I struggled against her grip, but she held me fast.
Jason rushed towards us.
Michaela pulled me top of her. I was lying with my back on top of her body. She snaked her arm around my neck. She tightened it.
"Stop, Fiend," she said to Jason.
Jason stopped, his eyes murderous.
I could breathe, but it wasn't comfortable. And to think I'd been feeling sorry for this woman. I really was an idiot.
"That's your Vessel you're strangling," he rasped.
Michaela's mouth was close. I could feel her breath on my neck. I heard her voice in my ear. "Azazel," she said. "Oh Azazel. It's all gone wrong. My visions . . . they're swimming in confusion. Muddied. Swirled up. What have you done?"
I swallowed.
"I remember," Michaela continued, "what I saw when I first put my hands on your mother's belly and knew you were growing inside her. How delighted I was. You stood, strong and proud, clutching a spear of fire. You would vanquish the abomination. And your mother a Hoyt. It was too perfect."
"Hoyt?" I managed. "What's my mother's family got to do with this?"
Michaela Weem laughed, a high-pitched maniacal sound. "You don't know, do you?"
Jason shook his head. "Not those Hoyts," he said.
"Yes," said Michaela Weem. "Yes."
"You're twisted," said Jason. "You and my father both. You claim it's got something to do with ancient power or fate or destiny or anything like that, but it's all about you—your revenge—your ability to do what you want."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Your great uncle is Weem's successor," said Michaela. "Where did you think all that Hoyt money came from? It comes from the Sons of the Rising Sun. To use their own blood against them. To use you . . ." She laughed again. "It was too perfect."
Wait. My mother's side of the family had ties to Sons? That would make sense, considering my grandmother hadn't wanted anything to do with the Satanists. But . . . "But the Sons killed my Aunt Stephanie," I protested.
"The Sons are very rarely concerned with women's lives," said Michaela. "Very rarely concerned. And you, my dear sweet Azazel, you were going to be a thorn in their side. You were going to strike a blow to their foundations. Such a blow . . . But now . . . now I can't see. It's all a haze." Michaela's grip on my throat loosened a little bit. "It was so clear before. Two figures. One an agent of Chaos. One an agent of Order. One light. One dark. But now I can't see which is which."
What was she talking about? And she had to be wrong anyway. The Hoyts had nothing to do with the Sons. They couldn't. "Why was my grandmother helping Noah and Gordon, then?" I asked. "Why did she send them that car?"
Michaela cackled. "Oh, there are many, many things you don't know about Arabella Hoyt, Azazel. Many things." She smiled, humming to herself for a second. Then she stopped. "The Sons never would have noticed you, you know," she continued. "If you'd just struck. Smote him down. But now they know who you are. And they must control their precious Rising Sun. Oh, they must, mustn't they? But I can't see anymore, Azazel. I can't tell who you serve. Or who he serves. Do you use the power of Rabbit for evil, girl? Which of you, which of you, which of you should die? Which one?"
If my grandmother had ties to the Sons, then that would mean that the car that I drove to the house was a car that belonged to the Sons.
I looked up at Jason. "Jason," I said. "The Sons, they—"
And I was cut off by the sounds of several cars outside the house, all pulling to a stop.
"They know where we are," I finished.
"Oh, I know, I know that only you can kill the abomination. But if you won't kill him, and both of you live, what worse things could happen? One of you must die!" And she pulled her arm tight around my neck.
I gagged, my eyes going wide. Frantic, I scrabbled at her arm with my nails, raking her skin, drawing blood.
Jason raced to us, fishing out a gun. He put the barrel against Michaela Weem's head. "Let her go," he said.
Michaela only laughed. "Must die, must die, must die!" she squealed.
Jason shot her.
Immediately, her arm fell away from me lifelessly. Her body thudded back against the floor behind me.
I crawled away from her, into Jason's waiting arms.
I didn't look back, but Jason was staring at her. He didn't look away.
And the Sons were entering the house. We could hear their footsteps as they mounted the stairs, their voices as they opened doors.
"Jason?" I said.