Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy (4 page)

* * *

"Someone's coming," I whispered to Jason.
 
He was kneeling outside the back door to the library, lock-picking tools in the
keyhole. He was biting his tongue in concentration. "Damn it," Jason
muttered, pulling the tools out of the lock. "Is it guards?"
I peered back around the corner of the building at the dark landscape of the
campus at night. Between the bushes that hugged the building, I could make out
the uniform of the Sol Solis security guards.
"Yeah."
Jason stood up, grabbing my hand. "Are they coming this way?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Damn it, damn it," he said. He shot one look towards the corner of
the building, the same way the guard was coming. Then he turned to look down
the stretch of the building on the other side. "Let's go," he said,
tugging me with him as he broke into a sprint.
Seconds later, we rounded the other side of the building, panting a little.
Jason flattened himself against the other side, stealing a look back at the
spot where we'd been.
"Is he there?"
"He's rounding the corner," Jason told me.
"He didn't see us?"
 
"I don't think so." I breathed a sigh of relief.
"He's still coming," Jason said, pulling me forward again.
 
We ran along the side of the building, towards the front.
 
"There are always guards out front!" I said.
Stationary
guards.
They stood in front of the entrance twenty-four/seven.
 
Jason took a wild look around as we continued to run. "The church,"
he said, switching direction.
The old church, our assembly hall, was directly perpendicular to us. I
quickened my pace to keep up with Jason.
 
"We'll go in the side door," he said to me.
The side door of the church was shadowed by several large trees, making it
difficult to see, especially at night. Jason should be able to crouch there and
pick the lock without the guards seeing.
 
We arrived at the door and stopped again. My breath came in deep gasps, but I
positioned myself behind one of the large trees so I could see if one of the
guards was coming.
 
I couldn't see anyone now, just the walls of the library, dark red brick in the
darkness. Behind me, I heard Jason's lock picks scraping against the metal of
the doorknob. He'd picked this lock before.
 
"So far, so good," I told him.
"This'll just take a second," Jason said.
I watched. Nothing moved.
I turned back to Jason to see how he was progressing. He was still digging
inside the lock.
I turned back.
Still nothing.
Wait.
The guard was starting to round the corner.
"Jason!" I hissed.
"One second," he said, jiggling the long metal tool in the lock.
The guard was in full view now, but he was looking around at the side of the
library building.
"I can see him!"
"Got it," Jason said, and the door swung open.
I raced through the door, and Jason shut it behind me. We were back inside the
church. Memories of the last time we'd been in here—last night—flooded through
me. I looked up at the stained glass, remembering the way I'd felt it was
glaring down at me, watching me and Jason.
 
"I told you we wouldn't be able to get into the library," Jason said,
throwing himself into one of the pews.
"We have to try, though," I said.
"Do we?" asked Jason.
"Just because Brother
Mancini told us to?
Is that why we have to?"
I sat down next to him. "I thought you wanted to find out. I thought you
wanted to prove you were normal once and for all."
Jason snorted. "I'm not normal," he said. "I'll never be normal.
I've come to terms with that."
I rubbed his leg. All Jason had ever wanted was a normal life.
 
He sighed. "No, you're right. I do want to find out. I want to get into
that library. But I don't know how we're going to do it."
The wing of the library we wanted to enter was under heavy security. It housed
the ancient documents that the Sons used for research. No one could get in
without express written consent from the Council. Sometimes a professor from
Sol Solis might obtain permission for one of his classes, but even that was
rare, and it wasn't likely to happen this late in the year. We figured our best
chance was to break in after hours, but even our best chance wasn't working out
very well.
 
I lay my head on Jason's shoulder, feeling frustrated. "I don't know
either."
He reached around to stroke my cheek, shifting so that he faced me and I was
looking up into his eyes. "We'll figure something out. We always do."
I touched his forehead.
His chin.
Then I brought my
lips up to meet his. For a second I felt the weight of the church bearing down
on me like it had last night, but I ignored it, and it fell away. My hands
moved on Jason's chest, and he pulled me into his arms.

* * *

"That didn't work," said Jason, stroking my
hair as I lay on his bare shoulder. "Did it?" We lay between the pews
in the old church, moonlight bathing us through the stained glass windows.
I played with the few tiny hairs on his chest. "It worked," I said.
"I mean, it happened."
"That's not what I meant," Jason said. "I meant that you didn't
. . ."
"Do we have to talk about this?" I asked.
Jason's hand scampered across my thigh and darted between my legs.
"No," he whispered. "No talking is required."
And so we were quiet.
 
For a long time.
Jason's fingers were the only thing
that moved.
"Is this okay?" Jason finally whispered.
 
"Uh huh," I said.
"Do you like this?"
"
Uh huh."
Even though, truthfully, whatever
he was doing didn't really feel like anything. I could feel him touching me. It
didn't hurt. But it didn't . . . It didn't feel the way I thought it should.
 
Jason moved his hand. "You've got to be honest with me Azazel."
"I am being honest," I said.
He raised his eyebrows.
 
I sighed, burying my face in his soft skin. "Sorry," I murmured.
"Did you like that?" he asked.
I hesitated,
then
shook my head against him.
He didn't say anything for a minute. "I wish you would have told me,"
he said.
"I didn't hate it," I said. "I don't know."
"So, what do you want me to do?" Jason asked.
"I don't know!" I said. "Can we just drop it? It's not
important. You don't have to try."
 
Jason sat up, dislodging me from where I lay on his shoulder. "Hey!"
I protested.
He put his arms around his knees and studied his kneecaps. "Azazel,"
he said, "I want you to enjoy it when we make love."
I sat up next to him, touching his arm. "I do enjoy it," I said.
He turned to me. "Not as much as you could. Not as much as I do."
"I love you, Jason," I said. "I love being with you. It's
okay."
"It's not," he said.
 
"Jason . . ."
He turned away from me and started yanking on his pants. After a couple
seconds, I started wriggling back into my clothes too. "You know," I
said, "it's my body. I should be able to decide whether or not it's okay
if I don't have an orgasm."
He sighed heavily. "You already told me it wasn't okay. And then you said
tonight that you don't want me to try anymore. Am I that bad at what I was
doing?"
What? Why couldn’t he understand? He wasn't bad at it. I didn't know what bad
at it was. I didn't know what good at it was. But the way I'd felt when he was
touching me before—spotlighted, like I needed to do something to prove to him
he was pleasing me—well, I didn't like that feeling at all. "You're not
bad at anything," I said.
"Right," he muttered. He shrugged into his shirt and started
buttoning it, not looking at me.
"Jason, it's okay," I said. How was this fair anyway? I was the one
who wasn't having orgasms. Why was I comforting him?
"We should probably get back to our dorms," he said.
So he was done talking to me, then? Okay. "I guess so," I said.
"Are we going out the side door?"
He nodded.
We paused at the door, peering out the window to make sure the coast was clear.
Outside, the campus of the
Sol
Solis
School
stood motionless, dark, and quiet. We didn't see any guards, just rolling grass
and trees. Carefully, we stole out of the assembly building and into the night
air.
 
Jason started forward ahead of me, but a movement caught my eye, and I grabbed
him. "Wait," I whispered.
He turned to me. "What?"
I pointed.
 
We looked. Beside the dining hall, which was far in the distance, a small dark
figure was walking. It looked like he was walking right towards us.
Jason pulled me behind the large tree.
"Is that a guard?" I asked him.
"Why isn't he wearing his uniform, then?" Jason asked me.
I swallowed. There was only one group of people that we knew of that followed
us around in the dark and showed up wearing all black.
Jason ducked back in front of the tree. "He's gone," he reported.
"Gone where?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said, taking my hand, "but let's get back
inside and fast."
I nodded, squeezing his fingers with mine. "Jason," I said, "you
don't think it's the . . ."
"The Sons?" he said. He gave me a dark look. "Just let them try
to kill me. I might like a challenge."

Chapter Three

April 20, 1990
Professor Weem shared some interesting
things with me about the Rising Sun prophecy. It's no secret that he's on the
side of the Rising Sun being a person, not a metaphor or anything else. He
takes the prophecy really, really seriously. I was floored and flattered that
he wanted to talk to me about it. I've been spending time with him nearly every
day.
 
I thought Palomino would be asleep by the time I got back to my room. But when
I snuck back in after Jason picked the lock on the front door for me, she was
sitting on her bed pouring over her biology textbook. She didn't look up when I
came in. I collapsed on my bed, not in a particularly good mood. I kept
thinking about the way Jason had pulled away from me after we had sex.
 
I'd originally thought of this whole issue as my problem, but now it was
affecting Jason too. And it was stupid, because there was absolutely nothing
wrong with him. He was perfect. How could he think that there was something
wrong with him? There was something wrong with me.
 
"Mina?" I said.
"Huh?" She didn't look up from her book.
"When you have sex, do you, you know . . . like . . ."
"What?"
"Have orgasms?"
She slammed her book. "Why are you asking me this?"
I sat up on my bed. "I just wondered."
"Yeah. I mean, not always, but yeah."
"Did you always?"
"Not right at first, I guess.
But since then.
Do
you think that's why I got pregnant?
Because I read this
thing online that said that the female orgasm is designed by nature to like
spasm the sperm deeper—"
"Eew!"
I cut her off. "That's my brother's sperm we're
talking about."
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe if I was just one of those frigid chicks who
just
lies
there, none of this ever would have
happened."
"
Frigid?"
I said. What did that mean?
"You know, like a prude," she said.
"That's what you called me last night," I said. And I wasn't. I'd
gotten busy tonight. I'd wanted to. I liked having sex with Jason. That wasn't
the problem.
"I have hormone issues. You can't blame me for stuff I say."
"I wasn't blaming you." I was worried. Was I frigid? Was there
something seriously wrong with me? "So . . . how did you have these
orgasms?"
"I don't know, they just happened," she said. "Why are you
bothering me with this? I have a biology exam tomorrow, and I'm pregnant, and
I'm alone. Spare me another lecture on how much of a slut I am."
"I didn't say that about you," I said, confused. "Besides, you
don't have to be alone. Just talk to Chance."
"I'm not talking to Chance. And that is totally what you said last night.
With the whole I-was-just-randomly-hooking-up-with-Chance
comment."
"
Okay, I kind of remember saying that," I said, "but I
never called you a slut or implied that you were one."
"Whatever."
Why was she attacking me? None of her problems were my fault.
"They just happened?" I asked.
"What?"
"
The orgasms."
"
Yeah, they just happened."
"So . . . um . . . what did they feel like?"
"Oh my God," she said, "you've never had an orgasm, have you? I
knew that Jason guy was too good to be true, with his big, dark eyes and his
'we talked through it' stuff.
Pretty and sensitive?
And willing to defend your honor?
Maybe, but only if he sucks
in bed."
That was uncalled for. I stood up and went into the bathroom. "He doesn't
suck in bed," I told her. "He's amazing."
"Sure he is," she said.
 
I got out my toothbrush and ran it under the sink. Palomino appeared in the
doorway. "Why can't you just admit he's flawed, Azazel?"
Flawed? Jason? Well, there was the fact that I'd watched him kill more people
than I could count on one hand. But that didn't matter, did it? Not when I'd
killed for him too.
Held a gun to the head of a girl who'd
once been my best friend and pulled the trigger.
Watched her brains
spray everywhere, her skull shatter. Neither Jason nor I was perfect.
"He's flawed," I said flatly. I popped my toothbrush into my mouth.
"So he can't get you off?"
 
I didn't answer.
"You're going to have to show him how to do it."
"I don't know how," I said, but my voice was muffled by the
toothbrush in my mouth.
"What?"
I spit into the sink and glared at her. "I don't know how."
She laughed and went back into the bedroom.
I rinsed out my mouth. "You're in really nice mood," I called after
her.
"Hormones," she shot back, "or did you forget I'm
pregnant?"
"If you hate being pregnant so much," I said, "then why don't
you just get an abortion?"
She reappeared in the doorway, a horrified expression on her face. "I
can't believe you'd say that. Abortion is murder."
"Okay," I said.
"Don't tell me you think
it's
okay."
"I . . ." If I
were
pregnant, there was no
way that I could bring a child into the world Jason and I inhabited.
Better for the fetus to be terminated in my womb than to live only
to get shot in the head by the Sons.
"The Sons are so freaking
Catholic," I muttered.
"Azazel, are you telling me you'd have an abortion?"
"My life is too screwed up as it is," I said. "I don't have
anything to give a kid." I pushed past her, through the bathroom doorway,
and lay back down on my bed. "I'm going to sleep." I changed into my
pajamas and crawled under the covers.
 
"God," said Palomino, "what am I going to do?"
"Tell Chance," I said, switching off my bedside lamp.
 
"I'm not telling anyone," she insisted.
"Sooner or later, people are going to figure it out."
"
Maybe not, if I wear the right clothes."
"
Jesus." Was she crazy? Did she really think she could keep
this a secret?
"And you can't tell anyone either. Promise me you won't."
"Mina—"
"Promise!"
"Fine," I said. I closed my eyes and burrowed into the softness of my
pillow. It was late. I just wanted to go to sleep.
 
For several minutes, it was quiet. I heard Palomino climb back on her bed and
open up her biology book. "Azazel?" she said.
"Hmmm?"
"
If you don't know how, you're going to have to figure it out.
You're the only one who can."
"Figure out what?"
"You know what. It's your body. You can't be afraid of your own
body."
I wasn't afraid of my body.
Not exactly.
My thoughts
were getting sluggish as sleep crept up on me. I would worry about how to have
orgasms in the morning. I drifted. My last thought was that I'd forgotten to
drink before bed tonight again. But I was tired. Maybe I wouldn't dream . . .