I didn't feel much like snuggling against Lilith. Even though it had turned out that she wasn't working for the Satanists, I still couldn't bring myself to actually like her. I knew that I should feel bad for getting her into this situation. But mostly I just felt annoyed. It would be much easier for me to try to escape if I didn't have to worry about Lilith.
It was cold though, so I got close to her for body warmth. We lay in the dark, listening to the sounds of insects in the woods surrounding the abandoned house.
"Azazel," whispered Lilith.
"What?" I said.
"Do you think that they're going to make me go back to Bramford?"
Of course she was only worried about herself. What about Jason? What about me? "I'm going to get us out of this," I said.
"How?" she said.
"I don't know yet," I told her. "But I will. I promise you. And after that . . ." After that, I wanted her to go away, and I never wanted to see her again.
"It's okay," she said. "I know I haven't been the greatest best friend to you."
That was an understatement. I kept my mouth shut.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that girls like you get everything. You're all sweet and naïve, and guys just eat that shit up. They fall in love with girls like you. And just because I'm not like that. Well, no one's ever going to fall in love with me, Zaza. I know it was wrong, but I—I couldn't handle it. I wanted to . . . ruin it, somehow. Like if I couldn't have it, I didn't want you to have it, either."
That was the most twisted thing I'd ever heard. "Lilith," I said, "you're the kind of girl that guys want. They want someone experienced, with big boobs and curves."
"No," she said. "They don't. They might want to have sex with me, but they don't really want someone like me. They want someone like you. No one wants me."
Poor Lilith. I rolled my eyes in the darkness. "I'm sure that someday you'll find someone," I said. "We're only seventeen. We've got time."
Lilith shivered under the covers. "I don't think so," she said. "In Bramford, I met Michaela Weem once. She came to visit after your parents died. She looked into my eyes, and she said that I would never be loved. Not even once before I died."
"Forget Michaela Weem," I said. "Seriously, Lilith. You can't believe that."
When the sun came up, it poured in through the windows, waking me up. Lilith was still asleep next to me. I lay on my back for a few minutes, surveying my surroundings. The room we were in was devoid of decoration or furniture, except for some peeling wallpaper on the walls. The floor was hardwood, splintering and warped in places. Two unadorned large windows blazed sunlight into the space.
Windows!
Why hadn't I thought of this last night?
Probably because it had been too dark to even see that the windows existed. Carefully, I wriggled out from under the blanket. Next to me, Lilith made a noise in her sleep but didn't wake up. It wasn't easy getting to my feet while my hands were tied behind my back, but I finally managed it, scooting to the wall and using it for support. Once standing, I walked over to one of the windows. The glass in it rippled a little. It was clearly old glass, which was probably a bad sign. It looked strong.
But I could probably just unlock the window and open it, provided the windows weren't nailed shut. Then Lilith and I could climb out of the window. We were on the second story, but it looked like we'd drop onto several springy bushes that surrounded the house. That should help to cushion our fall. Plus, as near as I could tell, we weren't up so high that a drop would cause us to break a limb or anything. I didn't think.
Of course, I realized that my hands were tied behind my back. I couldn't unlock or open the window without my hands. Breaking the window was pretty much out of the question too. We didn't have any furniture. Besides, that would be loud, and someone might hear me doing that, come rushing in, and put an end to my escape attempt.
As if reading my thoughts, Jude opened the door and strode into the room. I turned my back to the window, hoping he wouldn't realize I'd been contemplating an escape route.
"You're awake," he said.
I nodded. "I hope you've come in here to tell me that you've come to your senses and you're going to trade me for your mother this afternoon."
Jude sneered. "No way," he said. "Jason doesn't tell me what to do."
Something about the edge to his voice let me know he was serious. He hated Jason. I could see that now. And to think, all that time in Bramford, Jason had known that there was something off about Jude, and I'd never noticed. I should have trusted Jason, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.