Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(31)

“I see,” he says in his measured way. “And what exactly are you doing here, Miss Blake?”

I don’t know if he expects me to tell him the whole story from almost-drowning to being an in-betweener to my current predicament, so I just say, “I’m kind of … being hunted.”

“Emissary,” says Renée, “nasty business.”

“Were the others able to help?” asks Michael.

I try to drag my focus away from the fact that my parents’ very skeptical historian is a member of a paranormal secret society. We’re definitely going to have to talk about that later.

“Yes,” says Lara. “I think we have a plan.”

“Excellent,” says Renée. “Who did you meet? Agatha? Theo?” She leads me and Lara back through the black curtain and into the brightly lit store. Jacob is sitting on a stool by the counter, having a staring contest with the cat and chatting with Philippa.

But he looks up as soon as I come through.

“Lucas Dumont is in the Society!” he announces.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, nodding at the curtain as Michael and Lucas follow us out. “I guessed that when I saw him in there.”

Jacob’s shoulders slump. “Well, you weren’t here to be surprised with me,” he sulks, “so I had to save it.” He hops down from the stool. “Well? What did you learn?”

“You couldn’t hear me thinking?”

Jacob shakes his head. “No. It was just … quiet. Like white noise.”

“That would be the warding,” says Philippa, and I wonder, just for a second, if there’s a way to ward my thoughts all the time.

Jacob scowls, reading my mind, and I say, a little too loudly, “Privacy is important!”

And even though Renée, Michael, and Lucas can’t see Jacob, and it must look like I’m having a very tense discussion with empty air, they don’t seem thrown. I guess it’s probably not the strangest thing they’ve come across.

“We learned,” explains Lara, “that Emissaries are drawn to those marked by life and death. That’s how this one caught Cass’s … scent.”

This is the part where Jacob would usually make a joke, but he doesn’t, and when I glance his way, he looks … pale, what little color he has draining out of his face.

“Was it because of me?” he whispers.

“What? Don’t be silly,” I say. “I’m the one who’s an in-betweener.”

“The Emissary must have caught your scent in Paris,” says Lara. “And followed you here.”

“What if it’s me?” Jacob murmurs.

“It doesn’t matter how it found me,” I say. “What matters is that it’s here, in New Orleans. And it’s going to keep coming after me until we send it back. Or on. Or wherever Emissaries go when they aren’t—”

“Listen to me!”

Jacob slams his hand down against the display case, and I hear the crack, the splinter of glass. We all stop talking then and look, in shock, in horror, in surprise.

Before this, Jacob has turned pages and fogged windows.

But this is the first time he’s broken something.

He looks down through his palm at the cracking starburst in the glass, the damage spreading from the shape of his fist.

There’s no triumph on his face, no glee, only fear.

“What if it’s me?” he whispers again, as if he can barely get the words out. “What if I’m the reason it found you?” He looks from me to Lara and back. “You said Emissaries are drawn to people touched by life and death. But I’m literally haunting Cassidy. That has to make it easier to find her, that has to make her louder, or brighter, or …”

“Jacob,” says Lara sternly. “Listen to me very carefully. Emissaries are drawn to in-betweeners. We have a marker, a signature. But you, you throw the whole thing off. Because you are not supposed to be here, with her.”

“I don’t think that’s making him feel better,” I say as Jacob’s head falls, but Lara pushes on.

“You are confusing, and wrong. You mess up the balance. And you are probably the only reason Cassidy is still alive.”

Jacob looks up, surprised. I look over at Lara, just as stunned.

“What do you mean?” he murmurs.

Lara makes an exasperated sound. “You’re not normal, Jacob! You’re a ghost, tied to a living girl, siphoning off her life force until you’re strong enough to do things like put your hand through a glass display counter. You’re probably throwing the entire Veil off balance every second you’re still here. But you’re also probably confusing the Emissary, and buying us time.”

Jacob swallows, rubbing his knuckles. “Are you sure?”

“No,” snaps Lara. “I’m not an expert in the long-term effects of ghost-human friendships. But I do believe that she’s safer with you than without you. Now,” she says, turning back toward the other members of the Society. “We’re going to need some things from your store.”

*

We lay the supplies out on the counter.

A handful of stones, to anchor the circle.

A ball of white string, to tether me to the living.

A bottle of scented oil, to purify, and to burn.