Unmarked by Kami García Page B

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.
    F AITH M ADIGAN
    1972–
    M AY SHE SLEEP WITH THE DOVES.
    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