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 a
t 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.
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