I shook my head. “I don’t care. I’m not giving them up.”
She sighed, laying the pencil down carefully. “You’ll follow the orders of the OF without question? Use the powers for whatever operation they deem necessary?”
“Of course,” I said.
“And there’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?”
I shook my head again. “Listen, is this all? Because Chance is probably waking up from his nap, and he’s going to be hungry. I’ve got to go make him a bottle.”
Lily shrugged, standing up. “I’ll talk to my superiors and see if your offer is acceptable.” She held out her hand.
I shook it, but all I could think about was that there was no finger. There were several painful flashes inside my head. “Evil spawn,” said a woman’s voice. And then the sensation of Jason’s lips—
Ugh. Why did she have to have so many memories of him that were like that?
I got to my feet, one hand on my head.
“Are you okay?” Lily was concerned.
“Fine,” I said. The painful sensation was already fading.
* * *
~kieran~
Chance had woken up alone in his crib and was already yelling. He was getting to a point where he got very upset if he was left alone or left with unfamiliar people. I had thought this was because he missed Azazel, but I did some research, and apparently, it was only a normal baby development thing. He didn’t quiet down for a long time, even though I walked him around the room rocking him and trying to give him a bottle. Instead, he just howled, his tiny mouth wide open.
He wasn’t the least bit interested in his bottle, so eventually I gave up on it and gave him a sippy cup of juice instead. He clutched the handles with his chubby hands and quieted.
Every day, he looked more like his dad, and as much as I hated myself for it, I didn’t like it. I set Chance on the floor of the apartment I’d shared with Azazel until about three weeks ago. We’d been there for about four months or so. Originally, Azazel hadn’t wanted anything to do with the OF. We’d spent our time running from city to city, sleeping where we could. I’d convinced her that it wasn’t good for Chance, and that going to the OF would provide a safer environment for him. So we’d come here. Chance’s baby toys were strewn across the carpet, and he quickly abandoned the sippy cup for a large bright block, which he began to pound against the floor, laughing. The worst thing about losing Azazel was Chance.
We hadn’t exactly been a conventional family, considering we were raising her ex-boyfriend’s kid. But having Chance had been the only thing that had made the last few months of my life bearable. With Chance, Azazel was completely different. She was sweet and motherly. She held him and tickled him and sang to him.
And then, from inside her brain, she controlled the minds of thousands of soldiers and sent them on suicide missions to destroy people. And she liked it.
I couldn’t handle it. It didn’t make any sense for her to be so kind and wonderful in one situation and so ruthless and cruel in another. If it hadn’t been for Chance, we would have ripped apart. And I’d done what I’d done only because I wanted to save her—the part of her that was Chance’s surrogate mother. Not the part of her that was some kind of all-powerful being who didn’t give a rip about human life. It was the magic that did that to her. I know it was.
When I met Azazel, she actively resisted using it, and once she gave into it, she changed. She grew more and more... well, evil. I know it seems weird to think of anyone besides cartoons as evil, but that’s what she was becoming. She loved the power. Even though she was supposed to be working for the OF, she never listened to them. Azazel had to have her own agenda. She had to use the power however she wanted. It was like she was addicted to it. And that was disturbing, because, before, all she’d wanted was to get rid of it. In fact, we’d spent a lot of time searching for a grimoire, a book of spells, which had a purging ritual in it. Azazel wanted to use it to get rid of her powers.
Three weeks ago, I found the grimoire in one of Azazel’s bags. She’d had it all this time. She’d had it for over a year. And she hadn’t used it. She hadn’t purged her powers, because now that she was this cruel all-powerful being, she liked it.
I was sickened. I was betrayed. And if it hadn’t been for Chance, I would have left. I would have taken him with me and hidden. But I couldn’t do that, because Chance loved Azazel, and I didn’t want to take her away from him. I decided instead that I’d do the purging ritual myself. I thought that if I could purge Azazel’s powers, I could bring her back. She’d be like she was, and all of the darkness in her would be gone. I wanted that so badly.
I remember the day I did it. It was late, and we’d put Chance to sleep. She was getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth in the bathroom. I was sitting on our bed, watching her through the crack in the door. I had the grimoire open on the bed in front of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to her. Maybe I should have done it. Maybe that would have made it work the right way. But I had to know why she’d kept this from me for all these months.
So when she came back into the bedroom in her pajamas, I said, “Why did you hide it from me?”
She looked from the grimoire to me and then back again. “You found it.”
I nodded. “Please tell me you have a good explanation for not telling me you had it.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I was waiting until we could get close to Jason. I can’t purge my powers and leave his. He’ll destroy the world.”
I thought she’d say something like that. “We know where he is now. He’s set up that weird commune type thing in the country. It’s an hour’s drive from D.C. We could go tomorrow. We could purge both of your powers then.”
She didn’t say anything.
I knew she wouldn’t go for it, but I had to try. “You never had any intention of getting rid of your powers. You like them too much.”
“I will get rid of them someday, Kieran,” she said. “I will. Just not yet.”
“You’re lying,” I said. “I don’t know if you’re only lying to me, or if you’re lying to yourself too, but I can’t let you continue this way. You’re destroying yourself. You’re destroying the world. And Chance and I need you.” That was when I started reading the words of the purging spell aloud.
Azazel realized what I was doing immediately. She started forward, trying to snatch the book from me, but the spell caught her. I could see it. It was like shimmering little strands of light, filtering out of my mouth and winding themselves around her body. It trapped her there and held her while I read.
Azazel lashed out with her power. I felt it like a tugging in my brain, a small voice that whispered to me to stop reading the spell. I faltered, struggling against the whispering voice. I knew it wasn’t mine.
Azazel strained against the bonds of the spell, trying to break free.
But she couldn’t, and I kept reading.
The light of the strands surrounding her body grew brighter and they began to make a sizzling sound. Tiny plumes of smoke emanated from them.
Azazel started screaming.
I wanted to stop. But I didn’t know if I wanted to stop because I wanted to stop or because she wanted me to stop. We were connected suddenly, her thoughts were booming inside my head. She was thinking, No, Kieran, don’t. Kieran, you’re hurting me. Kieran, please!
And I kept reading.
Then there was an explosion of light and sound. It knocked both of us onto our backs. I sat up, looking for her. She was dazed, staring around the room as if she’d never seen it before. “Who are you?” she said in a small voice.
And before I could answer, my head began to throb. There was an influx of voices and sounds and pictures. Sensations. Things I didn’t know. Things I couldn’t know. And underneath it all was a scaly whisper, slithering around inside my head, knocking against the inside of my skull. My temple pounded in pain. I clutched my head and screamed and screamed.
I
woke up sometime later. Chance was crying. Azazel was gone. My head still hurt.
And I realized that I had purged Azazel’s power. At least, I’d taken it away from her. But I’d transferred it to me, along with all of her memories. She had run away, no idea of who she was. And we still hadn’t found her.
CHAPTER TWO
~joan~
It was instinctive. I struggled. My hands went to his hand on my throat, and I tried to pull it away. His face loomed over mine, twisted into an ugly sneer. Why was he doing this? The Jason I’d seen on the videos was kind and peaceful, never violent.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Why aren’t you using your powers to make this crowd surge against me?”
What was he talking about? I was having trouble breathing. I tugged at the hand he had around my neck, but it didn’t make any difference. I tried to use my legs to kick him, but I couldn’t make impact.
“You can’t think that seeing me hurt you would change their minds about me,” he said. “You know my power better than anyone.”
The world was going dark. My hands fell away from his hand, weakly.
And abruptly, he let me go. “Maybe,” he said as he scrambled off me, “we’ll have our tearful reunion somewhere more private.”
I coughed, feeling dizzy. I struggled to sit up.
Jason snapped his fingers and several men in dark clothes surrounded me, yanking me to my feet. As they led me away, I stole a glance over my shoulder at Tessa and Garth, who looked bewildered, but not concerned or worried. Maybe there was nothing to fear. Maybe this was normal.
The men took me behind the stage to a squat building that had no windows. Like the stage, it was made from mismatched pieces of wood. Inside, there was one dark room. The men forced me to sit down on a chair. They were in the middle of tying me to it when Jason came in and told them not to bother. “Ropes won’t stop her,” he said.
Jason lit a kerosene lamp, illuminating the room. There was nothing inside it except a few chairs and makeshift work table, where the lamp sat. On the walls, however, I could see that whips hung in coils, nailed to the wall. One in particular had bits of broken glass attached to it. What was this place?
Jason snapped his fingers again and the men filed out of the building, closing the door behind them. Jason pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.
“So,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
Jason was acting like he knew me. I might have lost my memory, but I didn’t think that I’d ever known Jason. If I had, why wouldn’t I have been here when I woke up? “I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said.
Jason barked out an astonished laugh. “What?”
“I think you think I’m someone that I’m not,” I said.
Jason sat back in his chair, stretching out his legs in front of himself. “Okay, then. Who are you?”
“I’m Joan,” I said. “I came here because I felt a call. I felt drawn to this place and to you. I thought you welcomed everyone.”
Jason laughed again. “You expect me to buy that? What kind of game are you playing here? Where are your armies? Where’s your little lapdog boy toy, Kieran? Where’s my son? Have you got him calling that wuss-face Daddy?”
I pulled my arms in close to my body, crossing them and massaging my elbows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “This is me we’re talking about. You might be able to fool other people with stories like that, but you can’t fool me. I know you better than anyone on earth, babe.” His eyes swept my body, and I felt like they were peering under my clothes. “I know every part of you.” His voice had gotten deeper.
Was that true? Did Jason know who I was? Did he have the secrets to my identity? “Well,” I said, “maybe I did know you, and I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have amnesia,” I said. “I remember things about the world, but I don’t know who I am, and I don’t remember anything about my life. I remember you, though. I remember that I wanted to be here in Jasontown. I knew I had to come.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous.” Jason rubbed his face with his hand. “That has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. I don’t buy it for a second. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“It’s true.”
“What’s your plan? Are you going to infiltrate my compound and discover its secrets so that you can take me down?”
“No, I’m not going to do anything like that. I just want to be part of the community. I want to work for peace.”
He got out of his chair. “Why would you come here with a story like that?” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me. “If you wanted me dead, you’d have shot me already.” He strode to me, and captured my chin with his fingers. Holding my face still, he gazed deep into my eyes. “You don’t remember anything?”
“No,” I said. I was speaking barely above a whisper because he was so close to me, his face inches from my own.
“Not your Homecoming Dance? Not me and you at Homecoming in the hallway beside the bathrooms?” He searched my eyes, looking for something.
“No.”
“Not what I did to your brother? To Chance?”
I stared back into his eyes. Did I have a brother? It didn’t matter. Jason’s eyes were huge and luminous. I felt lost in them. “No.”
Jason’s face came closer to mine, his lips coming for my own. His hand left my chin, and he caressed my jaw, his touch soft. I wanted him to kiss me, I realized. I wanted it badly.
But he backed away. He walked over to the kerosene lamp. Put his hands on the work table. “I want to believe you. If that were true...”
The muscles in his back were lit up and shadowed. He looked so powerful and virile. I swallowed. I was attracted to Jason. Very attracted. Was that a bad thing? He was a spiritual leader. Certainly, he didn’t—
Jason strode out of the building, letting the door clatter closed after him. I sat in the chair for a minute, wondering if he’d been satisfied with my answers. Who had he thought that I was? Was I that girl, whoever it was he recognized? Or was he just confused, mistaking me for someone else? Whoever this person was, Jason seemed to hate her and love her all at the same time.
The men from before came into the building to collect me. “Follow us,” said one.
* * *
~joan~
Jasontown sat on the Potomac River, about an hour’s drive from Washington, D.C. It was comprised of houses that had sat on the river before the solar flare. There were also new constructions, like the stage. Jason’s house was one of the old houses, probably something that had been some rich guy’s vacation home. It was hulking and intricate, made of bricks and glass. A beautiful house, really. Jason lived there, or so the guards told me as we made our way up the hill towards it. Everything except the stage was up a hill, to get away from the flood plain, apparently. Across from Jason’s house was another old vacation home, this one a huge log cabin A-frame. It was obviously an attempt to look rustic, but it had been built by people who were so sophisticated, they didn’t really understand what rustic was. It was the concubine house, the guards told me. And it was where I’d be staying.
I had a little bit of a hard time processing this. First of all, I wasn’t a concubine. This was the twenty-first century, and women didn’t have to trade their bodies for food or shelter or protection, at least I didn’t think they should have to. I wasn’t keen on the idea of basically being a prostitute. I must have reacted in a way that showed that I was upset, so the guards asked why. I said I didn’t want to be forced to sleep with people, and they told me it wasn’t people. It was just Jason.
That led me to the second thing that sort of bugged me about it. Jason had, like, a harem? This wasn’t how I’d pictured him at all. I had not expected Jason to be violent, or to try to kiss me, or to have a whole group of women that he kept in a house across the street so that he could bang them whenever he wanted. Jason was beginning to se
em less like the benevolent, peaceful leader I’d thought he was, and more like some guy who thought he was a king or something.
The third thing that bugged me was that I didn’t so much mind the idea of having to sleep with Jason. Actually, I kind of liked the idea. And I shouldn’t, I didn’t think. I shouldn’t feel okay about the idea of being someone’s whore, no matter how freaking gorgeous he was. Furthermore, if I was going to be sleeping with Jason, I didn’t think I was going to like sharing him.
I was met inside the door of the concubine house by about ten redheads. They all stared at me. A couple of them reached out and touched my brown hair. None of them said anything.
One of the guards said, “Jason specifically asked for me to put her here. I know it’s weird, but if it’s what he wants...”
“Then we do it,” said one of the redheads. She smiled at me. “Sorry, we’re acting so strange.” She pulled me inside the house and hugged me. “Welcome. It’s so good to have you here.”
Inside the concubine house, there was a large great room, with a high, pointed ceiling from the A-frame roof. The kitchen was at the back of the room, and there was a fireplace in one corner. Two stories of lofts overlooked the great room. Apparently, that was where the bedrooms were.
“We don’t usually get two new girls in one day,” said one of the other redheads.
Behind her, Tessa waved.
“Tessa!” I said, going to her. Tessa had the reddest hair I’d ever seen. It was frizzy and full and long. And that was good, because I had a friend here.
She hugged me. “Apparently Jason has a thing for redheads.”
I felt suddenly self-conscious about my hair. I ran my hands through it, wishing I could pull it back in a bun and hide it.
The other girls in the house showed me around, explaining to me that they took turns cooking dinner for the house, and that in addition to our duties tending to Jason’s, er, pleasures, we also had to work in the gardens I’d seen by the river. However, we had probably the cushiest existence of anyone in Jasontown, or so they said. After they all introduced themselves (I couldn’t remember any of their names two minutes later), and finished showing me around the kitchen and great room, they showed me to my room, which I was sharing with Tessa.
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