by Kami Garcia
Jared stopped pacing. “It’s a reference from the Bible. Jesus met a man who was possessed, and he commanded the demon to tell him its name. The demon said, ‘My name is Legion: for we are many.’ ” Jared’s deep voice grew quieter. “The ex-priests called themselves the Legion to remind them of what they were fighting. And of what they had to become in order to win.”
I didn’t know where they were going with this.
“But there was a problem,” Lukas said. “Since no one knew the identities of the Illuminati members, they were impossible to stop. So the Legion turned to a grimoire.”
“A what?”
He watched me for a moment before answering. “Grimoires are texts that provide instructions for communicating with angels… or summoning and commanding demons. The Legion used one to call Andras.”
Angels? Summoning demons?
I stared back at him, speechless.
Lukas walked over to the empty cabinets and rummaged around, unearthing a forgotten coffee mug. He filled it with water from the faucet and handed it to me. “I know all this might sound unbelievable—”
“You think it might sound unbelievable?” I stood up and leaned against the refrigerator behind me, the bite of cold metal spreading up my back. “Which part? The fact that demons exist or that one’s trying to kill me?”
“When you say it like that, it does sound kind of stupid,” Lukas said. “But it’s still true.”
Before I had a chance to respond, the radio on the counter switched on. The dial turned and the needle moved across the stations, snippets of voices and songs distorting into a single progression.
“There’s a storm warning—”
“—electrical storms tearing across the sky—”
“—three deaths reported—”
“—killed tragically—”
“—looking for salvation—”
Finally, it stopped on an Alice in Chains track, a single line repeating slowly over the crackle of static.
“Ain’t found a way to kill me yet—”
The cord dangled from the counter.
Unplugged.
“Ain’t found a way to kill me yet—”
Lukas reached out his hand, urging me toward him. “Kennedy—”
The wooden cabinets began to rattle, and the faucet turned itself on full blast. Steam rose from the sink. Jared shouted something, but I couldn’t hear anything except the ominous message repeating over and over.
“Ain’t found a way to kill me yet—”
Something metallic glinted in my peripheral vision. A knife block sat next to the stove, directly across from the kitchen doorway. I hadn’t bothered to pack it because it weighed a ton.
The black handles of the knives were still secure in their slots. Except for one.
A steak knife hovered above the counter. It turned slowly until the blade faced Lukas. For a moment, it didn’t move.
“Ain’t found a way to kill me yet—”
The knife tore through the air.
“Lukas!” I screamed.
He pivoted as the blade hit the doorframe, catching the edge of his jacket.
Another knife slid out, the serrated edge skimming the wood as it pulled free.
Jared ran toward me. “Move!”
“Ain’t found a way to kill me yet—”
The garbage disposal whirred to life, spraying hot water from the sink all over the room. I shielded my face with one arm and reached out for Jared blindly with the other.
The second knife landed next to me, with the clipped sound of metal against metal as it hit the fridge.
Someone grabbed me around the waist and hauled me out of the kitchen. I wiped my eyes, hot water trailing down my neck. I caught a glimpse of his army jacket and realized it was Jared. He was soaked, water running down his face, a single-minded focus propelling him forward. Jared’s hand locked on my hip, his fingers pressed against me, as if nothing could break that hold.
Lukas was at the front door, yanking on the handle. “It won’t open.”
I glanced through the kitchen doorway. The remaining ten knives drew themselves from the block one by one and lined up in the air.
There was no way we could dodge that many.
“Get out of the way.” Jared released me and pushed his brother aside. He pulled the duct tape-covered gun out of his jacket and fired three shots at the base of the door. Steam poured from holes where the salt rounds gouged the wood.
He looked at Lukas, who was already backing up. “We have to break it down.”
Jared and Lukas charged the door. Their shoulders slammed into it simultaneously, but the hinges only groaned. They backed up again.
This time, I threw my body against the door alongside theirs. I heard the wood crack and felt myself falling.…
I skidded across the front walk, my hands burning as they scraped the pavement. I waited for the world around me to stop swaying before I turned back to my house.
Lights flashed on and off inside like an insidious form of Morse code.
“Kennedy.” Fear and panic warred in Jared’s eyes. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “We have to get to the van.”
Lukas was already halfway there.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the house as I ran. It was alive—breathing, consuming, destroying. The kitchen windows exploded, spraying glass all over the sidewalk.
Jared yanked the van door open and shoved me across the bench seat toward Lukas. The air in front of the house started to move like the tide pulling back from the shore—sucking broken glass, splintered wood, and potted plants up the sidewalk and into its jaws, as the house took one long, devastating breath.
“Look what it’s doing.” Lukas’ eyes widened.
The supernatural force pulling everything inside suddenly stopped. The air in the front hall started to churn like a tiny cyclone, our welcome mat and one of my sneakers caught in the brown whirlwind.
Inside, the lights flickered faster and faster.
Lukas glanced from Jared to the house. “Hurry up.”
Jared fumbled to get the keys in the ignition.
“What’s happening?”
A surge of air burst from the hallway like a bomb exploding, tearing what was left of the front door right off its hinges and expelling everything the house had sucked in.
The van pulled away from the curb. I stared out the back window watching as other doors along my street opened, my house growing smaller and smaller.
Was I really leaving with them?
It wasn’t a question anymore.
I had made my decision when I became more than just a girl with a dead mother—somewhere between the girl in the white nightgown, the knives flying, and the cyclone in the hallway. I was a girl whose mother was taken from her by something supernatural.
And something evil.
7. THE LEGION
That was the nastiest poltergeist I’ve ever seen.” Lukas looked out the window one last time like he hoped to catch another glimpse.
“It’s the only one you’ve ever seen.” Jared kept his eyes on the road, his expression tense.
“Whatever. That was some serious energy.”
They were talking about it like a hurricane or a tornado, but it wasn’t some uncontrollable natural disaster. It was completely unnatural, controlled in a way I didn’t understand. And judging from Jared’s comment, they weren’t experts either.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Are you cold?” Lukas started to take off his jacket.
“I’m fine,” I said.
We both knew I was lying. It was December, and I was wearing my standard uniform, skinny black jeans and a thin gray T-shirt. I would’ve killed for a coat, but I didn’t want them to see how far from fine I really was. Lukas didn’t push.
Maybe he sensed how lost I felt. Lukas and Jared had at least some of the answers, and I didn’t even know the questions. But after the last few hours, I was too exhausted to try to figure them out.
I
leaned heavily on one arm, and my hand slid across the seat and bumped into Jared’s. Our fingertips touched for a second. He glanced down at them before I pulled away, folding my hands awkwardly in my lap.
“So what happened back there?” I asked.
“A poltergeist,” Lukas said.
“Like the movie?”
“Did it feel like a movie?” A reassuring smile played across Lukas’ lips. Jared never seemed to smile. Aside from their clothes and Jared’s scar, it was one of the few ways I could tell them apart.
“Not one I’d want to see again.” I tried to relax, but it was impossible with my body wedged between them.
“That movie was actually pretty accurate. Poltergeists are paranormal entities that feed off energy—electrical, mechanical, even human—and use it to move objects and cause some serious damage. No one knows exactly what they are, but they’re not spirits.” It sounded like Lukas was repeating something he read on one of those paranormal websites.
“I still don’t understand what one was doing in my house.”
They both looked away.
“You guys showed up in my bedroom out of nowhere, shot my cat with a gun that looked like something from a video game, and told me that a demon’s trying to kill me. Want to explain how you could possibly know that?”
Jared looked over at me. “Because our family has been fighting his army for over two hundred years.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Andras can influence vengeance spirits, and he uses them to do what he can’t—hurt and kill the living,” Lukas said. “The Legion vowed to protect the world from those attacks.”
“You mean like those ghost hunters on TV?”
Jared frowned. “More like exorcists.”
“I thought exorcists help people who are possessed by demons… or whatever.” I wasn’t ready to start talking about the devil. I sounded insane enough already.
“Anything can be possessed—places, animals, even objects,” Jared explained. “And demons don’t have the market cornered. Spirits possess things all the time, like your cat.”
I didn’t want to think about it. I hoped that Elvis was curled up in front of the fireplace in one of my neighbors’ houses.
Lukas squeezed my shoulder gently. “Exorcists are like supernatural exterminators. If something is hanging around that isn’t supposed to be there, they get rid of it. For the Legion, that’s a full-time job.”
How could the world they were describing possibly exist within the one I had lived in my whole life?
Angels and demons? Ghosts that can possess whatever they want, and a secret society of exorcists…
“Are you telling me that someone in your family was part of the Legion?”
“The responsibility has been passed down, each member choosing a blood descendant to assume the duty at the time of their death. It’s been that way since the night our ancestors accidentally set Andras free.”
For a moment I didn’t respond. I watched them—Jared scowling at the road, Lukas with his boots on the dashboard. Neither of them looked delusional, and they definitely knew something about getting rid of vengeful spirits. But the rest of it sounded like an old family legend—a story that someone had misrepresented as history. Were their parents crazy? Conspiracy theorists who had passed on their deranged beliefs to their sons?
“Do you think the part about the demon could be a story? A way to explain why these spirits try to hurt people?”
Lukas took a leather journal out of the glove compartment. At least it looked like it had been a journal once. Now it was falling apart, scraps and torn pages slipping out from between the scratched covers. He opened it, tucking the loose pages back into their proper places, and handed it to me. “I wish it was just a story.”
The spine was broken, the ink completely streaked in some places and illegible in others. Faded script from another time stared back at me.
“Is this Latin?”
“Yeah.” Lukas pointed to the clearer print below the passage. “That’s the translation.”
Konstantin Lockhart
13th December 1776
After careful examination of the grimoire, we have selected the demon most suited to aid us in this mission. Andras, the Author of Discords, one who breeds distrust and dissension among men. In two nights’ time, we shall summon Andras, using the angel Anarel to control him, and command the beast to find the Illuminati and destroy it from within.
May the black dove always carry you.
The rest of the page was obscured by water stains, and the back revealed nothing but a few unfamiliar symbols.
“Is there more?”
“In mine.” Jared took a journal out of his jacket and dropped it in my lap. It was smaller, with black leather peeling around the edges. Loose pages were falling out of this one, too. But the handwriting was different.
Markus Lockhart
15th December 1776
Despite careful precautions, our mission has failed. We marked our skin with the demon’s seal to bind him once summoned. I inscribed the seal on the floor of the church myself. Each line had to be precise. If only we had known that one was not.
We called the demon Andras, but our strength was no match for a marquis of hell. There was no will beyond his own, his only desire to kill us and open the gates of hell. A single error has unleashed an evil greater than all the sins of man. We were foolish to think we could control a beast so powerful, even with the aid of Anarel. Now her blood is on our hands.
“I don’t understand. Did Andras kill the angel?” I couldn’t believe I was asking the question. But the faded script, strange hand-drawn symbols, and fingerprints on the yellowed pages made the story seem more plausible.
Lukas leaned against the seat, his shoulders sagging. “No one knows. We only have bits and pieces of the journals and the story. All we know is that the Legion found a way to contain Andras.”
“But once a demon gets a taste of this world, it wants more.” Jared tightened his grip on the wheel, his expression dark. “Andras is settling for revenge.”
“What about that book—the grimoire? Can’t you use it to send him back?”
“Nobody knows what happened to it,” Lukas said.
“You’re saying there’s no way to stop him?”
Jared shook his head. “At this point, it’s damage control. We have to destroy the vengeance spirits Andras controls, so they can’t do his dirty work.”
I realized what they were saying. “You don’t mean the two of you—”
Lukas cut me off. “Konstantin and Markus were cousins, and they each chose a blood relative to take their place. So two people from our family have always been in the Legion. Right now, those two people are Jared and me.”
He couldn’t be serious, not after what I’d witnessed at my house. “Your parents let you exorcise ghosts? Isn’t there a minimum age requirement or something?”
“Our parents are dead.” Jared tensed, but his voice didn’t betray a hint of emotion.
My throat went dry at the sound of the word and the thought of any more dead parents. “I’m sorry. But shouldn’t someone else do it? It’s obviously dangerous.”
Jared turned down an alley flanked by warehouses with dented metal doors. “There’s no one else. It’s our job.”
“Your job?” He made it sound like they were delivering pizza.
Lukas watched me with the intense blue eyes he and his brother shared. “It’s what we do, Kennedy. Our father chose Jared, and our uncle chose me. We’ve been training since we were kids.”
“Somebody has to do it.” Jared seemed almost apologetic. “If it weren’t for us, you’d be dead.”
Like my mom.
My chest tightened, and I took a trembling breath. “Stop the car.”
“What’s wrong?” Lukas asked.
I gripped the edge of the seat, my nails digging into the leather. “Please.”
“Are you gonna be sick?” Jared sounded wo
rried as he guided the van to one side of the alley.
Lukas slid out and held the door open as I stumbled onto the filthy street. I turned my back on them and focused on the shiny puddles of water in the potholes, fighting the tears burning my eyes.
“Kennedy?” I caught a glimpse of Jared’s army jacket.
I spun around, shaking. “My mom is dead because of a demon your family summoned.”
Jared took a step back as if I had slapped him. “Our family didn’t do it alone. Someone from your family was there, too.”
8. PROOF
I heard the words, but they felt impossible.
Someone from your family was there, too.
And there was no one to confirm or deny it. My aunt was the only family I had left. If one of our ancestors was in a secret society, my mom would never have told her. They barely spoke, and when they did, it always ended in an argument.
I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice steady. “How do you know?”
Lukas pushed past his brother, walking toward me slowly like he was approaching a frightened animal. “There are always five members of the Legion. A month ago, all five died on the same night. Exactly the same way. Our dad and uncle, your mom—”
Jared leaned against the side of the van, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You weren’t the only one with a psychotic cat.”
“You think this is funny?” I snapped.
“No, I didn’t mean—” Jared’s eyes dropped to the ground.
“I get that this is a lot to take in, but you need to know the truth,” Lukas said.
I only nodded.
“Our place isn’t far.” Lukas led me to the van, and I climbed in without arguing. “It’s not like you can go back to your house.”
I hesitated for a second. “Wait. What time is it?”
“Eleven. Why?”
I was supposed to meet Elle at nine thirty. She would’ve gone by my house when I didn’t show up. I tried to picture exactly how it looked when we left—the door blown off the hinges, windows shattered, knives sticking out of the kitchen walls. Considering the number of people who had been opening their doors when we drove away, the police had probably beaten her there.