Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(51)

I let out a sound, half laugh and half sob and all relief, wishing I could throw my arms around him. But Jacob doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s too busy staring down at his hands, his face contorted in annoyance. And I realize why.

I can see him.

But I can also see through him.

I didn’t notice how solid he was getting before, until I see him like this. His colors washed thin, his skin between pale and gray. He was like this in the beginning, when he first started haunting me. When I looked up from my hospital bed and saw him sitting, cross-legged, in the visitor’s chair.

When he followed me home.

A ghost.

And nothing more.

But of course, Jacob is so much more. And he’s here, and that’s all that matters. He sighs. “Oh well.” And I wish I could hit him, or hug him, but I settle for a ghost five.

“Ah, there you are!” says Philippa, tossing away the remains of the flower as we return to the hearse.

“Cassidy, Lara,” says Lucas, climbing out of the car, his expression full of deep relief.

“Nice to see you all alive,” says Philippa. “Well,” she adds, nodding at Jacob, “you know what I mean.” She squints, studying him. “You are looking a bit thin, aren’t you?”

“You should see the other guy,” he says.

“Hah!” chimes Philippa. “I love a funny ghost. Now, tell me everything! How did it go? What was it like?”

Another car slows at the sight of a man, a woman, two girls, and a hearse on the side of the road.

“Perhaps we can talk on the way?” says Lucas.

Philippa sighs. “Fine, fine, but you better not leave anything out.”

She doesn’t need to drive as fast on the way back. No one’s life is on the line. Time isn’t of the essence. But that doesn’t stop Philippa from swerving through rush hour traffic.

Lucas braces his hands on the dash. Jacob and I slide more than once. Lara grips the side door and grimaces. I guess the horseless carriage was a smoother ride.

“Philippa,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “You do know there’s a coffin in the back seat.”

“That’s Fred,” Jacob and I answer at the same time.

“Excellent,” says Lara, as if that answers everything.

By the time the hearse rolls through the French Quarter and pulls up in front of the Hotel Kardec, we’ve told Philippa and Lucas everything. Lucas makes notes in his book, but says we’ll have to tell Renée or Michael so they can make a proper record of what we’ve seen and learned.

“For the next time it happens,” he says.

“Next time?” yelps Jacob. “No thank you.”

And for once, I’m in complete agreement. I’ve had enough Emissaries and bridges to last me a good long while.

Lucas, Jacob, and I climb out of the hearse, but when I turn, I see Lara’s still inside.

“You coming?”

She shakes her head. “I think your parents would get a bit suspicious,” she says, “if I stayed a second night. Philippa’s offered to let me sleep at her place.”

“It will be fun,” says Philippa. “Amethyst loves company. Byron, not so much.”

“Is Byron your boyfriend?” I ask, and Philippa cackles.

“No, he’s my snake.”

Lara makes a panicked face.

“You sure you don’t want to stay with me?” I ask.

She swallows and shakes her head. “No, it will be fine.”

A car honks for the hearse to move on.

“How rude!” says Philippa. “The living have no respect for the dead.” She puts the car into gear. “Sleep sweet!” she calls, and with that, they’re gone.

Lucas turns to me. “Will you be all right?” he asks.

I swallow and nod. “I think so,” I say. “At least for now.”

Lucas flashes a quiet smile. “If history teaches us anything,” he says, “it’s how to live in the present.”

Jacob and I say goodbye to Lucas, and we go inside the hotel, across the lobby with the still-closed séance room. As we head upstairs, I brace for one of Mom and Dad’s lectures about staying out too long, or wandering too far. So I’m startled when I open the hotel door and find the room quiet and dark.

They’re not back yet.

“Whew,” says Jacob.

Grim looks up at me, green eyes wide, and for a moment, I wonder if he was worried. But then he walks over to his food bowl, and I think he might just be hungry. I’m kneeling down to feed him when the hotel door unlocks, and Mom and Dad sweep through.

“And so I was saying—oh, Cassidy! You’re back. How was—” Mom stops talking because I’ve flung myself into her arms, tears pricking my eyes.

“Cass,” says Dad, joining the hug. “What’s wrong?”

I almost died today, I think. I almost lost my best friends in the world beyond the Veil. It was terrifying, and awful, and I survived. And I can’t tell them any of that, so I just shake my head against them both.

“Nothing,” I say. “Nothing at all. I just missed you.”

Mom hugs me tight. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” I say. “Just tired.”

She pulls back to study my face, and shakes her head.