Tunnel of Bones (City of Ghosts #2)(40)

On the screen, emergency vehicles surround a building that definitely looks like it’s on fire. A second later, the shot cuts away to a busy street, all the traffic stopped as maintenance crews try to get near a sparking power line.

Jacob sighs, defeated, as I ease the lid up.

The case is divided in two. Compact film reels are set into the black foam on one side, and digital cards are slotted on the other. Of course. The crew films both ways. Lucky for me, everything is carefully labeled, broken down not only by day but by location.

The first reel has been labeled CAT. Short for Catacombs.

I brush my fingertips across the label. The Catacombs are one of the most famous sites in the world. No ghost trip to Paris is complete without it. So if I destroy the footage from that session, then we’ll have to go back.

Jacob clears his throat. “You know, I thought you climbing into an open grave and hiding beneath a corpse was a bad idea, Cass, but this is making that look positively sensible.”

“I have to do this, Jacob.”

“No, you don’t.” He crouches beside me. “This isn’t like what happened in Scotland. You’re not trapped in the Veil. You have a choice here. And when you think about it, this poltergeist isn’t really our problem.”

“He is, though. And even if he weren’t, we’re the only ones who can send him on, Jacob. If we don’t do something, people could get hurt.”

“We could get hurt!” says Jacob. I give him a measuring look. “Well, you could,” he amends. “Which is bad enough.”

I rock back on my heels. “Spider-Man’s Law.”

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. With great power …” I trail off, waiting for him to finish the line.

Jacob mumbles in reply. “… mums ray resons …”

“What was that?” I press.

He scuffs his shoe along the floor. “… comes great responsibility.”

“Exactly.”

Jacob shifts, sighs. “I can’t believe you Spider-Man’ed me,” he grumbles as I reach for the film.

Jacob covers his eyes, as if he can’t look.

Unfortunately, I have to.

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, I think as I pluck Catacombs data card from its slot in the foam and slip it into my back pocket.

“Some days I really wish you were Slythercore instead of Gryffindot,” mutters Jacob.

“No, you don’t,” I say, freeing the reel of film marked CAT. “And one of these days I’m going to make you read Harry Potter.” I turn the plastic case over in my hands.

“How exactly are you going to explain the sudden destruction?” asks Jacob. “Are you going to blame the poltergeist? Think your parents will believe that?”

I look at the label again, considering.

CAT.

Nearby, Grim stretches and yawns.

“No,” I say, pulling the tape from the reels. “But cats are fond of ribbons, aren’t they?”



Five minutes later, the stage is set, the damage is done. Adele comes in and says she can hear my parents on the stairs. I grab her by the arm and race out into the hall, determined to meet them on the way.

“Oh, there you are,” I say as we run into them on the stairs. “We were just coming to find you.”

“Everything okay?” asks Mom.

“Yeah,” I say, a little too fast. “We were just getting hungry and wanted to know if we could order food.”

“Sure,” says Mom as we turn around and start back up.

I hold my breath as we climb the stairs.

The last part of my plan rests on Jacob, or rather, on his growing powers.

“You’re sure you’re strong enough to do it?” I asked, balancing the case on the edge of the table.

“I think so,” he said. He reached out, eyes narrowed in concentration, and pressed one finger to the corner of the case. It tipped, ever so slightly, before regaining its balance.

Now, as we reach the hall, I sneeze once loudly, the agreed-upon signal, and a second later— CRASH.

The sound of a metal film case toppling.

Mom bursts into the room, Dad right behind her. Adele and I linger in the hallway, but judging by Mom’s gasp of horror and Dad’s cursing, it worked.

The scene stretches before us, a picture of destruction.

Grim, jolted upright by the sound of the case, stares down at the mess on the floor in front of him. Only a few of the digital cards fell out of the case. The rest stayed lodged in their foam slots. The film reels weren’t so lucky. They roll away, tip over, most of them unharmed, but one lies ruined in the center of the scene, a mess of knotted film.

“Bad cat!” shouts Mom, rushing forward.

Grim leaps up onto the back of the sofa and glowers at me with his green eyes as if to say, Low blow, human. I silently vow to buy him a whole tin of catnip when this is over.

“Mon dieu!” says Adele. I have to hand it to her, her face is a picture of surprise, whereas I just feel like throwing up.

Jacob perches on the back of the couch, arms crossed, clearly torn between feeling annoyed at me and smug about his accomplishment. He settles for watching as the four of us search on our hands and knees, recovering all the spilled reels and the fallen data cards, fitting them back into the briefcase.