We duck and weave through the slow-moving sea, slip through a gap between a drum and a horn, a pair of women in feathered Sunday hats and a carriage horse, tumbling out on the other side of the street.

The procession stretches as far as I can see.

“That’s a lot of life and death,” says Lara, pulling me down behind a car, “which is good cover. It should confuse the Emissary, at least for a while.”

We crouch low, the three of us, and then Lara looks at me and the first thing she says, really says to me, is “I told you not to wander.” And then she scowls at Jacob. “Honestly, how hard is it to keep her safe?”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Jacob finally looks like himself again, his blond hair dry and his color back (well, as much as it ever is).

Lara clucks her tongue and lifts her own mirror pendant, angling it over her shoulder, so she can see past the parade to the cemetery gates.

I reach for my mirror before remembering it’s broken. My hand hovers as if it doesn’t know what to do, before dropping onto my camera.

“Do you see it?” I ask, shifting so I can look, too.

The air lurches in my chest as the Emissary appears at the mouth of the cemetery. It pauses under the wrought-iron arch of St. Roch, head swiveling from side to side as it searches for us. For me.

And then it disappears, sliding apart like smoke.

“It’s gone,” I whisper.

“For now,” says Lara, voicing the part I didn’t want to think about. The Emissary came out of nowhere. It vanished into nowhere. Which means it could be anywhere.

We sag back against the car, waiting for the procession to pass.

“Lara,” I say. “How did you get here?”

“I took a plane,” she says, as if that’s the part that needed explaining. “I was at the airport, and my parents’ flight had already taken off. As you know, I was meant to go home, but I got to thinking, you are rather out of your element, and I have always wanted to see New Orleans—the Society of the Black Cat and all—so I changed the ticket.”

“You just … changed the ticket?”

“Booked a layover, actually. It’s not that hard. Did it all on my phone. I know my parents’ credit card details. And it’s a short flight from Chicago to New Orleans.”

Even Jacob looks impressed.

“It will be a while before my parents check in with me,” she says, “and I couldn’t expect you to handle an Emissary on your own, so—”

I pull her into a hug.

Lara stiffens a little, clearly unused to the affection. But she doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her tight.

She pats my arm and looks over her shoulder. “We should go.”