“An evil eye,” confirms Michael. “It won’t do much to stop an Emissary, but it might buy you some time. The charm’s designed to break when someone wishes you ill. It should break when danger’s near.”

“Thank you,” I say to Michael, pocketing the evil eye. And then I look at Renée, and Philippa. “Thank you for everything.”

“Good luck,” says Michael.

“Be careful,” says Renée.

“Come back anytime,” says Philippa brightly as Lucas leads us out.

Chapter Sixteen

The walk back to the hotel is weird.

Not the being-hunted-by-an-Emissary kind of weird. More the I-have-so-many-questions-I-don’t-know-where-to-start kind of weird.

Jacob circles Lara, demanding to know every detail of the room beyond the shop curtain, while Lucas and I walk side by side, and I wait for him to say something, and he doesn’t.

“So, are we going to talk about this?” I finally ask.

Lucas eyes me over his wire-framed glasses. “About what?”

“You’re a member of the Society of the Black Cat!”

“I’m a historian.”

“You’re their historian. But you said you don’t even believe in ghosts!”

Lucas slides his glasses from his face and begins to polish them again. “I believe what I said was that I prefer to focus on the history.”

“Does he have any supernatural powers?” Jacob calls out. I ask the question, and Lucas scrunches his nose.

“Beyond an extreme dedication to research? No. I’m not a psychic, or a medium, or an in-betweener, as you say.”

“Did you know that I was?”

He considers that a moment. “No. But when you spend as much time as I do around the … paranormally inclined, you do notice certain signs.”

I look down at myself. “Like what?”

“The way you walk, for one, like you’re always listening to something others don’t hear. You’re clearly sensitive to haunted spaces, you spend a fair amount of time talking to someone only you can see, and you have a way of disappearing rather suddenly.”

I nod, considering. “Fair point. His name is Jacob, by the way. The one I’m talking to.”

Jacob waves. “Hey. Jacob Ellis Hale,” he says to Lucas, holding out his hand, “best friend, partner in crime, excellent taste in comics.”

Of course, Lucas can’t hear him, but I convey the message.

“I’m surprised you would allow yourself to be haunted,” Lucas says as we turn onto Bourbon Street.

“It’s unconventional,” says Lara, “but he comes in handy now and then.”

Jacob stares at Lara as if she just sprouted a second head. I have to admit, I’m pretty surprised, too. Up until today, the closest Lara’s come to paying Jacob a compliment has been calling him Jacob instead of Ghost. Now, in the space of thirty minutes, she’s been nice to him—twice.