Hundreds of crows crowded the telephone wires, perched in the trees, and circled the sky.
Alara didn’t take her eyes off the birds. “Black rain. That’s what it’s called when murders of crows gather in one place like this.”
“Because they turn the sky black?” Priest asked.
“Because it’s just as unnatural.”
We moved closer to the birds churning purposefully over one spot in the distance. I didn’t need to see the words etched in the sign we passed to know it was the West Virginia State Penitentiary.
The Gothic facade was flanked by high stone walls, and the building looked more like a European castle than a prison. Tangled razor wire littering the grass was the only clue that murderers, rather than holy men, once resided inside.
Lukas pointed at the arched entrance. “The coordinates are on the other side of that wall.”
Alara shook her head. “I don’t like this. My grandmother believed that crows could carry evil spirits to hell and back.”
I looked up at the dark sky moving to the rhythm of thousands of black wings. “Then there were a lot of evil spirits in this place.”
“Or they’re still here.”
We parked the van and stood in front of the concrete wall. ARE YOU BRAVE ENOUGH? was spray painted above a cracked hole that reminded me of the one in the basement of Hearts of Mercy. The names of people that had accepted the dare surrounded the opening. It was probably a rite of passage in a small town like this, something I could’ve imagined Elle persuading me to do with her.
Now I was checking my pockets for paintball cases filled with holy water and kitchen spices, and a marker in case I needed to bind a spirit with a voodoo symbol.
Alara watched the crows, transfixed, as though she saw something more than their glossy black feathers and sharp eyes. “I have a bad feeling.”
“Of course you do,” Priest said, checking the pocket of his hoodie for batteries and ammo. “We’re about to break into a prison where hundreds of criminals died. This is the definition of a bad feeling.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t go in?” she asked.
“I’m saying my granddad is dead because of Andras, and the Shift can stop him. I’m not leaving without it.” Priest sounded older than when I first met him a few days ago.
Alara took one last look at the world on this side and followed Priest through the hole. “May the black dove always carry us.”
Lukas glanced back at me before he climbed through the hole, his eyes full of questions I knew he wouldn’t ask. Questions that had been lurking around the edges of every look since the moment he broke through the boards at Hearts of Mercy and found me in his brother’s arms.
I made a choice inside those walls, and there was no way to take it back. Because even if it was the wrong choice, how could I say that to Lukas when I had feelings for Jared?
“Kennedy.”
I didn’t turn around.
Jared put his hand on the stones above my shoulder, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “I think we should talk before we go in there.”
“We’ve talked enough.” I slipped through the opening without looking back. I couldn’t afford to give him the chance to hurt me again.
Lukas waited on the other side with his hand outstretched, offering to pull me up. I didn’t look back at Jared when I heard him behind me.
The five of us walked across the cracked concrete basketball court, the only break in a sea of dead grass and twisted silver razor wire.
“Which way?” Priest asked.
“Northeast.” Lukas pointed to the far corner of the building.
“Is there anything we should know before we go in?” I asked.
Other than the fact that we’re walking into a haunted prison?
“Over a thousand men died here.” Lukas had researched the location during the ride. “This prison put more inmates to death in the electric chair than any penitentiary in the state. Add that to the inmates who committed suicide and the ones that killed each other.”
“That’s a serious body count.” Priest examined the heavy double doors in front of us.
“And that doesn’t include the six people Darien Shears murdered,” Lukas said.
“Who?” Jared eyed the crows pecking one another on a broken picnic table in the corner of the yard.
“A couple of websites mentioned that Moundsville had its own serial killer.”
Alara waved a hand in the air. “I’ve heard enough. This is a paranormal minefield. Be careful where you step.”
I never expected to see the inside of a prison.
The rows of thin rectangular windows didn’t provide much in the way of light, for which I was secretly grateful. I didn’t want a closer look at the dark stains on the concrete floors. Knowing people died here and seeing the evidence were two different things.