Breathless (29 page)

Then I remembered the last night I'd seen my father. I remembered him backhanding Jason in Aunt Stephanie's dining room. Thinking about that was so hard. I couldn't reconcile the man I'd seen in that dark room, ready to let me be raped by Toby, with the man who I'd grown up in the same house with. How had my father hidden that side of himself from me? How had I only seen the gentle, good parts of him?

Sometimes it hurt too much for me to bear.

I didn't feel like I could talk to Jason about it. Jason had been through much worse things than I had. He didn't need to listen to me talk about how much it had hurt to lose my family. Jason had never had a family to lose. Why couldn't I be thankful for what I'd had instead of bemoaning its loss?

Furthermore, I think we both knew that all of this was only temporary. We wouldn't be able to stay in Shiloh with Hallam forever. We would have to leave at some point.

If Hallam didn't come up with some kind of breakthrough on the Marianne Wodden idea soon, we'd have to leave before figuring anything out, making our trip here mostly pointless.

Sometimes, lying next to Jason while he snored gently, I cried softly to myself. I didn't want him to hear. I was happy to be with him. I was lucky to have him. Even though I'd lost everything else, I at least had Jason. He was all I had left. The most important thing to me. I didn't want to live without him. And I didn't want him to think I wasn't happy with him or that I wasn't grateful that he existed.

So I cried quietly, hoping he wouldn't wake up and hear me. In the morning, when he woke me up with kisses, I never let on that there were times when I sobbed. And it went on like that for four days. Four days, we had. Four days before all hell broke loose.

It started when Hallam woke us up by pounding on our hotel room door early in the morning. Jason, who apparently always woke up completely alert, leaped out of bed, threw on his pants, and went to the door. I didn't appreciate this because I wasn't wearing any clothes, so the conversation that followed was conducted while I pulled the covers of the bed up to my chin.

Hallam swept into the room, his eyes bright. "I think I've got it," he said.

"Got what?" I said. "Can't it wait a couple of hours?" I could see that the sun was barely up. It was early. I wanted more sleep.

"Oh whatever, I'm awake," said Jason. "Tell me what's up."

"Okay," said Hallam. "I started thinking about this Michaela Weem, right? I decided she was the missing link. She was going to pull this whole thing together."

"Yeah?" said Jason, sitting down on the bed.

"So, I decided to do some research on her. Figure out who she is. Then I figured it out. It was because of something that you said, Azazel." He looked at me, huddled beneath the covers, and seemed to actually take us in. "You know, it occurs to me that I might be more comfortable having this conversation if the two of you were actually clothed."

"What?" demanded Jason. "No, tell me now. You can't just build it up like that and then stop."

"Tell you what," said Hallam. "You two get dressed and come meet me back in Shiloh at the rectory. I'll tell you there."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Jason.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I said.

"Good, then," said Hallam. He started towards the door, then stopped. "Look," he said, "just because I'm not insisting on anything else, and just because I'm no longer a member of the Sons doesn't mean . . . I just want you both to know that I don't condone the two of you living in sin like this."

And then he left the room, closing the door after him.

I had to work hard to keep from laughing until after he was gone. Then I burst out giggling. "Living in sin?" I guffawed.

Jason wasn't laughing.

"Come on," I said. "That's funny."

"To you it is," he said.

"What?" I said. "Are you feeling guilty?" I couldn't believe that.

"Of course not," said Jason. "But the Sons are pretty . . . conservative. And, you know, I was never supposed to . . ." He grinned. ". . . know the touch of woman at all.

Supposedly, it would taint me."

I crawled out from under the covers, still giggling. I straddled him. "Oh yeah? Am I tainting you now?"

He kissed me. "Definitely. I'm very, very tainted."

He ran his hands over my shoulder blades, over the curves of my hips. He groaned.

"You're distracting me."

"It's all part of the tainting, baby," I joked. "What can I say?"

"I want to know what Hallam found out," he said. "Don't you want to know?"

"I don't know," I said. "Hallam is going to be there for a long time." I arched an eyebrow suggestively.

He grinned. "Come on, Azazel. We have to go."

"Fine," I said, pouting. I climbed off of him and stood next to the bed, my eyes darting over the floor in search of my clothes.

"Wow," said Jason.

I glanced at him. I realized he was staring at me.

"Stop," I said, feeling self-conscious.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked.

I blushed. Trying to recover, I teased, "We have to find out what Hallam wants to tell us, remember?"

Jason stood up. "Yeah, well, we should probably shower first, so we look presentable."

"I guess."

Jason leaned close, a smile twitching at his lips. "We'll have to do it together to save time."

* * *

Jason and I just grinned at each other. We sat down at the table. Father Gerald wasn't there, so I couldn’t help teasing Hallam a little bit.

"Now, Hallam," I said, "there's no need to be grouchy just because you're not getting any."

Hallam narrowed his eyes. "This one is a very bad influence on you, Jason."

"Don't make Hallam mad," Jason said to me.

Oh right. Hallam was dangerous and violent and all that. It was hard to remember. He just seemed so tight-laced and . . . British.

"I am not mad," said Hallam. "I just happen to believe that self-restraint is a virtue.

Controlling one's urges isn't easy, certainly, but just because something's hard doesn't mean one should abandon it entirely."

I shrugged. "Some things are easy because you're supposed to do them," I said. "Like eating for example. It's hard not to do it and for a good reason. Otherwise, we'd all die."

"Oh," said Hallam. "Yes, and I do suppose reproduction is necessary for the advancement of the species. But then I rather imagine that's the last thing on either of your minds."

Reproduction? Right. As a public service announce-ment, I would like to say that Jason and I had always used condoms, even though the first time, the condom had been in Jason's wallet since probably the Crustacean Age, and I had my doubts about its total effectiveness.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," said Jason. "We came here for a reason. You were in the middle of revealing something, and I'm dying to hear what it is."

"Oh," said Hallam. "Of course. Well, as I was saying, I started thinking about what Azazel had said about the initials of Michaela Weem and Marianne Wodden being the same. I'd done all this research on Marianne Wodden, but not on Michaela Weem. I thought Azazel had to be right. They were connected in some way, the two women."

Maybe Hallam didn't hate women after all. He was giving me credit for figuring something out, after all.

Hallam continued, "So I started researching Michaela Weem. I looked for a birth certificate. Couldn't find one."

"So it's another dead end?" asked Jason.

"No, not exactly. I started thinking about the oddness of your middle name being Edgar, and about Edgar Weem, and just on a whim, I decided to hunt for marriage certificates."

"Marriage certificates?" I said, not following.

"Yeah," said Jason. "Why?"

"Well, as we know, Council members don't get married. They've taken a vow of celibacy, just like the Brothers. And I looked through marriage certificates in England, and of course there wasn't anything for him.

"But then, I decided to look through marriage certificates in the states. In Georgia.

And guess what I found?"

"A marriage certificate for Edgar Weem?" I asked.

He nodded. "And Michaela Aird." Hallam was excited. "And it all checks out. They got married in 1991. Edgar Weem was on an extended leave of absence at that time.

He was in Georgia."

"So?" said Jason.

"Don't you see?" Hallam asked.

Jason shook his head. I didn't get it either.

Hallam began to gesture wildly in his excitement. "Azazel was the one who pointed out that Marianne Wodden and Michaela Weem had the same initials. That's because they're the
same person
. Jason, you did not
happen
to fulfill a number of prophecies about the Rising Sun. You were
made
. Edgar Weem
created
you. He waited until the right time—1991. He came to Shiloh, married a woman, impregnated her with you, and then the Sons paid her off—that enormous amount of money I saw in their ledgers. Edgar Weem is your father. And this Rising Sun thing is a hoax. Clearly the Sons engineered the entire thing to set up you up in a place of power. To give
them
more power."

Jason and I were both quiet.

"Well," said Hallam finally, "what do you think?"

"So . . ." said Jason, "Michaela Weem assumed the identity of Marianne Wodden.

And then she faked her own death?"

"I don't know about Michaela Weem," said Hallam. "That's the part of the puzzle that I don't exactly understand. But it's not important, really. She was a tool. An incubator.

The Sons paid her off to take away her baby to raise him—you—the way they wanted to. She disappeared. The important thing is that we have evidence here that proves that Edgar Weem tried to
engineer
a Rising Sun."

"Evidence?" I said. "We have a marriage certificate."

"It's enough," said Hallam. "The idea that Edgar Weem was married at all is enough to ruin him within the Sons. But the implications here, they could tear the entire establishment apart. This information, Jason, can buy us our freedom. They'll
have
to leave us alone."

"If they find out we know," said Jason, "they'll just kill us. Like they did Anton. How can we tell anyone?"

"That's where Father Gerald comes in," said Hallam. "I will compose an email message to multiple addresses, all important ones within the Sons of the Rising Sun. I will then contact Edgar Weem. I will tell him what I know. And I will tell him that unless he gives me what I want, I am prepared to tell everyone what he did. I will also tell him that if I do not check in within a certain period of time, I have someone—who will be Father Gerald, but Weem won't know that—who will send a message to everyone within the Sons."

"He might not believe you," said Jason. "He might just kill you anyway."

"Well, that's the beauty of it," said Hallam. "I will be telling the truth. So if I die, everyone in the organization will find out what happened. Then the entire organization will crumble."

"I don't get it," I said. "Why don't you just tell everyone anyway? I mean, the Sons are evil. Shouldn't their organization crumble?"

"Azazel," said Jason, "if the Sons self-destruct, they'll try to take us with them. It won't end things. It will just make things worse."

"Oh," I said, alarmed. The magnitude of what we were up against suddenly seemed overwhelming.

"So, then, it's a good plan, isn't it?" asked Hallam, looking very pleased with himself.

"No," said Jason.

"No?" said Hallam.

I didn't understand either. I thought it was an excellent plan.

"You're taking all the risk," said Jason. "I should approach Weem. They won't hurt me."

"They might, Jason," said Hallam. "If they know that you know you aren't really the Rising Sun, they might very easily silence you."

"I still can't let you be the only person putting your life on the line," said Jason.

Hallam smiled. "Well, there are two things working against you as the candidate to speak to Weem. The first is that you aren't in contact with Father Gerald. And the second is that . . ." Hallam paused. His smile faded. "The second is that if you were to die, it would affect more than just you." He looked at me. "I don't think it would be right for you to do that to Azazel."

I looked at Hallam, grateful.

"But—" Jason protested.

"No," said Hallam, "and listen to me please. There is more logic to celibacy than you may ever have given thought. There's a certain responsibility a man takes on when he begins a relationship with a woman. A responsibility to live. I have always known that it would be . . . foolhardy for me to attempt to take on such a responsibility. But the two of you. You could live, and you could be happy. And I could give you that clean slate that you asked for."

Jason was quiet for a few minutes. "Even so, Hallam. I don't like you taking risks like this for me."

"Well, it's for me too," said Hallam. "I don't like being pursued by the Sons anymore than you do."

"Eventually, they'd give up on you. They won't ever give up on me," Jason said. "You could just lay low. It would blow over."

"Maybe," said Hallam. "Maybe you're right. But maybe I owe you something. I think there was a night, the two of us together, when I watched something . . . break in you."

Jason looked away.

Hallam must be referring to the night with the college girls. That night had changed Jason, I knew. It was hard for him to talk about it.

"I stole your innocence, Jason," Hallam whispered. "Let me give you your life."

Maybe Hallam really was not such a bad guy after all. Maybe I'd seriously misjudged him.

"For me," Hallam said. "Let me do it for me. I sometimes feel the need to atone for the things that I've done."

Finally, Jason nodded. He offered his hand to Hallam and Hallam grasped it.

"Okay," said Jason, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, "when do we do this?"

"Pretty much now," said Hallam.

* * *