Trembling (9 page)

* * *

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.