“So it comes down to that, doesn’t it?” I asked. “He needs a heart.”

“That is just one of the things that would need to happen for us to have any chance at success,” said Rastin.

“You’ll have to perform the exorcism again,” guessed Patrick.

“A cleansing this time,” corrected Rastin.

“Soooo,” said Wes, “call it a hunch, but I don’t see ole Nosferatu sitting very still for any of this.”

“We’d have to get him to come to us, too,” said Charlotte.

At that, Rastin became very still and silent.

“What?” I asked him. “There’s something else. Isn’t there?”

“He does not know this,” said the medium, speaking quietly. “In fact, no one does. But I believe that I harbor within me . . . a fraction of Erik’s own spirit. A mask. One that I unwittingly absorbed that night I attempted the exorcism.”

Silence reverberated after that revelation—the biggest we’d been given so far. Because, yeah. Dust from bombs that big took a while to settle.

“Hope,” Rastin said when none of us spoke. “That is the ‘mask’ I carry. Ironically, I now think that his hope has become ours. For my possession of it has already once bridged our two worlds.”

“That moth,” I said. “The one from the documentary.”

Rastin nodded. And then he said something that changed everything.

“That link between us might . . . just enable me to open a door to his side.”

At that point, everyone in the room had erupted into dissent—everyone except me.

“I’ll go with you,” I volunteered, and even though my voice was quiet, it had been loud enough, apparently, for everyone to hear. Simultaneously, Patrick, Wes, and Charlotte went silent. All eyes, including Rastin’s, turned to me.

“A cleansing occurs when I open a portal for spirits to pass on,” said Rastin. “Yet the opening of a portal to the afterlife always requires all of my faculties as a medium and most of my strength. Even when dealing with normal spirits. This means that, once we are on Erik’s side—if the shard of his soul I carry does indeed enable us to cross to him—I will be absorbed in that task utterly when the time comes. In fact, the reason for my delay in meeting Erik was that I could not convince a friend of mine to perform the darkest part of the task, which neither Erik nor myself would be capable of.”

“You need someone to destroy the heart,” I said.

“Precisely,” Rastin affirmed with a nod, which resulted in a second barrage of balking remarks from my friends.

It was at that point that Rastin had stood, collecting his things. He had a plan, he said. One that we could begin to enact as soon as tomorrow. But one that he advised us against deciding to take part in tonight.

The conversation had ended shortly after, with Rastin telling us about tomorrow’s rendezvous.

All night, the whole meeting had played on a loop in my head. Certain I couldn’t be the only one not sleeping, I contemplated calling Charlotte. Mostly to see if she’d decided to go with me and Rastin or not. Could I blame her, though—or any of them—if they said no this time?