“Oh yes, because spectral abilities are such a natural topic of conversation.”

“Look,” I explain. “I went to see Richard Laurent’s granddaughter, Sylvaine, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Adele’s her daughter. She tracked me down and brought me photographs—”

“Wait,” cuts in Lara. “What photographs?”

I turn the phone so she can see the pictures spread on the floor.

“Closer,” says Lara, and I crouch, panning the phone over them. Adele drops down cross-legged beside them. She reaches for a picture with only Thomas, looking back over his shoulder and flashing a wide smile.

“And you’re still no closer?” asks Lara. “To finding out what—”

“Such a sad story,” murmurs Adele, “what happened to Thomas.”

The room goes quiet. Jacob and I both stare. Even Lara’s mouth is hanging open on the screen.

“You know?” we all say at once.

Adele shifts a little. “Oui,” she says. “Maman told me. She doesn’t like to talk about the past, not with strangers, but she said it is important to know one’s history. She said it is private. But if it will help you help Thomas,” she adds, “I will tell you the story.”

It is a very sad story,” begins Adele, drawing Grim into her lap.

“My great-grandfather Richard was ten when it happened. He was three years older than Thomas, and he was Thomas’s hero. They were close. Like this—” She crosses her fingers. “Thomas used to follow Richard around. And Richard let him. All summer,” she continues, “Richard and a few other boys had been sneaking down into the Catacombs at night.”

“How?” asks Lara.

Adele shrugs. “Now there is only one entrance and one exit, but there used to be more. If you knew how to look for them. Richard did.” Adele flashes a small, mischievous smile. “So they would sneak down in the dark.”

Jacob and I both shudder a little at the thought of the Catacombs at night. The tunnel of bones lit only by candles or flashlights, some pale illumination that leaves the skeletons buried in shadow.

“And Thomas wanted to go, too. He begged and begged until one night, Richard finally agreed to take him.”

I glance at Jacob as Adele talks. His face is clouded, all the expression gone, as if his mind has wandered off while listening. But he must feel me looking because he blinks and cuts his gaze toward me, one eyebrow raised.

“And so they went,” continues Adele, stroking Grim. “Thomas, Richard, and two of Richard’s friends. Down into the dark.”

The cat is a puddle of black fur in her lap, the happiest I’ve seen him since getting to Paris. Adele must have a gift for befriending cranky cats.

“The boys were always playing games, and so that is what they did. They played cache-cache. Do you know what that is?”

I shake my head.

“You call it hide-and-seek.”

I jerk upright. “The counting!” I say, and Lara nods on the screen.

“Quoi?” asks Adele, looking between us. “What?”

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq …” recites Lara in her flawless French. “I couldn’t understand why he’d be going up instead of down.”

“But if they were playing hide-and-seek,” I say, “and he was the seeker …”

Adele nods eagerly. “Thomas was too small, too good at hiding,” she says, “so they made him search instead. He closed his eyes to count, and the other boys all ran and hid.”

I imagine playing such a game down there, hiding, pressed against skeletons or climbing over bones, and I shudder.

“Thomas was very good at finding the other boys, no matter where they hid,” Adele goes on. “So on the third game, Richard agreed to let his little brother hide.”

My stomach twists as I realize where this is going.

“Richard was the seeker,” says Adele, “and he found one of his friends, and then the other, but no Thomas. Richard searched for almost an hour, before he finally gave up. The boys were tired. They wanted to go home. So Richard called out, ‘Thomas, c’est finit’—‘it’s over’—but there was no answer, except for his own voice, echoing in the tunnels.”

A shiver runs through me. If it were any other story, I might delight in the nervous thrill. But I have seen this small boy in his dirt-scuffed clothes. And I can picture him lost down there, hidden among the bones or wandering the tunnels, turned around, alone.

Adele goes on. “Richard stayed down there all night, searching for his brother. But he couldn’t find him. Finally, he had no choice. He went home and told his parents, who called the police, and they organized a search.”

I swallow hard. “Did they find Thomas? Eventually?”

Adele nods. “They did,” she says slowly. “But by then it was too late. He was already …” She trails off.

My chest tightens around the next question. “Where did they find him?”

Adele hesitates, petting Grim. “He was very good at hiding. He had climbed into one of the little …” She hesitates, searching for the word, then makes an arch with her hand. “Coin.”

“Nook,” translates Lara. “Like an alcove.”

Adele nods. “Oui. That. Anyway, he climbed in, nice and small. But the bones around him were old, and sometimes …” She makes a small, collapsing motion with her hands. “They slip. Sections fall.”

On the phone, Lara puts a hand to her mouth.

“They found him, in the end, beneath the bones.”

Jacob shivers a little, and I tense at the thought of being buried down there in the dark.

“And Richard?” I ask.

Adele leans forward over Grim—he doesn’t seem to mind—and taps a photo of the older boy, standing alone. There’s a sliver of empty space beside him, his arm faintly outstretched, as if Richard doesn’t know where to rest his elbow without his little brother’s shoulder.

“My mother said he was always sad. He never forgave himself for losing his brother down there.”

We sit in silence for several long moments. The only sound is the steady rumble of Grim’s purring.

And as I turn the story over in my head, I realize, with grim dread, exactly what I have to do.

“Don’t say it, Cass,” interjects Jacob.

“We have to go back to the Catacombs.”

Adele looks up from the cat, her face going white. “What?”

Jacob groans.

“Think about it,” I press. “Just because Thomas isn’t bound to one place, that doesn’t mean that place isn’t important to him. The Catacombs are where he died.”

“Sure,” counters Jacob, “but he doesn’t remember dying there.”

“Maybe not consciously,” I say, “but when he saw us, he was counting.”

“So?”

“So some part of him remembers playing hide-and-seek down there,” says Lara from my phone, “even if he doesn’t remember remembering. His memory of the Catacombs would probably have been one of the last things to go. Which means it will be the first to come back. It makes sense. It will be the easiest place to remind him.”

I turn to the phone again. “Okay, Lara,” I say. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Good luck,” she says, right before I hang up.

“Does it have to be the Catacombs?” Jacob asks me. “Why can’t we pick a level playing field? Like a garden. A garden seems nice. And aboveground.”

I wish we could do that. I really do. But I’ve wasted too much time trying to lure Thomas out, make him come to me, avoiding the simple truth: The Catacombs are where it started. It’s where it has to end.

“You know I’m right about this.”

“No, I don’t,” says Jacob. “There’s, like, a fifty percent chance you’re right, and a ninety percent chance this is going to go really wrong.”

I smirk. “Only ninety?” I ask.

“What is your ghost saying?” asks Adele, rising to her feet, the cat clutched against her front like a shield.

Jacob crosses his arms, ignoring Adele. “What if Thomas doesn’t show up?” he asks me.

But he will.

I can feel it.

The way I feel the tapping when ghosts are near.

The way I feel the Veil against my fingers.

“Fine,” says Jacob, “but how are we supposed to get back into the Catacombs? Last time I checked, your parents are done filming, the place is probably closed, and we’re leaving tomorrow.”

My heart sinks.

It’s not that I don’t have an idea.

I have one, and it’s really, really bad.

Jacob grimaces as he reads my mind. “Oh no.”

The footage is stored in the dark metal briefcase.

I crouch in front of it, hands resting on the clasps.

“Adele,” I say, “I need you to go into the hall and keep an eye out.”

She frowns. “How do you keep an eye?”

“It’s an expression,” I say. “It means I need to you to keep watch. Tell me when the coast is clear.”

“The coast? As in the sea?”

I fumble for words, exasperated. “Just go stand in the hall, and knock on the door if you see my parents coming.”

She sets Grim down and goes outside, and I take a deep breath and release the clasps.

“Wait,” says Jacob. “Look, you know I’m always up for a bit of bad behavior—”

“No, you’re not,” I say. “You are a total wuss.”