I swallow hard. “How do I beat it?”

Lara is quiet for a long moment. And then she says, “I don’t know.”

Her voice is small, and I realize she’s just as scared as I am. Then she shakes her head, clears her throat, and says, “But I’ll find out.”

And just like that, the Lara I know is back. And I’m grateful to have her.

“Be careful,” she says, and ends the call.

I look down at the darkened screen for a moment, then slump back, letting my head thunk against the wall. I look up and see a bronze hand hovering over me. I fold forward, my head in my hands as Jacob sits down next to me.

“You know,” he says slowly. “When the Raven in Red stole your life and trapped you in the Veil, I was scared. I know you couldn’t tell, because I’m so good at acting brave—”

I snort.

“But I was terrified. I didn’t know how we were going to get out of it. But we did. You did.”

I press my palms into my eyes.

“And then when that creepy poltergeist kid starting causing all that trouble in Paris, and we had to go down there in the Catacombs, I was so scared. Not that you could tell.”

“What’s your point?” I ask softly.

“It’s okay if you’re scared this time, Cass. Because I’m not. I’m not scared because I know we’re going to get through this.”

I lean my shoulder against his, and for the first time, I’m grateful he’s more than a ghost, grateful for the slight pressure of his arm against mine.

“Thanks, Jacob.”

The door to our room swings open, and Dad pops his head out into the hall. “There you are.” Grim pokes his head out, too, gets one paw over the threshold before Dad ducks to catch him. “No you don’t,” he says, scooping the cat under his arm. “Bedtime, Cass.”

I get up, and follow. I climb into bed, one hand tight around my mirror charm, while Jacob sits on the floor next to Grim.

Jacob usually wanders off at night—I’ve never known where, but ghosts don’t exactly need sleep—but tonight, he stays close. A ghostly sentinel. Having him there makes me feel safe.

Or at least, safer.

“Rule number ninety-six,” he says. “Friends don’t let friends get snatched away by creepy skeletons.”

I groan, and pull the blankets up over my head.

Outside, people are still laughing and singing in the streets. New Orleans is one of those places that never sleep.

And apparently, neither will I.

* * *

At some point I finally drift off, and when I do, I dream.

I dream of the séance room in the Hotel Kardec. I’m sitting in one of the chairs, and there’s no one else there, and I can’t turn around, but I can feel the curtain move behind me, can feel something reaching for me.

“We will find you,” it whispers, bone fingers curling around the chair.