about where we’re going.”
“The children’s home is the only Hearts of Mercy within two hundred miles,” Lukas said. “And judging from what happened in that place, the disk will be there.”
Priest dumped out the bag from the sporting goods store, and a pile of guns clattered onto the floor. “Don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.”
“Someone sold you those?” I asked. Priest didn’t look old enough to buy a lottery ticket.
“Paintball guns.” He held up a black military-style model. “Close range with a laser sight.” Priest opened a package of gray plastic balls. “I’m going to fill the cases with holy water and agrimony instead of paint.”
Alara examined one of the cases. “Not unless you grabbed a jar of agrimony from the warehouse.”
“Is there anything else we can use?”
She picked up a silver double-barreled pistol that matched her nail polish. “Rock salt and cloves should do the trick. They both repel spirits.”
Priest leaned over the front seat. “Can you find a market and a hardware store? I still need a caulking gun, fireplace lighters, and hair spray. You know, the basics.”
“Planning a little home improvement?” Alara teased.
Priest started sketching a weapon design on a sheet of paper. “Something like that.”
Priest tossed the tenth silver can into the shopping cart. We were in the grocery store picking up the supplies he needed for whatever he was making, a detail he refused to share.
“What exactly are you going to do with all that hair spray?” I kept my voice down, careful to hide my face under the folds of Priest’s gigantic hoodie.
“Inventors never reveal their secrets.” He crossed another item off the list written on his hand.
“I thought that was magicians.”
He grabbed a few rolls of duct tape, the staple of his arsenal. “Same rule applies.”
“Should we get extra cloves?”
Alara had already purchased a basketful and retreated to the van with Lukas to fill the paintball cases, and Jared was at the hardware store looking for a caulking gun that met Priest’s specifications. We were in charge of everything else on the list.
Priest shrugged. “Might as well.”
I pushed the cart as he tossed a few fireplace starters inside. “You said you grew up in Northern California, right?”
“Yeah. Near Berkeley.”
“With your parents?” After Alara’s story, I hoped grandparents hijacking their grandchildren for training wasn’t the norm.
Priest ticked the items off on his fingers, mentally totaling our purchases. “My parents died in a car accident when I was three. My granddad raised me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t really remember my mom and dad, but he talked about them all the time.”
We walked down the cereal aisle, and Priest grabbed a box of Lucky Charms. “Don’t tell Alara. These aren’t on the approved shopping list.”
I stared at the red box, remembering the first time my mom pulled one just like it out of a grocery bag in our kitchen.
“Kennedy?” Priest stared back at me. He was halfway up the aisle and I was standing in exactly the same spot.
“Sorry. What else do we need?”
He checked his hand again. “Glass cleaner, a novena candle, matches, and shortening.”
“Shortening?”
“It’s basically grease. Cheap WD-40.”
I made a mental note never to eat anything with shortening in it again.
I wondered what he could possibly make with this junk. “I can’t believe your grandfather taught you how to do all this.”
“He taught me everything.” Priest opened the Lucky Charms and picked out a few marshmallows. He offered me the box, but I only shook my head. “I was homeschooled. Half the day was the state curriculum on steroids, and the other half was mechanical engineering, physics, and basic Legion stuff.”
Priest didn’t seem like the handful of homeschooled kids I knew back home, who were still catching up on TV shows from the last two decades. At my high school, he would’ve been in all the advanced placement classes, but instead of hanging out with the valedictorian hopefuls, he probably would’ve opted for the skaters. It wasn’t hard to picture him in the hall wearing his headphones and deejaying parties on the weekends.
“So you always knew you’d be in the Legion?”
“Yeah. I was an only child, and my cousins are all pretty stupid. My granddad wouldn’t let them change the batteries in a remote.” He shook the box, searching for more charms.
“I wish I had grown up knowing the truth about my part in all this. If there’s really anything to know.”
Priest stopped walking. “The truth is relative. Maybe your mom was going to tell you, but she died before she had the chance.”
I wanted to believe that so badly.
He popped another handful of charms in his mouth and smiled. “So Jared, huh?”
“What?” I tried to sound shocked.
Priest shrugged. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, I get it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Trust me.”
“Nobody else knows if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m a lot more perceptive than the rest of them, a result of my superior education and high IQ,” he said sarcastically.
I didn’t know how to explain my feelings for Jared, or if I should try.
“Jared doesn’t care about me.” I emptied the contents of the cart onto a conveyor belt.
Priest tilted his head. “You sure about that?”
I was afraid to consider the alternative. “I can’t afford to take any more chances. I’m trying to hold it together.”
Priest gave me a knowing look. “Maybe you’re not the only one.”
25. HEARTS OF MERCY
A layer of black dust coated the windows that weren’t shattered. An oxidized plaque on the stone building confirmed we were in the right place: HEARTS OF MERCY HOME FOR CHILDREN.
Behind the iron gates, the yard was a tangle of weeds and rat-infested ivy that snaked up the sides of the chipped stone.
This place looked more like a prison than an orphanage, from the rusted playground merry-go-round to the rotted weeping willow split down the center.
Something lay in the dirt—a book, bound in faded cloth. I picked it up and brushed off the cover.
My chest tightened and the book slipped from my hand, loose pages fluttering to the ground. My dad read me the story when I was too young to understand most of it, but I remembered the title, and I’d still never read it.
