Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3)(54)

“Eww,” Jacob says, shaking out his fingers. “So gross.”

Lara and I only laugh as the Axeman fades and disappears. It feels good, getting back to normal. Or at least, our version of it.

We cross back through the Veil, a brief moment of cold, quickly replaced by summer sun.

Jacob looks down at himself and sighs, clearly disappointed by his transparency.

“Translucency,” he mutters as we make our way back across the square.

But when Café du Monde comes into sight, I slow down.

“Lara,” I say, afraid to ask, “we killed the Emissary, right?”

I mean, it went over the side of the bridge. We saw it fall. There was no place below, nothing but mist. And yet, I’m not surprised when Lara shakes his head.

“I don’t think you can kill something like that,” she says. “I don’t think they can die.”

I bite my lip. “But it’s gone, right? I mean, it’s not still coming after us.”

“Yes,” she says, “according to Renée, that one should be gone.”

“That one,” I echo.

She sighs, turning toward me. “I don’t think it’s a one-time thing, Cassidy. Eventually, another Emissary will notice you. Or me. Eventually, it will come back and try again. That’s what Death does.” I sag a little at the thought, feeling hopeless. But Lara doesn’t seem discouraged, only determined. “That’s what it means to be alive. Every day, whether you’re a regular person or an in-betweener. You run as long as you can, but Death always catches up.”

Jacob shivers. “Great pep talk.”

But Lara shakes her head. “I’ve never met anyone who outran Death forever. And I’ve never met anyone who truly wanted to.” She takes me by the shoulders. “So yes, Death will come for us again, one way or another. We can’t live in fear of it. That’s no way to live at all.”





When we get back to the café, the plates have been cleared, the bill paid. Everyone is packing up, as if ready to go. Jenna and Adan are the first to leave. Adan ruffles my hair and offers a rare smile. Jenna unhooks one of the many chains around her neck and offers it to me. The charm on the end is a tiny silver skull.

“Something to remember New Orleans by,” she says, as if I could possibly forget.

They wave, and wish us luck, and then the pair drift away across the square.

Philippa looks around cheerfully.

“Any plans for the day?” she asks. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Lara clears her throat. “Aunt Philly,” she says. “I have a flight to catch, remember?”

“Oh yes, that …” Philippa looks at her wrist, even though she’s not wearing a watch. “Your parents, the plane, of course. We should be going?” The sentence ticks up at the end, into a question.

Lara sighs. “Yes, I think we have to.”

“Well then,” she says. “I’ll get the hearse.”

Mom and Dad straighten a little. Each clearly has their own questions about that statement, and each decides not to ask.

“I’m sorry we took so much of your niece’s time,” says Mom.

Philippa looks surprised. “Niece?”

Lara squeezes Philippa’s hand very tightly. “Oh, yes, well, I got to see plenty of her. And I’m sure she’ll come back, now that she’s a memb—”

Lara coughs. Lucas glares at Philippa, who realizes, a little late, that she’s about to reveal their secret society to a pair of paranormal investigators.

She changes course. “Now that she knows she’s always welcome here.”

Lucas sighs audibly.

Lara turns to me. “Well, Cassidy,” she starts, and I swear, her eyes are a little glossy. “I suppose, for now at least, this is—”

I throw my arms around her.

Lara stumbles a little, under the sudden force of the hug.

Jacob joins in, and she groans and mutters, “Shove off, Ghost,” too soft for anyone else to hear.

“Be safe,” I say.

“Be smart,” she answers.

She shoots Jacob a look. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

And then, too soon, she’s walking away. A perfect black braid and a bright red backpack vanishing into the crowd.

I watch her go, wondering when we’ll cross paths again, how long it will be before—

My cell phone dings, and I tap it to find a text.

Lara:

Rule number fifty-four of friendship: stay in touch.



I smile and write back.

Me:

I’ll miss you, too.



Mom and Dad head into the café to use the restrooms, and Lucas and I sit in silence, while Jacob tries and fails to move the sugar on the table.

And then the Society’s historian sits forward.

“I almost forgot,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “Renée wanted you to have this.” He holds out a business card, black on black, so that I can only see the symbol of the Society when it catches the light. “In case of trouble.”

He reaches into his other pocket. “And Michael sent along this,” he says, handing me a white velvet pouch. Tiny beads rattle inside.

“In case of trouble,” he says again, and I tip the beads into my palm, and see that each and every one is marked by the black and blue and white circles of the evil eye.