Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(38)

“Madame LaLaurie was a socialite,” says Mom, with none of her usual cheer, “and a serial killer. At a time when the horrors of slavery ran rampant in this country, LaLaurie stands out for the sheer scope of her cruelty.”

Lucas looks down at the marble floor, his hands clenched into fists.

“It came to light during one of her parties,” says Dad. “A fire started, and quickly spread through the house. Everyone got out in time, or so they thought. And yet, there were voices coming from the burning house.” He swallows hard. “Even after the fire was put out, they heard pleading, and the dull pounding of fists. It was only when the ashes cooled that they discovered why.”

He looks down.

“LaLaurie had kept her slaves locked in the attic.”

Bile rises in my throat.

“When the fire started, they had no way to escape.”

Jacob shudders. Lara’s hand goes to her mouth. The Veil reaches out, ready to pull me through, and I push back with all my might because I can’t face the other side, and for once, it has nothing to do with the Emissary.

“Some events are so terrible,” says Mom, “they seep into the bones of a place. They stain its past, its present, and its future.” She gestures around her. “This is an angry house. As it should be. Madame LaLaurie was never punished for her monstrous crime. She and her husband fled to France, leaving pain and injustice in their wake.” Mom takes a deep breath, and steps, like a diver, down the darkened hall. But I’m not ready to follow.

I’m relieved when Lucas steps in front of me.

“You should go,” he says quietly. “This is no place for …” I wonder if he’s about to say in-betweeners, but after a moment he just says, “children.”

Usually, I’d protest, insist I’m old enough for whatever’s waiting inside, but this time, I don’t want to get closer. I can’t bear the thought of those rooms. I wish I didn’t know what happened here, even though Mom says that knowing is a kind of respect. A way of honoring the dead.

“Are you coming?” Dad asks me and Lara.

“I don’t think they should,” says Lucas. My parents and our guide exchange a three-way look, the kind of silent conversation grown-ups have sometimes.

And then Dad nods and says, “You’re right.”

He hands me some cash and tells us to go get a snack, to meet them outside the mansion in an hour. With that, the Inspecters and their crew head deeper into the darkened house, and Jacob and Lara and I back out onto the street. The Veil retreats as we step beyond the iron gate. I lean against a lamppost, shaking from the force of it.

“When I say we should skip the haunted house, you never listen …” Jacob mutters.

We set out down Royal, eager to put as much distance between us and the LaLaurie Mansion as possible.

As we walk and walk, I can’t help but wonder, where is the Emissary?

My nerves were wound tight before the LaLaurie Mansion, but now they’ve officially snapped. “This isn’t working,” I say. “We tried waiting. And it hasn’t come.”

“Maybe it gave up,” says Jacob. “Maybe it’s like a game of hide-and-seek, and we hid long enough, and now the game’s over.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” asks Lara.

Jacob frowns. “It could be true.”

But we all know it’s not.

And we all know what we have to do. We have to get Death’s attention.

Jacob, of course, thinks it’s a bad idea.

“No,” he says, “I think it’s a really bad idea. Like, a monumentally bad idea. First, it’s dangerous. Second, it’s full of things that could go wrong. And third, I hate it.” He sighs. “But if this is what we have to do, let’s do it. Um … how do we do it?”

We stop at the corner, and I look up and down the streets. They’re crowded with cars and carriages and people. Jazz fills the air, along with laughter and horns. The Quarter is busy today.

“It’s here somewhere,” I say. “It has to be. So why isn’t it showing up?”

“It’s too crowded,” says Lara, gesturing at the street. “The girl with the Rubik’s Cube yesterday, Hazel? She said that New Orleans was a good place to hide, because it’s so busy. And we’ve spent all day in crowded places. So if we don’t want to hide, we need to find somewhere quiet.”

I nod. “So that we stand out. Like I did in the graveyard.”

We discuss going to St. Louis or Lafayette, but it’s a Sunday, and the weather is cooler, which means the cemeteries will be packed with tourists.

“What about a séance?” asks Jacob.

Lara rolls her eyes. “I told you those aren’t real,” she says, and she’s right. But so is Jacob. After all, we had a séance, and the Emissary came. Sure, it was only a voice, but it found me there.

I don’t think we need all the bells and whistles of a séance. Maybe we just need to use the room in the Hotel Kardec.

My spirits lift, until Jacob reminds me it’s locked up. Off-limits.

I groan, running my hands through my hair as we start walking again.

Think, think.

The Veil rises and falls around me, carrying smoke and jazz, and the whispers I’ve come to recognize as Jackson Square. I slam to a stop. Turn left. And there it is, on the edge of the square.