Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(16)

“When did it happen, in Paris?” she asks softly. “When did you see it for the first time?”

Jet lag makes everything stretch, so it takes me a second to do the math.

“Two days ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she snaps.

Jacob shoots me an I told you so look, and I can’t believe that he and Lara finally agree on something.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I say, which isn’t entirely true, but isn’t exactly a lie. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I wanted it to be a bad dream. The kind of thing you shake off and leave behind. And, if it was something, I thought I could handle it myself.”

Lara studies me, her anger glaring through the screen.

“Cassidy Blake,” she says slowly, “that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Being an in-betweener does not mean you have to face things on your own. It means you have to ask the right people for help. People like me.”

I swallow hard, and nod. I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know.

“Lara,” I say. “What is it? The creature in the black suit?”

She sucks in a breath, and holds it. When she finally exhales, the air sounds shaky in her throat.

“That creature,” she says, “is an Emissary. A messenger.”

“A messenger of what?” I ask.

“Death.”





The word hangs there, taking up all the space.

“Wait,” says Jacob, pushing off the wall, “like, lowercase death, or uppercase Death?”

“Does it matter?” I hiss.

“Both,” says Lara. “Emissaries come from the place beyond the Veil. They’re sent out into the world to hunt for people who’ve crossed the line, and come back.”

“People like us,” I say.

People who’ve almost died.

For me, it was the river. I don’t know what happened to Lara, but I know it must have been bad, must have been close, one-foot-in-the-grave kind of close. That’s how you become an in-betweener.

She nods. “My uncle told me about them once. He said they’re like fishermen, casting out their lines. Watching for movement in the water. Waiting for something to snag on a hook.”

“Have you ever been hunted by an Emissary?” I ask, sinking onto one of the benches lining the hallway.

Lara purses her lips and shakes her head. “No. I’ve always been very careful. I go into the Veil, I send a spirit on, I get out. I don’t go for a swim, so to speak. I don’t make a splash.”

Lara doesn’t need to say that I do just that. I’ve always let my curiosity get the best of me; I can’t help exploring. It’s what attracted the Raven in Red to me in Scotland. It’s how the poltergeist found me in Paris. And now …

“Some people just make waves,” Lara goes on. “It doesn’t matter why, or how. What matters is, you snagged the line. But it hasn’t reeled you in just yet.”

“Is this the part where you tell us not to worry?” asks Jacob.

Lara shakes her head. “No, this is the part where I tell you to hide.”

I shudder as the Emissary’s words come back to me.

You cannot hide.

“How am I supposed to do that?” I ask.

“You need to stay with your parents, and the film crew. Don’t wander off. And if you can help it, don’t cross the Veil.”

I think of how I felt in Muriel’s. Of how hard it is to resist the pull of the other side.

“Because it’ll be able find me there?”

“It can find you anywhere. It can clearly move through the world of the living and the land of the dead. But you’ll stand out more beyond the Veil.”

“And if it catches me …”

But I already know.

It will take me back into the dark.

“No matter what happens,” Lara says, “just stick together.” Her eyes narrow on Jacob. “I mean it, ghost. Don’t let it find her alone.”

Lara’s attention shifts back to me. “Cassidy,” she says, and I’ve never heard her say my name like that, full of warning, and friendship, and fear.

I swallow hard. “How do I beat it?”

Lara is quiet for a long moment. And then she says, “I don’t know.”

Her voice is small, and I realize she’s just as scared as I am. Then she shakes her head, clears her throat, and says, “But I’ll find out.”

And just like that, the Lara I know is back. And I’m grateful to have her.

“Be careful,” she says, and ends the call.

I look down at the darkened screen for a moment, then slump back, letting my head thunk against the wall. I look up and see a bronze hand hovering over me. I fold forward, my head in my hands as Jacob sits down next to me.

“You know,” he says slowly. “When the Raven in Red stole your life and trapped you in the Veil, I was scared. I know you couldn’t tell, because I’m so good at acting brave—”

I snort.

“But I was terrified. I didn’t know how we were going to get out of it. But we did. You did.”

I press my palms into my eyes.

“And then when that creepy poltergeist kid starting causing all that trouble in Paris, and we had to go down there in the Catacombs, I was so scared. Not that you could tell.”