He didn't look away from Michaela.
I only looked for a second. I only peeled my eyes away from the entrance for one moment, to look at what he was looking at. Michaela's body, frail and twisted, a sick smiled still on her lips.
A second was all it took.
I heard the gun shot, and I turned, but it was too late.
Jason didn't even make a noise. He just collapsed against me, blood seeping out of his forehead.
"Jude?" I said.
He was standing at the opening to the attic, holding the gun I'd dropped.
He smiled at me. "Hi Azazel," he said.
"Jude," I repeated. I'd left him alive. Of all of them, I'd left him alive. And it was funny. He'd seemed like such a bad shot at the target range. But he hadn't had any trouble this time. Right on the mark.
I looked back at Jason, his head slumped against my chest. His blood was flowing onto my shirt. He was— But no. No, that—
"Mother's gone," said Jude. "But so is he now. And now, Azazel, there's no reason we can't be together."
I started to tremble, then to shake. Spastic jerks. No. No. NO.
Chapter Fifteen
From: Arabella Hoyt
To: Michaela Weem
Subject: Is it done?
Michaela, you've been out of touch with me for days now. I just received communication from my grandsons. You promised me that this would be quick. I need word and soon. I'll only keep my end of the bargain if you keep yours.
Arabella
I could still hear the Sons scrambling through the house. Someone was coming up the steps behind Jude.
It was Hallam. He tackled Jude, knocking Jude flat on his face on the floor of the attic.
Behind him came a swarm of men dressed in black. Men toting guns.
But it was like it was all moving in slow motion. Like reality had just snapped whatever hold it had on me. I couldn't grasp the thread of events that had transpired. I couldn't make my brain put them together.
"Jesus, Azazel," said Hallam, "why couldn't you have waited for me?"
I looked at him. I looked through him. What was going on? I shook Jason. "Jason," I said. "Wake up."
Jason's body jerked lifelessly with the force of my shaking. His head lopped forward. His chin bounced against his chest. I shook harder. "Jason!" I said insistently.
Hallam came to me. Behind him, the Sons were restraining Jude. Tying his hands behind his back. Hallam knelt. "Azazel," he said. "Stand up."
I glared at him. "No," I said.
I turned back to Jason. I guided his head back. I placed it in my lap. I cradled him, and I rocked. "This didn't happen, did it?" I asked Hallam. "He isn't . . ." I couldn't make myself say it.
Hallam reached across me, taking Jason's wrist. He was feeling for a pulse.
"Azazel," he whispered. "He's gone. Come away from the body."
"NO!" I shouted. I clutched Jason to me tighter. "No."
I gazed down at Jason's face. Unlike Lilith's, it still looked so perfect. There was only one small hole marring the beauty of his face, high on his forehead, just below his hairline. It wasn't even bleeding that much. There was no exit wound. I traced his nose and chin with my forefinger.
He couldn't be dead. I'd just found him. It had been so hard to find him, and I'd had to go through so much. I'd shot three people in the head to find him. I'd faced the darkest part of myself. Resigned myself to future nightmares. Done things I'd never believed myself capable of. So, he couldn't be dead. After all of that, it just wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right.
"No," I whispered, caressing his cheek with the back of my fingers.
Hallam stood up and crossed the attic to the other members of the Sons. I heard him giving them orders, telling them what to do with Jude. Telling them to leave us alone for awhile. But I couldn’t really focus on the words. Everything still seemed fuzzy. There was a gauzy curtain between the world and me. I couldn't see straight. This couldn't be reality. Because Jason couldn't die. That wasn't the way things were supposed to go!
I loved Jason. He and I were supposed to ride off into the sunset together. He and I were supposed to live happily ever after. He wasn't supposed to die! And how, how, how, how could I possibly face the idea of being alive if he wasn't? It just wasn't true. It couldn’t be true. It couldn't be true!
I looked down at his face. It was true. Jason was dead.
The realization settled over me with icy certainty. Its truth seemed to crystallize the air in front of me. Things began to move at the proper speed. Things began to look clear again. That almost made it worse. Because everything was still going on, moving on, and Jason was dead. I felt like the world should stop. Like everything should stop functioning the way it usually did. How could everyone just keep going when Jason was dead?