Breathless (24 page)
"Where would you go?" Jason asked.
He was concerned about me. That was sweet. I had to reassure him not to worry about me, so that he'd be able to take care of himself. "I'd figure something out," I said.
"You wouldn't have to worry about me."
"Like what would you figure out?"
God, he was stubborn. "I would . . ." I shrugged. "I don't know exactly."
Jason looked stunned. He sat back in his seat. "I can understand why you'd want to get away from me," he said in a quiet voice.
Of course he understood. He knew that I was weighing him down. My presence endangered him. "Good," I said. "So after breakfast, you should get out of the city, and I'll—"
"Wait," he said. "Okay, I know that it's dangerous for you being around me. And I appreciate your wanting to go someplace away from that and away from me. But I can't leave you in the city by yourself. There are other dangers besides the Sons, you know. You're just a girl."
Just a girl. That was it exactly. He even thought of me as something hard to protect and take care of. "No, Jason, I don't want you to have to try to take care of me anymore. That's the whole point. If you stay here and try to help me get safe, then the Sons will find you. We can't waste time."
"You want to get away from me that badly?"
What? Had he been listening to me at all? "It's not about me wanting to get away from you, Jason," I said.
"That's what you just said," he said.
"No," I said. "I want to stay with you. I'm scared to be without you. But that's selfish of me, and I can't put you in danger."
Jason looked confused. He didn't say anything for several minutes. The waitress came back and asked if there was anything else we needed. "Just the check," said Jason. He shook his head at me, still looking confused. "You don't put me in danger," he said.
"I'm always in danger. It's the way things are. You can't add to that in any way."
"I slow you down," I said. "I'm just a girl. I can't . . . shoot guns or beat people up."
"Sure you can," he said. "You just don't know how yet."
The waitress brought back the check. Jason threw several bills on top of it and stood up. I stood up with him.
"So, let me get this straight," he said. "You do want to stay with me."
"Yes," I said. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted it. Even though Jason said I couldn't put him in any worse danger, I didn't know if I really believed him.
"And you aren't worried about what kind of danger I'm putting you in, you're just worried about me?"
"Yes," I said.
We left the restaurant. The sun had climbed a little higher into the sky. It was reflecting off the tall buildings that surrounded us, like it was splintered by thousands and thousands of mirrors.
"Azazel," said Jason, "as long as you want to be around me, I want you to be around me. Okay?"
I nodded.
Impulsively, Jason closed the distance between us in one quick step. His arms went around me, and he pulled me against his chest. His eyes searched mine questioningly, waiting for me to tell him to stop. When I didn't, he crushed his lips against mine.
We stood in the brilliant New York sunlight, cars honking on the street around us, people swerving around us on the sidewalk, ignoring us completely, and we kissed for a very long time.
* * *
We grinned at each other as we sat next to each other. I watched the stone walls of the underground tunnels fly past us. Being with Jason like this, our hands entwined, so close, it just felt right. I'd never felt anything like this before. And I knew that from the first time I'd seen Jason, I'd begun to feel it. I pictured him, running out the woods, sweating and panting. He'd been so alive then. When he'd burst into my life, he'd kick-started something in me that hadn't ever woken up before. He'd brought me to life. Real life. All of the things I'd thought I'd felt for Toby had been adolescent and immature. They were products of living life with the mute button on, in black and white. Jason turned the volume up to eleven. He let the colors in.
Jason squeezed my hand. He leaned close. "So," he said, "this is what we'll do. We'll take the subway, and then we'll take the ferry over the Hudson into New Jersey. You ever been on a ferry?"
"No," I said.
"So that will be cool," he said.
New Jersey? I had a thought suddenly. "You know," I said, "my Aunt Stephanie lives in New Jersey."
To: Alfred Norwich
From: Richard Durham
Subject: Re: West Virginia
Alfred,
We've been monitoring the situation in West Virginia, tapping the phones of the Jones family. It's our feeling that if the family should come in contact with Jason again, they would be an immediate threat to his person. For now, we've just got them under surveillance, but if they should make any moves, we would recommend termination.
It's also my personal feeling that since Hallam was so adamant we stay away from West Virginia, he knew Jason was there the entire time. That means any place he said Jason wouldn't be is probably where Jason is.
Yours in the pursuit of the Purpose,
Richard
It wasn't as hard to find Aunt Stephanie as I feared. Jason and I just found an internet café and used the computers to look her up on anywho.com. We got a phone number and an address. Aunt Stephanie lived in Alpine, NJ, which Jason said was good, because it was relatively close. We were already in New Jersey, having gotten off the ferry. We weren't sure if we should call Aunt Stephanie first. I'd told Jason that my aunt hadn't really kept in touch with my family and that she and my grandmother had disowned my mother for marrying below her station.
Jason wasn't sure it was a good idea for us to go to my aunt's house. I had to admit that my last idea of going somewhere for help (Ms. Campbell) had backfired completely. But he admitted that Alpine, NJ was the last place the Sons would look for him and that he didn't have any better ideas.
Apparently, Alpine was a community of really, really rich people. I hadn't known this.
But all the houses there were worth millions of dollars.
"Your mother really did marry down," said Jason.
We decided to call her, because we were going to have to take a bus to Alpine, and if she didn't want us to be there, we'd have wasted all that money. I had to admit there were definite advantages to this whole metropolitan area thing. Public transportation was a marvelous thing. It was really cool getting around without a car. One less thing to worry about.
I dialed my aunt's number on a payphone (which was extremely hard to find in this day of cell phones. Neither Jason nor I had one). It rang and rang. I chewed on my lip nervously.
Finally, someone answered the phone. "Hoyt residence." That was my mother's maiden name. Aunt Stephanie had never married.
"Um," I said, "may I speak to Stephanie Hoyt?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"It's her niece, Azazel," I said.
"Hold on," said the voice, but whoever it was sounded a little startled. I wondered who was answering the phone at Aunt Stephanie's house. Did she have servants or something?
I waited. Finally, someone picked up the phone. "Azazel?"
"Hi Aunt Stephanie," I said.
"Is your mother with you?" she asked.
"Um . . . I've kind of run away from home," I said.
"Of course you have. How could you live there with that woman?" said Aunt Stephanie. "Where are you?"
"In Hoboken," I said. That wasn't the response I was expecting.
"Oh my God," said Aunt Stephanie. "Alone?"
"N-no, I have a friend."
"Well, thank Heaven for that. I wouldn't want you all alone out there," she said. "I'm sending a car. Tell me exactly where you are."
After giving her a detailed location, I hung up the phone. "She's sending a car," I said to Jason. "She didn't seem upset that I ran away."
"Good sign," said Jason.
* * *
We pulled up in the car that she'd sent for us. Apparently, Aunt Stephanie had a chauffer. She also had a brand new black BMW. I felt out of place in it, as if I was afraid I might break something or spill something or that my very presence might somehow destroy it.
Aunt Stephanie met us at the door. I recognized her from pictures my mother had shown me, but she was definitely older now. She was a somewhat plump woman with short, brown hair. She wore a lot of makeup. But she had a big smile and a New Jersey accent, which I kind of liked. Vaguely, I wondered why my mother didn't have an accent.
"Oh my God," she said as we approached. "Look at you, Azazel. The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my knees. You are beautiful."
"Uh, thanks," I said.
She was sort of brash, but I liked it.
"Who's your friend?"
"This is Jason," I said. "He was a foster kid at my parents' house for a few months."
"So you ran away together, then," she said, ushering us into her house.
Inside it was even more breathtaking than outside. She led us into a foyer, tiled in white marble. There was a small table in the center, on which a large bouquet of white roses sat. Behind it was a massive expanse of space. The far wall was composed entirely of windows. Through them I could see a garden. It was fall, so not much was growing, but there were several very pretty evergreen trees and bushes.
"You poor things," Aunt Stephanie continued. "You have bags?"
"No," I said.
"Heavens! Just the clothes on your backs then?"
Jason and I nodded. I was glad to see that even Jason was a little taken aback with the surroundings and Aunt Stephanie. It was good not to be the only overwhelmed one.
Aunt Stephanie threw back her head and bellowed, "Marci!"
A tiny woman darted out into the foyer.
"Ms. Hoyt?" she said. Even her voice was tiny.
Aunt Stephanie waved her hands at us. "They need clothes," she said. "Marci, measure them. Get them something."
Marci pulled measuring tape out of her pocket and began measuring us. Jason and I exchanged glances over Marci's head. What was going on?
"Honestly," said Aunt Stephanie. "You look awful. Just awful. And you must be starving. I think Lydia's whipping up something for lunch in the kitchen, so at least you'll have something to eat, but my God, when was the last time you had a shower?"
"Um . . ." I tried to think. It had been awhile. "Friday?" I said.
"No," said Aunt Stephanie, looking terrorized. "That's horrible. Just horrible. Well, don't worry, I've got bathrooms. Come with me."
She started walking away. Marci was still measuring us. We didn't move.
Aunt Stephanie looked back at us. "Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for?"
Then she noticed Marci. "Oh, enough already, Marci. My God, you and I both know you can look at someone and tell what size they are. Just get some clothes. Have them delivered. I don't care. But I want something here by the time both of them are done bathing."
Marci bobbed her head and darted out of the room.
Jason and I followed Aunt Stephanie.
She deposited us both in separate bathrooms on the same wing. Once inside, I didn't do anything for a few minutes. I just stood staring at the bathroom, gaping. This was a
guest
bathroom, and it was the size of my bedroom at home. It was all white like the foyer. It was too white. I was afraid to get clean in a bathroom like this. What if I got it dirty?
Before I'd even had a chance to undress, Aunt Stephanie knocked on my door with some clothes. "Marci's getting more," she assured me. "This is just a start. I don’t know if you like them or not, or if they're in style. I don't keep up with that kind of thing, but Marci has impeccable taste, and I'm sure we can trust her to have picked out something nice."
She ducked back out of the bathroom without another word. I looked at the clothes.
They were very nice. There was a pair of jeans and a peasant top. They still had price tags on them. I looked at the price tags. I gagged.
After showering, Jason and I joined Aunt Stephanie in her kitchen "nook" (if this was what she called a nook, I'd hate to see what a cranny was) for lunch. Jason also had new clothes. Our clothes did seem to fit us very well. Apparently, Marci was talented.
For lunch, we all sat down to eat enormous chef salads. Aunt Stephanie barely had a bite swallowed before she began talking. "Now," she said, "you have got to tell me, Azazel, what happened? Why did you leave?"
I was hesitant. The last time I'd told this story—to Ms. Campbell—it really hadn't turned out well.
"Don't be shy," she said. "There are reasons why I don't speak to your mother anymore. And I told her that if she continued down the path she was on, she would lose her children. I warned her, but she did not listen. And so I just want to know exactly what happened, so that if I ever do see her again, I can say I told you so."
"Well," I said, still not reassured. This story was really weird. "My parents kind of surprised me on Halloween."
"Oh my God," said Aunt Stephanie, "she made you participate in a Black Mass, didn't she?"
"You know about that?" I asked.
"Well, why do you think we disowned her?" Aunt Stephanie asked.
I was shocked. "I always thought it was because dad was poor," I said.
"No, no. That was fine." Aunt Stephanie took another bite of her salad. "Everything was fine. Well, Mother was not exactly thrilled, but we dealt with that. I even tried to send your mother money, and, of course, she's stubborn, and she wouldn't take it. But when she found out she couldn't get pregnant, well, she just went nuts."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "My mother didn't get disowned until after she and Dad were married?"
"No. It wasn't until she started doing all those weird spell things to try to get pregnant," said Aunt Stephanie.