Chapter Five

michaela666 (04:31:43): If it worked so well, what kind of results are you seeing? Does she seem different at all?

aird92 (04:32:01): shes alot more angry and paranoid. that count? idk, r u sure we did it right?

michaela666 (04:32:15): My instructions were correct. I only have your word that you followed them properly.

aird92 (04:32:30): i did follow them!! look i can't watch her every second of everyday so i don’t know what shes doing all the time

michaela666 (04:32:50): find a way to watch her every second.

aird92 (04:33:04): doing my best here, k?

I didn't have time to talk to Hallam after our meeting with Mr. Dingle, but I wanted to thank him for sticking up for me. I also realized that I wanted to talk to Hallam about the bell and Mr. Sutherland. I wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to me before. Maybe the fact that Jason was repeatedly shooting down my ideas had kind of worn on my confidence. But Hallam was clearly the person to talk to about this. He'd worked for the Sons in an official capacity. He knew exactly what they were capable of. He would see that what I was saying was true. Plus, he'd seen the picture on the bell. So he would know why I was so paranoid. He'd definitely looked interested in the engraving on the bell. Hallam was going to help me out. I just knew it.

The rest of the day passed without much incident. I wasn't looking forward to detention, but I knew that I needed to just get it over with. I also wasn't looking forward to whatever menial task Mr. Sutherland was going to assign to us, either.

I spent the afternoon washing Mr. Sutherland's windows along with two other girls, both of whom smelled like cigarette smoke and swore a lot. I really didn't like detention. I tried to stay as clear of Mr. Sutherland as I could. I didn't want to talk to him now that I was convinced he worked for the Sons. But Mr. Sutherland seemed to hover around me, asking me about my schoolwork or showing me how to wash the windows without leaving streaks.

He was watching me. Jason could say what he wanted, but it was obvious that Mr. Sutherland was very, very interested in me. And I didn't like it. Not at all. I couldn't wait to get out of detention .Unfortunately, Jason was working, and Hallam taught a night class on Wednesdays, so I'd be alone when I got home. 

I didn't have to work that night, so after detention, I walked home. I had expected Lilith to be there, so I hadn't been too worried about having an evening at home by myself. However, Lilith was apparently at work with Jason, so I had the house to myself. I didn't like that. I really, really hated being by myself.

When I'd left detention, I'd made a point of having a completely fake conversation on my phone with Jason, chatting with him about what we were going to do together when I got home. I didn't want Mr. Sutherland to think that I was going to be there by myself. If he really did work for the Sons, he'd know where I lived, and he might come in and attack me. Mr. Sutherland didn't seem to pay any attention to my conversation. I wondered if I was being paranoid. But it didn't matter. It was better for me to play it safe. I couldn't afford to take risks.

Once back in the apartment, I locked all the doors. I tried to work on some homework for about a half an hour, but I couldn't concentrate. Instead, I got out the book I'd borrowed from Mr. Sutherland. I paged to the picture of the rising sun emblem and read the copy underneath it.

"This picture," it read, "is believed to be associated with a society entitled The Rising Suns. Little is known about this society except that several of its members were executed as witches in the seventeenth century."

Hmm. Bust. I looked through the index, but there weren't any other mentions of The Rising Suns. The book offering no more information, I got on the internet. A google search for rising sun yielded pages on the Phoenix Suns, the Animals Song "House of the Rising Sun," and an obscure music video on youtube. Nothing. I searched through the search results a little longer and finally found a reference to the same book I was holding. Weird. If this book had referenced the secret society, then where were its sources? Had they made The Rising Suns up? Or was it just that the Sons had taken great pains to eradicate any trace of their existence? 

Idly, I did a search for "bell secret society." I found out that there was a made-for-tv movie from 1970 called The Brotherhood of the Bell. It was about Skull and Bones. It didn't seem to have anything to do with Mr. Dingle's bell. Jason was right. It didn't really make any sense for the members of the Sons to steal this bell if it wasn't associated with them. The picture on the side of it—was it actually an old symbol for the Sons? Why had Mr. Dingle acquired it then? And why would the Sons want to let me know they were watching me? It was too confusing. The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. What was I supposed to do with this information? I'd decided that I would take care of this without Jason's help. What was I going to do?

It was starting to get dark outside. I really didn't like the dark. I walked around the apartment, checking the doors and windows, making sure they were locked and secure. I thought about my conversation with Jason earlier. I'd asked him to train me to fight the Sons. Jason had said no. 

When Jason and I had first settled down in Bradenton, he'd been happy to teach me stuff. The origin of that had been back when we were on the run. In New York, I'd wanted to let Jason go out on his own, because I thought that I was in the way. He could fight better than me. I felt like I slowed him down. Jason had told me that he could teach me to take care of myself. When we'd gotten settled, Jason had started to take me shooting. He figured that if I knew how to shoot a gun, I'd feel much safer.

He was right. I liked it. We went to a shooting range in Sarasota. We had to use fake IDs to get in since we weren't 18, but those were easily obtained, considering most kids have fake IDs for the purpose of buying alcohol. We went twice a week at the beginning. Jason taught me all kinds of things. He'd practically grown up with a gun in his hand and had been shooting since he was about five years old. I got better and better. We started to go less. Work got in the way. We had different schedules. Soon it was once a week. Then it was once every two weeks. Pretty soon we weren't going at all. When I asked Jason about it, he said that I was fine. I could shoot well. And besides, why did I really want to know how to do that? The Sons weren't after us. I was paranoid.

I kept asking about it, but we hadn't been there in a very long time. I really missed it. When I came home from the shooting range, I always felt better. More sure of myself. Less worried that the Sons of the Rising Sun were going to get me. More assured that if they did come after me, I could at least take a few of them down with me. 

Wandering around my empty apartment, I realized that I wanted to go shooting again. And I didn't see why I had to wait and go with Jason. I was just going to go. By myself. Why not?

For one thing, I didn't have a car. Hallam had the car. Jason had gotten a ride to work with a co-worker. The shooting range was at least a twenty-minute drive from my apartment. I certainly couldn't walk. Dammit. I was going to have to wait for Jason after all.

Then my phone rang. It was Jude.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to do homework," I said. "But I can't concentrate."

"Wanna hang out?" he asked. "I'll come pick you up."

I only considered for a half a second. "You wanna shoot guns?" I asked.

* * *

When Jude picked me up, (twenty minutes later, since he had to scramble to find his fake ID) there was a car in the parking lot near my apartment with the lights on. I didn't pay much attention to it, even when they pulled out behind us. When I realized the car was following us into Sarasota, I began to feel a little nervous.

Was Mr. Sutherland in the car?

It was bad for me if I was being trailed by the Sons, but it was even worse for Jude, who had nothing to do with any of the crazy stuff I was mixed up with. I already felt a little guilty for taking Jude to a target range. Jude was excited about the prospect of going shooting, but curious as to why I suggested it. When I told him I'd gone a bunch of times, he was even more curious. Why did I do that? I told him I just liked doing it. Shooting was fun. He was intrigued. He'd never known this about me. "Girl, you've got all these layers!" he exclaimed. "Are you sure you didn't steal that bell?"

I worried that letting Jude further into my life would make him too curious about me. And I didn't want Jude to get hurt. He needed to stay out of the messy business of my circumstances. I needed to protect him. Still, going to shoot guns seemed harmless enough. And Jude didn't seem to think it was too weird. 

I didn't want to mention the fact that the car behind us made me nervous. It made me sound paranoid. We were going from Bradenton to Sarasota on Route Forty-One. It was a pretty standard route, and lots of cars used it. Maybe I was just being silly. Maybe nothing was wrong. Still. It was weird that the car didn't pass us. It was weird that it just hovered behind us. I watched it as Jude drove and chattered animatedly about stupid people at work. But I didn't say anything.

I was relieved when the car turned onto

Fruitville Ave

and didn't appear to be following us anymore. I had been paranoid. Nothing was wrong. 

The hardest thing about shooting a gun for me was keeping my hand steady. When I first started, I wasn't very strong, and just a few minutes of holding the gun straight out would really, really hurt my arms. Think of holding a book straight out in front of you for hours at a time. Ouch. Anyway, after some time, my arms got stronger, and that helped a lot. 

When Jude and I arrived,I was worried that it had been too long. That I wouldn't be able to shoot with the kind of accuracy I had before. But apparently, shooting a gun was something like riding a bike. I still knew how to do it, but in my muscles, not my head. My body remembered how it worked. My body remembered how to stand. My body remembered how to breathe. One of the mistakes I kept making in the beginning was to hold my breath while I aimed. It kept screwing me up. Jason taught me to breathe evenly and steadily, and to pull the trigger as I exhaled. 

I didn't have much luck teaching Jude what to do. He was hopelessly horrid with a gun. He didn't even hit the target the whole time we were there, which meant that the both of us spent a lot of time laughing about how bad he was at shooting. Jude was also completely awed by my skill. He thought I was really good. Of course, I wasn't. If Jude had seen either Jason or Hallam handle a gun, he'd know I was a complete amateur. 

But I did feel better. My aim was good. I was able to hit the target (mostly) where I wanted to. If I was on the run from the Sons, I'd have a fighting chance. I felt more confident. Less concerned for my safety. I was glad that I'd come to the range. And Jude seemed to like it too.

As we turned in the guns we'd rented, he said, "We've got to come back here and do this again sometime. This was too fun." (We rented guns because you could shoot guns owned by the range without a permit. Jason and Hallam had guns in the apartment, but they didn't have permits for them. We didn't bring those guns to the range. That would get us in a lot of trouble.) I assured Jude that we could come back whenever we wanted, feeling cheered. Maybe I couldn't go shooting with Jason, but I could get practice in with Jude. And Jude was fun to hang out with. 

We burst out of the range and into the parking lot, talking loudly and laughing.

"How long have you been shooting?" Jude asked me.

"A few months," I said.

"That's all? You're like a pro."

"No, it's just not that hard. You can get that good too."

"That'd be kind of sexy, don't you think?" Jude asked. "Don't you think guys would dig it if I could shoot guns like really well?" He got his keys out of his pocket as we approached his car.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess."

"Does Jason think it's sexy that you shoot?"

"Um . . ." 

Jude opened his car door. "He's totally threatened, isn't he? I knew it. He's such a tough guy. There's no way he could handle it if you were tougher than he was." He swung into the driver's seat.

I opened the passenger's side door and stood there thoughtfully for a second. "It's not that," I said, struggling for a way to explain what Jason thought about it without giving too much away.

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed me from behind.

I shrieked, twisting to see who had me. I couldn't see anything in the darkness.

One arm pinned my arms to my chest. Another swept my legs up so that I was being carried like a baby. 

And then whoever was holding me was running.

I could hear Jude yelling my name. 

I strained to look back at him. I could see him getting out of the car and running after me and my attacker.

Looking up, since I was closer, I tried to get a look at my attacker. My heart was thumping in my chest, but I felt an odd sense of calm radiating throughout my limbs. Maybe I'd been expecting this all along.

I couldn't see anything. The man had a black ski mask over his face. 

For several seconds, I did nothing. I let the strange man who was cradling me run with me. I went limp. 

Then it was like a switch went off in my brain. I was being captured. I wasn't going to stand for this.

I wished I still had a gun. At this range, I could have made a complete mess of the guy who had me. 

But I didn't have a gun. I didn't have anything but my body. I struggled in his arms, digging my elbow into his rib cage.

He made an umphing noise, but kept running.

"Azazel!" Jude called from behind us. 

I kept struggling, and with an effort that wrenched the muscles in my arm, was able to free the arm that wasn't against my attacker's body.

We thudded against the ground with the rhythm of his running feet. The jarring was making my stomach hurt.

I didn't have much time to think.

He was grabbing for my arm, attempting to pin it down.

I didn't know why I did it. Lots of other things made more sense. Going for his eyes. Clawing him with my nails. 

But instead, I balled up my free hand into a fist and I drove my fist into the man's nose.

The man grunted. Stopped.

Blood gushed onto his ski mask, dripping onto me. 

He dropped me, his hands going to his face. 

Pain shot through my hip as I hit the ground hard. I winced, but rolled over as fast as I could and scrambled to my feet.

"Jude!" I yelled, running away from the man who'd grabbed me. 

I could see Jude ahead of me, running towards me.

He paused, seeing me on my feet.

"Go, go!" I yelled, catching up to him.

Jude grabbed my arm and we raced towards his car. Both of the doors were still open.

As I threw myself inside the car, I looked back. The man who'd grabbed me was gone. 

Jude started the car, and we screeched out of the parking lot.

* * *

Hallam paced in the kitchen of the apartment, looking anxious. "What happened, Azazel?" he asked.

Jason and Lilith were apparently still at work, even though it was late. I'd convinced Jude to go home after dropping me off, even though he'd wanted to call the police. I'd lied to him and told him that I'd be calling the police on my own. It was just me and Hallam in the house. I figured now was as good a time as any to talk to Hallam. I started at the beginning, telling him about my suspicions about the bell and about Mr. Sutherland. Then I explained what had happened at the target range that evening. 

Hallam sat down at the table heavily when I finished. "It doesn't make sense," he said.

"I think it does," I said. "The Sons are after us again."

He shook his head. "No, they can't be."

I was flabbergasted. Why didn't he believe me? I'd been attacked. I'd nearly been carried off. And with all the other evidence I'd amassed, how could he say that I was wrong? Were he and Jason both incredibly blind?

"They can be," I said, "and they obviously are."

"No," he said again. "No, it's not the Sons style, Azazel. Why would they capture you? They don't care about you. They care about Jason. The only way they'd do anything to you is if you were in the way of Jason. And ski masks and parking lot assaults are not their style."

I thought about what he'd said. The Sons did have a tendency to come in shooting. Usually in mass numbers. One guy in a parking lot was a little sketchy. "Maybe he's not working with the full knowledge of the whole organization," I said. "Maybe he's just doing something covert. For Edgar Weem or something."

"No, that's not possible," said Hallam. "This has nothing to do with Edgar Weem."

"How can you be sure?" I demanded. "You and Jason both seem to think that Weem is iron-clad to this deal you made with him. But I don't think that deal made him happy. And I can't see any reason why he wouldn't try to find some way around it."

"It's not Weem," said Hallam. "I'm certain of that."

"How are you certain?"

"I just am," said Hallam. "Trust me on this."

I didn't. But Hallam's tone of voice warned me not to press the point any farther.

"What else could it be?" I asked. "If it isn't the Sons, then who could have done it?"

"Someone crazy?" Hallam suggested. "People do get kidnapped, you know."

"Why would anyone kidnap me?" I asked. "I don't have money."

"Your grandmother does," said Hallam.

Oh. He was right. I shuddered. "Do you really think that's what it was?"

My grandmother was pretty rich. She lived in a multi-million dollar home. It was old money, but it had been augmented by the work my grandfather and Aunt Stephanie had done for the company my family owned. I had no idea how much my grandmother was worth, but it might be enough that someone would try to hold me for ransom because of it. 

Had I been completely wrong? Had I assumed that if something bad was happening to me, the Sons had to be part of it?

But there were other things. Not just the kidnapping. "What about the bell?" I asked. "I saw you look at it today in Dingle's office."

Hallam spread his hands. "I'll admit," he said, "that engraving does resemble an old Sons emblem. I've seen it on old documents."

"So, there could be a connection?"

"I don't know," said Hallam. "I'm inclined to think it's a coincidence."

"I didn't think you believed in coincidences," I said, remembering a conversation we'd had in November. 

He sighed. "Well, it wouldn't make sense not to look into it," he said. "I'll do some digging. I'll even check out this Sutherland. But I've got to say, Azazel, his interest in secret societies seems to clear him entirely. If he were really a member of the Sons, why would he mention that to you? Why would he want to make you suspicious?"

I didn't know. If he was a member of the Sons, it seemed like he'd try to keep a low profile. He'd shown me the engraving on the bell. Why would he have done that? Still, something about Mr. Sutherland really gave me the creeps. I couldn't exactly put my finger on what, but I didn't trust him. And I felt like there was some kind of connection between the bell and Mr. Sutherland and the Sons. I just knew it. 

"I'd like it if you checked into him," I said.

"I will," said Hallam. "I can't believe that he stole that bell and put it in your purse to get you into detention. He sees you every day as it is in class."

"Every other day," I said. "Maybe he just wanted to be able to talk to me. He asked me to go to his house. Maybe he wanted to tell me something."

"Well," said Hallam, "until we know what's going on with this guy, I wouldn't recommend going to his house."

"I know that," I said.

Hallam sighed, looking at the clock. "Where's Jason?" he asked.

"At work, I guess," I said.

"You didn't call him?"

Huh. Weird. I hadn't. I'd nearly been captured, taken away by a scary man in a black ski mask, and I hadn't even thought to call Jason. Why hadn't I done that? "No," I said.

"I half-wonder if we should tell him at all," said Hallam.

"Really?" I asked. "Why?"

"He's erratic, Azazel, surely you've noticed. Especially when it comes to you. I don't want him out trying to hunt down this masked man. God knows what he'd do."

That was probably true as far as it went. Jason would be livid. He would want to protect me. "Well, he can't," I said. "Go after the guy. We don't even know who he was."

"Does he share your opinions of Mr. Sutherland?" Hallam asked.

"No," I said.

"Thank God for that. At least he won't be after Mr. Sutherland."

"I have to tell him," I said. I couldn't keep something this big from Jason. It would be like trying to keep a secret from some part of myself. 

"I suppose you do," said Hallam, "but try to keep him calm."

"I will," I said.

"He's becoming increasingly violent," said Hallam. "I'm concerned."

This was weird, considering that Hallam had spent his time working for the Sons doing things like slaughtering sorority girls at their request. "You're concerned about his violence?" I said.

"Of course I am."

"But you . . ." How did I put this delicately? "You've done things that . . ." 

Hallam raised his eyebrows. He stood up from the kitchen table. "Jason told you about that, then?"

I nodded. 

Hallam shook his head. "That was a bad night," he said finally. "I don't think Jason's ever been the same." Hallam stared at the linoleum, not speaking for several moments. "But I wonder if there wasn't something . . . something within him . . . something that was always there."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What he did that night," said Hallam. "It was—"

And the door burst open. Jason and Lilith tumbled inside, drunk and laughing.

I wanted to ask Hallam what he meant by what Jason did that night. Jason had told me that Hallam had shot the girls. He'd said that Hallam had screamed while he did it, blood spattering his face. Jason had said that he hadn't done anything but watch.

I turned toward Jason, my brow furrowing. Hadn't he told me everything? I'd always trusted Jason, but lately things seemed different. We were at odds. He didn't believe me. And here he was stumbling into the house, late on a school night, clearly drunk. This wasn't the Jason that I knew. 

Jason stopped laughing, but Lilith was still giggling.

"Who died?" Jason asked us.

"Where have you been?" Hallam asked.

Jason rolled his eyes, striding into the kitchen. He flung himself into a chair at the table. "Geez, Hallam, you sound like you think you're my mother."

Had I ever seen Jason drunk before? I tried to think. Sure, Jason drank at parties, but he usually didn't have more than a few drinks. 

Lilith followed Jason into the kitchen and sat down with us. She was still grinning. "We went out for a couple of drinks with some of the people from work," she explained.

Really? 

"Oh?" said Hallam, folding his arms over his chest.

"It was my idea," said Lilith. "I didn't know if Jason would go for it or not, but when I asked he said, 'Sure.' I think Jason needs to get out more. Don't you, Zaza?"

I glared at her. I couldn't believe her. I did think Jason should get out more. I'd said as much to him on numerous occasions. But when I asked him to come out with me, he always said no. Apparently, when Lilith asked, it was a completely different story. "Did you have fun, Jason?" I asked him.

He grinned at me. "I had a blast. Lilith was telling me this hilarious story about you freshman year. She said that you got lost your first day and you went into the wrong classroom . . ." He started laughing again and so did Lilith. 

"That's great," I said. "Because while you guys were off having a blast, some guy picked me up and tried to carry me off."

Jason stopped laughing. "What?" he said, his eyes darting between Hallam and me.

"She's right," said Hallam.

We filled Jason in on the details of the evening.

"I can't believe you went to the shooting range without me," Jason said angrily. 

I snorted. "I can't believe you went out drinking with Lilith without me."

"That's ridiculous," said Jason. "I wasn't in any danger."

"That's not the point," I said.

"It absolutely is," said Jason. "You went off to Sarasota with Jude, and you nearly got hurt."

"I'm fine," I said. "I took care of myself."

"Because I wasn't there," said Jason. "You're blaming me for not being there, but you snuck off without me. You could have asked me to go with you."

"I did the other day at lunch," I said. "You didn't want to go."

"But if you just had to go," he said, "you could have called me."

"You were working!" I protested. "Besides, you didn't call me and ask if I wanted to come with you tonight."

"It was just people from work," he said. "I didn't think— This is not my fault."

"I'm not saying it is," I said.

"Yes, you are," he said. "If I'd been there, this wouldn't have happened."

I couldn't believe him. "Jason, are you listening? I hit the guy. He dropped me. I'm fine. Nothing happened. I didn't need you."

Jason jerked back, as if I'd slapped him. He didn't say anything for several moments. "I wish you would have called," he said finally.

"Well, so do I," I said.

"Listen," said Hallam, "it's over. There's no point in worrying about whether the incident would have been preventable or not. It happened. We just need to figure out who did it and why. So, I'm going to do some digging tomorrow. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"It's my fault, anyway," said Lilith. "I really shouldn't have encouraged Jason to come out tonight."

"It's no one's fault," said Hallam. "Let's go to bed."

But I kind of half-agreed with Lilith. Why had she asked Jason to hang out? What was more, why had he said yes? The two were awfully chummy these days. I didn't like it. 

Hallam left the kitchen, leaving me with Jason and Lilith.

"I'm so sorry," said Lilith. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"I'm fine," I said. I didn't need her pity.

"You must have been so scared," she said.

I shrugged. I'd been terrified. Hadn't I? With all the worrying I did about the Sons swooping in and terrorizing me, I expected myself to be more jumpy about the entire incident. But I felt calm. I'd felt calm almost the entire time. It surprised me. Apparently I was tougher than I thought I was. "Not as scared as I thought I'd be, actually," I said.

Jason was shaking his head. "Well, I don't think you should be alone anymore."

"I wasn't alone tonight," I said. "I was before, in the apartment, but after that I had Jude with me."

"I don't think Jude counts for much," said Jason.

"Well, what do you want, Jason? You can't be around me all the time. We both work a lot. And we don't have the same schedule at school. Who else do you think is capable of guarding me?" I couldn't help but be a little sarcastic. Jason couldn't be mad at me about this. I wasn't the one being reckless tonight. I'd gone to the range because I wanted to improve my abilities to take care of myself. It had been a preventative measure. Jason was the one who'd been out having fun. He'd been irresponsible. It was ridiculous for him to be angry with me.

Jason heaved a huge sigh. "You're pissed at me," he said.

I rolled my eyes.

Lilith bit her lip. "Maybe I should leave you two alone," she said.

I stood up. "Thanks, Lilith, but I think I'll leave. It's late, and I'm tired. I was nearly kidnapped tonight. It took a lot out of me."

I stalked back through the apartment to my bedroom and began throwing off my clothes, letting them fall in a messy pile on the floor. I yanked open my dresser drawer, took out my pajamas and began forcing on pajama pants.

There was a knock on my door. 

I jerked my pajama shirt over my head and flung open the door. 

It was Jason.

"What?" I demanded.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I moved out of the doorway wordlessly.

He walked past me. 

"Well?" I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"Why are you mad?" he asked. "If it's not because I wasn't there, why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad," I said.

"Right," he muttered. He crossed to me, put his hand on my cheek.

I ducked away from him.

"I just feel like I can't do anything right anymore," said Jason. 

I rolled my eyes. "I'm tired, Jason," I said. "I had a rough evening. I just need to rest."

"Because," he said, "if anyone should be mad, it should be me. I mean, you didn't say anything to me about going to the range by yourself, and then all of the sudden you're there. With Jude." He said Jude's name like Jude was a leper or a mass murderer.

I couldn't believe it. I glared at him. "Listen, Jason, there is no reason for you to be jealous of Jude. He's gay for God's sake, and I'm in love with you."

"I'm not jealous of him!" Jason said. "It's just that he doesn't look out for you. Look what happened at that party over the weekend. He can't keep you safe."

"No one can keep me safe," I said. "That's ridiculous. Jude's my friend. If anything, being around me makes it less safe for him, not the other way around."

"You spend an awful lot of time with him," Jason said.

"Because he's my best friend," I said.

"When I knew you in Bramford, you didn't spend nearly as much time with Lilith as you do with Jude now, and Lilith was your best friend."

"Sure I did," I said. "I hung out with Lilith all the time. And we talked on the phone like crazy!"

"No," he said. "You didn't. You spent a lot of time with Toby, but not with Lilith."

"Who's telling you this?" I asked. "Lilith?"

"It's my own observation," he said. "Which she happens to agree with."

"Why are you two constantly talking about me behind my back?" I demanded.

"We're just talking."

"You know who it seems like you're spending a lot of time with?" I said. "Lilith. You and Lilith are really pretty friendly lately."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asked.

"Well, it's not like she wasn't sleeping with my last boyfriend," I said. "How am I supposed to trust her?"

Jason's face twisted in disbelief. "What?" He took a step back. Ran his hand through his hair. "You're supposed to trust me," he said. 

"I do," I said.

"So then why would you even say that?" Jason asked.

I was fuming inside. I clenched and unclenched my fingers. I looked away from Jason, at my bedroom wall. "She's not like me," I said. "She's all curvy and sexy and experienced. And you're always around her. And you're always taking her side, not mine. And I just think that she can be very manipulative."

"I can't believe you would think that about me," said Jason. "I would never . . ." He trailed off. "Look at me," he said.

I didn't.

Jason advanced on me. He snatched my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced me to look at his face. His eyes were just a few inches from my own. They blazed at me, smoldering. I could feel his breath on my cheeks. "If you think that I would ever—that I couldever—do anything like that to you, or that I would ever want anyone but you, then you don't have any idea who I am."

He dropped my chin. Gave me one last fiery look, his eyes burning into mine. Then he left my bedroom. 

I stood there for a second, too stunned to process what had just happened. Then I closed the door. Leaned against it, the back of my head thudding against its hardness. And I started to cry. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

To: Edgar Weem 
From: Renegade Son 
Subject: Questions

Edgar,

Someone tried to snatch Azazel last night. That doesn't have anything to do with the Sons or you, does it? And you don't have any ties to a Liam Sutherland, do you? I'm willing to cooperate with you, but you need to be straight with me.

Hallam

Even though it was late, I couldn't sleep. I sat in my room with the door shut, picking at my bedspread. I felt so alone. I toyed with my phone, searching through the contact numbers. There weren't many names there. Jude. Jason. Hallam. Some people from work. I didn't know many of them well. I certainly couldn't call anyone for comfort. As I scrolled through them, I settled on my younger brother Chance's name. Chance lived in New Jersey with Grandma Hoyt. I hadn't talked to him since Christmas, when he'd come to visit us in Florida. I knew that I couldn't tell Chance what was happening to me here. I didn't want to worry him or endanger him. But suddenly, a longing welled up inside me to talk to someone who I'd grown up with. Someone who I'd known before all this mess had started. My brother.

I hit send on my phone, holding it to my ear as it rang. It was late. He was probably asleep. 

But Chance answered. "Zaza!" he greeted cheerily.

Geez. For the first time in months, the nickname didn't make my stomach turn over. "Hey Chance," I said, grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry I'm calling so late."

"It's no big deal," he said. "I'm up."

"So how are you, little brother?"

"Excellent," he said. "I'm going to Italy."

"What?" I said.

"Yeah," he affirmed. "I'm going to a boarding school in Italy for really rich American kids. It's going to be a blast."

"Whoa," I said. "When were you going to tell me this?"

"I was going to call you," he said. "Soon. I totally was. I have tons of crap to tell you. And Jason. Hey, is Jason there? I wanted to ask him if he got the new game for X-box."

"Um ," I said, "Jason and I are kind of fighting."

"Oh," said Chance. "So that's why you're calling me."

"Sort of," I admitted, fighting tears.

"Hey," said Chance, his voice full of concern, "it'll be okay. You two are awesome together. He really cares about you."

"Yeah," I said, trying to pull myself together. "So why are you going to Italy?"

"Well," said Chance, "I asked Grandma about it months ago, because my friend Palomino got shipped off at the beginning of the semester."

"Oh, right, your friend, Palomino," I said knowingly.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Chance said. "Anyway, she's been in Italy for months. I barely get to talk to her except online."

"Sure, Chance. Whatever you say."

"She's not!" he said. "Anyway, Grandma said no. She said she wanted me close. But then, right after Noah and Gordon left a few weeks ago—"

"Wait," I said. "Noah and Gordon were there?" Noah and Gordon were my adopted brothers. No one had heard from them since November. They hadn't even come to my parents' funeral service. 

"Oh, I forgot to call and tell you that," said Chance. "Sorry."

"Where have they been?" I said.

"I don't know," said Chance. "They didn't stay long. They just came by one day. They talked to Grandma Hoyt for hours in her office. Then we all went out to dinner. The next morning they were gone. And right after that, Grandma Hoyt said that it would probably be best if I went to Italy." 

"So you'll get to go to school with Palomina, then," I said. "That's cool." 

"I know, right?" I could tell he was smiling on the other end.

"That's weird about Noah and Gordon, though," I said. "I haven't heard from them at all."

"Really?" said Chance. "Because they told me they were planning to visit you."

* * *

I called Jude when I woke up and asked him if he could give me a ride to school. The thought of facing Jason and walking to school with him was simply too much. I'd cried myself to sleep the night before. I felt guilty for practically accusing Jason of sleeping with Lilith. And I couldn't shake the look in his eyes when he'd left my room. He was right. There was no way that he could possibly be unfaithful to me. It wasn't like Jason. I was probably temporarily insane. But it didn't help that Lilith was always around.

I got ready as quickly as I could. Jason and I crossed each other when he was getting ready to take his shower, and I was leaving the bathroom. I looked down at the floor and not at his face. He didn't say anything to me. I didn't say anything to him either. 

When Jude knocked on the door, I gathered my book bag and purse and went to meet him. Jude grinned at me as I slid out of the apartment.

"How come you're not walking to school with Jason?" he asked. 

I sighed. "He came home late last night. Drunk. He was out with Lilith."

"Oh," said Jude, looking sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged.

We started for his car. "So," Jude asked as we walked, "did you call the police?"

Right. Jude had been with me when I'd been attacked. Dammit. Being around him was probably a bad idea. "Hallam thinks that someone might have tried to kidnap me to collect ransom from my grandmother," I told Jude.

"No way," said Jude. "The rich one in New Jersey?"

As if I had another grandmother. My dad's parents had both died before I was born. I nodded. "Hallam's going to contact her and see if she wants to involve the police." This wasn't true at all. As far as I knew, no one was going to contact my grandmother.

I didn't really think that the person who'd snatched me was trying to get money from my grandmother. I didn't know what I thought anymore. I wasn't completely convinced that it was the Sons, exactly. But they seemed like the best option. Still, I did need to be careful. I scanned our parking lot quickly, looking for any suspicious figures or cars.

Not seeing anything, I got into Jude's car. We backed out of the parking lot and pulled onto the road. 

"You aren't worried about it, then?" asked Jude.

I sighed. "I guess I should be," I said. "But all I can think about is Jason and Lilith."

Jude laughed. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I mean, being carried off like that was probably pretty traumatic. You'd want to focus on something else." 

"Maybe that's it," I said. But it was odd. I hadn't found the experience traumatic at all. Maybe it was because so many other much more horrible things had happened to me. Or maybe it was because I'd been able to get out of the situation all by myself. 

"It was cool how you just punched that guy in the face, and he dropped you," said Jude. "I didn't know you could punch so hard."

"Neither did I," I said. 

"Really? So you think it was like adrenaline or something? Like when people lift cars?"

That was an interesting theory. "Maybe?" I said.

"How did you feel?" Jude asked.

"I don't know. Um, calm," I said. "Weirdly enough, I felt really calm."

"That's awesome. It's probably why you were able to deal so well with the situation."

"Yeah, but it's strange, isn't it?"

Jude shrugged. "Maybe you're just growing as a person," he said. "You're stronger now. You and Jason are arguing a lot. Maybe you're growing out of him."

"No way!" I said. "I'm never going to grow out of Jason! He's everything to me."

"And if he were sleeping with Lilith?"

"He isn't."

"Maybe not yet. But what if he does?"

I shook my head. "It won't happen."

"What if Jason had done something horrible?" Jude asked. "What if . . . I don't know, he killed someone or something?"

Ha. Jude didn't know it, but I'd already witnessed Jason kill five members of the Sons, saving my life. "That wouldn't make any difference," I said. "None of it would."

"So even if he cheated on you, you'd forgive him?"

I considered. When I'd found out Toby had been cheating on me, all of my feelings for him had shriveled up. I'd felt nothing for him except disgust. There hadn't been any way I could have forgiven Toby. But if I found out that Jason had slept with Lilith, would he disgust me? No, I realized, he wouldn't. He'd still be Jason. It would hurt. I'd be devastated. But there would be nothing more devastating than losing Jason completely. "I think I would," I said. 

"Wow," said Jude. "You really like him."

"I love him," I said. "More than anything else on earth."

Jude pulled the car into the parking lot at school and parked. We both got out and began walking toward the building. "So why do you think you two are having problems lately?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I said. Why were Jason and I arguing so much? We never argued much in the past. How had it started? I thought back to the beginning of the week. Lilith. The bell. Jude. At some point, Jason and I had stopped trusting each other. Jason didn't believe me when I said we were in danger. Jason didn't take my side when I didn't want to let Lilith stay with us. Jason didn't like Jude. It seemed like everything was spiraling out of my control. I didn't know how to make anything better. "If he'd just listen to me," I said. "If he'd just believe me, maybe . . ."

"He doesn't listen to you?"

"He was mad at me because I didn't call him last night when I went to the shooting range."

"But he was at work."

"I know," I said. "And he said that I was angry with him because he wasn't there to protect me. But I wasn't. I took care of myself just fine, without him. I didn't need his help. But he wouldn't listen."

"He gets angry a lot," said Jude. 

Did he? 

"He's always beating people up. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Azazel, because I know you really care about him, but are you sure he's, well, good for you?"

I glared at Jude as we entered the school building. "Of course I am."

He shrugged. "It's just that he seems kind of scary sometimes." He paused. "You wanna go to my locker or your locker first?"

"Yours," I said. "And he's not scary. Not to me."

Jude's locker was on the first floor. I watched as he dropped off his book bag and grabbed his History book. "Never?" asked Jude. "He's never scared you?"

"No," I said, even though that wasn't strictly true. There was one time, back in November, in a hotel room . . . But Jason had been really upset then. And he'd stopped when I asked him to.

We were climbing the stairs to my locker, which was on the second floor. 

"Maybe I'm out of line," said Jude.

"Jason is all I have," I said to Jude as we stopped in front of my locker. I opened it. Stared inside at my books. 

"That's not a good reason to date someone," said Jude.

I chewed on my lip. Opened my book bag. Exchanged a few books. "That's not why I'm dating him."

"Okay," said Jude. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything else. I just worry about you sometimes. Jason isn't like other guys, you know. He's . . . intense."

Yeah. Jason was intense. And after I'd met him, my life had gotten really dangerous, really fast. But that wasn't Jason's fault. 

We started down the hall to 1st block. It was an Odd day, so Jude and I were heading to Mr. Sutherland's class. My heart sank. I really didn't want to see him again. And I wasn't looking forward to having two more days of detention with him either. Even if Mr. Sutherland wasn't a member of the Sons—and I wasn't convinced that he wasn't—he was kind of creepy. I could live a happy, fulfilled life never seeing him again, ever. 

But when we arrived at Mr. Sutherland's classroom, he wasn't there. Instead, there was a different woman, who'd written her name on the board: Mrs. Clearing. She introduced herself as Mr. Sutherland's substitute.

* * *

I knew exactly why Mr. Sutherland wasn't at school today. He'd been the man who'd grabbed me in the parking lot last night. He wasn't at school, because I'd punched him in the nose. He probably had two black eyes. He knew that if he showed up today, I'd know it was him. I'd been right! Mr. Sutherland was mixed up in this somehow, and something weird was definitely going on.

I wanted to tell Jason about it at lunch, but I wasn't sure if we were speaking yet. Of course, maybe he wouldn't believe me, anyway. I didn't know what else to do, so I bought my yogurt out of the machine and sat down at our usual table. I waited, eating my yogurt, to see if Jason would show up. 

It seemed like a very long time passed. No Jason. 

Geez. He was really angry with me, wasn't he? So angry he wouldn't even sit with me at lunch? Of course, I hadn't walked to school with him this morning. Maybe I deserved the cold shoulder. 

I finished eating my yogurt and stared into the empty container, running my spoon around the edges, trying to scoop up the last bits of yogurt. 

"Did you ride to school with Jude?"

My head snapped up. Jason was standing over me, carrying his tray. He had a large helping of spaghetti with meat sauce and a salad covered in ranch dressing. 

"Hi," I said.

"Did you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. 

He nodded.

"Do you want to sit down?" I asked.

Jason hesitated. He looked around the cafeteria as if he were trying to find some other place to sit. Then he sat down. 

We were quiet for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. I fiddled with my empty yogurt container some more, feeling very uncomfortable. I wondered if I should just leave. Maybe Jason wanted to be alone.

"I heard detention was cancelled since Mr. Sutherland isn't here," said Jason.

"Yeah," I said. I wanted to tell Jason why I thought Mr. Sutherland wasn't here, but I didn't. He wouldn't believe me anyway. What was the point?

"This morning, Hallam told me that he was going to be out late looking into some stuff," said Jason. "I've got to work tonight. So does Lilith."

So? "Okay," I said.

"I told him it wasn't a big deal, because you had detention, so I figured you'd only be home by yourself for an hour or so. But now . . ."

Oh. Jason was worried about my safety. At least that was something. I guessed. "I'll be fine," I said. "I know where the guns are. I know where the bullets are. I'll lock the doors."

"I might be able to get someone to cover my shift tonight, if you want," said Jason. 

Jason wanted to stay home with me? "Well, would that be hard for you to do?" I asked. 

Jason shrugged. "It might be. It's short notice. I don't know if I could convince anyone to work for me."

"Never mind, then," I said. "I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," I said.

Jason nodded. "Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded. 

We were quiet again. I picked up my purse and rummaged through its contents. I felt awkward sitting next to Jason and not talking to him. There were a bunch of old receipts in my purse. A few tampons. A slip of paper . . . What was this? 

Huh. It was Mr. Sutherland's address. I still had that, did I? 

Finally, the bell rang. Both Jason and I got up. I started away from him, heading to my 6th/7th block. Jason caught me by the elbow. I turned to look at him.

"Hey," he said, "I just wanted to let you know that I thought you did a good job taking care of that last night."

This was different than the Jason who always wanted to protect me. He was actually acknowledging that I could handle myself.

"Thanks," I said. 

"Just make sure you do the same thing tonight if something happens, okay?" Jason asked.

"I will," I said.

"You better. I don't want anything to happen to you."

* * *

I knew that it was a stupid idea to go to Mr. Sutherland's house. I was convinced he was the man who'd attacked me in the parking lot, and that meant he was dangerous. I'd promised Jason I was going to be careful. If I went there, I'd probably be in a lot of danger, and there would be a strong chance that I'd end up getting hurt. I knew that I really shouldn't go. 

But after I found Mr. Sutherland's address, I just couldn't let the idea go. Jason walked me home after school. We didn't say much. Things were still awkward between us. I wanted to say something. To apologize maybe. But just as I was screwing up my nerve to say it, we got back to the apartment. Lilith was there. She was on our computer, and she smiled when we came inside. "Hey!" she said.

I didn't say hi to her. She'd put me instantly in a bad mood. How long was Lilith going to stay here, anyway? I didn't think I could handle it for much longer. We needed to find someplace else for Lilith to go. She'd only been here for four days, and already she'd managed to practically destroy my relationship with Jason. 

"Zaza, I thought you had detention," she said.

"Can you not call me that?" I asked.

She made an apologetic face. "It's just habit. I'm sorry."

"Mr. Sutherland wasn't there, so detention was cancelled," I said.

"Cool," said Lilith. 

Jason was walking through the living room towards his bedroom.

"Jason, where are you going?" Lilith asked. "We've got to be at work in fifteen minutes."

"I'm going to change," he said. "I'll be back in second."

Jason disappeared into his room. I was left with Lilith. We gazed at each other for a few seconds. 

"Well," I said, "I'm gonna go to my room too."

"Wait," said Lilith. "I, um, I couldn't help overhearing you and Jason last night."

Really? Dammit. 

"I mean," she continued, "not everything. It was muffled. But I was sure I heard my name. Were you two arguing about me?"

I shrugged.

"You want me to leave, don't you?" asked Lilith. 

"I . . ." I did want her to leave. But how could I say that? "No, Lilith. You can stay as long as you need to." God. How had she gotten me to say that? She really was manipulative, wasn't she?

"Really?" Lilith looked so relieved. She threw her arms around me. "Oh, thank you so much. I really need this. Thank you."

I didn't hug her back. "It's fine," I said. "It's really fine."

After Lilith and Jason left, I went and found the gun, just like I'd told Jason I would. I loaded it with bullets. Then I stalked around my house, locking the doors and windows, telling myself it was very, very stupid idea to go to Mr. Sutherland's house.

If I did go, I told myself, I'd bring the gun. I'd fight him off if he tried anything. After all, I'd fought him off the night before. Who was to say that I couldn't do it again, if I needed to? I could do it. I knew how to use the gun. I wanted to confront Mr. Sutherland, anyway. I wanted to know who he was and what he wanted. He'd given me his address because he obviously wanted me to come to his house. He'd tried to drag me off last night. He wanted to see me. Alone. How was I going to find out what he wanted if I didn't do what he asked? 

And if I was wrong, then I'd know it immediately. If I got to Mr. Sutherland's house, and he didn’t have a swollen, purple nose, then I'd know it wasn't him last night. I'd know if my paranoia was getting away with me, the way Jason and Hallam claimed it did. 

But if his face was mangled, then I'd have proof. Mr. Sutherland had attacked me in the parking lot last night. And I could use that proof to intimidate him. I could wave the gun in his face. Force him to talk. Force him to tell me who he was working for and what he wanted with me. I imagined Mr. Sutherland cowering in a darkened corner in his apartment, begging me to spare his life. Telling me everything I wanted to know.

I knew I shouldn't go, but the advantages to going seemed to outweigh the risk. If I could get enough information from Mr. Sutherland, then maybe we could stop anything bad from happening. Then maybe Jason and I could stay here. I could relax. He could too. We could be together again, without all the things that had come between us lately. I knew, even though it was a bad idea to go to Mr. Sutherland's house, that I was going to go anyway. I couldn't help it. I had to. 

I brought bullets with me. I brought the gun, tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket. I brought my purse, which contained the slip of paper that had Mr. Sutherland's address on it. I locked the door to the apartment behind me, and I set out to walk to see Mr. Sutherland.

His house wasn't too far from mine or from the school. Actually, he lived in an apartment as well. It took me about twenty minutes all told, because I made a wrong turn and had to double back. But finally, I was standing at Mr. Sutherland's door. I double-checked the address one last time, and then I knocked on his door.

There was no response. 

My heart was thumping, and I was squelching the desire to put my hand inside my jacket and feel the gun. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe Mr. Sutherland hadn't been at school today because he'd gone on a trip. Maybe he had nothing to do with anything.

I knocked again.

I was ready to walk away when the door opened. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

To: Renegade Son 
From: Edgar Weem 
Subject: Sutherland
Attachment: sutherlanddossier.doc

Liam Sutherland?! This isn't good, Hallam. Not at all. Sutherland is a very dangerous man who's managed to find out far more about our organization than is good for him. We've been on the hunt for him since before Jason's birth. Since we hadn't heard anything in years, I'd almost hoped he was dead. Pass on any information that you can to me about his whereabouts. The organization would be very grateful.

I've attached a document containing all our intel on Sutherland. 

Finally, of course we're not after Azazel. Let me know if you need to use any of our resources to track down her attacker, however. Honestly, my money's on Sutherland.

Edgar

Mr. Sutherland stood in the doorway, his nose swollen and red. There was a huge greenish-blue bruise spreading from the bridge of his nose over his cheekbones. I gasped. I'd been right. 

"Azazel," said Mr. Sutherland. "What are you doing here?"

"What happened to your face?" I said.

He smiled. "Would you like to come inside?" He stepped aside from the doorway. I walked past him. He shut the door behind me.

"I assume you're after some books?" he said.

I turned on him, my hand going inside my jacket, brushing the cold metal of my gun. "Let's not play games, Mr. Sutherland," I said. "I've got a gun."

He raised his eyebrows, then winced at the movement. "All right," he said. "You've got quite a right hook, I must admit. I wasn't expecting that."

So, he was going to admit it, then? Good. That would make things considerably easier. 

"I wasn't expecting to be jumped in a parking lot," I said. 

He chuckled. He took a step toward me.

I whipped out the gun, flipping the off the safety as I did. "No quick moves, okay?" I said.

Mr. Sutherland put his hands in the air. "That's really not necessary, Azazel. I don't intend to hurt you."

"Right," I said. "That's why you attacked me and tried to carry me off last night."

"I just wanted to talk," he said. "I asked you to come over here, but you didn't seem interested in that idea. In fact, you seemed frightened of me. I didn't know how else I'd get the chance to speak to you alone."

"I'm here now," I said. "Talk away."

"Might we talk without a gun in my face?" he asked. 

"No," I said. "I don't trust you."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. But it would make me a lot more comfortable."

"You can say whatever you have to say with the gun out," I said. "It makes me more comfortable."

"Really?" he said.

My arms were starting to tremble a little bit. The gun seemed to be getting heavier with every second I held and aimed it. I ignored the trembling. "You work for the Sons, don't you?"

Mr. Sutherland laughed. "The Sons? Heavens, no. I don't work for anyone, Azazel."

"Why should I believe you?"

"If I worked for the Sons, would I talk to you about secret societies? That would blow my cover, wouldn't it?"

Funny. That was what Hallam had said. "Maybe," I said. "Maybe not."

"If I worked for the Sons, I would never have spoken to you. I would have watched. Undetectable. You'd never have even known I existed. That's the way the Sons work. You don't see them until they're about to kill you. No one sees them. No one alive anyway."

"You know about the Sons, though," I said. "And you know about me? About Jason?"

He nodded. 

"So what do you want then?" I didn't know if I believed him, anyway. But I could play along.

"I told you. To talk. I have information you might find interesting. Helpful."

So we were back here again, were we? "And I told you to go ahead and talk."

"Not until you put away the gun."

Dammit. What was I going to do? I could just leave, I guess. If Mr. Sutherland didn't want to talk, I could just leave. I could put the gun to his temple. Demand that he tell me, or I would blow his brains out. I shuddered at the thought. I didn't think I could really blow Mr. Sutherland's brains out. Not at close range. I'd shot a lot at targets, but I'd never actually shot a person. I swallowed. 

What if he were telling the truth? What if he didn't work for the Sons? What if he really did just want to give me information? 

Slowly, I lowered the gun. "I'm not putting it away," I said. "But I won't aim it at you. And the safety stays off."

Mr. Sutherland sighed. "Very well," he said. He gestured behind me to a leather couch. "Would you like to sit?" he asked.

I guessed sitting was okay. I was beginning to feel like I was doing a very bad job at this. I should have brought Jason or Hallam along. But since neither of them believed me . . . I crossed to the couch and sat down. Mr. Sutherland did as well.

"So," I said, "if you're not working for the Sons, then why are you here?"

Mr. Sutherland tilted his head, as if he were thinking about how to put what he was about to say. "You could say that I find the Sons intriguing," he said. "I am a Watcher, if you will."

I arched an eyebrow. "What? Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" When I was a kid, I used to watch reruns of that show in the afternoons. 

Mr. Sutherland looked confused. "What?"

"Nothing," I said. "What do you mean, you're a Watcher?"

"I study secret societies. Chart their movements. Try to get close to them. Try to figure out what it is they're doing."

"So you study the Sons?"

"The Sons are the most secret and the most powerful secret society in operation. No one knows about them. Unlike the Knights Templar or the Illuminati, their name does not appear on websites all over the world or in popular fiction."

"Wait," I said, "the Illuminati are real?"

Mr. Sutherland laughed. "Not anymore," he said. "Not really. No, the only secret society with any active power these days is the Sons. And they jealously guard their identity and cover up their actions quite well. Finding out information about them is difficult at best."

"And why do you do it?" I asked. "For kicks?"

Mr. Sutherland chuckled. He seemed to be finding me quite amusing. That was not really my intention. I'd wanted to threaten him. Scare him. "The Sons have their enemies," he said. "The information I provide is valuable, to certain people. Certain rich people. I sell what I find."

"I thought you said you didn't work for anyone."

"I don't. I'm a gun for hire, if you will, although I don't actually shoot anything. I work for the highest bidder."

"And who are you are working for now?"

"I'm hoping to work for you," he said.

What? "I don't have any money," I said.

He smiled. "I know that."

"And I can't get money from my grandmother, so don't even think that—"

"I don't want money."

"What do you want?"

"As I've already said, information is very valuable to me. I thought perhaps we could trade."

"Trade?" I said. "What do you mean?"

"I have things I want to know about the Sons. I think you know them."

"I don't know anything about the Sons," I said. "And I don't have any idea what you could know that I'd want to know."

Mr. Sutherland smiled. "Someone very close to you," he said, "has completed an invocation. Does that mean anything to you?"

I was stunned. The invocation of Azazel? My parents and the rest of the Satanists had attempted to imbue me with the spirit of the ancient Jewish demon I was named after. It was supposed to give me the power to kill Jason. However, the invocation had never been completed, because it was supposed to end with my losing my virginity to a member of the coven. I'd lost my virginity to Jason. Even though Michaela Weem had said that I had the spirit of Azazel within me, I knew that the other members of the coven had believed that the ritual needed to be finished. "Who is it?" I said. 

"Not so fast," said Mr. Sutherland. "You need to agree that we'll trade. I give you a name, and I'll also throw something else in. Something that has come up over and over again in certain messages I've intercepted from various members of the Sons, something that I believe has something to do with Jason. In return, you answer some questions for me."

I considered. What was the harm? Mr. Sutherland might be lying and his information might prove to be completely false. He might not be who he said he was. Also, he might use the information I gave him to sell to someone who would use it for nefarious purposes. On the other hand, he said he sold information to enemies of the Sons. How did that saying go, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"? Could it really hurt anything? 

It didn't matter anyway. I was too curious. Who could be trying to complete the invocation? Who was close to me? I had to know. "Okay," I said. 

He smiled. "Good." He stood up and walked to one of his bookshelves, where he removed a small stack of paper. "Just to show you my good faith, I'll go first. These are the intercepted messages from the Sons. Look through them. They're yours."

He handed me the stack of papers.

It was four different email messages, each from names I didn't recognize. Mr. Sutherland had highlighted various passages. Because I was scanning through them quickly, I just read the highlighted portions. 

They read as follows:

"The Rising Sun is ultimately considered a benevolent force of unification, but there is extensive association to Shiva in some of the later prophecies. Why is the Rising Sun associated with Shiva the destroyer?"

"Have not received any commentary from Weem on the Shiva aspect of the prophecies. Odd, because he usually communicates quickly with me about these issues. When I spoke to him about it over the phone, he seemed defensive."

"Could it be that the solitary nature of our order will protect the Rising Sun from the destructive tendencies of Shiva? Shiva uses the power of his Shakti, the goddess Kali, to accomplish his destruction. If the Rising Sun is celibate, perhaps this power is neutralized?"

"Also noticing the dual nature of certain gods associated with the Rising Sun: Balder has Hoder, Jesus has Lucifer, Apollo has Artemis, and on and on it goes. Does our Rising Sun have a twin or a dark force?"

I looked up at Mr. Sutherland. "What does this have to do with me? And who's Shiva?"

"Shiva is a Hindu god who is the destructive aspect of their greatest god. Shiva's consort is Kali, the goddess of destruction. The two are inextricably bound," he said. "As for what it has to do with you, that actually leads directly into my first question. Can you confirm that the Sons do believe Jason is the Rising Sun?"

He didn't know that? "Yes," I said. "They do."

Mr. Sutherland grinned. "I thought so! I was ninety percent sure."

"I still don't see what it has to do with me," I said.

"They think you're Kali," said Mr. Sutherland. "They think your presence will cause Jason to be destructive."

I furrowed my brow. "What?"

"I conjecture, at any rate," said Mr. Sutherland. "I can't prove that."

I shook my head. That didn't sound good at all. Maybe I was in more danger than I'd thought from the Sons. 

"But that doesn't make sense," said Mr. Sutherland.

"What doesn't?" I asked.

"Why aren't they chasing Jason anymore? Why is he allowed to live here in Florida, away from the Sons, with you?"

We'd discovered that Edgar Weem had engineered Jason's birth, purposefully impregnating Michaela Weem himself, so that she would give birth to what he thought would become the Rising Sun. We were using this knowledge to blackmail Edgar Weem into leaving us alone. But since this knowledge was so valuable, I didn't think it was worth telling Mr. Sutherland, so I simply said, "We know some information about Edgar Weem that he doesn't want out. We're blackmailing him to let us be."

"And what information is that?" Mr. Sutherland wanted to know.

I hesitated. "I can't say," I said.

Mr. Sutherland's mouth settled into a firm line. "We made a deal, Azazel. You can't withhold this information from me."

"I have to," I said. "If you know this information, and you sell it to someone who leaks it, it will ruin everything. We'll have no power over Weem anymore, and the Sons will come after Jason and me."

Mr. Sutherland shook his head. "I gave you information in good faith. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find those email messages I've given you?"

"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I can tell you other things, but I can't tell you that."

"You've given me nothing at this point, except to confirm what I already knew about Jason," said Mr. Sutherland. "You owe me."

"Ask me something else," I said.

"No," he said. "It doesn't work that way." Then he smiled suddenly. "But there is something, perhaps, that you could do to even things up a bit."

"I could . . . do?" I asked. This deal was supposed to be an information exchange. I wasn't supposed to have to do anything. 

Mr. Sutherland scooted a little closer to me on the couch. I backed away, tightening my grip on my gun. "What are you doing?" I managed. My voice, to my chagrin, sounded high-pitched and breathless.

Mr. Sutherland moved fast. He leapt forward, one hand going to the hand which held my gun. In a swift movement, he wrenched my wrist. I cried out, dropping the gun. 

Twisting my arm, he pulled it above my head. His other hand grasped my other wrist, which he pulled into the same position. And his hips settled against mine so that he pinned me to the couch.

I panicked. I struggled against his body, but he held me fast. I kicked as his legs with mine. He just laughed.

What the hell was going on here?

"I used to be a teacher, actually," said Mr. Sutherland, his bruised face inches from mine. "I mean, a real teacher. In England. You know why I lost my job?"

I shook my head. How was I going to get my gun back? What was I going to do?

"Linda Thames," he said, a wistful look in his eyes. "She was so intelligent. So beautiful. So young. Flawless skin." He smiled, as if savoring a particularly nice memory.

I renewed my struggles. I didn't like the sound of his voice. I didn't like what he was saying.

"She made the loveliest noises," mused Mr. Sutherland. "And her tears . . . But strangling her was by far the best part." He looked me in the eye, his smile wide and maniacal.

Oh God. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.

And to think, I'd come here voluntarily. Why was I so stupid?

Mr. Sutherland lowered his face to my neck. I felt the dry pressure of his lips, the wetness of his tongue.

I made a face, but I didn't make any noise. After that comment about the other girl's noises, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Maybe . . . maybe, I just needed to keep him talking. If he was talking, he couldn't . . . hurt me. 

"So you killed one of your students?" I squeaked. "That's why you lost your job?"

"I didn't just kill her," said Mr. Sutherland. "I kept her locked in a cellar for weeks, and I raped her repeatedly. When I finally did kill her, she was begging for it."

Oh. I made another face. Could I really keep him talking about this? 

"So how did you get caught?" I asked.

"I was sloppy back then," he said. "Too many people knew I liked Linda. She was my favorite student."

"People know you like me," I pointed out.

"Yes, but I'll be long gone from the U.S. before they find your body," he said.

My . . . body? He was going to kill me? Oh, Christ, what had I gotten myself into? I needed my gun. 

I could see it. It was lying on the floor next to the couch, barely two feet away from my body. How was I going to get it? 

"So," I said, "if they caught you, how come you're not in jail?"

He grinned. "I told you I find good information. I've made my share of bargains."

Wonderful. Wonderful. "So you aren't scared of the law, then?" I said.

"Not a bit."

"Or the Sons?"

He laughed.

"When Jason finds out that you did this, he will hunt you down and kill you," I said. I was serious. It was true. 

"I'm not afraid of Jason either," he said.

Of course he wasn't. "Jason will know that," I said. "He'll use it to his advantage. You've never seen when he's angry. He's unstoppable. He killed five members of the Sons in the span of two minutes. I watched him do it."

Mr. Sutherland looked a little taken aback. "Five?" he asked.

His grip on my hands loosened a little bit. I kept talking.

"Five," I said. "And Jason and I took out an entire church full of them in Shiloh. Did you hear about that?"

"I always wondered about that incident," said Mr. Sutherland. "What did he do?" His grip was a little looser still.

I yanked my hands away from him as hard as I could. "We did it together," I grunted as I freed my hands. I clenched them into fists and forced them up into Mr. Sutherland's body, right below his rib cage.

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and his eyes got wide.

I rolled away from him, off the couch, feeling for my gun.

Mr. Sutherland recovered quickly. He was behind me, his arms reaching around me, trying to pin me down.

I elbowed behind me as hard as I could. I made contact with some part of his body. Some soft part.

Mr. Sutherland let out a cry of rage. "Maybe you are imbued with the spirit of demon," he growled.

Where was my gun?

Well, there was no time. I scrambled to my feet. "Think about that the next time you plant a stolen bell in a girl's purse," I said, running for the door.

Mr. Sutherland was right behind me.

I tugged open his door, threw myself through it and ran out into the street. I didn't look back, and I didn't hear Mr. Sutherland running after me.

But I did hear him calling after me from his doorway, "Azazel, I didn't put that bell in your purse!"

* * *

I ran and ran. There were no footsteps behind me, but I ran anyway. I ran, taking streets at random, hoping that if he were following me, I'd lose him. My breath went ragged and quick. My lungs started to hurt. The joints in my knees ached each time my foot hit the pavement. Eventually, I stopped, looking around me. There was no one there. And I wasn't entirely sure where I was. 

I tried to catch my breath. 

Damn.

What was wrong with me? Was there a big sign on my head that said, "Please attempt to violate me sexually"? First there was Toby. Then there was the veiled threat of that guy on the beach. Now Mr. Sutherland?! 

I wasn't even that pretty. I wasn't ugly or anything, but if anybody should be getting all this negative sexual attention, it should be someone like Lilith. Not someone like me.

But I couldn't ponder that. I was lost on the streets of Bradenton, out of breath, and I'd lost both my purse and my gun. That really sucked. I'd lost my fake ID. I'd lost my driver's license. And I'd lost my check card. I was going to have to get that cancelled immediately. On top of everything else, I'd lost my phone.

And just when I really, really, really wanted to call Jason, too. 

What was I going to do? 

If I could find my bearings, I guessed I should go back to my apartment. Luckily, my keys were in my pocket, so I could get in.

But Mr. Sutherland knew where I lived. Was there any reason that he wouldn't have just gotten in his car and driven there? He was probably waiting for me. 

I rubbed my face with my hands. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. My eyes were dry. My chest was loose. I wandered to the end of the street to look at the street signs.

Oh. Well, I wasn't that far from home after all. A few blocks. 

I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I guessed I'd go home. I'd be very careful. Look around for Mr. Sutherland's car. Then, as quickly as possible, I'd get inside, find the other gun, load it, and hide in a closet somewhere until Jason or Hallam got home. We didn't have a landline phone, so I couldn't even call anyone. 

I walked the few blocks to my apartment and cautiously approached, looking around for Mr. Sutherland.

And then I saw Jude. He was standing outside my door, his phone to his ear.

Dammit. Jude was probably calling me. What was he doing here, anyway? Well, if Mr. Sutherland was around, he might go after Jude. Jude could be in danger. 

I broke into a sprint again, snatching my keys from my pocket and feeling for the one to the front door as I ran.

"Jude!" I yelled as I approached.

He looked up and half-waved, confused because I was running towards him.

"Azazel?" he said as I approached. "Why are you—"

"Don't move," I said, fitting the key to the lock of my door and swinging it open. "Inside," I ordered.

Jude obeyed, his eyes wide.

Once we were safe in the house, I slammed the door after us and locked it. 

"What's going on?" Jude asked.

I shook my head. I dashed back the hallway and went into Hallam's room. He kept his gun under his pillow, and the bullets in his top bedside drawer.

"Azazel?" said Jude, following me.

I didn't answer. I just got the gun, got the bullets, and methodically loaded the gun. 

"Jesus!" said Jude. "Why do you have a gun?"

I turned on him, angry now. "Why are you here?" I asked. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Why?" he said. "Is someone after you?"

I strode out of Hallam's bedroom, more confident now that I had the gun. I didn't think that Mr. Sutherland could have broken into our apartment, but I wanted to make sure. I went from room to room, checking closets and under beds. No one was there.

"Azazel," said Jude, "you are freaking me out! What's going on?"

I looked at him, finally. What was I going to tell him? What kind of lie would keep him safe, but keep him from being so curious that he'd keep wondering what was going on? I guessed I'd better stick as closely to the truth as possible.

"I went to Mr. Sutherland's house this evening," I said.

"Why?" said Jude.

"I don't know. I got this weird idea that maybe he was the guy in the parking lot last night. Because he wasn't there at school today, and because he seemed so weirdly into me."

"So you went to his house?" Jude said. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know!" I said. "I guess I just thought . . . I wanted to tell him to leave me alone."

"What happened?"

"When I got there, his face was bruised and messed up," I said.

"So it was him," said Jude.

I nodded. "Yeah. And then he . . ." I trailed off. I didn't really want to talk about what Mr. Sutherland had tried to do to me.

"I was right," said Jude, "he is a pedophile."

I remembered Jude's joke in the car earlier that week. I laughed bitterly. "Yeah," I said. "He told me that he did this to a girl at his last job. He said he kept her in a room and . . . over and over. And then he strangled her." I swallowed.

"Jesus!" said Jude, looking disgusted and little terrified. "How'd you get away?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, really. I struggled, and hit him and I ran, and . . ." I looked around again, half-expecting Mr. Sutherland to jump out at me, his bruised face twisted into an expression of psychotic glee. "He knows where I live, because he followed us to the shooting range the other day. I was afraid he'd be here, waiting for me."

Jude looked around too. "He's not, is he?"

"I don't think so. I left my purse there. All my money was in it, and my phone and—" I broke off. "Jude, do you have your phone?"

"Sure," he said, taking it out of his pocket and handing it to me.

"Thanks," I said. "I want to call Jason."

I flipped Jude's phone open and stared at the numbers. I started laughing. 

"What?" said Jude.

I couldn't stop laughing. The laughter rolled out of me. I doubled over from the force of it. Could hardly catch my breath.

"Azazel?" said Jude.

I tried to squelch the laughter. I handed the phone back to Jude. Between giggles, I said, "I don't know his phone number."

It was programmed into my phone. I'd never dialed it. I just always searched through my address book and selected Jason. 

"Oh," said Jude. "Maybe I have it."

"You've never called Jason," I said, still laughing.

Jude searched through his phone anyway. "You're right," he concluded. "I don't have his number."

Suddenly, it didn't seem so funny anymore. The laughter caught in my throat, where an enormous lump was forming. And before I could help it, I was sobbing.

It was just too much. Everything that had happened to me, and now not being able to call Jason. If he knew, he'd drop everything. He'd leave work. He'd come home. He'd wrap me in his arms. And then, I'd feel safe again. But I couldn't call him, because I didn't know his phone number! It had seemed so utterly ridiculous before, but now it seemed tragic. Cruel. 

"Oh God, Azazel," said Jude. "I am so sorry."

As if he'd been reading my mind, Jude put his arms around me. I'd never noticed it before, but Jude had very strong arms. He was nearly the same height as Jason, and they had a very similar build. I buried my face in Jude's shoulder, and it felt so much like Jason's shoulder that I started crying harder.

We stood like that for a long time—Jude holding me, and me crying onto his shoulder, clutching Hallam's gun like it was my lifeline.

Finally, I quieted. I pulled back from Jude, feeling embarrassed. I scrubbed at my eyes. "I got your shirt wet," I said.

Jude shrugged. "What's a little wetness between friends?" he said. He cringed. "Okay, I didn't mean that like it sounded."

I laughed. "Well, that's the closest you'll probably ever get to wetness, anyway."

He snorted. "Right."

Jude and I went into my bedroom and sat down on the bed. 

"When will Jason be back from work?" he asked. 

"A little after eight," I said. 

It was six o'clock then. 

"I'll stay here with you until he comes back," said Jude. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

"Thanks," I said. "You're a good friend, Jude."

Sensing I'd had enough of talking about what had happened, Jude breezily changed the subject to something ridiculous. For over an hour, he and I critiqued Britney Spears' latest video, which Jude thought was "tasteless." 

He sighed dramatically. "I used to love her so much," he said, "but I don't know what's happened to her lately. She's just betrayed her roots."

Since I'd never liked Britney Spears at all, not even when I was a kid, I found this hilarious, and we spent another fifteen minutes debating whether Britney had any actual roots to betray. I didn't think she did. She was a product of marketing and record companies. She didn't have anything personal to say.

By this time, Jude and I were laying on my bed. I lay flat on my back and Jude lay on his side, propped up on his elbow. 

He looked shocked. "What about when she did 'My Prerogative'? That was personal."

"That was a cover!" I said. 

"Still, she made it her own," said Jude, shaking his head solemnly.

I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it, laughing, and checked the clock. "It's almost eight," he said. "Jason will be back soon."

"Good," I said. 

"He's going to be pretty pissed off at Mr. Sutherland, isn't he?"

Oh. Yeah. He was. I hadn't thought about that before. I nodded. I thought about what Hallam had said the night before about Jason becoming more and more violent. I looked up at Jude. 

His eyes were dark and large like Jason's, but they didn't have the intense luminosity of Jason's. In Jason's eyes, there were depths. Layers and layers of pain and anger. Jude just looked kind. Safe. Happy. I wondered if Jason's eyes would look like Jude's if nothing had ever happened to him. 

"Jude?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"You remember this morning when you asked me if Jason ever scared me, and I said he didn't?"

"Yeah."

"I lied. Sometimes he does scare me."

Jude was quiet. He just looked down at me, his expression concerned.

"Not because I'm afraid he'll hurt me," I said. "He'd never hurt me. But other people . . . He just gets so, so mad. That guy at the party he beat up is just one guy. There have been others."

Jude nodded, still not speaking.

"You asked me if I'd forgive him if he murdered someone," I said. "I know Jason, and if something bad happened to me, he would. He'd kill someone." He has, I thought, but I didn't say that out loud.

"Azazel—" started Jude.

But at moment, the door to the apartment burst open, and I heard Jason hurrying back the hall to my bedroom. "Azazel, where are you?" he called. "I called your phone three times—"

He broke off as he entered my bedroom. He looked at me and Jude, lying together on my bed. I watched emotions flit across Jason's face. Disbelief. Hurt. Anger. And then he put his hands in the air and backed out of the room.

Jude shot me a look. "Um," he whispered. "He knows I'm gay, right?"

"He knows," I said.

Jude nodded. "All the same, I think I'm gonna go." He got up and walked out of my bedroom.

"Be careful," I called after him.

"I will," he called back. "Hi, Jason," he said as he walked through the hall. Jason didn't respond. "Oh," came Jude's voice, echoing through the house, "you must be Lilith. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," she said. "You're Jude?"

"Yeah. I'm actually on my way out."

"Too bad," said Lilith. 

And then the apartment door opened and closed.

I got up and went to my door. "Jason, come in here. I need to tell you something."

His face was stone, but the rest of his body was twitching. His hands were clenched. His jaw was set. 

"Jason, come on," I said. "This is a big deal."

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't want to hear it."

"You don't even know what it is," I said.

"I know what it is," he said. 

"No, you don't."

He wouldn't look at me. "I worried," he said, "I always worried, because I knew that you kissed me while you were still dating Toby. But I told myself that didn't matter. I told myself that what we had was different than that. I told myself—"

"You worried about what?" I demanded.

"But you haven't changed," he said. "And right in our house."

"I haven't changed?" I repeated, my voice steadily rising. "What the hell?"

"I don't believe you, Azazel," Jason said quietly. "You have no idea what you mean to me. If I meant half as much to you as you do to me—"

"What is your problem, Jason? Why are you leaping to conclusions? And how could you throw Toby in my face like that?"

"You cheated on him with me," said Jason.

"But he had been cheating on me for four years before that," I said.

"But you didn't know that when you kissed me," he said. "And you said you loved him. You told me you loved him so many times. So many times that I almost believed it. I didn't think I had a chance."

"Oh my God, Jason, how can you possibly think that about me?"

"You have a pattern. You find your next boyfriend before you've dumped the other one. Well, I'm not going to give you the pleasure of dumping me, because I'm going to beat you to it. It's over, Azazel."

What?! 

"You idiot!" I growled. "You stupid, stupid, idiotic bastard. How dare you say I have a pattern? I don't have a pattern. And if you were so worried about this, why didn't you tell me you were worried? How could you have such a low opinion of me that you would think that I would do anything behind your back? You said that I didn't know you, but you clearly don't know me. And how dare you even think about breaking up with me?"

"Stop it," said Jason. "I just caught you—"

"You caught shit!" I screamed. "Fuck you!" And I was so angry that I slammed the door in his face.

I stood there fuming for several seconds. I could not believe that Jason thought such horrible things about me. And that he'd thought them for so long. He'd been waiting for me to be unfaithful to him, something he apparently thought I was capable of doing at any time for any reason. And I loved Jason more than I loved myself. I loved Jason more than life. I didn't want to imagine a world where Jason didn't exist. I was devoted to him, body, soul, and mind. And he thought—

Wait. I loved him.

I opened the door.

Jason was still standing there, but he looked a little bewildered. 

"Listen," he said. "You and Jude were lying together in bed—"

"Jude is gay!" I yelled. "Do I have to say it a thousand million times?"

"Bullshit, he's gay," Jason shouted. "I see the way he looks at you. That guy is about as gay as the Rock."

"He likes Britney Spears. And he paints his fingernails!"

"So?" said Jason.

"So, he's gay."

Jason shook his head.

"Oh, fine, whatever," I said. "The point is, nothing happened. Nothing happened at all. And if you'd shut up for a second and stop thinking stupid, horrible, unfounded things about me, I'd explain to you why he was even here in the first place."

Jason pursed his lips. "Nothing happened?" he asked.

"Nothing at all. He's gay!"

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "I just thought—"

"I know what you thought. You made that abundantly clear."

"Well, it's not like I don't have reason, Azazel," he said. "You have to admit that."

"Because of Toby?"

"Yeah."

"Toby is dead, Jason. How long do we have to live under the specter of Toby? And I never felt even a thousandth of the things I feel for you for Toby. I worship you, you dumbfuck. I can't live without you." I bit out the last words and folded my arms over my chest.

Jason hung his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" I shrieked. "Mr. Sutherland tried to rape me!"

Jason whirled, his eyes wide. "What?" he said. And there was an edge to his voice. A tinge of threat that terrified me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

aird92 (08:12:45): what the hell is going on? do u have anything to do with what happened to her?

michaela666 (08:13:08): What happened?

aird92 (08:13:22): sutherland. is he on our payroll or not?

michaela666 (08:14:02): Oh, no. Don't tell me that he did something.

aird92 (08:14:12): i thought he was under control. u said that he wouldnt mess everything up. or is this part of some plan u havent told me about?

michaela666 (08:14:37): I should have known that bastard couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Dammit! Tell me everything.

By the time Hallam got home, I was nearly frantic. Lilith had a cell phone, and she had Jason's number. We'd called it fifty times, but Jason wasn't picking up. Every time we called, it just went to voicemail. We left messages, each one more desperate, but it didn't seem to make any difference. 

Once I'd told Jason what had happened with Mr. Sutherland, he'd taken Hallam's gun from me and left the house. He'd been angry. He hadn't said anything, but I could tell from the way he walked.

I'd begged him not to leave. I didn't want him trying to tangle with Mr. Sutherland. I didn't want Jason to get hurt. And I didn't like the look in Jason's eyes. It scared me. It reminded me too much of the look Mr. Sutherland had gotten in his eyes when he'd described strangling that girl named Linda. Jason had swept out of the house, fierce determination written all over his face. And . . . something else. He looked . . . I don't know. Insane. 

Lilith had been frightened too. "Jason's kind of intense, isn't he?" she'd said in a small voice.

Hallam got back soon after Jason did. I feverishly filled him in on what had happened. He wasn't happy with me.

"Azazel, if I'd thought there was a chance in hell that you'd go to see that man, I would have contacted you sooner," he said. "Liam Sutherland is a wanted criminal in seven different countries. He's a rapist and murderer, and he has powerful friends. How stupid could you be?"

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."

When I told him that Jason had gone after Mr. Sutherland, Hallam got nearly as frantic as I was. "How could you let him go?" he demanded.

"We tried to stop him," said Lilith.

"We have to find him," Hallam said. 

The three of us piled into the car. We went to Mr. Sutherland's house. Hallam made us stay in the car, because he didn't have a gun. (I'd lost one in Mr. Sutherland's apartment, and Jason had the other one.) When he returned, he told us that the apartment had been broken into and searched, but that there was no sign of Jason or Mr. Sutherland.

"Mr. Sutherland probably went on the run after I left," I said. "He knew that I knew where he lived."

We checked the airport, to see if Mr. Sutherland was there. The airline personnel wouldn't disclose the names of passengers, and we weren't sure that Mr. Sutherland would even be travelling under his own name. Hallam bought a ticket for a plane, but he had to go through security to search the airport. It didn't take him too long. The Sarasota-Bradenton airport was not that large, and it didn't take too long to get through security. But they weren't there. Then we had to wait for Hallam to get a refund on his ticket. 

By this time, it was getting pretty late. We checked some bus stations, but couldn't find anything. 

"He might have just driven out of town, anyway," Hallam said. "Or maybe he went to Tampa to get a flight out."

"Well, Jason probably didn't find him, did he?" I asked.

Hallam didn't know. "Jason had a head start. Maybe he pulled him out of the airport. I don't know."

Finally, we went back home. It was after midnight. Hallam and Lilith were both exhausted and went to bed. Hallam told me that I should do the same. I tried. I put on my pajamas and lay awake in the dark. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop worrying about Jason. Just because I'd been able to get away from Mr. Sutherland didn't mean that he would. I'd mostly been lucky. A few good shots. And Mr. Sutherland had underestimated me. He'd thought I was an easy mark. I didn't know how much of a match he'd be for Jason.

And even if Jason didn't get hurt, what if he . . . ? 

I didn't know why it bothered me so much. But the wild look in Jason's eyes when he'd left the apartment was just scary. I didn't know why Jason got like that. Why he felt that he had to protect me so much. Why he felt the need to punish anyone who hurt me.

The hours crawled by. It was dark outside. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut every time an image of Jason broken and bleeding appeared in my head. But it didn't work, because I could see the images even with my eyes closed. Nothing worked. 

At around four in the morning, I heard the door to the apartment open. I jumped out of bed and raced into the living room. Jason stood in the living room in the darkness. He dropped his keys on the floor. 

Lilith was sleeping on the couch, and she stirred faintly, mumbling something incoherent.

I didn't want to wake her up.

I took Jason's hands to lead him out of the living room. They were wet, but not with water. It was too thick for that. Too warm.

It was blood. I knew it.

Jason was bleeding. My worst fears realized, I led him to the bathroom. I closed the door after us and flicked on the light.

Jason's hair was plastered to his forehead with blood and sweat. There were red streaks on his cheeks and chin. His clothes were spattered with it. And his hands . . . 

His hands were covered in blood.

Jason looked up at me from under his stringy, matted hair. His eyes were dull. He looked through me.

I put my hand to my mouth to stifle the little cry that was threatening to escape my lips. 

"Jason, what happened?" I whispered. 

He didn't answer. Didn't acknowledge that I'd spoken.

What had happened to him?

Shaking, I wet a washcloth in the sink and began to gently wipe away the blood, looking for his wounds. 

There weren't any.

I swallowed. This wasn't Jason's blood. 

Jason wasn't hurt. 

Oh God. What had he done? And if he'd done it because of me, was it my fault?

Jason picked up his hands. It was the first real movement I'd seen him make. He looked at them. I'd tried to wipe away the blood, but it gathered in the creases of his palms. Underneath his fingernails.

"So much," he murmured. "So much blood."

Oh. Oh, God.

I didn't know what to do. "We'll get rid of it," I said finally. "We'll wash it off."

But there was a lot of it. It was all over him.

I stripped off his ruined clothes and started the shower. I got him inside, but once there, he wouldn't move. He just stood unmoving under the water. I needed to help him, so I got in the shower with him.

I scrubbed him and scrubbed him. Scrubbed away every trace of blood. Washed his hair. Watched the blood wash down the drain, red and pink, swirling away from us like it had never existed.

"Azazel," Jason said suddenly, as if he'd just recognized me. He caught my head with both hands, looked deeply into my eyes like he was lost, and he didn't know how to find himself. 

"I'm here," I said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what I . . ." 

"It's okay," I said. "Whatever it is. It's okay. I love you."

"I need you," he said, and he kissed me.

His mouth was on mine insistently. I felt like he wanted to devour me, like he was pulling strength from my mouth. 

I broke away. "Jason," I said breathlessly. "Jason, what happened?"

He looked at me. He looked away. "Nothing can ever happen to you," he told the shower walls. "Without you, I'm nothing."

He looked back at me, and his eyes were filled with tears. 

I pulled him close, pressing my body against his. He put his lips on mine again. I felt his hands move on my skin, stroking me through the streams of water that rushed over us. 

And because I didn't know what else to do, because his hands were urgent, because I felt vulnerable and frightened, I touched him back.

The water poured over us, pounding against our naked skin. And we did the best we could to comfort each other the best we knew how. Jason gave me his hurt and confusion and fear and guilt, and I took it into my body. And as we crashed into each other, I gave it all to the water. I let it wash down the drain with Jason's tears.

* * *

My alarm went off at 6:15 the next morning. Jason stirred and then sat straight up in bed. "What?" he said, his eyes searching the room.

I reached over and turned the alarm off. "It's just the alarm," I murmured to him sleepily.

Jason lay back down. He drew me into his arms. He was wide awake, even though we'd only been asleep for a little over an hour. Jason could always be alert at a moment's notice, no matter how little sleep he'd gotten. "Are you getting up?" he asked me.

"Skipping school," I mumbled. I fell asleep again almost immediately, snug and safe in Jason's embrace.

When I woke up again, it was 9:30, and Hallam was standing over my bed. His arms were folded over his chest. He wasn't saying anything. I was still in Jason's arms, and Jason was still asleep. 

I looked at Hallam. He looked pissed. "Good morning?" I said.

"When did he get here?" Hallam asked. Damn. He sounded pissed too.

"Four or so," I said. 

"You know I don't like it when the two of you sleep in the same bed," said Hallam.

How could he possibly be concerned about Jason and I having sex after what had happened last night? It seemed like the least important thing to focus on. 

"He was . . ." I searched for a way to explain what Jason had been like last night. "He needed me," I finally settled on.

"Wake him up," said Hallam.

"We didn't get to sleep until nearly five," I said.

"Oh, spare me the details of your adolescent lust," Hallam said.

I glared at Hallam. "He needs to rest," I said.

"Wake him up," said Hallam. "And then get dressed and meet me in the kitchen."

"Hallam," I protested.

But Hallam was already going out the door to my bedroom. 

I sighed. I looked at Jason, sleeping next to me. His face looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake him. Lying next to him like this, I could hear his heart beating, steady and warm against my ear. If we just stayed like this, I could pretend that everything was normal and safe. I could pretend that Jason hadn't come home covered in blood last night. We could just be . . . 

What could we be? There was nothing normal about Jason and me. Normal kids didn't live together with a twenty-two-year-old ex-member of a secret society. Normal kids didn't deal with death and danger as much as we did. And normal kids didn't feel the way about each other that we felt about each other. 

I stroked his cheek. He stirred slightly, his lips parting. I kissed his temple, his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. 

"Azazel," he whispered. 

"Hey," I replied, kissing his lips.

He held me close. "This is nice. Waking up with you."

"Mmm," I agreed.

He gazed into my eyes, a small contented smile on his lips. I smiled back. Was there any reason that we had to move? Couldn't we just stay here, this close?

Hallam pounded on my door. "I mean it, Azazel!" he said. "Both of you get out here."

I sighed. "Hallam wants to talk to us."

"Yeah," said Jason. "Sounds like it." He started to push the covers aside, then stopped. "Can you get me some clothes from my room?"

I laughed. "Sure," I said. I shrugged into my pajamas and opened the door to my bedroom. Hallam was standing outside my door.

"I'm getting some clothes for Jason," I told him.

Hallam pushed past me into my bedroom. As I ducked into Jason's room to grab him a t-shirt and some pants, I heard Hallam yelling at Jason.

"This is the second time this week I've caught the two of you in the same bed," he was saying.

I sighed, rushing back with the clothes as quickly as I could. Just when I thought Hallam was starting to be kind of cool, he turned into the same prudish, overbearing jerk he'd always been.

"Jesus, Hallam," Jason was saying as I reentered the room, "can you give me a second to put on some pants?"

"Don't act like that," Hallam said. "You were off doing God knows what last night, and we were all quite concerned. Beside ourselves, really. Just because Azazel's forgiven you doesn't mean that I have. So, don't pretend for a second that this isn't serious."

I handed Jason his clothes and sat down on the bed. Hesitantly, I said, "What did happen last night, Jason?"

"Oh," said Hallam sarcastically, "so you didn't ask him that before the two of you started screwing then?"

Screwing? That wasn't a word I'd heard Hallam use before. He must be pretty angry. 

"It wasn't like that," I said, studying my hands. "I had to . . ." It wasn't any of Hallam's business.

Jason was holding his clothes. "Can you give me a second, Hallam?" he asked. 

"A second?"

"Yeah. To get dressed. Or are you jealous that Azazel got to see my penis, and you didn't?" 

I stood up, throwing a confused look at Jason. He didn't sound like himself. He usually wasn't so flip. 

Hallam rolled his eyes. "Oh, by all means, if you need your privacy." He stalked out of the room, leaving the door open. 

"Jason," I said. 

"What?" he said, yanking his pants over his feet. 

"Where were you?"

He shook his head. 

"You have to tell me," I said. "I washed all that blood off of you. Why did—"

"Not yet," Jason interrupted me. "I don't want to talk about it. Yet."

I watched him for a minute. He wasn't looking at me. Then I followed Hallam out of the bedroom. 

I found Hallam in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. I stopped in the doorway, feeling a little like I was intruding. "Where's Lilith?" I asked.

Hallam dropped his hands and looked up at me. "I sent her out for a few hours when I realized Jason was back."

"But is that safe?" I asked.

"I assume whatever threat Mr. Sutherland presented is neutralized," said Hallam. "Isn't that right, Jason?"

I looked over my shoulder. Jason was standing behind me. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He was staring at the floor. 

"Well?" Hallam prompted. "Isn't that right?"

Jason raised his eyes to meet Hallam's. "Look," he said, "do we really have to do this right now? I mean, I'm kind of hungry. Maybe we should get breakfast or something."

Hallam snorted. "Breakfast," he repeated. He gestured to the other chairs at the table. "Both of you come in here and sit down."

As we did so, I was oddly reminded of sitting down with my parents in October. They'd found out that Jason and I had snuck out to a party and that Jason had beaten someone up. I'd been so certain they were going to punish me, but instead, Jason had turned their own words against them. I remembered how I'd realized in that moment that Jason was different. He wasn't like other guys. He was more serious, more intelligent, more sure of himself. I looked at him now, and I still saw all of that. I reached for his hand. He squeezed my fingers briefly and then dropped my hand.

"You two are too young to be having the kind of sexual relationship that you seem to want to have," said Hallam.

Oh God. Not this again. "What's the big deal?" I said. "Most kids our age are having sex."

"Most kids your age are not living together," said Hallam. 

"If they are," I said, "I bet they're sleeping in the same bed."

"Besides," said Jason, "we might be young, but we've been through a lot together. You can't tell me that we behave like normal seventeen year olds."

Hallam shrugged. "I believe that Sunday morning, you were telling me that the reason that Azazel was drinking so much was because you were normal seventeen-year-olds."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't understand why this bugs you so much, Hallam," I said. "I know that you were part of the Sons, and that they were all celibate or whatever, but why do you care so much what we do?"

"I'm your guardian," said Hallam.

"But you aren't our parent," I said. "And we'll both be eighteen in a few months."

"We were together before you were even part of our lives," said Jason. "We don't need this kind of interference."

Hallam shook his head. "You don't understand. It's not about the sex. I couldn't care less what the two of you are doing. It's about how close the two of you are. It's not healthy."

What? I tried to look at Jason and see his reaction that statement, but Jason was still staring at the table. "We're in love," I said to Hallam. "Of course we're close."

"No," said Hallam. "You two aren't in love. You're obsessed with each other. When I look at you, it's like seeing two parts of one entity or something. It's disturbing."

Disturbing?! "You know, I don't think you're really qualified to talk much about love," I said to Hallam. "When have you ever witnessed it?"

"I know that the way Jason reacts to threats to your safety is very, very frightening. It's not normal. It's dangerous. For all of us."

I didn't say anything. Jason didn't either. 

"Look at me, Jason," said Hallam.

Jason didn't.

"Jason," said Hallam.

Jason looked up. "What?" he asked.

"I need you to tell me what you did last night."

Jason shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this." 

"I don't care," said Hallam. "We have to talk about this. Incidentally, where is my gun? Did you leave it somewhere with your fingerprints all over it?"

"I lost it," Jason said again.

"Lost it?" said Hallam. 

"Jason," I said softly, "you do need to tell us what happened. I can't handle you running off like that."

Jason buried his face in his hands. 

"Did you find Sutherland?" asked Hallam.

"Yes," said Jason.

"Where was he?"

"In his apartment," said Jason. "He didn't even try to run."

"And then what happened?" asked Hallam.

"I don't –" Jason said. "Does it really matter?"

"Fine," said Hallam. "Then tell me this. What did you do with it?"

The gun? What did Hallam mean, "it"?

"Hallam, it's confusing," Jason said, dragging his fingers over his face. "It's all blurry, okay?"

Hallam stood up. He leaned across the table. "I need to know. I need to know, because I need to know if anyone's going to find it. You forget, Jason, that we don't have the Sons to clean up our messes anymore. If you're going to run off all half-cocked, and you don't clean up after yourself, then we're all going to have problems. All of us. Azazel included, you understand that?"

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Hallam, please don't—"

"Jason," Hallam interrupted, his voice even and low, "what did you do with the body?"

I gasped, sitting back in my chair. Body?

Jason got out of his chair. He walked out of the kitchen.

Hallam went after him. I didn't move. I couldn't move. 

"Answer me, Jason," he said.

Jason came back into the kitchen. He sat down next to me. He took both of my hands in his. 

"Is it true?" I asked him. "Did you . . ."

"No," said Jason. "No, I didn't."

"Don't lie to her," said Hallam, clapping a hand onto Jason's shoulder.

Jason dropped my hands. He didn't look at Hallam. He didn't look at me. 

"You saying you didn't kill him?" asked Hallam. "Then where is he? If he's alive, he's more of a problem than if he's dead."

Jason shook his head, still staring into space. "I remember that he had a gun, and that I kicked it out of his hands. I remember that I hit him. I hit him a lot. I remember that he was bleeding. He was bleeding everywhere. I just kept hitting him."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't . . ." Jason started shaking, all over. 

I looked up at Hallam. "Don't make him—"

Hallam silenced me with a look. "Pull yourself together. I taught you better than this."

Jason stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. He advanced on Hallam. Hallam backed up. "That's right, you did, didn't you?" said Jason. "You taught me how to do this. You showed me." As he talked, he kept moving forward. Hallam kept backing away from him until he was against the counter over the kitchen sink. Jason just kept talking, angrily spitting his words into Hallam's face. "That's why you're so angry with me now, isn't it? Because you think it's your fault. You think that if you hadn't ever showed me what to do, I'd never have done any of this."

"I'm not responsible for your actions, Jason," Hallam said quietly, but he looked alarmed. "You're the only one who's responsible for what you've done."

"What I've done, huh? Because whatever it is that I've done is so dangerous to all of us?"

"Yes," said Hallam.

"Three things, Hallam," said Jason. "First of all, Sutherland's not a problem anymore. He's taken care of."

I felt a little chill run through my body. What did that mean? 

"Second," Jason continued, "while you're going on about how horrible it is that I'm behaving the way I am, you seem to be forgetting one important thing. I saved your life. You remember that?"

"Jason—" Hallam sounded a little nervous.

"Remember that?"

"Yes."

"And you promised me that you'd always have my back too. Remember that?"

"Yes."

"Good," said Jason. "Third, you can't tell me where to sleep."

Jason didn't look at me as he swept out of the kitchen. I heard the door to our apartment slam. I winced. 

Hallam was still standing against the counter. His face was white. I swallowed, looking at him. 

"Well," I said. "That went well."

* * *

Hallam left the house pretty quickly after Jason did. He didn't say much. He just gathered his things and took off. Jason hadn't taken the car when he left, so I didn't think that he'd gone far. I was worried, but not as worried as I had been the night before. I didn't have a cell phone, so I couldn't call Jason. I ate some cereal in the kitchen, wandered around the house. I didn't know what to do. It felt like lately, all I did was worry about things. I was exhausted. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before either.

I lay back down, finally. And within a few minutes, I went back to sleep. My sleep was dreamless. I felt like I'd been pulled into a black hole. When I woke up, I could hear voices floating down the hall from the living room. It was Lilith and Jason. 

I stirred. Opened my eyes. Jason was home. I should go to him. 

Then I heard my name.

"I don't know what to do about Azazel," Jason was saying. "I love her so much, but I don't know if she loves me as much as I love her."

What? I froze on my bed, unable to believe he doubted my feelings for him.

"Why don't you know?" Lilith asked.

"I don't feel like she really had a choice," Jason said. "Her entire world got destroyed. I was all she had. I don't know if she really loves me or if she's just clinging to anything she can cling to."

"You think she's clingy?"

"No," said Jason. "No, just the opposite, really. She's very independent. She wants to party all the time. She wants to protect herself. Wanting to go shooting and all of that. It's like she's trying to make sure she doesn't need me. Like she's preparing to leave or something."

No! It wasn't that at all. It was that I didn't want to slow Jason down. I didn't want him to become hurt because he had to protect me. Why did Jason doubt me? Had I ever given him cause?

"The partying bothers you, huh?" asked Lilith.

"No, not really," said Jason. "I understand that she wants to have fun."

"I always felt like Zaza was a powderkeg," said Lilith. "Back in Bramford, I got the impression that the only thing holding her back was Toby and her family. If she could have let loose then, I think she would have. Big time."

That wasn't true. I wasn't a powderkeg.

"So, it's good that she's doing it now, then," said Jason. "She's free."

"Is it good?" Lilith asked.

"Yeah," said Jason. "It's fine. I just worry about her, you know. I worry about her a lot. She's very important to me."

"You don't worry that she might explode?" Lilith asked. 

"Explode?"

Explode?!

"That it might end up being too much. That she'll go overboard with the partying and drinking. She'll self-destruct," said Lilith.

I wasn't anywhere close to self-destructing.

"Why?" said Jason, sounding concerned. "Do you think she might?"

"I haven't really been able to talk to her," said Lilith. "But she is sneaking around a lot, isn't she? To the shooting range, and then to Mr. Sutherland's?"

"That's true," said Jason. 

"She's lying. She's trying to hide her behavior, because she knows it's erratic," said Lilith.

Bull. Lilith was full of crap.

"Maybe you're right," said Jason.

God. I should get up right now and let them know that I was listening to their conversation. I wanted to shut Lilith up. But for some reason, I was driven to keep listening. Some kind of morbid curiosity, maybe.

"And have you noticed that both of those times, she ended up alone with Jude?" Lilith asked.

What was she doing? Was she trying to make Jason jealous of me? Was this why he was acting the way he was? Was Lilith poisoning him?

"You met him," Jason said. "Do you think he's gay?"

"No way," said Lilith. "That boy's eyes settled on my tits for like five whole seconds. He's not gay."

Jason laughed. "Well, I don't know if that's conclusive, Lil."

Lil?! He was calling her by a nickname?

"Gay guys don't like tits," she said.

"Maybe not," he said, "but I think it's tough for anyone not to . . . stare at you."

"Stare at me?" Lilith giggled. 

"You're kind of . . . well-endowed," Jason said.

Oh. My. God. Jason was talking to Lilith about her breasts? Now I couldn't move. I was beginning to feel very, very sick.

"Maybe," said Lilith, "but the look that Jude gave me was a very ungay look."

"I know what you mean," said Jason. "I really don't like the way he looks at Azazel."

"Do you really think that Azazel would do that to you, though? Do you think she'd cheat on you and not break up with you?"

"Where would she go? If she didn't want to be with me, she'd probably feel trapped here. She has to live here."

I did not. Was everyone forgetting the fact that I had a very rich grandmother? I stayed with Jason by choice. And I couldn't believe that after last night, he could possibly still be questioning my fidelity. If I didn't want to be with him, he should realize that showing up covered in blood would have probably sealed the deal.

Besides, when we'd made love last night, it had felt, to me anyway, like something very, very real. Like Jason and I had connected on a level we'd never connected with. Like it wasn't just our bodies touching, but our souls . . . 

Clearly, he hadn't felt that.

"Wow," said Lilith, "that's true."

"But," said Jason, "she cares about me. I just think she realizes that I'm holding her back. That being with me makes her life dangerous. I think she wishes she could have a boyfriend like Jude. Someone fun. Someone who she can just go crazy with."

Why was Jason so jealous of Jude?

"Someone normal," said Lilith.

"Yeah."

Augh. She couldn't have picked a worse word to say.

"So," said Lilith, "when you found them on her bed yesterday, you don't think anything was going on?"

Jason hesitated. "I don't think she thinks anything was going on. I think she thinks Jude is really gay. But I think Jude was loving every second of it. When he walked past me in the hall, he gave me this look." There was a long pause. "But, she couldn't be. Last night, when she took care of me when I came back, she was so . . . I can't believe that I could have been so close to her, that she could make me feel the way she made me feel, and be doing anything behind my back."

So, he had felt something then?

"Can't believe, or don't want to believe?"

"She couldn't have faked that," said Jason.

"Girls can fake all kinds of things, Jason." Lilith's voice dropped. It sounded sultry. Suggestive. "For instance, are you sure that she's completely, well, satisfied?"

She wasn't asking this, was she? She couldn't be. 

"What do you mean?" Jason asked.

"You know what I mean."

"I . . ." 

"You know," said Lilith in her seductive voice, "I used to be very, um, frustrated myself. I guess I thought that guys would know how to please me without me telling them anything."

"And they didn't?" Jason sounded concerned.

"The female body is a mysterious thing to men," Lilith said, her voice going breathy. "There's no way they could have fully understood what it was I needed."

"Oh."

"You think you understand what women need?"

"I . . . well . . ."

"It's okay. It's not your fault. Someone needs to show you."

Show him?

And then it was quiet.

My heart raced. What was going on? Why weren't they talking? What was Lilith doing? And why couldn't I move?

I fought with myself. Fought against the images that were flashing through my mind. Images of Lilith and Jason, just a few rooms away. They were sitting on the couch, probably. Was she close? How close was she? What could she possibly be showing him? 

I could think of several possibilities. All of them made me sick to my stomach. 

I needed to get up. Throw aside the covers on my bed. Jam my feet into slippers. Tear into the living room. Scream at them to stop. 

But try as I might, I couldn’t will my body to move.