Philippa leans against the hood of the hearse, plucking petals from a flower stolen off the funeral wreath. Lucas sits in the passenger seat, reading a book.

I look down at my hand, where Jacob’s fingers were tight in mine, but it’s empty. I look over at Lara, and Jacob, who’s supposed to be between us, but he’s not.

It didn’t work.

Sadness washes over Lara’s face, and she pulls me into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I’m so—”

And then we hear a voice a couple of feet behind us.

“This sucks.”

Lara and I both turn to see Jacob standing there, the Causeway at his back.

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.