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Dimitri unwrapped a pack of Dunhills. “I’m familiar with the incident, but I didn’t realize your grandfather was involved. I understand he was a brilliant inventor and mathematician.” Dimitri lit the black cigarette. “Those men were part of a rogue sect of the Illuminati—one that was not acknowledged by the Grand Master. Your grandfather was attacked at Yale shortly after the Order was formed. But Gabriel and I are not affiliated with the Order or its members. We want to stop Andras as much as you do.”

“You guys never offered to help the Legion before. Why now?” Jared asked.

“Andras is free, and that affects us all,” Dimitri said. “If he opens the gates, the world as we know it will cease to exist.”

Jared eyed Dimitri, suspicious. “You guys show up out of nowhere and give us some speech about how we’re all playing for the same team, and expect us to just take your word for it?”

Dimitri walked over to Jared. “We saved all your lives.
If we harbored any ill will toward you, we would’ve let the demon finish you off.”

“We were doing fine on our own,” Priest said.

Dimitri laughed. “Are you referring to what you were doing when we arrived? Holding hands while you waited for your Wonder Twin powers to activate? You don’t even know why it didn’t work, do you?”

Jared’s eyes darted from Lukas to Alara and Priest.

“You need all five members of the Legion to raise the barrier,” Dimitri said. “Without Kennedy’s aunt, you’re one person short.”

“My aunt is dead.” Considering how much he knew about the five of us, I probably wasn’t telling him anything new. “I took her place in the Legion.”

Dimitri’s smile faded and a worried crease formed between his eyes. “Well, then that explains why your little hand-holding demonstration failed.” He looked right at me, his eyes searching mine. “You can’t be the fifth member of the Legion, Kennedy.”

I was sick of people telling me what I could and couldn’t do—and tired of being judged because my family had kept the Legion a secret from me. “Why is that?”

Dimitri’s eyes clouded over, and he hesitated as if he was choosing his words carefully. “You can’t be a member of the Legion, because you’re one of us.”

A
lara stepped in front of me protectively, her tool belt rattling around her waist. “If you want to con someone, do your homework first. Kennedy didn’t know anything about the Illuminati until she met us.”

Hearing Alara defend me took some of the sting out of Dimitri’s accusation. Why was he lying about me?

Dimitri watched me over Alara’s shoulder. “That might be true, but her mother certainly did.”

“I already know the story,” I said, heading him off. “My aunt told me how the Illuminati sent some guy to pretend he cared about her, when he was really spying on her. My mom was the one who figured it out.”

“But your aunt didn’t tell you the rest of the story, did she? About what happened after she left the Legion?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to—”

Dimitri cut me off. “The best way to hide your own guilt is to point the finger at someone else. Especially if the person you’re pointing it at
expected you to blame him
, because it was part of a larger plan. Faith’s boyfriend wasn’t the only Illuminati member spying on her.”

I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “What are you saying?”

“When your mother revealed the truth about Archer, she earned your aunt’s trust. Your mom was a smart woman, one of the Illuminati’s top operatives.”

“Liar!” Elle shouted at Dimitri, pulling me away from him. “Don’t listen to him, Kennedy. He’s messing with your head.”

Dimitri took a step closer. “Didn’t you ever wonder why your father left?”

The words cut through me, reopening my oldest wound. Judging from the look on Dimitri’s face, he knew it, too. “He left when you were five, if I’m not mistaken? Out of the blue, without any explanation? Your father figured out the truth, Kennedy—that not one but two Illuminati spies had infiltrated his family. Archer was the first, the sacrificial lamb.

“Your mother was the second operative, the one the Illuminati were counting on all along. The plan was genius.” Dimitri dropped his cigarette on the floor and ground it into the concrete with his boot. “What
better way to get close to Faith than by marrying her only brother?”

I didn’t know why this guy was lying about my mom, but I was too angry to care. “My mother would never do anything like that. She loved my dad, and it destroyed her when he left.”

Elle squeezed my hand.

My mind pulled up an image of my mom sitting on her bed, surrounded by a sea of tissues. She was holding a framed photo of my dad, her eyes swollen and red.

“I have no way of knowing how your mother felt about him, but I do know that she was Illuminati.” Dimitri turned to Priest. “Which, correct me if I’m wrong, means Kennedy can never be a member of the Legion. What is it you say in the Legion? ‘No ties to darkness or Illumination’?”

Priest looked at Jared for answers.

“You’re pretty impressed with yourself, aren’t you?” Jared asked. “But Faith knew that better than anyone, and she left Kennedy something a Legion member passes down to the person they choose to take their place. Faith never would’ve done that if Kennedy’s mom was Illuminati.”

Priest nodded at me as if he was saying,
I’ve got your back
.

Dimitri walked toward me. “Then maybe you can answer a question for me, Kennedy. If you are truly the fifth member of the Legion, why couldn’t the five of you raise the barrier? It should’ve been easy.”

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach because I was thinking the same thing.

“We probably screwed something up,” Priest said. “We do it all the time.”

Alara shot him a warning look.

“She hasn’t earned her mark yet,” Lukas said. “I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

Alara crossed her arms. “If that’s all the proof you have, then none of us believe you, any more than we trust you.”

Dimitri shook his head. “You kids are loyal, I’ll give you that. You would’ve been valuable additions to the Illuminati.”

“I’d rather be dead,” Priest said with a hatred I’d never heard from him before.

Dimitri walked over to the leather doctor’s bag. “There’s only one way to find out if I’m telling the truth.”

He reached inside and took out a mason jar with what looked like voodoo symbols painted on the outside of the glass. A thick layer of red wax covered the lid and dripped down the sides. Dimitri held the jar in front of Alara. “You know what this is, don’t you, Miss Sabatier?”

“Where did you get that?” Alara whispered, backing away.

“We use Battle Cruets all the time. The Illuminati embrace the knowledge of any culture that has surpassed us when it comes to dealing with spirits and demons.”

“What the hell is it?” Lukas asked Alara.

“We call it a War Jar.” She didn’t take her eyes off the wax-covered glass. “Bokors, who practice dark arts and sell their services, use them. One of the most common services they offer is hexing people. There are different ways to do it—dolls, spell bags, or using photos or items that belonged to the person you want to hex. But the War Jar is one of the worst.”

“Your grandmother taught you well.” Dimitri smiled.

“My grandmother would never have touched one of those. Torturing people isn’t part of our religion.”

“I should’ve clarified.” Dimitri sounded apologetic. “I retrieved the contents of this cruet from the home of a person who was being tormented by it.”

Elle eyed the jar suspiciously. “What’s in there exactly? I don’t see anything.”

“If he’s telling the truth, there’s a vengeance spirit inside.” Alara held her arm out in front of Elle to keep 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 destroy 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 said.

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. “He’s chained up, and I doused him with enough holy water to drown an elephant. 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 wasted so much energy terrorizing these kids, chains and holy water wouldn’t have been enough to hold him. And without knowing how many souls he’s consumed, there’s no way to predict how long it will take for him to regain his strength.”

“Consumed?” Elle whispered to Lukas. “As in…”

“Possessed and killed,” Gabriel 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, revealing 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 translate the Latin. But for some reason, I couldn’t call up the last few letters of the tattoo.

Something was wrong. I had just looked at it a second ago, which meant my eidetic memory had already recorded the image, but I couldn’t picture it in my mind. 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, but I still couldn’t read the writing. I realized something even more disturbing. 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 pointed. “Draw a symbol to destroy the spirit, then I’ll give you the cruet.”

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 was about to draw.

The Devil’s Trap—the symbol I’d used to destroy Darien Shears, the spirit who had warned me not to assemble the Shift.

I should’ve listened.

I drew the outer circle first, then a heptagram with a seven-pointed star inside it. My mind had recorded every detail—the symbol in the center of the star, the names around the innermost circle: 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 sounded proud.

“We call them gifts,” Dimitri said. “Some Illuminati members have them as well.”

“Open it.” My throat felt like sandpaper. I wanted this to be 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. 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 as I let the jar drop and yanked 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 ax. 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 ax 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.