Tortured: Book Three of the Jason and Azazel Trilogy Page 25

  Edgar closed the door behind us, holding one arm in the air and clutching his coffee cup with the other. "I'm afraid I don't know what's going on," he said.

  "We're here about Jason," said Marlena. "You're going to help us."

  "Jason?" said Edgar. He lowered his hands. "You must be Marlena. And you're Azazel, then?"

  So he knew about us? Both of us? I expected him to know about me. But Marlena?

  "How do you know who we are?" I wanted to know.

  "Well, I've kept close tabs on Jason throughout his life. If two women with guns burst into my apartment talking about him, you two are really the only two choices I would have." He smiled at us. "It's good to meet you both at last." He offered us his hand, the one that wasn't holding his coffee.

  Marlena and I looked at his proffered hand and then looked at each other. We both tucked our guns into the waist of our pants (Marlena had gotten me some clothes, so I wasn't wearing the horrid nightgown anymore) and folded our arms over our chests.

  "Let's get something straight," said Marlena. "We don't like you."

  "You're pretty much a shoo-in for the Worst Father in the Universe Award," I added.

  "We're here for information. That's all," said Marlena.

  Edgar withdrew his hand. "All right, then," he said cheerily. "Can I get the two of you some coffee?"

  "No," I said. "For all we know, you'll drug it."

  "I'd like some coffee," said Marlena. "I'll make it myself. You watch Weem."

  "Sure," I said. "Have a seat, Edgar."

  The inside of Edgar Weem's cottage was just as charming as the outside. There was a small sitting room filled with overstuffed couches and bookshelves. In the corner, there was a working fireplace, although it wasn't burning. Edgar made his way there and sat down. He threw one of his arms over the back of the couch, thoroughly at ease. "Why don't you come and sit with me, Azazel?" he said. "I'd love to get a look at you. You're a very pretty girl. I can see why Jason's so taken with you."

  My eyes narrowed. I was beginning to see why both Michaela Weem and my grandmother had found Edgar Weem so charming. I didn't move. Instead, I just put my hand on the butt of my gun warningly.

  "Oh, Azazel," he said with a jovial laugh. "You can relax, really. I'm on your side."

  Chapter Fifteen

  To: Edgar Weem

  From: Renegade Son

  Subject: Jason and Azazel

  Edgar,

  I've gotten a message on my phone from Azazel. She says she and Jason are in trouble and she wants my help. Do you have any idea where they are or how to reach them? I'm beside myself with worry.

  Hallam

  "Listen Edgar," I said. "You are definitely not on my side."

  "Call me Ted, please," he said.

  Marlena poked her head out of the kitchen. "Get him to tell you where the headquarters are," she said.

  Right. I went into the sitting room and sat on a chair opposite Edgar Weem. "We're only here for one reason," I said. "We need you to give us a location."

  "You don't believe me, do you?" he asked. "You really think I'm out to get you?"

  "I don't care," I said. "I already know more about you than I'd like. I've read Michaela's diary and talked to my grandmother and, well, eww."

  He laughed again, a deep chuckle. When he smiled he had little smile lines around his eyes. He looked like a harmless uncle. I didn't like it. "Can I explain to you?" he asked. "Can I tell you why I've done what I've done?"

  "Marlena," I called, "how long is that coffee going to take?"

  "Not long," she said. "If I can figure out this crazy European contraption, it'll be ready in a jiff."

  Okay, then. That sounded like it might be a while. I glared at Edgar Weem. "I guess I can't stop you," I said. "But I don't see how you could really explain anything. You've manipulated everyone around you just to get power. Now that you don't have any, I guess you want to be friends."

  "You've got it all wrong," said Edgar. "I never wanted power." He sighed then, and looked sad, suddenly. "No, I often wish I'd never gotten the power that I did. It changes a man, not always for the better. But I've made sacrifices. For the greater good, though, Azazel. I think you'll realize that."

  He settled comfortably on the couch. "Let's see," he said. "How shall I start?" He mused for a second, scratching his chin. (Really). "I suppose you know about the longstanding feud between the Weems and the Hoyts, don't you?"

  "My grandmother told me about it," I said.

  "Do you know why it started?"

  I shook my head. Like I cared. "Well," said Edgar, "I suppose you know that the Sons are an offshoot of the Order of Reddimus, since you stayed with them in Rome."

  "Yes," I said. "I heard about that."

  "Well," said Edgar, "the Sons left because they were angry with the Church for creating the Jesuits. This was in the 1500s. I assume you're familiar with the Jesuits?"

  "Uh . . . something to do with the Spanish Inquisition, right?"

  He laughed. "Indeed. The Reddimus monks had been created to combat paganism, but it was no longer an issue with the Church. Instead, the issue in the 1500s was Protestantism. The Church created the Jesuits to combat that issue. They no longer needed the Order of Reddimus. The original members of the Sons were so outraged at having been supplanted that they stole a large amount of money from the Church, and they used it to create a business. They became money lenders. Eventually, they started a bank. They became very wealthy indeed."

  Great. Wonderful. Who cared? "Look, really, all we want to know is—"

  "Wait, let me continue," said Edgar. "Where was I? Oh, yes, so the Sons of the Rising Sun were always wealthy men. And they had an enormous amount of power. This wealth and power only grew. With the establishment of centralized banks in European countries in the early part of the twentieth century, the Sons were able to create powerful holds on the governments of major world leaders. They controlled countries, not just money. This was big business and also big power. Lots of money and lots of power are always a bad combination.

  "The Hoyts have always been a premier family in the Sons, and they began talking amongst the other members about what they could do with this influence. The Sons had always concerned themselves with the era of the Rising Sun, a period of time they felt would overtake the world and change it for the better. The Hoyts saw this period as a time when a global government could be implemented—a New World Order."

  "Did they own the Federal Reserve Bank in the U.S.?" I asked.

  Weem raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes. Members of the Sons did."

  "I've heard this before. This is Conspiracy Theory 101," I said. In my Da Vinci Code phase, I'd gotten really into stuff like the Freemasons and the Illuminati. Against my better judgment, I found myself getting interested in what Weem was saying.

  "All right, then," said Weem. "But I bet you haven't heard this part. My family, the Weems, didn't think this was a very good idea. We were staunchly on the side of democracy and not manipulating people with our money. Of course, we'd always thought the Rising Sun prophecy to be about a person, not a metaphor or time period. We were vocal in our opposition to both the Hoyts and the idea that the Rising Sun would be a period of time when the Sons ruled the world.

  "Our dissension held off action for decades, but the discussion of a global government continued. I became increasingly frightened when the discussion began to become more and more serious in the late 1980s. I looked into the prophecies about the Rising Sun deeply. I discovered what I thought was proof that the Rising Sun would be born in the twentieth century. But even this discovery didn't stop the rumbling and scheming of this New World Order. And I became nearly frantic when I learned that the Sons were planning something for 2012. You know the date, yes?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. The world's gonna end. Or there's going to be a polar shift or something."

  "The Sons have access to a weapon that uses scalar electromagnetics. This is a
very powerful technology that can disrupt gravity. They plan to use it in 2012 to create a global disaster that will very much resemble a polar shift. In the aftermath, they will swoop down to care for a wounded planet, and erect themselves rulers of everything."

  I shook my head slowly, trying to absorb what he'd just said. "The Sons are going to destroy the world?"

  "Not the whole world," he said. "But many people will die. It will be a crisis unlike anything we've ever seen. And the significance of its occurrence in 2012, with the end of the Mayan calendar and the pseudo-scientific rumblings about this polar shift, will mean that what's left of the world won't think to question what's going to happen.

  "I knew I needed to stop this. I now believed that the Rising Sun was to end the terrible reign of the Sons, not help cement their power in the world. I began to search desperately for the Rising Sun, pouring over prophecies. I was half insane in my desire to stop the Sons. I had discovered a link in my own genealogy and the blood line of King Arthur—"

  "Yeah, Moretti told us about that. And I read Michaela's diary. So I know it was 'her idea' for the two of you to conceive Jason. But I don't care. She was in love with you and you treated her—"

  "You don't think I was in love with her?" asked Edgar. "I married the woman didn't I? I fathered two children with her. It's not that I didn't care about her. But you must realize that the safety of the world trumped my own feelings for her or even for our own son. I knew what Jason had to become. He had to grow to be a fierce warrior who could destroy an organization like the Sons. I had to devote myself to making sure he was ready. It wasn't easy. He was my son. Of course I didn't want to expose him to the dangers I exposed him to. But I had to prepare him for his work. His very vital work."

  So I was just supposed to forgive Weem for everything now? Because he was trying to save the world?

  Marlena came in from the kitchen with two cups of coffee. She handed one to me. "Thanks," I said. "Are you hearing this?"

  "Sure," she said. She shrugged. "I always knew Jason was special. If I had to pick someone to save the world, I'd pick him."

  I bit my lip. No. It wasn't right. "You're all so stupid," I said.

  Marlena jerked her head to face me.

  "Not you, Marlena," I said. I stood up, taking a long swig of my coffee. It was black and bitter, but I didn't care. "I mean you guys. Edgar. Michaela. My grandmother. You're all stupid. And you're cowards. My grandmother was mad at you because you broke off your affair with her and then moved on to Michaela. And so she screwed up Michaela's head, ruined my life, and has been trying to get Jason killed for his whole life."

  "Wait," said Edgar. "Arabella is trying to kill Jason?"

  "You blackmailed her," I said. "You think she wasn't pissed?"

  He looked troubled.

  I wasn't finished. "Michaela Weem wanted Jason dead. So, she convinced my parents and a town full of people that I was a Vessel of Azazel and that I was supposed to kill Jason. And you, Edgar—Ted—you wanted to save the world. So you went around Europe having ritualistic sex and then put your own son through abusive situation after abusive situation, trying to turn him into a killing machine.

  "You know what's wrong with all of you?" I demanded. "You won't take responsibility for your actions, and you won't get your hands dirty. Ted, I'm gonna have to repeat what Cornelius Agricola said to me. Why didn't you just set a fucking bomb?!"

  Edgar was quiet for a second. Then he cleared his throat. "You can't understand, Azazel, how very powerful the Sons are. There was simply no way that I—"

  "No," I said. "Don't make excuses. There is no reason to screw up so many other people's lives just because you don't think you can handle the problem. You're clearly a smart guy, Edgar. I can't help but think that there was some way you could have figured out how to take the Sons down yourself. But you left it to Jason. And so, when you go to sleep at night, I hope that you see the faces of all the people that Jason and I have had to kill. And the faces of all the people who have died trying to protect us. Because you know what? They're all on your hands. You started this. And you didn't have the guts to even finish it."

  I sat down on the couch. "Now," I said, "you're going to tell us the location of the Sons' headquarters, so that I can go there and save my boyfriend."

  * * *

  Marlena and I surveyed the Sons' headquarters from behind some bushes. The headquarters were, indeed, an old castle. It didn't have a mote, though. The castle was hulking, crouching in a clearing in the woods. It sat in a valley, one large round tower surrounded by fortified walls and several smaller turrets. Marlena and I were above the castle on a hill, looking down. Five or six armed men guarded the entrance. Squadrons of others marched in circles around the perimeter.

  "Well," said Marlena, "how do you suppose we're going to get in?"

  I sighed. "I don't know."

  "You think maybe a distraction of some kind?" she asked.

  "Like what?"

  "Well, maybe one of us could flash them."

  I laughed, thinking about suggesting this very thing to Jason when we were trying to get into the library. "I don't know," I said. "They're celibate men. Maybe they wouldn't care."

  "Celibate," she said. "Maybe they wouldn't even know what breasts were."

  I laughed again. "Seriously," I said.

  "I am serious," she said. "Distraction. Get most of them away from the door and then one of us sneaks in."

  "So what would happen to the other one?"

  She considered. "Good point."

  When Jason and I had been trying to get into the library, all we'd had to do was go up to the door and ask. Of course, everyone at the school had been under some kind of mojo, making them want to make us happy. Still, maybe . . . "Let's try this," I said, and I explained what I was thinking to Marlena.

  After some discussion, we both leapt out of the bushes and ran to the door, waving our arms in the air. "We surrender!" we yelled over and over again.

  The men were startled. Rather than rushing to us, they kept their distance, staring at us like we were nuts. Marlena and I trotted up to the main door.

  "We surrender," I said to the men at the door.

  "So we hear," said one. "What for, exactly?"

  "You don't know who we are?" I asked, pretending to be wounded.

  "We're very dangerous enemies of the Sons," said Marlena. "You'll want to take us to your superiors right away."

  The men looked even more confused.

  "Of course," I said, "if you don't accept our surrender, I suppose we'll just leave then."

  "Absolutely," said Marlena.

  "Hold on," said one of the guards, grabbing me by the arm. He and another guard opened the door and took us inside. The inside of the castle, oddly enough, was all fluorescent lights and linoleum floors. Inside the door was a man at desk, typing things into a computer. Marlena and I took a quick look around and then both drove our elbows into the midsections of the men who were escorting us. While they huffed and doubled over in surprise, we scampered out of the room and down a long corridor.

  Men were walking down the hallway, wearing suits. Marlena opened a random door, snatched hold of my shirt, and yanked us both inside.

  The room was an office. There was a man behind its desk, which was covered with pictures of little children and dogs. He wore small horn rimmed glasses. "Who are you?" he asked, horrified.

  Marlena got out her gun. "We're looking for the holding cells," she said.

  "And the pregnant girls," I said. Palomino was here too somewhere.

  "Pregnant girls?" Marlena asked.

  "My brother's girlfriend is here. They have some place where they keep teenage mothers. Then they take their babies away from them."

  "They still have places like that?" Marlena said.

  The man had put his arms in the air. "D-don't hurt me," he said. "I have a map of the castle here on my desk. You're welcome to look at it all you want."

  "Thanks," said Marlena, sid
ling over to him. He shrank from her gun as she waved it in his face. With trembling hands, he gave her the map. "In the dungeon," she said. "Figures." She handed me the map.

  The castle had six levels. The lowest level was labeled "Dungeon" and showed rows of small rooms. They looked like cells.

  "Pregnant girls?" I asked the man.

  He shook his head, his eyes wide. "I d-don't know anything ab-bout that. Really."

  "Looks like there's an elevator at the end of this hallway," I said to Marlena. We'd go for Jason first. Once we had him, he could help us find Mina. That is, if they hadn't gotten to him yet. I gulped. How soon could a trial and execution take place, anyway? It had been about three days since Jason and I had been captured from Rome. They couldn't have done it already. Could they?