Unbreakable (9 page)

Lukas froze. “Five pieces?”

“Yeah—” Priest started, but Lukas was halfway across the room.

“Luke?” Jared called after him. His brother didn’t even break stride, and I felt Jared’s body tense behind me.

“And you never noticed that picture before?” Alara asked before an awkward silence set in.

Priest gave her a hard stare. “Of course I did. But there are hundreds of sketches in here. And like I said, that isn’t my granddad’s handwriting. His is down in the corner.” The word
Lilburn
was printed neatly at the bottom of the page. “Another member of the Legion must have drawn it before he inherited the journal.”

“Then why is this Shift thing such a big deal all of a sudden?” Jared asked.

“Because of this.” Priest pointed at the seal. “Kennedy found it.”

Alara and Jared squinted to see what had taken my mind only seconds to record in complete detail. They gasped as recognition registered on their faces.

Jared looked at me. “How’d you even see it?”

“I have twenty-twenty vision.” I didn’t want to tell them about my freakish memory. Priest might think it was cool, but Alara would undoubtedly point out that it wasn’t very useful, unless we needed to take a standardized test about destroying vengeance spirits.

“If the seal is there, it means something,” Alara said.

“It does.” Lukas parted the sheet with one hand, his journal in the other. “Listen to this. ‘Five pieces. Separated until the day comes when, united, we can finally destroy him. Until that day, the pieces remain hidden from the demon that hunts them. The shift is the key.’ My uncle read it to me once. He thought it was a metaphor, and the five pieces represented the five members of the Legion, like the pieces of a puzzle.”

“But it mentions the Shift from the drawing,” I said.

Lukas set his journal on the worktable so the rest of us could see it. “The word
shift
isn’t capitalized here. He didn’t think it was a physical object.”

“ ‘Until the day comes when, united, we can finally destroy him.’ ” Alara repeated the words, trying to work it out.

“What if—?” Lukas leaned over the diagram. He gripped the sides of the table until his knuckles turned white. He finally raised his eyes to meet ours.

“I think the Shift is a weapon.”

A
weapon to destroy a demon.

The words and their implication settled around us.

“If the Shift is a weapon, why didn’t the Legion use the Shift to destroy Andras?” I asked.

Priest paced in front of the table. “Maybe it was designed before they knew where to find him.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

No one responded. They weren’t going to listen to the girl who didn’t even know spirits existed until two strangers shot one in her bedroom.

Alara turned to Jared, waiting for his reaction. “You really think there’s a way to destroy Andras?”

“If our dad were here, he’d say—”

“There’s always a way.” Lukas cut him off, an edge in his voice. “You just have to find it.”

Alara pointed at the word scrawled in the corner of the page. “Does
Lilburn
mean anything to you?”

Priest shook his head. “Nope.”

“We need to figure out who or what Lilburn is,” she said. “And if this Shift exists, we need to find it.”

Lukas reached for his laptop. “Already on the first part.”

When he turned it around moments later, a Gothic mansion with a peaked roof filled the screen. A medieval tower rose up on one side, the stone battlements at odds with the style of the house. The headline read
Haunted History Returns to Lilburn Mansion
.

“It’s in Ellicott City.” Lukas kept reading. “This iron trader, Henry Hazlehurst, built the house in 1857, and his wife and three kids died there. No written accounts of hauntings until 1923, when the new owner tore down the tower and built another one after a fire. But get this. It was completely different from the original.”

Priest whistled. “That’ll do it. Spirits aren’t fans of construction.”

Lukas scrolled farther down the page. “That’s an understatement.”

“Mind sharing with the rest of us?” Jared asked.

“If you give me a minute,” Lukas snapped. “We don’t need to make any more mistakes.”

Jared’s back stiffened. The tension between them stretched like a rubber band about to snap. “You mean I don’t.”

“What does it say?” Alara stepped between them, and Lukas focused his attention back to the article.

“Lilburn’s always been haunted. Footsteps in the tower, a baby crying, a little girl playing in the hall—the usual stuff.”

“That’s the usual stuff?” The four of them shared a vocabulary that was completely alien to me.

“If we’re dealing with a residual haunting,” Priest said. I gave him a blank stare. “It’s like a fingerprint, energy that’s left behind after someone dies traumatically. It can be a sound like footsteps, or an actual apparition. But the apparition can’t interact with people because it’s not really there.”

“There’s nothing residual about what’s going on at Lilburn now.” Lukas handed the laptop to his brother without looking at him.

Jared’s eyes darkened. “Two people almost died there within a week. One fell down the stairs and the other from a second-story window. Both said they were pushed, but they were alone in the house when it happened.”

“The name of this place is written on the same page as
the diagram of the Shift,” Alara said. “What are the odds?”

It was one question we could all answer.

The White Stripes blared from the speakers behind Priest’s worktable. This time it was “Seven Nation Army,” and Priest looked like he was outfitting an army of his own. I checked off supplies from his list. I quizzed Priest and Alara about each piece of equipment.

Priest tossed Alara a box of nails and filled in the blanks for me. “It’s like packing for a trip when you don’t know what the weather will be like.”

I only recognized about half of the items Alara stuffed in the bag, and I had no idea what they planned to do with any of it. But I was determined to find out.

I held up the nails. “I’m guessing these are for severe thunderstorms?”

Priest grinned. “Or unexpected rain, depending on the vengeance spirit.” He handed Alara a high-tech crossbow with orange duct tape wrapped around the barrel.

“You can shoot spirits with that?”

Alara scowled. Spotting Andras’ seal on the diagram had only earned me a temporary reprieve. I sensed her sizing me up every time she looked at me, trying to determine what my ignorance would cost them.

“Almost any type of weapon works as long as you have
the right ammo. Regular bullets won’t hurt spirits. They just piss them off,” Priest said.

“Your grandfather taught you how to make all this stuff?”

“Yeah. He could build a weapon out of a soda can.” Priest examined a leather glove with spikes protruding from the knuckles. “I need to do a quick fix. Alara, put this on for a minute.”

She nodded at the soldering iron. “Don’t burn me.”

I scanned the list while Priest lit the blue flame on the soldering iron: nail gun, crossbow, shotgun, strike gloves, nails, bolts, shells, salt, EMF detectors, batteries, flashlights, torch, headphones. I smiled at the last one and watched Priest work. I flipped over the list, and the pencil in my hand started to move, following the curves of his face, the shape of the hood flipped over his head. But his trademark headphones morphed into part of his body like a crazy steampunk helmet.

It felt good to be sketching, like I was suddenly myself again.

Priest finished and looked over. “What are you drawing?”

“You.” I penciled in some quick lines to round out the sketch.

He pushed the goggles up on his forehead and walked around behind me. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

Alara craned her neck to get a better look and did a double take. “He’s right.”

“Lots of people are better.” I handed him the sketch and tucked the pencil behind my ear.

“Well, I don’t know any.” Priest ripped off the sheet and slid it into his pocket. “I’m saving this in case you’re famous one day.”

If someone had said that to me a week ago, I would’ve holed up in my room and sketched for the rest of the day. Instead, I was hiding in a warehouse, packing ammo, just hoping to make it through another one.

Y
ou’re about to walk into a real haunted house.

With its weathered gray brick and medieval tower, Lilburn Mansion looked more like an abandoned castle from a European guidebook than the scene of paranormal attacks. Whether the spirits inside the house were under the influence of a demon or not, two people had almost died here. I wasn’t studying maps and sorting weapons anymore.

I scanned the second-story windows, wondering which one the person fell from.

“You okay?” Lukas walked up beside me.

“I’m good.” If I pretended it was true, maybe I would believe it.

“I was six the first time I saw a ghost.” Lukas stared at the house, but I sensed him watching me. “I woke up one night, and a little girl was sitting by the window playing cat’s cradle. When the moonlight hit her body, it passed right through her.”

I pictured the girl with the handprints around her throat. “Were you scared?”

“I thought it was a dream until I saw her again. She was sitting in the same spot playing cat’s cradle. After what felt like forever, she held up her hands with a blue string webbed between them, and she spoke to me.”

“What did she say?”

“ ‘You have to lace your fingers just right to catch your dreams. And you don’t want to lose them because they’re not easy to find again.’ Then she faded away like she was never there. When I woke up the next morning, the blue string was sitting on the windowsill, looped in a perfect cat’s cradle.”

I gasped. “I would’ve lost it.”

“That’s the weirdest part. I didn’t. She was just a lonely spirit caught between worlds. I wanted you to know they aren’t all bad.” Lukas pulled something out of his pocket. When he uncurled his fingers, it was tangled in his palm.

A web of blue string.

“And I want you to know something else.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the tangled loops.

“I’m just like you, Kennedy. There are things I want. Things that have nothing to do with destroying demons and vengeance spirits.” Lukas put the string in my hand and closed my fingers around it. “So you can catch your dreams.”

He knows I’m scared. It doesn’t mean anything.

I held the string, and I realized the cat’s cradle wasn’t to catch my dreams.

It was to catch me.

Jared noticed us walking back down the hill and stopped unloading weapons from the van. His eyes moved from his brother to me. I started to smile, but he looked away.

Alara threw Lukas a disapproving look, like we had stayed out all night and showed up with our clothes on inside out. I pulled at my T-shirt, suddenly uncomfortable.

“How’s it look up there?” Alara asked without turning around.

“Just like the picture,” Lukas said.

Alara pointed at a plastic milk jug on the ground with the words
holy water
scrawled on the front. “Can you grab that?”

I didn’t know if she was talking to me, but I picked it up anyway.

“Thanks.” She poured some of the holy water into a plastic soda bottle.

“So that stuff really works?”

Alara slipped the bottle into the leather tool belt around her waist. “About sixty percent of the time.”

She systematically filled the rest of the slots in her belt—a pouch of salt, liquid salt rounds, a black marker. It reminded me of the way Elle put on her makeup in the car without a mirror.

“How many times have you done this?” I asked.

Alara shrugged. “With these guys? Six.”

Unless studying and making out in my room counted, I hadn’t even been on six dates.

I wanted to ask her so many questions. Would the spirits haunting Lilburn look like the strangled girl from my room? Would they be as easy to destroy? Lukas and Jared only had one gun the night they burst into my room. The four of them were bringing a lot more firepower this time.