Jared took an extra screwdriver from the toolbox and helped her. “Miss Madigan, right?”
“Just Faith.”
“Think you can take a break? We came a long way to talk to you.” Alara leaned against the wall, looking unimpressed.
“And you would be?”
“Just Alara.”
Elle waved. “Hi. I’m Elle.”
I took a deep breath. Telling her my name made the fact that I was standing in front of my father’s sister feel more real. “I’m—”
“Kennedy.” She stopped digging through the box. “I was there the day you were born.”
For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. How many times had she seen me before? Were she and my mom close? “I have a picture of my dad and me in front of this house. But I don’t remember you.”
“You were young the last time I saw you. Maybe five or six.”
“Five. I was five.” Certain things stay with you, like how old you were the last time you saw your father. “Why haven’t I seen you since?”
Faith hauled a box of batteries out of the closet. “I was in hiding, and your father had—”
“Ditched me by then.”
Faith’s expression clouded over. “Alex did what he had to do.”
Tears pricking my eyes, but she had already turned back to whatever it was she was doing.
Lukas noticed my reaction and jumped in. “We didn’t come here to fill out the missing branches of Kennedy’s family tree. There’s something you need to know. Except for you, we’re all that’s left of the Legion.”
“The other four—our family members—all died on the same night two months ago,” Alara added.
“And my mom,” I said.
“Why Elizabeth? Kennedy’s mother wasn’t part of the Legion.” The way Faith emphasized every word made the idea sound unthinkable.
“The demon made a mistake,” Lukas said, covering for his brother.
Jared stared at his hands. No one except Lukas and I knew that Jared’s innocent search for the Legion members had led Andras right to their doors. Any mention of our dead family members seemed physically painful for him.
After what I’d done, I finally understood the weight of that kind of guilt. The way one mistake could feel like ten thousand. I carried that feeling with me every minute of every day.
Priest pulled at the strings of his gray hoodie. “It was an execution. And Andras’ vengeance spirits have been hunting us ever since.”
“That’s why we came,” I said. “We need your help.”
Faith looked back at us. “Listen to me. You don’t know what you’re up against. This is a fight you can’t win. Split up and disappear like I did. Before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late.” I let the truth spill out before I could change my mind. “Andras is free.”
She shook her head, dismissing the idea. “It’s easy to mistake a demonic entity for the demon himself. Andras can’t break free from the prison holding him. It’s not easy to explain, but there are safeguards in place.”
“You mean the Shift?” Priest took out his journal and flipped to the diagram.
Faith stepped closer. “I’ve never seen it before, only a piece.”
“The one you gave Darien Shears?” Lukas asked.
She turned around slowly. “Where did you hear that name?”
“From Darien’s spirit. We had a little run-in with him at West Virginia State Penitentiary.” Alara studied my aunt, measuring her reaction. “He told us a woman gave him the cylinder—the last piece of the Shift—and asked him to keep it safe.”
“Shears said it was his chance at redemption,” Lukas said.
My aunt stared at them in shock.
“You and my grandmother were the only women in the Legion.” Alara took a step toward Faith. “You’re the woman who gave him the cylinder, aren’t you?”
“There’s no way you would know about that unless you found it.” Her eyes went wild. “Where is it? You have no idea what that device can do.”
I didn’t want to tell her the next part.
“I assembled it.”
8. THE BLOOD OF ANGELS
Then Andras is free.” Faith slumped against the wall, her shoulders sagging. “And the clock is ticking.”
“Until what?” Priest asked when she started to turn away.
“He opens the Gates and invites the rest of the demons to his party up here.” Faith stifled a bitter laugh.
“So how do we stop him?” Jared asked.
She took a deep breath and rubbed her neck. “Andras isn’t some vengeance spirit you can destroy with salt rounds. He is a marquis of hell. The incarnation of evil. He’s everywhere and nowhere, and he will find us.”
“With all five members of the Legion, we stand a chance,” Priest said.
Faith gave him a strange look. “You honestly believe I even the odds against a demon?”
Lukas slipped his journal out of his jacket. “My dad always talked about how much stronger the Legion would be if all five members were together.”
She shook her head. “And you think that means we have some kind of superpowers?”
“Of course not.” Lukas frowned.
Faith sighed. “When all five Legion members are together, they can raise a protective barrier. Priests used grimoric magic and seals to protect themselves from evil for centuries. The barrier is an extension of that principle. It can’t help us hurt Andras. It keeps him from hurting us.”
“That’s it?” Priest picked at the silver duct tape on his headphones. “The five of us get together and it makes what—a force field?”
“I’m sorry you thought it meant something else. But we aren’t talking about catching a stray dog and delivering it to the pound. Faith stopped pacing and looked him in the eye. “Do you know your Legion history? What happened the night our ancestors in the Legion summoned Andras?”
“Marcus Lockhart drew the Devil’s Trap. But he screwed it up somehow, and they lost control of Andras.” Priest sounded like someone tired of recounting the story one too many times. “We know everything, except the part about what happened to the angel.”
My aunt stiffened. “Your families certainly didn’t tell you much.”
Alara hooked a thumb under the edge of her leather tool belt. “Then why don’t you fill us in?”
Faith slipped back inside the hidden closet behind the bookshelf, and came out carrying a brown leather-bound book embossed in gold.
“Is that your journal?” Alara sounded hopeful.
Faith dismissed the possibility with a wave of her hand. “Of course not. Someone who’s been running as long as I have knows better than to keep anything important with them. This book belonged to my father, the Legion member who trained me. The journal he inherited was in terrible condition, so he transcribed the older entries into this book. He died before he finished, but he did transcribe the most important entry—the one from the night Andras was summoned.”
Priest’s eyes widened, and Alara looked like she was holding her breath. The story none of them knew—the missing puzzle pieces—were written on the pages in my aunt’s hand.
“What exactly were you told?” Faith asked.
“My journal has an entry about the plan.” Lukas held it up.
Jared shoved his hands in his pockets. “The one in mine was written after everything went bad. A lot of stuff about unleashing the beast and Marcus taking the blame for whatever happened to the angel. He said her blood was on their hands.”
“Which makes it sound like she died that night,” Alara said.
Elle gave her a strange look. “Angels can’t die.”
“How do you know? Have you ever met one?” Alara shot back.
Faith rested the book on one of the taller stacks scattered throughout the room.
“You should read it for yourselves. There’s nothing more dangerous than going to war without knowing your enemy.”
15th December 1776
/> Nathaniel Madigan
As I write this, I fear God will not forgive us for what we have done. I know I will never forgive myself. But our errors on this night must be recorded, even if our sins cannot be forgiven.
With only candlelight to guide him, it is no surprise Markus’ hand betrayed him. Julian read from the Grimorie, and all five of us spoke the words to summon the beast. In my darkest dreams, I had never imagined seeing the true face of evil—a creature that was not man nor beast, but something between the two.
Markus had already prepared the angelic summoning circle, and we called the angel, Anarel, to control the beast. She appeared, her tattered wings reaching out like crooked fingers on an old woman’s hand. Anarel’s ferocity rivaled that of the beast himself. With features cut from the finest stone, she did not resemble the winged protectors painted on the ceilings of the city’s wealthiest churches. She seemed as angry to be called as Andras had been, when he first appeared. But unlike the angel, the marquis of hell was amused.