Lara nods. “You need bait.”

“I don’t like this,” says Jacob.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Of course not!” he says, and then groans. “Come on, let’s do it.”

“Be careful,” says Lara.

“Be ready,” I answer.

I fling aside the curtain, brace myself against the drop, the instant of cold, and then I’m back, in the séance room, the same, and not the same. I look down, and see the echo of the circle we’ve made on the floor, a shadow of it, as if it’s burned through one world into the other.

And I think, this might actually work.

I take a deep breath, and shout as loud as I can.

“I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!”

The Veil swallows up my words, smothering them, but I don’t care.

“COME AND GET ME!” I call, screaming out my anger and my fear. I shout until my lungs start to ache, and my head starts to swim, and Jacob takes my hand.

“I think you made your point,” he says, pulling me back through the Veil.

A shudder, a gasp, and the red-lit séance room comes into focus. I steady myself as Lara looks up from the floor and shakes her head.

Nothing.

We hold our breath and wait, but the seconds tick by, and no one comes.

Lara holds out the unbroken evil eye charm. “I don’t think it’s working.”

“This doesn’t make sense!” I snap, right before I hear the sound.

The same sound my mirror made back in the graveyard, when the Emissary flung it against the tomb. The quiet crack of glass.

Lara and I both look down. The evil eye lies splintered in her palm.

And we both know what that means.

It’s coming.

“Are you sure?” asks Jacob. “There’s no sign of …” He trails off. Or really, his voice fades out, along with all the other sounds in the room. The tinny music drops away. The world goes silent.

The temperature falls.

I tie the white string around my wrist, and Lara takes the other end, a tether between us, an anchor.

I grip my camera, just so I can hold on to something, keep my hands from shaking and my nerve from failing as the Emissary appears.

It doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, it comes together like a storm. Slides like smoke between the pictures on the wall, through the cracks and gaps in the room. Gathers itself into a shadow, a shape: skeletal limbs in a pitch-black suit. A broad-brimmed hat and long, gloved fingers and bottomless black eyes behind a skull mask.

“We have found you, Cassidy Blake,” it says in that tangled rasp.

No, I think, I’ve found you.

But the Emissary isn’t standing in the circle yet.

I need to make it step forward. I need to step back.