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“Nice.” Jared shook his head at Alara. “I could be blind right now.”

“Except you’re not.” She kicked the rest of the glass out from under what was left of the mer-goat. The poem fell off the wall and crashed to the floor, along with the animal.

“Feeling a little aggressive today?” Lukas picked up the broken frame and handed it to me, trying to keep it from falling apart.

Without the glass to hold it in place, the page slid out. Another piece of paper was folded in thirds behind the poem.

“What is it?” Elle asked as I unfolded it.

Black ink covered the crinkled white sheet of paper. Roads twisted through stick-figure trees and hand-drawn houses that reminded me of scavenger hunts at summer camp.

“A map.”

I
recognized the gray weather-beaten house the moment I saw it. It was the one in the background of the photo I’d found tucked in my mirror the day Elle and I were packing up my bedroom, after my mom died. The details of the picture crystallized in my mind—my dad carrying me on his shoulders, the goofy kid smile plastered across my face.

Faith’s house was nestled in the woods about a mile down an unmarked gravel road, like the one that led to the museum. We had passed a few other homes, but none of them were this deep in the woods.

Lukas parked the Jeep on the shoulder of the road.

On one side, there was nothing but a sea of snow-
covered trees, and on the other, the forest sloped down, disappearing over the edges of jagged ridges.

I stood at the edge of a wide ridge with Alara and Elle. Faith’s house was shrouded by towering pine trees. Without the map, it would’ve been difficult if not impossible to find.

“I’ve been there before,” I said.

Elle sighed. “Please tell me we didn’t hang out in that disgusting museum full of dead animals to find a map we didn’t need. Those were two hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

Alara pushed past her. “And I bet you’ve wasted more time doing worse things.”

“Ow.” Elle rubbed her elbow. “Would it kill you to be a little nicer?”

“Yes.” Alara headed toward the guys, who were busy drawing routes to Faith’s house in the snow.

“Kennedy,” Elle whispered. “I have to pee.”

I gestured around us. “Choose a spot.”

“Just make sure no one comes over here.” She stepped away from the edge and trudged through the trees that ran parallel to the slope.

As I stared down at the house through the branches, I wondered what Faith Waters was like. How long had she been living out here? Did she have a family? And the unavoidable question: Did my father live here, too?

“Hey,” Elle said, waving from between the trees. “I found a crop circle like the ones on
Ancient Aliens
.”

Priest, Jared, and Lukas exchanged amused looks. Alara shook her head as if she couldn’t imagine what Elle was going to come up with next.

Jared brushed the snow off his jeans and walked toward me. “There are no crops out here, Elle.”

She put a hand on her hip and gave him her you’re-about-to-get-dumped-after-two-dates look. “Thanks for enlightening me.”

Lukas caught up to her first. His hands were jammed in his pockets and he nudged her playfully with his elbow. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

Lukas followed Elle to a small stretch of rock that formed a platform overlooking the trees below. When he reached the edge, he froze.

“Anything down there?” Alara asked.

“I told you.” Elle stood next to him, smiling triumphantly.

When we caught up to them, Lukas pointed at the house. It was in the center of what looked like a dark gray crop circle. But instead of flattened grass, this circle was made by something else. “Check it out.”

Alara squinted. “What is it?”

Lukas looked over at Jared and Priest, who hadn’t taken their eyes off the house and the strange ring encircling it. “I don’t know.”

Jared drove us back down the road until we reached the base of the hill. We’d have to walk the rest of the way. Alara navigated her way between the trees easily while the rest of us tried to keep up.

The house was only about a half mile from the road, and the snowfall had let up a little.

“Does anyone else hear that?” Alara stopped walking and closed her eyes, listening. A delicate, almost musical sound drifted through the woods.

“Think it’s the wind?” I asked.

“No.” Alara wove through the trees, moving faster now.

With every step, the sound grew louder.

“It sounds like wind chimes,” Jared said.

“I think so, too,” Alara said.

But before we had a chance to find out, bits of gray wood became visible like puzzle pieces scattered through the trees. A moment later, the house—and a curved stretch of ground—came into view.

“It looks like someone carved the circle into the snow,” I said.

“Or melted it into it.” Alara stopped at the edge of a cluster of pines. “It’s a salt line.”

Chunks of rock salt glistened on the ground within the circle’s snowy walls.

Jared stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist. “Ever seen anything like it?”

“Not even close.” Lukas shook his head and turned toward his brother, then looked away when he noticed Jared’s arms around me. It didn’t seem like jealousy, but the knee-jerk reaction of someone who was uncomfortable and just wanted the feeling to go away.

I wanted it to go away, too—for the awkwardness between us to disappear.

We stayed close to the tree line, working our way around to the front of the house. When we turned the corner, hundreds of metal wind chimes lined the porch, banging against one another. Some were made from strands of bottle caps, while forks and spoons dangled from others.

Jared covered his ears. “Is she trying to attract every spirit within a twenty-mile radius?”

“Some cultures believe wind chimes frighten spirits instead of attracting them,” Alara said.

Priest flipped up the hood of his down jacket, waving his EMF. “The area’s clean, paranormally speaking.”

“When do I get an electromagnified ghost finder?” Elle asked, pointing at Priest’s EMF, butchering
electromagnetic field meter
for the second time today.

Alara bent down and picked up a handful of rock salt. “When you remember what it’s called.”

When we reached the salt line, I leaned closer to Elle.
“Be careful not to break the salt line,” I whispered. I didn’t want her to make the same mistake I had.

Priest followed the curve around to the back of the house. “Anyone trying this hard to scare away spirits has to be a member of the Legion.”

“Or totally paranoid,” Elle said.

Priest stopped a few yards ahead of us. “I’m going with both.”

A headstone rose up through the snow, the ground in front of it freshly turned over. Someone had dug a grave at the base of the headstone.

Elle gasped.

A stone dove perched on top of the marker, above looping script that stretched across the face.

Faith Madigan—the first and middle names from the birth certificate Lukas found. Relief washed over me. She was real.

My dad’s not the missing Legion member.

Alara bent down next to the headstone. “Think she dropped ‘Waters’?”

“It’s the first thing I’d do if I didn’t want anyone to find me.” Jared pulled my hand into his pocket.

Elle made a face. “Who digs their own grave?”

Priest peered into the hole. “Someone who knows they’re being hunted.”

Branches snapped somewhere on the other side of the house.

“Is that—?” I glanced behind me.

Alara backed away. “Barking.”

A huge Doberman raced around the side of the house and slid into a crouch in front of us, growling.

Elle turned to run, but Lukas grabbed her arm. “Don’t. He’ll chase you.”

“If that’s all he does, you’ll be lucky.” A woman stepped out onto the porch, her face hidden beneath the folds of a hooded olive parka. She was holding a shotgun, the barrel pointed directly at us. “This is private property. I suggest you leave before he gets agitated. Or I do.”

The dog barked louder, and Elle scooted behind Lukas.

“I don’t see you moving.” The woman stepped off the porch and froze when she saw me. She lowered the gun and pulled down her hood, her green eyes familiar and haunting.

My father’s eyes flashed through my mind—a deep green flecked with gold, which had always reminded me of Christmas trees when I was young. The woman’s eyes were the same unusual shade and almond shape.

“Bear. Come.” She called the dog without taking her eyes off me. He stopped barking and padded over to her.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

She gave a small nod. “You look exactly like Alex.”

My father.

Any lingering doubts about whether she was related to me disappeared.

“I don’t know how you found me, but you shouldn’t be here.” The woman, who had to be my aunt, turned back toward the house. “Your mother wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“My mother’s dead.”

Faith stopped short, and her hand tightened around the gun hanging at her side. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Her eyes darted between us. “Who are they?” she asked me.

“My friends.”

“They can wait out here.” She scanned the property before turning back to me. “Get inside if you’re coming in.”

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for them,” I said.

“She’s not going anywhere without us.” Jared pulled our intertwined hands out of his pocket so Faith could see them.

The Doberman growled. Faith snapped her fingers, silencing the dog, and gestured at the door with the shotgun barrel. “Don’t touch anything.”

At the top of the steps, a hand-painted symbol stretched across the floorboards—a tribal-looking eye.

Alara stopped at the edge of the white paint and looked at Faith. “How do you know about the Eye of Ever?”

“I know about lots of things, and I’d like to forget most of them,” Faith said, holding the door open for us.

Priest nudged Alara. “What is it?”

“The Eye of Ever is an abating symbol,” Alara said. “It weakens evil in any form.”

Faith followed us inside and locked a dozen dead bolts that ran down the inside of the heavy door. She shrugged off her parka, sending a cascade of chestnut waves, exactly like mine, down her back.

From the entryway, the house looked normal enough—meaning it wasn’t full of salt rings and wind chimes. The foyer faced a steep oak staircase that reminded me of the one in Lilburn Mansion, and I looked away. To the left of
the stairs, a long hall stretched in front of us, with open archways leading into a series of rooms. Faith dropped her coat on a claw-foot bench and rushed into the room on the right.

Elle followed, stopping cold in the doorway. “Maybe someone should suggest curtains.”

My aunt stood next to a huge bay window covered in garbage bags held together with long strips of silver duct tape. A pine table stacked with newspapers was the only piece of furniture in the room. Built-in bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling. More books littered the floor; some lay half-opened or piled in crooked towers, while others formed pedestals to support larger volumes.

I examined the nearest stack. Grimoires with crumbling spines, balanced on top of seventeenth-century atlases and texts with strange titles like
The Codex Demonotica
,
Documents of Illumination
,
Papal Seals and Ciphers
, and
The Amadeus Code
, as well as a copy of
The Complete Works of Hieronymus Bosch
.

Faith slid one of the shiny bags aside and peeked through the window. “How did you find me?”

“The map,” Priest said. “Altering the poem was a smart way to hide it.”

“Alex’s idea. I move every few months, back and forth between several houses. We needed a system so my brother would always be able to find me.” She mentioned
my father’s name casually, as though he was someone I saw every day instead of the man who had abandoned me.