Breathless (27 page)
It wasn't like I imagined. It wasn't like two souls melding into each other. It wasn't like we were connected and had somehow become one being. But it wasn't like the horror I'd heard some of my friends tell either. There wasn't any blood. There wasn't any pain. If there was anything wrong with it, it was just that it was new and confusing and a little awkward. We giggled a lot. We bumped heads a couple times.
But when it was done, and I was lying in Jason's arms, tucked under his chin, against his body, his smooth, smooth skin touching my own, it felt like . . . well, something had happened. It felt like we belonged to each other. Like we'd cemented a bond. Like a physical declaration of the feelings we already knew we had for each other.
As I drifted off to sleep for the second time, Jason murmured, "I love you."
I said it back, but he was already snoring.
* * *
There weren't any new messages in my inbox, but there was a message from Lilith on myspace. She went on and on about how sorry she was. I couldn't finish it. I didn't care that Lilith was sorry. Toby was dead. It didn't matter anymore. She was going to have to deal with that, now. And besides, I was never going back to Bramford.
Jason checked email next. He said that before leaving Bramford, he'd been in touch with a guy somewhere in Texas, and maybe we could head there next. I let him go to the computer and began eating my Danish.
Jason called me over the computer. "Read this," he said.
It was an email message. I read it. It didn't make much sense. It was like it was written in code. But when I got to the last sentence, I gasped. "Hallam?" I said.
Jason nodded. "I don't usually check my email account with the Sons, but I did because I still think it was weird that they found us in New Jersey. And how did the Satanists get there?"
I told him that Aunt Stephanie had called my mom.
"Oh," said Jason. "You know, I bet the Sons followed your parents. That must be how they found us. But anyway, I thought maybe there'd be something in my account that would give me a clue. There wasn't. There was just this."
"What's it mean?" I asked.
"I don't know. He's not sending it from his email account with the Sons. And he doesn't use his name. And he says he's on the outs like I am. And none of that stuff in West Virginia ever made any sense. Like the clean slate comment."
"Didn't make sense?" I said. I wasn't following.
"If the Sons had found me in Bramford, they should have done basically what they did to us last night," said Jason. "So that was why I ran when I found out Hallam was around. I figured they'd break into your house and start shooting. But they didn't.
Which never made any sense to me. It didn’t make sense that Hallam said I had a clean slate."
"Yeah, what exactly does that mean, anyway?" I asked.
"It's a reference to a conversation we had once," said Jason. "After the incident with the sorority house, Hallam and I talked. I said that sometimes I wished I wasn't the Rising Sun. I said I wished I had a clean slate, that I could just walk away and be normal."
I nodded. "Okay. So he was saying that you had the chance to be normal when he talked to me in the woods in Bramford?"
"Yeah," said Jason. "And the only way he could have done that is if he were working against the Sons. So they must have figured out that he was doing that. And now he's on the run."
"Wait," I said. "Hallam was
helping
you?"
"I think so," he said.
"This is the guy who you said was screaming in joy while he was shooting college girls. This is the guy who nearly strangled me in the woods. And he's on our side?"
"He nearly strangled you? What?"
"Did I leave that part out before?"
Jason looked pissed. "Yes. You did." He sighed. "Well, I don't know about our side, but he seems to have gone renegade, hence the name on his email account."
"What about the rest of it?" I asked. "Wanting to show you things? Bethlehem?"
"I don't know," said Jason. "He wants me to go him."
"Where is he? In Bethlehem?" I considered. "Isn't there a Bethlehem, Pennsylvania?"
"He wouldn't put the actual name of where he was in the email. It's on the Sons server. They're probably reading all of my email messages." Jason shook his head.
"Bethlehem? What could he mean?"
"Are we going to him?" I asked. "Is that safe?"
"Where else would we go?" he asked. "And is anywhere safe?"
He had a point.
"Okay," he said. "So what's Bethlehem? It's the place where Jesus was born, right?"
"Right," I said. "The birthplace of the messiah." I paused. "Oh."
Jason had figured it out just as I did. "He's in Georgia. He's in the town where I was born—Shiloh," he said.
"Are we going to Georgia?" I asked.
"Got any better ideas?" he asked.
I didn't.
* * *
We even moved their luggage and CDs over into the Beamer. I figured it was a fair trade.
With a less flashy car, we switched off driving as we drove down Interstate 81. I drove for hours, until we were somewhere in Virginia. Then Jason took over. While we drove, we played road games to pass the time, finding the alphabet on road signs, trying to spot license plates from all fifty states. We were bored, and there were places that we drove through where we could barely get any radio stations besides country or gospel music.
Jason drove faster than I did. I glanced at the speedometer once, and we were going nearly 90 miles an hour. We were flying past all the other cars around us.
"Jason?" I asked. "Is it wise to be driving so fast in a stolen car?"
The words weren't out of my mouth before there were immediately sirens and flashing lights behind us. A police car.
Jason glared at me. "You jinxed me," he said, speeding up.
"What are you doing?" I demanded. "You're not going to pull over?"
"Azazel, we're in stolen car, and we've got guns on us. I'm not pulling over."
"Good point," I said, gripping my seat in terror as we got even faster. "So what are you gonna do?"
"Lose him," said Jason. He jerked the car into the right lane, right between two other cars. The police car slowed down, trying to get into the same lane as we were in.
Jason took an exit, racing the car down the deceleration ramp. Unfortunately, the cop had managed to take the exit too and was right behind us.
Jason weaved in and out of traffic, but the cop kept up. We ran a stoplight, nearly causing a head on collision. Somehow, the cop made it through the intersection as well.
We'd exited into a suburban area. The landscape was dotted with restaurants and chain stores. Ahead of us loomed a huge sign for a mall. Jason slammed on the brakes and turned into the mall, fishtailing as he barely made the turn.
I was going to be sick.
The cop wasn't as lucky as us. He missed the turn, but screeched to a stop. He had to back up to make the turn.
We lurched forward, rounding a corner. For the first time, we were out of sight of the police car, even it was only for a few minutes.
Jason didn't waste any time. He drove the VW straight up to the entrance of the mall and threw open his door.
We hurried out of the car. Sprinted into the mall. Immediately lost ourselves in the crowds of shoppers just as the police car pulled up right beside the Beetle.
"Damn it," I muttered as I watched the police officer get out of his car, run into the mall, and look around frantically.
"What?" asked Jason, tugging me into Bath and Body Works and pretending to be very interested in some scented body lotion.
"We had to leave the clothes," I said.
Jason rolled his eyes.
"They were very nice clothes," I said. "They were expensive. I
liked
those clothes."
"We'll get other clothes," said Jason.
I stuck out my lower lip. "But not those. We'll never get those clothes back ever again."
* * *
After all, Jason and I were running for our lives. Well. We were running for my life anyway. If the Sons caught Jason, they weren't going to kill him. But they were going to force him to be the Rising Sun, something he didn't want to do.
Unfortunately, we stole a car that didn't have much gas in it. Jason was angry with himself, saying he should have checked the gas tank before we took it. I told him it was okay. We were both under a lot of stress. We had to pull off at an exit to buy gas.
I teased him. "You sure you don't just want to rob the convenience store?"
"Our trail of crime should probably stop with stolen cars, don't you think?" he asked.
I shrugged. While Jason pumped gas, I used the bathroom in the convenience store and bought a few snacks for the ride. We hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I was feeling peckish.
At the register, the cashier eyed me. She rang up my pretzels and soda, but she didn't stop looking at me.
I paid, thanked her, and turned away.
"Azazel?" she said.
Without thinking, I turned around.
"I knew it!" the woman exclaimed. She waved a missing persons flier at me. There was my senior picture emblazoned on the front underneath huge letters reading: MISSING. Damn it. I hadn't expected to be reported missing!
I fairly flew out of the store. "We have to go, Jason!" I said. "I'm missing!"
We had to leave before Jason was completely finished pumping gas. I was sure the woman had called some kind of authorities. It wasn't good. She'd probably be able to give them a description of the car we were driving.
For the third time that day, we switched cars. We took a Ford Aspire from another rest stop. It had a full tank of gas.
Exhausted, we drove into the evening and the night. Virginia gave way to Tennessee, and eventually, Ten-nessee became Georgia. When we arrived in Shiloh, it was nearly four in the morning.
Shiloh wasn't a big town. It was about the size of Bramford, actually. A few streets.
Several businesses and restaurants, all closed because it was so late at night.
"Well," I said, looking around. "Here we are."
"Yeah," said Jason.
Now where were we going to go? It seemed we'd have to go outside of town to even find a hotel to stay in. I hadn't seen any as we were driving in. Jason drove up and down the streets, searching. "If Hallam is here," he said, "there's only one place he'd go."
"Where's that?" I asked.
"Sanctuary," said Jason.
"A church?" I asked.
"A Catholic church," said Jason. "Keep your eyes open. This far south, there shouldn't be too many."
"Why Catholic?"
Jason shrugged. "Their doors are usually open at odd times."
And then we spotted it. A little outside town, all by itself, was a small Catholic church—Christ is King Catholic Church, read the sign outside. It too boasted some spires and ornate architecture. It was nothing like the church we'd gone into in New York City, but it was still very beautiful. I wondered why Catholic churches always looked . . . fancier than other ones. I mentioned it to Jason.
He gave me a funny look. "Did you ever pay attention to any of your father's history lectures?" he asked.
"What?" What did that have to do with anything?
"The entire Protestant Reformation had a lot to do with the fact that the Catholic church was spending money on ornate works of religious art. The Protestants thought the parishioners' tithes should go to more holy enterprises."
"Really?" I said.
Jason parked the car and got out. I followed suit.
We stared at the church. It didn't look open. But we moved forward anyway, walking up to the front doors. Jason put his hand on the door and tried the knob. It was locked.
"So now what?" I asked. "We try another church?"
Jason looked dead on his feet. "Maybe we could break in," he said.
"Seriously?"
"No," he said. He shook his head and yawned. "No, we'll sleep in the car."
"Will that be safe?"
Jason shrugged. We got back in the car. Cranked back the seats so that we were semi-reclined. There were some blankets in the backseat. We huddled under them. Jason gave me one of the guns. He showed me how to take the safety off.
"Don't shoot unless I tell you," he said.
I turned the gun over in my hands. It didn't make me feel much safer. But I clutched it in one hand and closed my eyes. Snuggling with the gun, I feel asleep.
* * *
I woke up slowly, the sound of voices close to me. I didn't move for a few moments, just listening. One voice was British, and I recognized it as Hallam's. The voices were muffled. They were coming from outside the car, but I could still understand what they were saying.
"Who is she?" asked Hallam.
"I thought you two had met," said the other voice, Jason's. "She said you tried to strangle her."
"I remember her," said Hallam. "I just meant why is she here?"
"Did you try to strangle her?"
"What is she, your girlfriend?"
"Yeah. I guess she is," said Jason. I tried not to smile when I heard that. "Did you try to strangle her?"
"She exaggerates," said Hallam. "The Sons know about her?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I killed five Brothers trying to protect her."
"Oh wonderful. I'm sure they love that. I'm sure this turn of events has them in ecstasy," said Hallam.
"I know. Killing their own."
"I meant the girl," said Hallam.
"Oh," said Jason. "Right."
"Honestly, Jason, they're not wrong about that, you know. Attachments, to women especially, tend to make one less focused."
