Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(30)

“That’s what you stole, when you survived. That’s what Death wants back.”

None of this is making me feel any better. I wish Jacob were here. I think everything, as loudly as I can, and hope that he can hear me through the wards and the Veil.

I swallow and turn to Agatha. “Michael said the Emissary wants to undo the fact I lived. So if it catches me, it will—what?” A nervous sound escapes my throat. “Drown me?”

The members share a long look, a silent conversation, before Magnolia says, in a rasping voice, “It will take you back.”

“Back where?” I ask. “To the Veil?”

“No,” says Charles, now very much awake. “To the place beyond the Veil. To the other side.”

My chest tightens. I feel dizzy.

“What are we supposed to do?” demands Lara, and I can hear the nervous energy seeping through her usual calm.

“Hide,” says Hazel.

But we can’t. “What good is hiding?” I snap, exasperated.

“Cassidy’s right,” says Agatha. “No sense in hiding from a thing like Death.”

I look around, suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry,” she adds. “Nothing can get into the Society, unless it’s been invited in.”

“I knew it,” whispers Lara.

“Like a vampire,” I say, because it’s what Jacob would say if he were here.

Right about then, I start to realize another strange thing about this room.

Normally, time in the Veil is a ticking clock. If I spend too long there, my head begins to swim, and I feel dizzy and lost. A reminder that even if I can move among the dead, I still belong to the land of the living.

And yet, I don’t feel dizzy here.

I don’t feel wrong, or out of place.

I feel … safe.

I wish I could stay here. But I know I can’t.

“I’d avoid graveyards if I were you,” says Hazel, taking up her Rubik’s Cube. “Anywhere that’s all living or all dead. Best stick to confusing places,” she adds, “where the energy is as messy as yours.”

“The good news,” says Agatha, “is New Orleans is a perfect place to blend in.”

I think of the funeral party, all that life surrounding death. The way the Emissary broke apart and disappeared. Maybe it got overwhelmed. Maybe.

But I can’t hide forever. I’m tired of being scared, of seeing that skull face everywhere I look and every time I close my eyes.

“The Emissary will just keep coming, right? Until I kill it.” I look around the table. “So how do you kill an Emissary of Death?”

“You can’t,” says Charles.

My heart sinks.

“You’ll have to banish it,” says Hazel.

“Mirrors don’t work,” I say, losing hope. “I’ve tried.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” says Theodore. “An Emissary knows exactly what it is. And it’s caught you, like a fish on a line. You won’t get away, as long as it can reel you in.”

“Great,” I say, summoning as much of Jacob’s sarcasm as I can.

“But,” says Magnolia, holding up a withered finger. “With the right tools, you could cut the line.”

Lara and I exchange a look. “How?” Lara asks.

A short debate breaks out between the members, first on whether it’s possible, and then, when they agree that it is, on what we’ll need to do it.

I can’t exactly take notes in the Veil, but Lara has a scary good memory.

“And you’re sure it will work?” I ask when the Society members have explained.

“It’ll be dangerous,” says Agatha, “but you’re used to that by now, aren’t you?”

We thank them for their time and help.

“Nonsense,” she says, lifting her mug, “we enjoy the company.”

“Good luck,” adds Hazel as we reach for the curtain.

And I know we’re going to need it.





Lara and I step back through the Veil.

A shiver, and a sigh, and then the Society room is warm and solid around us again. Michael and Renée are seated at the table, in the middle of a discussion with someone else, but they trail off when they see us.

“Never got used to that part,” says Michael, gesturing to our sudden reappearance, but I’m staring past him, at the new arrival.

“Ah, yes,” says Renée, gesturing to the man in the chair. “This is our current historian.”

I stand there, mouth open.

Because the man in the chair is Lucas Dumont, our guide.

Surprise flashes across his face, but it only lasts a second.

“Actually,” he says, rising to his feet, “we’ve already met. Admittedly, it was under different circumstances. Cassidy …” He trails off, as if waiting for me to explain. Lara looks at me, too, and I realize that they haven’t met.

“This is my parents’ guide, Lucas,” I explain.

“Ah, the paranormal show,” says Renée. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“Very,” says Lucas, polishing his glasses. He nods at Lara. “And you are?”

“Lara Chowdhury,” she says, standing even straighter. “Future member of the Society. And Cassidy’s friend.”