Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(36)

“Hello! Hello! Thread and Bo—”

“Aunt Philly!” Lara calls in a bright, chiming voice. “It’s me, Lara.”

I can just make out Philippa’s whimsical voice on the other end. “Well, hello again.”

“Cassidy’s parents want to make sure I’m safe and sound, and that you’re okay with me spending the night. Will you speak to them?”

Lara hands the phone to Mom, shooting me a mischievous look. I can’t help but wonder if Lara has a little bit of Slytherin mixed in with all that Ravenclaw.

*

That night, when Mom and Dad are asleep, and the lights are out, and Lara’s backpack is safely stored in the bathroom with the door closed to protect it from the cat, she and Jacob and I make a tent under the covers of my bed, and talk.

We sit, knees close and heads together, our faces lit by the flashlight on Lara’s phone.

In this jagged light, we’re all washed out, and it’s easy to forget that Jacob’s a ghost. I can barely see through him, and I swear, if Mom and Dad were to look over now, they might see three figures in the tent instead of two.

Thankfully, they’re fast asleep.

“You’re breathing on me,” mutters Lara, leaning away from Jacob. “It’s … cold. I don’t like it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” mutters Jacob. “Hold my breath?”

“Do you even need air?” she snaps back.

“Focus,” I hiss.

We’d been discussing the steps for the banishing ritual.

“So what do we do tomorrow?” Jacob asks. “We just wait for the Emissary to show back up?”

“That,” I say, “or we go looking for it.”

Jacob stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. I get it. When I think of running toward the Emissary, my legs feel like jelly. But the idea of getting caught off guard might be worse.

In the end, we take a vote. Jacob is solidly in the “don’t go looking for Death” camp, and to my surprise, so is Lara.

“I think we should be prepared,” she says. “But if we go after it, the Emissary might sense a trap.”

I take a deep breath. “So we let it find me.”

And take you back into the dark.

Jacob’s the one who can read my mind, but Lara’s the one who squeezes my hand. “We’re in this together. And you’re not going anywhere.”

She pulls her hand away to cover a yawn, and it’s contagious, bouncing from her to me to Jacob.

“We should sleep,” I say, even though I don’t know if I can.

We discuss taking shifts, then realize it’s pointless, since Jacob is the only one who doesn’t need sleep. Lara mumbles something about not trusting a ghost and a lazy cat to keep us safe all night, but she’s too tired to do more than protest.

We collapse our makeshift tent, and Jacob goes to the foot of the bed and sits there, back to us, staring into the dark. “Night, Cass,” he whispers.

“Night, Jacob,” I whisper, my head on my pillow.

“Mnmnghost,” whispers Lara, already half asleep next to me.

I don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to banish the Emissary.

I don’t know if we can win.

But right now, tucked between my family and my friends, I feel almost safe.

I lie awake, listening to the murmur of the Veil, and the very real noise of people in the streets, and the distant sound of the party still going somewhere, faint and far away as wind. I pull the evil eye from my pajama pocket and think through the banishing spell again, turning the glass charm between my fingers until the pattern of black, blue, white, blue becomes abstract, just streaks of colored glass, until I can’t keep my own eyes open any longer.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but one second I’m in bed, and the next, I’m in the cemetery.

I scramble backward as the Emissary appears, making its slow, steady way toward me between the crypts. I call for Jacob, for Lara, but I have no voice. I turn and run, until I reach a dead end, a crypt that stretches as far and wide as I can see. I burst through the door and into the tomb. There’s no casket, only a statue of the blindfolded girl from the Two of Swords, the blades crossed in front of her.

The girl is made of stone, but the swords are metal—heavy and real.

The door rattles and shakes behind me as I pull the swords out of the statue’s hands.

I turn to face the Emissary as it bursts through the door, but I wake right before it reaches me.

My heart is racing and the room is dark, my hand aching where it grips the evil eye. But when I force my fingers open, the charm is unbroken, and Lara is asleep, and Jacob is right there, in front of the bed. He glances over his shoulder and makes a silly face. My heart slows, and I smile and sink back into the sheets.

The rest of the night is restless, dreamless, and I’m relieved when light slips through the window curtains. I get up and shower, wrangle my messy curls back and up, reach for my mirror pendant before remembering it’s broken.

I comb through Mom’s toiletry bag and find a compact, a disc of blush on one side and a smudged mirror on the other. It’ll do for now.

One of the first things Lara taught me was that in-betweeners should never be without a mirror.

Look and listen. See and know. This is what you are.