Trembling

by V. J. Chambers

  I had to slow down for the turns in the road, because I wasn't used to driving it. With every passing second, Noah was gaining on me. I tried to go faster, but I was losing control of the van as I rounded the curves. I pushed myself to take them faster and faster, not to worry about being able to navigate the road.

  But then it happened. I hit a turn way too fast and when I turned the steering wheel and braked a bit, I skidded. Panicking, I pressed harder on the brake, realizing belatedly that was exactly the wrong thing to do. The skid deepened and the van wobbled. It tumbled off the road, falling on its side.

  I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, so I was thrown to the other side of the van—hard. I thudded against the passenger side door. The crank for the window jabbed my thigh. My head cracked against the window. Pain shot through my body, bright like carnival lights. I bounced, collided again, and was still.

  I groaned.

  I knew that I needed to get up and run, but everything hurt so, so bad.

  "Azazel?" Noah's voice.

  "Zaza, are you okay?" Gordon's voice, getting closer.

  I felt in my pants for the gun. It was still there.

  Oh God. That had really, really hurt. I'd never wrecked a car before. I knew it was supposed to be a normal teenage experience. Trust me to make sure I had it in the most abnormal way possible, running from my crazy Satanist brothers who were trying to get me to murder my boyfriend. Could this possibly get any worse?

  Oh yeah. They'd found me. I'd escaped, and now I was getting recaptured.

  The driver's side door to the van opened. It was funny, watching it open above me like that. Open onto the night sky.

  Noah and Gordon peered in at me.

  "Are you hurt?" Gordon asked.

  "I'm fine," I managed.

  "We've got to get you out of there," said Noah.

  "So you can tie me up again? No, thanks," I said. This really, really sucked.

  "Zaza, you must realize we're just trying to help you," said Gordon.

  "You're not helping me," I said. "You're ruining my life."

  "How can you say that?" asked Noah. "We're saving the world."

  "By sacrificing your baby sister?" I demanded. "You two stood by while Toby almost raped me. Brothers who cared would have stopped that."

  "Well, it wasn't exactly rape, now was it?" said Noah. "Honestly, Azazel, you're overreacting."

  "Really, Zaza," said Gordon. "Do you have any idea how much time I've had to take off of work to be here?"

  That was the last straw. His work?! Really?

  I ripped the gun out of the waist of my pants. I didn't think. I didn't speak. I didn't threaten. It was quick. It was easy. It was very, very simple. And it felt natural too. Like the most obvious, most normal thing in the world to do.

  I shot them both very neatly in the forehead. Their bodies toppled over into the van. They hadn't even had time to cry out.

  For a few very strange seconds, I felt calm and relieved. I felt proud of myself. I'd just fixed everything.

  Then I looked into their faces, dangling over mine, blood dripping over their eyebrows and down their noses.

  And I convulsed.

  What had I just done?

  Chapter Thirteen

  To: Renegade Son

  From: Edgar Weem

  Subject: (none)

  Fine, Hallam. We'll play it your way.

  011-44-020-5555-7032

  Lilith was in the back of the car, tied up and gagged. I opened the door and looked at her. "You okay?" I asked.

  She made a muffled noise. I reached in and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

  "Fine," she gasped. "Are you?"

  "I'm great," I said. "Come over here so that I can untie you."

  "Zaza, what—?"

  "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand fucking times. Don't. Call. Me. Zaza." I waved the gun in her face for emphasis.

  She shrank from me. "Sorry," she mumbled.

  "Now, come over here," I said, exasperated. She scooted over, and I untied her hands and feet.

  "Azazel, you're head is—"

  "It's fine," I said. "You wanna sit up front?"

  "Uh . . ."

  "Stay in the back, then," I said. I closed the door, and got in the driver's seat. I sat down. Buckled my seat belt. Felt the ignition.

  And burst into laughter. I turned back to Lilith. "Keys!" I said to her. "I forgot the keys."

  Still laughing, I got out of the car and ambled over to the bodies of Noah and Gordon. Noah had been driving, so he probably had them. I felt in his pockets. Sure enough. Keys.

  Before I could think much about the fact that I'd just shot and killed both of my brothers, I went back to the car.

  I jammed the keys in the ignition and started the car. I pulled the car back on the road and headed towards Shiloh.

  "Now," I said to Lilith, "before I was interrupted, I was thinking about where the fuck I was going to go. Now that I've just committed murder, I'm even more confused." I looked back at her. "Where do people go after they kill people?"

  "Watch the road," she said, her voice shaky.

  I turned back to the road. "Sorry," I said breezily. "I think sometimes people go hide out. They need . . ." I paused, feeling exactly like a cartoon light bulb had lit up above my head. "Sanctuary," I breathed.

  I grinned at Lilith, but in the rearview mirror, not by turning around. "We're going to see Father Gerald."

  "Father who?" asked Lilith.

  "Gerald," I said. "At Christ is King Catholic Church. Hallam stayed with him for months before we found him in November. I know he'll know how to contact Hallam. They're friends. And if I can get in touch with Hallam, I can get in touch with Jason."

  "Okay," said Lilith. "Great. I guess."

  "Hey," I said. "How about a little gratitude? I just rescued you."

  "You shot them," she whispered.

  Right. Well, there was that. But I wasn't thinking about that right now. I couldn't think about that right now.

  * * *

  Christ is King Catholic Church was boarded up. There was a big sign on the front of the church which said, "Reopening in April." Hmm. I guessed that the big shoot-out between us and the Sons really had destroyed the sanctuary. I felt kind of guilty for a minute. I hoped that Father Gerald didn't blame us for the destruction of his church.

  The lights were on in the rectory, where he lived, so I supposed I would find out in a few minutes anyway. I dragged Lilith with me, and together we knocked on his door.

  There was no answer at first, so I knocked again.

  After the second knock, the door opened. Father Gerald peered out at us.

  "Hi Father Gerald," I said meekly.

  "Azazel Jones?" he said in recognition. "What happened to you?"

  "Happened to me?"

  "Your head is bleeding."

  "Is it?" I gingerly touched my head and looked at my fingers. Yep. Red. I shrugged. "I was in a car wreck. I was wondering if we could use your phone?"

  "Come in," said Father Gerald. "Come in, come in."

  Lilith and I stepped inside the rectory. It was sparse and functional. White walls. No decoration except for a crucifix on one wall.

  "Your friend?" he asked.

  "This is Lilith," I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. "Lilith and Azazel?" He shook his head and crossed himself, mumbling something about never thinking he'd see the day he was opening his door to those two. He started out of the room we were in, which was the kitchen, heading back the hall. "I'll get something for your head," he said.

  "It's okay, really," I said. "I just need to call Hallam. You have a number for him, don't you?"

  Father Gerald stopped. "Well, yes. I was just about to call him myself, actually. Some strange events have recently unfolded. I thought he'd want to know."

  "Strange events?" I said.

  "With the Sons of the Rising Sun," he explained. "It's a little convoluted."

  I waved it away. "The Sons aren't
actually a problem for me this time. Can I just call Hallam, please?"

  "Certainly," he said, pointing at the phone. He gave me the number. As I dialed, he said, "I'm going to go get some bandages. If my guest wanders out here, don't be alarmed."

  Guest? Priests had guests?

  Whatever. The phone was ringing on Hallam's end. Lilith stood behind me, looking frightened. If I still liked her, I would have grabbed her hand or done something reassuring. But I didn't like her. Not at all. She felt scared? Good.

  For a few terrible seconds, I was convinced that Hallam's phone was going to go to voicemail, but at the last second, he picked up.

  "Father Gerald, what is going on?" he said. "Did you release the email without telling me? Why does Edgar Weem think that I'm playing games with him?"

  "Edgar Weem?" I said. "You're in communication with Edgar Weem?"

  "Who is this?"

  "It's Azazel. And why the hell are you talking to Weem?"

  "Azazel, Jesus, where are you?"

  "I'm in Shiloh," I said. "I got captured by Satanists. Now you answer my question."

  "Oh, Christ, Azazel, it's complicated. Look, I'm actually on my way to Shiloh. I should be there in an hour or so. Hang tight where you are, and I'll fill you in when I arrive. I don't want to talk about it on the phone."

  "Hallam, are you still working for the Sons?" I was floored. Shocked. Appalled. After all this time, after I'd trusted Hallam as much as I did, was he betraying us?

  "No, of course not. Please, just stay with Father Gerald. When I get there, I'll explain everything."

  Behind me, Lilith screamed.

  I whirled.

  A man had just walked into the kitchen. He was bruised and beaten, his face swelling in odd places. Bandages decorated every part of his exposed skin. "Azazel," he said, his damaged mouth curving into a sly smile.

  I dropped the phone. "Sutherland," I breathed.

  He took a step toward me.

  I grabbed Lilith's hand. "Let's get out of here," I said to her.

  We tore out of the kitchen, out of the rectory, back into the car. As I drove away, I glanced in the rearview mirror to see that Sutherland had followed us outside. He was standing outside the church, in front of the re-opening sign, grinning like a jackal.

  * * *

  "How did he get there?" Lilith was asking.

  She was sitting next to me in the passenger seat. We were driving aimlessly in the dark. Through the streets of Shiloh. Out into the surrounding country roads. Back into Shiloh. I didn't know where we were going. I didn't know what we were doing.

  "I don't know," I said. "I thought he was dead."

  Sutherland was alive. Jason hadn't killed him. Hallam had been wrong when he'd asked Jason where Sutherland's body was. It looked like Jason had beat him up very, very badly, but he hadn't killed him. As frightening as it had been to see Sutherland, the news made a part of me sing. Jason hadn't done that. He wasn't the killer that Noah and Gordon had claimed he was.

  Of course, I'd killed . . . I shuddered again.

  "He's not dead," Lilith said.

  "Maybe . . ." I said, turning it over in my head, " . . . maybe he was following us. Following me. Maybe he followed us into the rectory."

  "No," said Lilith. "I saw him come into the room. He didn't come through the front door. He came from the hallway."

  "He was waiting for us? He knew we'd go there?"

  "He sounded surprised to see you. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised."

  She was right. He did.

  I didn't like this one bit. First there was this car we were driving. This car that had come out of nowhere. Then there was Sutherland appearing also out of nowhere. So many unanswered questions. "There are too many things I just don't understand," I said. "How did Noah and Gordon get this car?"

  "Gordon called your grandmother," said Lilith.

  "Grandma Hoyt?" I said. "Why?" I couldn't even finish the thought, it was too preposterous. But I guessed it made sense. Grandma Hoyt had money. She could get them a car fast. "Why was she helping them?"

  "I don't know," said Lilith.

  More unanswered questions. More things that didn't add up. My mind was reeling. Chance had said that Gordon and Noah had gone to see Grandma Hoyt, and then she'd consented to pack Chance off to Italy. Could they have told her what they were planning to do? Had she decided to send Chance away so that it would be safe for him? But why was she helping the Satanists out? My grandmother hated the Satanists. She'd disowned my parents because of their Satanist ties.

  But none of this was important right now, because . . . Because . . .

  "We have to find Jason," I said.

  We were driving through the streets of Shiloh. Impulsively, I turned onto Spring Street. Drove the car past Michaela Weem's house. I stared at it. And suddenly, it came to me. Last week.

  Jude was driving Jason and me home. We were talking about the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby. And Jason had said . . .

  "I always thought," said Jason, "that would be a good way to pull off a kidnapping."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "I mean, kidnap someone in their own house," said Jason. "Tie them up and knock them out, and keep them in their own attic."

  I yanked the wheel to the right and turned into Michaela Weem's driveway. Of course, of course, of course. This was the place close enough to cut off Michaela's finger and leave it downstairs, still warm and wet with her blood. This was the place that Jason could leave notes. It was a safe place. Not a hotel. Not an abandoned house. And it was the last place anyone would think to look for him, because it was too obvious. Jesus.

  "What are you doing?" asked Lilith.

  "I know where Jason is," I said.

  "You do?"

  Quickly, I explained to her what I thought, as I parked the car and turned off the ignition.

  "He's been keeping her here in her own house?" Lilith was incredulous.

  "Brilliant, isn't it?" I said.

  She shook her head. "Yeah," she admitted.

  Lilith sighed. Then—she moved. She pulled me close against her body, her forearm going around my neck, making it tough for me to breathe.

  "Lilith!" I protested.

  Then I felt it. The cold, sharp point of a small knife at my neck. "Lilith?" I said.

  "You really are way too trusting, Zaza," said Lilith, her voice ugly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Text message to Hallam Wakefield, 11:12 P.M.:

  We've got a trace on the car, thanks to Hoyt. We should know where they are in a matter of minutes. Coordinates to follow.

  "But-but—" I sputtered. "They tied you up. And you kept trying to make Jason suspect Jude."

  "Well, I did want to bang Jason. I'm not gonna lie about that. I figured any path in a storm, right?"

  "You're mixing your metaphors," I said.

  "AP English rears its ugly head," she mocked me. "As for the tying up part, I was supposed to keep an eye on you that way. Monitor what you were feeling. They thought you'd trust me."

  "I didn't trust you," I said.

  "Which is why you untied me."

  "Fuck you," I growled.

  "Tisk, tisk. It's not a good idea to be rude to the girl who has a knife to your throat."

  Ugh. She was right. I was stupid. I was way too trusting.

  "Noah and Gordon had no vision," Lilith said. "They thought they could convince you to kill Jason. I know better. You're never going to think it's the right thing to do."

  "It's not the right thing to do," I said.

  "Like I said, you're never going to think that," said Lilith. "When Jason is dead, Michaela is going to see just how special I am. I'll make her eat those words. Someone will love me."

  "I don't get it," I said. "You want Jason dead too? You just said you wanted to bang him."

  Lilith chuckled. "Boys aren't good for much other than sex, Zaza. They're all expendable, really."

  "But you think Jason is evil incarnate, lik
e they do?"

  Lilith didn't answer for a few seconds. "Stop talking," she said. "I'm calling the shots here. I've got a knife at your throat. I could kill you at any second. You shut up, okay?"