, I wish we could have stayed. We spent our days
roaming around the city, doing tourist things. We went to the Coliseum. We ate
gelato in the narrow streets. It was warm, springtime in the
Mediterranean
.
I liked it there.
We were staying in a cloister with the Order of Reddimus, monks who had taken
us in when we'd gone on the run from the Sons. In particular, we spent time
with Brother Mancini, who'd been Sutherland's contact in the Reddimus Order.
(Sutherland was
a creepy man who'd tried to rape and kill
me, but he also had connections, so we'd been forced to deal with him.) Brother
Mancini gave us advice about where to go and what to see in
Rome
. When we ate in the cloister, we took
our meals with him, instead of in the larger dining hall where most of the
monks ate. He was a friendly man, a little pudgy, but he spoke very good
English, unlike some of the other monks there.
Jason and I had separate rooms, and we couldn't see each other in the evening
at all. Still, we made the most of our days together. We wandered through the
streets of
Rome
,
holding hands. It was more romantic than the movies.
 
But we had to leave.
 
According to Sutherland,
Rome
was considered sanctuary by the Sons. Sanctuary was any holy place of any kind,
like a church or a cemetery or
Stonehenge
. The
Sons wouldn't commit acts of violence in a place of sanctuary. Since
Rome
was the
Holy
City
, the whole city was
off-limits for the Sons. Sutherland had told us we'd be safe there.
 
But the Sons weren't playing by the rules anymore. They'd shot up a church in
Shiloh
,
Georgia
the fall before. They were desperate to get at Jason and me.
One day, Jason and I came back to the cloister after one of our idyllic
afternoons on the streets of
Rome
.
Brother Mancini was waiting for us. He looked worried. He told us that we
needed to talk about something important and that it couldn't wait.
Concerned, Jason and I went with him to a small meeting room in the cloister.
It contained only a simple table and several chairs. We all sat down together.
 
"What is it?" Jason asked, sitting on the edge of his chair.
"What's going on?"
It was bad news. I could tell.
"We've discovered some information about the Sons," said Brother
Mancini. "I'm afraid it's not good."
"I knew it," I muttered.
 
"Azazel, your great uncle, Ian Hoyt, has taken Edgar Weem's place on the
Council," said Brother Mancini.
"We know that," said Jason. "Sutherland told us."
"It seems," said Brother Mancini, "that Hoyt has taken over to a
certain degree. He's declared himself the head of the Council and is currently
making decisions for the Sons at large."
"That's bad?" I asked.
 
"On the face of it, not exactly," said Brother Mancini. "It's
the decisions he's making that aren't very good. He's decided that the Sons no longer
officially think you're the Rising Son, Jason."
"But that's good," said Jason.
"Right?"
"
He's decided that they should kill you," said Mancini.
"Oh," said Jason.
"Furthermore, nearly half of the council doesn't agree with him. I'm sure
you remember the summit in 2002, when the Council made the official decision
that you were the Rising Son?"
"Yeah," said Jason. "I remember that."
"Those Council members feel their evaluation was thorough. They don't
agree with Hoyt. But Hoyt is having none of it. They must either agree with him
or leave the Sons. Of course, he can't really let them
 
leave
.
They know too much."
"You mean Hoyt's going to kill them?" I asked.
Brother Mancini nodded.
"Unofficially, of course.
He couldn't admit to a policy of killing former Council members. But those who
don't agree with Hoyt and don't want to die will escape."
"Escape?" said Jason. "And go where?"
"Here," said Brother Mancini. "The long and the short of it is
that there are going to be about ten or fifteen former Council members seeking
sanctuary here with us. We're not sure if it would be a good idea if you
remained here while they did. We don't want Hoyt to figure out where you are,
and we can't be sure that they won't be in communication with him."
"Wait," I said. "If they're about to be killed by Hoyt, then
they wouldn't kill Jason on his order, would they?"
"Probably not," said Brother Mancini, "but we can't be sure that
Hoyt won't have planted a rat among them.
Someone who is
secretly loyal to him.
Even if none of them try to kill you, we aren't
sure it would be a good idea for them to see you."
"
Why not?"
I asked.
"If they're disagreeing with Hoyt, it's because they think Jason is the
Rising Sun. They might fawn over you."
I had a quick flashback. Jason and I were leaving Michaela Weem's house in
Shiloh
. There were members of the Sons everywhere. As we
walked by them, they dropped to their knees and whispered, "He's the
one."
Fawning, indeed.
"That might suck," I said.
 
Jason looked thoughtful. "Why are they coming here?" he asked.
"Why would they seek sanctuary with you? Aren't you the enemies of the
Sons?"
"
The enemies," said Brother Mancini, "and the
origins."
"Origins?"
"
Did you think the Sons simply materialized out of thin air?"
asked Brother Mancini.
"I didn't think they came from the Church," I said.
"Actually," said Jason, "it makes sense. The Brothers, the
celibacy . . . They're like monks."
Brother Mancini nodded. "The Order of Reddimus is an old order," he
said. "We were founded sometime in the fifth century, in order to spread
the gospel throughout
Europe
."
"
The gospel?"
I said.
 
"Christianity," said Brother Mancini. "During the fifth century,
very little of
Europe
was actually
Christianized. Only the Mediterranean—
Greece
and
Rome
—and even
their hold was tenuous. The leaders at the time knew that if they could bring
the barbaric countries in the north to Christianity, then they could expand the
empire."
"So they wanted to convert people because they wanted to control more
land?"
"In essence," said Brother Mancini. "I'm certain there were some
devout men in the lot, who truly were concerned with the souls of the Celts,
but for the most part, they wanted to expand their power.
"They created the Order of Reddimus, a special group of missionary monks,
whose sole purpose was to go to the furthest reaches of the unknown world and
witness to the people there. The monks were instructed to make it as easy as
possible for these barbarians to come to know Christ. They were taught to find
out the religion of the place, learn its lore, and attempt to mix the pagan
ideas with the Christian, to ensure a smooth transition between the two."
"You're kidding," said Jason. "I've always know that certain
Catholic saints have a great similarity to pagan gods, and that pagan
traditions were adopted by early Catholics. But you're saying that this kind of
thing was Church policy?!"
Brother Mancini smiled. "In the fifth century, it absolutely was. The
Order has ancient records indicating the same. We, however, can't and won't
share these records with the world. You can imagine what kind of negative
impact such an admission would have on the faithful."
I raised my eyebrows. "You think it's better to lie to the public than to
tell them the truth?"
"No," said Brother Mancini, "but I think that the most important
thing for the world is a united
Mother
Church
. I think that
certain transgressions are overlookable in the service of that idea."
"But," I said, "
there
are a whole bunch
of people who aren't even Catholic."
"But there are many people who are," countered Brother Mancini.
I chewed on my lip, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to offend Brother
Mancini. We owed him a lot for letting us stay here.
"Do all of the members of the Reddimus Order believe in Catholic doctrine
to the letter? Of course not," Brother Mancini continued. "Not all of
this order's members even believe in Christ, per se. We've all been exposed to
too many ideas in other religions that are similar and that seem to resonate just
as deeply for us. But we are devoted to the Church, and the Church is loyal to
us."
"
Yeah," said Jason, "because if they aren't,
you could go public with the whole history of your order, which would look
bad."
Brother Mancini chuckled. "You are so cynical for one so young,
Jason."
Jason shrugged. "I'm not cynical," he said. "I'm
realistic."
"Call it what you'd like."
"So," I said, "the Sons will seek refuge with you guys because
they were originally an offshoot of the Reddimus Order?"
"Exactly," said Brother Mancini. "Long ago, our Order pledged
that we would welcome our wayward brethren back to the fold if they so chose.
We think it's likely that, since they will be in fear for their life, they will
choose us."
"We have to leave, don't we?" said Jason.
"We aren't going to just send you out into the street," said Brother
Mancini. "That wouldn't be very charitable. But for your own safety and
comfort, we don't think it would be wise if you remained here."
I looked across the table at Jason. He shrugged at me, looking defeated. This
was the story of our lives. Whenever we found someplace that we could stay and
be happy, whenever things seemed to have calmed down, we had to leave. People
were always chasing us. People were always trying to do us harm. I wanted to
reach for him, but Jason and I had decided to chill out our displays of
affection in front of the monks. It just seemed improper.
"I understand," said Jason. He stood up.
 
I wasn't just going to take it, however. I addressed Brother Mancini. "So,
you have any ideas where we can go?" I asked him.
"There might be one way that the two of you could free yourselves from the
Sons once and for all," he said.
Jason sat back down. "How would that be?" he said. "They either
think I'm the messiah or they want to kill me."
"If," said Brother Mancini, "you could prove to everyone that
you weren't the Rising Sun, then Hoyt and his followers might not see you as a
threat any longer. And those who believed in you might see reason and stop
trying to worship you."
"You don't think he's the Rising Sun?" I asked. I wasn't sure
anymore. We'd seen things.
Done things.
I was
confused.
"Of course not," said Brother Mancini. "This Rising Sun business
was never part of the original Reddimus doctrine. Certainly, there were vague
hints here and there, but it never was such an all-encompassing idea. And
furthermore, it's only been popular among the Sons recently. I'd say within the
last hundred years."
The last hundred years was recently, huh?
Weird to think that
way.
 
"But things have happened," Jason said. "Azazel and I have been
able to do things."
"He died," I said.
"You both know that there's no conclusive evidence that the gunshot wound
Jason sustained was serious," said Brother Mancini.
That was true, as far as it went. It was possible that Jason hadn't been hurt
as seriously by the gunshot as we'd thought. Still, I remembered the way he'd
lain motionless in my arms. He hadn't been breathing.
"What about what happened in
Shiloh
with
the Brothers?" I asked. "They all went crazy."
"Maybe Weem did it," said Brother Mancini. "Maybe he placed
something in their minds through hypnotism. He triggered it with a text
message."
I raised my eyebrows again. "That sounds farfetched."
"And the fact that the two of you are mystical beings doesn't?"
 
When he put it that way . . .
 
"I'm not saying I don't believe in miracles," said Brother Mancini.
"I do. But both of the things you're talking about happened in
Shiloh
. There are biblical prophecies that point to a
place called
Shiloh
being quite powerful.
Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe you were just in the right place at the right
time."
The right place at the right time? I narrowed my eyes. It couldn’t be that
simple. "But there are so many Shilohs, all over the south. There are two
in
Georgia
alone." The idea was too confusing to even formulate.
Brother Mancini just smiled. "It's only a thought," he said.
 
And that was how we ended up at the
Sol
Solis
School
.
Brother Mancini thought that there might be some ancient records in the library
at the school. He hoped these would help us prove that Jason wasn't the Rising
Sun. Usually, I hoped that too. I didn't want to believe that some ancient
power controlled Jason's destiny.
Controlled mine.
But other times . . . Other times, I half-wished that we'd find out we did have
magical powers. Maybe we could zap all our enemies. Rearrange everything to our
liking. Would that be so bad, really? And in my darkest moments, I sometimes
wondered if it wouldn't be really, really nice to rule the world.