I lingered on his lips for too long. I didn't want to let go. This was the final step in accepting the horror that had just occurred. Once I stopped kissing him, stopped holding him, his death would be real. I didn't want to face that.
But I had to. I broke away from Jason. I turned to Hallam. "What do we need to do?" I asked.
And Jason coughed in my lap.
Coughed.
We both jerked our heads to look at him. His eyes were fluttering. He was coughing, as if air had just filled his lungs after a long break.
"Jason?" I whispered.
Was I dreaming?
"Hey," he said, looking around.
"No," said Hallam. "He was dead. I felt his pulse."
Jason struggled into a sitting position, putting his hand to the wound on his forehead. "I'm not dead," he said. He smiled at me lopsidedly. "Didn't Michaela Weem say that only you could kill 'the abomination?' It's not the first time she's been right."
"He was dead," Hallam said.
I touched my lips. "I thought you were dead," I said.
"Who could be dead through a kiss like that?" said Jason. He pulled me close and kissed me again. My heart stopped in my chest.
Hallam scrambled to his feet. "Isis and Osiris," he muttered. "You are the Rising Sun. Your consort breathed life into you. It's one of the signs."
Jason stood up too and helped me to my feet. He shrugged at me, taking my hand. "Well," he said, "gotta say it's good to be a dying god. But I really think this bullet didn't do much damage. It doesn't even hurt."
"You were dead!" Hallam said. "You didn't have a pulse!"
Jason laughed. "Right, Hallam. It's a miracle." He grinned at me. "Of course, I guess we did drive a bunch of men mad a few months ago. Maybe we really are, like, magic or something." He laughed again. "Come on, Azazel, we've got to get out of here."
"You can't leave," said Hallam.
"Got to," said Jason. "Don't you know that I must be about screwing up my father's business?" He took his phone out of his pocket and hit a few numbers. Holding it to his ear, he said, "I've got her. Meet me out front. When can you get here? . . . Good." Jason hung up his phone. He turned to Hallam. "You double-crossed me. You've been in touch with Weem all this time."
"Did you overhear while you were . . . dead?" Hallam said.
"No," said Jason. "No, I've got a source. Listen, Hallam, you and I have a history. Just let me and Azazel walk out of here, okay? I'm willing to just let you go. You were my friend."
Hallam looked confused. "Where are you going?"
"I never want to see you again," said Jason. "If I do, I'll have to kill you."
Jason took my hand and led me through the house. When the Sons saw us, they dropped their guns. They fell to their knees. They whispered amongst themselves things like, "He's alive" and "He is the one." On the front porch, two of the Sons were wrestling with Jude. When Jude saw us, he went nuts.
He yelled after us, "This isn't over, Jason! You killed Mother! I won't ever forget that, and I'll make sure you don't either!"
But in the tired darkness of the wee hours of the morning, with the moon sagging in the sky above us, a car pulled up in front of Michaela Weem's house. Jason led me towards it.
"Jason," I said, "who . . .?"
"You'll see," he said, opening the door for me.
We slid into the back seat together, and Jason slid his arm around me, holding me tight against him. It felt so good to be close to him.
The driver in the car turned around. "Where to, kids?" he said.
I looked at Jason in alarm.
The driver was Sutherland.