The little boy and girl got up and shuffled to the window. The boy picked up the speaking tube. “We like it here very much,” he said robotically. “Mam treats us real nice.”

He handed the tube to the girl. “We like to do our work. We …” She paused, trying to recall something learned and forgotten. “We like our work,” she mumbled.

Lorraine dismissed them irritably. “And there you have it. Now, I can let you test drive one or two more, but beyond that I’ll need some kind of down payment.”

“I’d like to see those papers,” Emma said, glancing back at the overcoat man. “The ones in your office.” Her hands, clenched at her sides, were starting to go red. I could see we needed to leave before things turned ugly. Whatever information this woman might’ve had wasn’t worth the fight, and rescuing all these kids … well, as callous as it sounded, we had our own kids to rescue first.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” I said, then leaned in to Emma and whispered, “we’ll come back to help them. We have to prioritize.”

“The papers,” she said, ignoring me.

“No problem,” Lorraine replied. “Step into my office and let’s talk turkey.”

And then Emma was going and there was no unsuspicious way to stop her.

Lorraine’s office was a desk and chair crammed into a walkin closet. She had only just closed the door behind us when Emma sprang at her, pushing her hard against it. Lorraine swore and shouted for Carlos but went quiet when Emma held a hand to her face that glowed hot as an oven coil. On Lorraine’s blouse, two blackened handprints smoked where Emma had pushed her.

There was a thump on the door and a grunt from the other side.

“Tell him you’re fine,” Emma said, her voice low and flinty.

“I’m fine!” Lorraine said stiffly.

The door rattled against her back.

“Tell him again.”

Lorraine, more convincing now: “Get lost! I’m doing business!”

Another grunt, then receding footsteps.

“You’re being very stupid,” Lorraine said. “No one’s ever stolen from me and lived.”

“We don’t want money,” Emma said. “You’re going to answer some questions.”

“About what?”

“Those people out there. You think you own them?”

Lorraine’s brow furrowed. “What’s this about?”

“Those people. Those children. You bought them—do you think you own them?”

“I never bought anyone.”

“You bought them and now you’re selling them. You’re a slaver.”

“That isn’t how it works. They came to me willingly. I’m their agent.”

“You’re their pimp,” Emma spat.

“Without me they’d have starved. Or been taken.”

“Taken by who?”

“You know who.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

The woman laughed. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Yeah?” I said, taking a step forward. “Why not?”

“They have ears everywhere, and they don’t like being talked about.”

“I’ve killed wights,” I said. “I’m not scared of them.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Shall I bite her?” said Addison. “I’d really like to. Just a little.”

“What happens when they take people?” I said, ignoring him.

“No one knows,” she said. “I’ve tried to find out, but …”

“I’ll bet you tried very hard,” Emma said.

“They come in here sometimes,” Lorraine said. “To shop.”

“Shop,” Addison said. “That’s a nice word for it.”

“To use my people.” She looked around. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I hate it. You never know how many they’re going to want or for how long. But you give them what they ask for. I’d complain, but … you don’t complain.”

“Bet you don’t complain about what they pay,” Emma said contemptuously.

“It’s not hardly enough for what they put ’em through. I try to hide the little ones when I hear they’re coming. They bring ’em back roughed up, memories blanked out. I say, ‘Where’d you go? What’d they make you do?’ But the kids don’t remember zip.” She shook her head. “They get these nightmares, though. Nasty ones. It’s hard to sell ’em after that.”

“I oughta sell you,” Emma said, livid, trembling. “Not that anyone would pay half a farthing.”

I stuffed my fists into my pockets to stop them from flying at Lorraine. There was more to be gotten from her. “What about the peculiars they kidnap from other loops?” I asked.

“They bring them through in trucks. Used to be a rare thing. Lately it’s been all the time.”

“Did one come through earlier today?” I said.

“A couple of hours ago,” she said. “They had guards with guns all over the place, blocking the street. Made a big production of it.”

“They don’t usually?”

“Not usually. Guess they feel safe here. This delivery must’ve been important.”

It was them, I thought. A trill of excitement shot through me—but was immediately stifled by Addison lunging at Lorraine. “I’m sure they feel quite safe here,” he snarled, “among such perfect traitors!”

I snatched his collar and held him back. “Calm down!”

Addison struggled against me, and I thought for a moment he might snap at my hand, but then he relaxed.

“We do what we have to to survive,” Lorraine hissed.

“So do we,” said Emma. “Now tell us where those trucks go, and if you lie, or it turns out to be a trap, I’ll come back and melt your nostrils shut.” She held one burning finger just beyond the tip of Lorraine’s nose. “Agreed?”

I could almost imagine Emma doing it. She was tapping into a deep well of hatred I’d never seen fully revealed before, and as useful as it was in situations like this, it was a little scary, too. I didn’t like to think what she might be capable of, given the proper motivation.

“They go to their part of the Acre,” Lorraine said, turning her head away from Emma’s hot finger. “Over the bridge.”

“What bridge?” said Emma, holding it closer.

“At the top end of Smoking Street. Don’t bother trying to cross, though, unless you want your head to end up on a pike.”

I reckoned that was all we were going to get out of Lorraine. Now we had to figure out what to do with her. Addison wanted to bite her. Emma wanted to trace an S on her forehead with her white-hot finger, branding her for life as a slaver. I talked them out of doing either, and instead we gagged her with a sash cord from the curtains and tied her to a leg of the desk. We were about to leave her like that when I thought of one last thing I wanted to know.

“The peculiars they kidnap. What happens to them?”

“Mrrrf!”

I pulled down her gag.

“None have escaped to tell,” she said. “But there are rumors.”

“About?”

“Something worse than death.” She gave us a smile dripping with slime. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

* * *

The moment we opened the office door, the man in the overcoat charged at us from across the parlor, something heavy raised in his hand. Before he could reach us, a muffled shout of alarm sounded from the office and he stopped, changing course to see about Lorraine. When he’d crossed the office threshold, Emma slammed the door behind him and melted the handle into useless slag.

That bought us a minute or two.

Addison and I bolted for the exit. Halfway there, I realized Emma hadn’t followed. She was banging on the window of the enslaved peculiars’ quarters.

“We can help you escape! Show me where the door is!”

They turned sluggishly to stare, splayed on their chaises and daybeds.

“Throw something to break the glass!” Emma said. “Be quick!”

None moved. They seemed confused. Perhaps they didn’t believe rescue was really possible—or perhaps they didn’t want to be rescued.

“Emma, we can’t wait,” I said, tugging at her arm.

She wouldn’t give up. “Please!” she cried into the tube. “At least send out the children!”

Full-throated shouts from inside the office. The door shook on its hinges. Frustrated, Emma slammed the glass with her fist.