Unbreakable (The Legion 1)

“We must be getting close,” Priest said.

“I found something else.” Lukas held up the map. He had added blue Xs inside the boundary line.

Alara frowned. “You’ll have to elaborate.”

“The circles represent the places that had major surges in the last month, the cities and towns where we ended up looking for Kennedy.” He traced the line with his finger. “The Xs are the locations where we found pieces of the Shift.”

Priest froze. “They’re all inside that red line.”

“So what does that mean?” Alara asked.

“I think the Marrow is in there, too,” Lukas said. “And if I’m right, Andras is closer than we thought.”

Alara nodded. “Then we need to find the last piece.”

Another newscaster’s voice replaced the first. “Eastern West Virginia is still under tornado watch. Two tornadoes touched down in Morgantown yesterday, destroying three homes and a community center. The National Weather Service is working to determine the cause—”

“It’s like we’re headed into it,” Priest said.

Alara stared at the black clouds looming in the distance. “Or we’re already there.”

MOUNDSVILLE, WEST VIRGINIA

POPULATION 9,835

Jared glanced at the sign as we passed. “Only a few more miles.” They were the first words he’d spoken since we left Hearts of Mercy.

The road curved and the sky turned black, but this time it had nothing to do with the clouds.

Alara leaned over the front seat to get a better look. “Please tell me I’m seeing things.”

Hundreds of crows crowded the telephone wires, perched in the trees, and circled the sky.

Alara didn’t take her eyes off the birds. “Black rain. That’s what it’s called when murders of crows gather in one place like this.”

“Because they turn the sky black?” Priest asked.

“Because it’s just as unnatural.”

We moved closer to the birds churning purposefully over one spot in the distance. I didn’t need to see the words etched in the sign we passed to know it was the West Virginia State Penitentiary.

The Gothic facade was flanked by high stone walls, and the building looked more like a European castle than a prison. Tangled razor wire littering the grass was the only clue that murderers, rather than holy men, once resided inside.

Lukas pointed at the arched entrance. “The coordinates are on the other side of that wall.”

Alara shook her head. “I don’t like this. My grandmother believed that crows could carry evil spirits to hell and back.”

I looked up at the dark sky moving to the rhythm of thousands of black wings. “Then there were a lot of evil spirits in this place.”

“Or they’re still here.”

We parked the van and stood in front of the concrete wall. ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH? was spray painted above a cracked hole that reminded me of the one in the basement of Hearts of Mercy. The names of people that had accepted the dare surrounded the opening. It was probably a rite of passage in a small town like this, something I could’ve imagined Elle persuading me to do with her.

Now I was checking my pockets for paintball cases filled with holy water and kitchen spices, and a marker in case I needed to bind a spirit with a voodoo symbol.

Alara watched the crows, transfixed, as though she saw something more than their glossy black feathers and sharp eyes. “I have a bad feeling.”

“Of course you do,” Priest said, checking the pocket of his hoodie for batteries and ammo. “We’re about to break into a prison where hundreds of criminals died. This is the definition of a bad feeling.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t go in?” she asked.

“I’m saying my granddad is dead because of Andras, and the Shift can stop him. I’m not leaving without it.” Priest sounded older than when I first met him a few days ago.

Alara took one last look at the world on this side and followed Priest through the hole. “May the black dove always carry us.”

Lukas glanced back at me before he climbed through the hole, his eyes full of questions I knew he wouldn’t ask. Questions that had been lurking around the edges of every look since the moment he broke through the boards at Hearts of Mercy and found me in his brother’s arms.

I made a choice inside those walls, and there was no way to take it back. Because even if it was the wrong choice, how could I say that to Lukas when I had feelings for Jared?

“Kennedy.”

I didn’t turn around.

Jared put his hand on the stones above my shoulder, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “I think we should talk before we go in there.”

“We’ve talked enough.” I slipped through the opening without looking back. I couldn’t afford to give him the chance to hurt me again.

Lukas waited on the other side with his hand outstretched, offering to pull me up. I didn’t look back at Jared when I heard him behind me.

The five of us walked across the cracked concrete basketball court, the only break in a sea of dead grass and twisted silver razor wire.

“Which way?” Priest asked.

“Northeast.” Lukas pointed to the far corner of the building.

“Is there anything we should know before we go in?” I asked.

Other than the fact that we’re walking into a haunted prison?

“Over a thousand men died here.” Lukas had researched the location during the ride. “This prison put more inmates to death in the electric chair than any penitentiary in the state. Add that to the inmates who committed suicide and the ones that killed each other.”

“That’s a serious body count.” Priest examined the heavy double doors in front of us.

“And that doesn’t include the six people Darien Shears murdered,” Lukas said.

“Who?” Jared eyed the crows pecking one another on a broken picnic table in the corner of the yard.

“A couple of websites mentioned that Moundsville had its own serial killer.”

Alara waved a hand in the air. “I’ve heard enough. This is a paranormal minefield. Be careful where you step.”

I never expected to see the inside of a prison.

The rows of thin rectangular windows didn’t provide much in the way of light, for which I was secretly grateful. I didn’t want a closer look at the dark stains on the concrete floors. Knowing people died here and seeing the evidence were two different things.

At the end of the narrow hallway, the metal door marked CELL BLOCK A was wide open. Four floors of barred doors rose above and around us. Chain-link fencing covered the walls and the ceiling, creating one enormous cage. Trash, torn strips of bedsheets, and scraps of orange fabric littered the floor.

Something flickered at the end of the room—a blurry man in a jumpsuit the same fluorescent shade of orange. He was pushing a mop along the floor, when his head jerked up like he heard a sound from above. A second later, another hazy form fell backward over the top railing. The man with the mop screamed silently and tried to shield himself, crumpling beneath the weight o

f the falling man.

They both disappeared, and within seconds the man was pushing the mop again, the gruesome scene repeating itself in a never-ending loop.

I squeezed Priest’s arm. “A residual haunting?”

“See, you’re a pro now.”

Even though I knew the men were nothing more than energy—handprints on a dirty window reaching out for help—the sight of the fall still made my pulse race.

Empty cigarette packs and burnt paper crunched under my boots as we followed Lukas to a door at the north end of the cell block. It opened into a hallway, part of the labyrinth of concrete tunnels burrowing through the guts of the prison.

Lukas found the northeast corner easily, a laundry room with industrial washers and dryers lining the back wall and a few wheeled laundry carts. More blood stained the floors beneath the rusted white machines.

Alara closed her eyes and ran her hand along the wall. “I don’t think the Shift is in here.”

Priest lifted an eyebrow. “Since when can you tell that from touching the wall?”

“It’s just a feeling.”

Lukas checked behind another washer. “I’d feel better if we checked the machines anyway.”

Alara rolled her eyes and opened one of the dryers. She seemed more intuitive since the mark had appeared on her wrist, the same way Priest seemed braver after he earned his.

Did the marks change them, or did they change because of the marks? I wanted to ask, but the sting of envy stopped me.

“There’s nothing here,” Jared said. “We should go up to the second floor. There was a stairwell at the end of the hall.”

Priest jumped onto the first grated-metal step. “We’re getting warmer.”

“I’m not.” My breath came out in white crystalline puffs.

The temperature continued to drop dramatically every few steps, and when we reached the second floor, I understood why. The words Death House were spray painted in red on a windowless white door directly above the laundry room.

I rubbed my hands over my arms. “What do you think it means?”