“If he’s telling the truth, there’s a vengeance spirit inside.” Alara held her arm out in front of Elle to prevent her from getting any closer to Dimitri, or the jar. “You trap the spirit in a glass container and take it to the home of the person you want to hex. To release the vengeance spirit, you break the glass and bury the pieces nearby, usually in the person’s yard. The spirit can’t leave the place where the pieces are buried, unless people like us come along and destroys it.”
Dimitri raised the jar higher. “Or someone like me brings another Battle Cruet to trap it.”
“How will your black magic jar prove anything?” Elle asked him.
But I already knew.
“Someone has to destroy the vengeance spirit inside, or the innocent victim of its wrath will never have any peace,” Dimitri explained. “Kennedy’s area of expertise is symbols and invocation. All she has to do is draw a symbol that will destroy the spirit. If she’s a member of the Legion, she’ll earn her mark.”
“That’s the demon tattoo, right?” Elle whispered to Alara.
Priest stared at Dimitri, dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”
“It’s my job to know as much as possible about the Legion of the Black Dove. As I said, we’re fighting for the same cause.”
Jared stepped in front of me protectively. “She’s not doing it. She doesn’t have to prove anything to you or anyone else.”
But I could tell from the way Alara, Lukas, and Priest were looking at each other that I did. Dimitri had planted a seed of doubt in their minds.
Worse, he’d fed the one already planted in mine.
“I’ll do it.” I needed to know the truth.
Jared cradled my face in his hands. “Kennedy, you don’t have to do this.”
Priest’s eyes dropped to the floor.
Gabriel emerged from between two metal shipping containers, his clothing completely soaked again. “He’s chained up, and I doused him with enough of holy water to drown an elephant.” He walked toward Dimitri. “But they’re still prepping the sanctuary, so we can’t move him yet.”
Dimitri patted down his pockets, most likely searching for more cigarettes. “That was supposed to be done days ago.”
“There was some confusion about the cross,” Gabriel said. “It wasn’t an actual altar cross.”
“Idiots.” Dimitri riffled through his pockets, clearly agitated. “We can’t afford mistakes like this. If Andras hadn’t exerted so much energy terrorizing these kids, chains and holy water might not have been enough to hold him. And without knowing how many souls he’s consumed, there’s no way to predict how long that will last.”
“Consumed?” Elle whispered to Lukas. “As in…”
“Possessed and killed,” Dimitri said. “The more souls Andras consumes, the stronger he gets.”
Gabriel peeled off his wet sweater. Dozens of black tattoos covered his right arm—the Eye of Providence, a hooked X, and other symbols I didn’t recognize. His left arm appeared to be bare until he turned, and I noticed a strange tattoo on the inside of his forearm. A Medieval cross, with a hawk in the center, and Latin script running down the bottom.
I pictured the letters and scrolled through lists of words in my mind for English root words to help me translate the Latin. But for some reason, I couldn’t up the last few letters of the tattoo. Something was wrong. I just looked at the tattoo a second ago, which meant my eidetic memory had already recorded the image. I glanced at Gabriel’s arm again. The symbols looked exactly the same, but he was standing too far away for me to see the script clearly.
My eyes must be tired.
I closed my eyes for a second and opened them again. I still couldn’t read the writing, and Gabriel hadn’t moved since he took off his sweater.
How did I see them before?
“What are you staring at?” Alara asked.
I looked away, embarrassed she’d noticed. “The weird cross on Gabriel’s arm.”
“It’s another Illuminati symbol,” she said.
Gabriel noticed the jar in Dimitri’s hand. “Looks like I interrupted something.”
Dimitri shook the jar. “Kennedy still believes she’s a member of the Legion. I offered her a way to find out for sure.”
“Why torture yourself, kid?” Gabriel asked.
I swallowed hard. “Open it.”
“Not yet. You need to be ready,” Dimitri said. “Draw a symbol capable of destroying the spirit, then I’ll give it to you.”
Alara took the black marker out of her tool belt and handed it to me. “Show them what you’ve got.”
I nodded and knelt on the cold concrete floor, picturing the symbol I planned to draw.
The Devil’s Trap.
The symbol I’d used to destroy Darien Shears, the spirit who had warned me not to assemble to Shift.
I should’ve listened.
I drew the outer circle first, then a heptagram with a seven-pointed star in the middle. My mind had recorded every detail—the symbol in the center of the star, the names inside the heptagram: Samael, Raphael, Anael, Gabriel, Michael…
When I finished, I stood up and tossed the marker at Dimitri’s feet. “Done.”
He walked around the symbol, nodding. “Impressive. You certainly have the gift.”
“It’s her specialty,” Jared said, sounding proud.
“We call them gifts,” Dimitri said. “Some Illuminati members have them as well.”
“Open it.” My throat felt like sandpaper.
I want this over.
Dimitri held out the jar. “The cruet has to be broken, not opened. You should be the one to release the spirit.”
“That leaves no room for doubt,” Gabriel said, from where he stood watching.
My hand closed around the glass, and I carried the War Jar into the center of the Devil’s Trap.
“Stand on the outside,” Alara called out.
Of course. Such an amateur mistake.
I moved outside the symbol and leaned over, stretching toward the center. A gray mist swirled behind the glass. The wax slid beneath my fingers and I let the jar drop, yanking my arm back.
The glass shattered, and waxy shards spun across the floor.
My pulse raced as the vengeance spirit materialized. Dirty sneakers and worn jeans covered with mud… bloody hands gripping a wooden handle… the dull, bloodstained blade of an axe. The woman’s face took a moment to solidify, her features twisted into a deadly expression. The hate in her eyes was unmistakable.
And all that blood.
“I told him if he hurt me again, I’d kill him,” she said, looking right at me. The woman walked toward me, balancing the axe on her shoulder. “You were supposed to protect me, but none of you cowards did a damn thing.”
When she reached the outer circle of the Devil’s Trap, her body convulsed as if she’d touched an electrified fence. The force threw her back into the center of the symbol.
Just like Damien Shears.
But she wasn’t as strong as Shears. As she struggled to get up, her form began to fade. She pointed a bloody finger at me. “I’ll see you in hell.”
The spirit cried out in pain, and her body flickered one last time. Then it exploded into millions of tiny particles.
Don’t wait. It’ll only make it harder.
I reached into my pocket and scooped out a handful of salt. The next few minutes would change my life, one way or another.
I rubbed the crystals over my wrist and stared at the scuffed toes of my boots.
The minutes ticked by and the questions started coming.
What if the mark didn’t show up and I wasn’t the fifth member of the Legion? Would my friendships vanish like the tiny bits of the vengeance spirit I had just destroyed? Who else would Faith have chosen? My deadbeat of a father?
I kept my eyes fixed on the concrete, my boots, the edge of the Devil’s Trap—anything to avoid my friend’s faces as they waited for the moment that would determine my fate.
It’s been long enough.
I turned my wrist over and flexed my fingers.
The moment was here.
20. LION’S DEN
I raised my eyes slowly, wanting to know the truth and not wanting to know at the same time. I stared down at my wrist.
Unmarked.
I held my breath, afraid to move.
I’m not one of them.
I drew the Devil’s Trap that destroyed the spirit in the War Jar, and I watched Jared and Lukas bury my aunt, the fifth member of the Legion. This time, there were no loopholes left. I remembered waiting for my mark inside the West Virginia State Penitentiary. I’d been so sure the lines were carving themselves into my skin.
But they weren’t.
That night broke me. At least, I thought it had. But it was nothing compared how I felt right now—shattered, empty, alone, hopeless.
Let this be another nightmare. Let me wake up.
“Kennedy?” Jared sounded nervous, which meant he saw it too.
“I’m sorry, kid.” Gabriel said.