“That, too,” I mumbled through her fingers.

I was angry and scared, but also genuinely happy to be alive—and to see Emma whole and healed. When I thought about that, all the fight leaked out of me and I was filled with simple gratitude. I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning and listened to them whisper about me.

“He’s a problem,” said the doctor. “He can’t be allowed to meet Mr. Bentham like this.”

“His brain is addled,” Sharon said. “If the girl and I could just talk with him in private, I’m sure he could be brought around. Might we have the room to ourselves?”

Reluctantly, the doctor left. When he was gone, I opened my eyes again and focused on Emma, looking down at me.

“Where’s Addison?” I asked.

“He got across,” she said.

“Right,” I said, remembering. “Have you heard from him? Has he come back yet?”

“No,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

I considered what that might mean—what might have happened to him—but I couldn’t bear the thought. “We promised to go after him,” I said. “If he can get across, so can we.”

“That bridge hollow might not have cared about a dog getting across,” Sharon butted in, “but you he’d peel off and toss right into the boil.”

“Go away,” I said to him. “I want to talk to Emma in private.”

“Why? So you can climb out the window and run away again?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Emma said. “Jacob can’t even get out of bed.”

Sharon wasn’t swayed. “I’ll go to the corner and mind my own business,” he said. “That’s my best offer.” He went and perched himself on Nim’s one-armed chair and began to whistle and clean his fingernails.

Emma helped me sit up, and we pressed our foreheads together and spoke in whispers. For a moment I was so overwhelmed by her closeness that all the questions flooding my brain vanished, and there was only her hand touching my face, brushing my cheek, my jaw.

“You had me so frightened,” Emma said. “I really thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m fine,” I said. I knew I hadn’t been, but it embarrassed me to be worried over.

“You weren’t. Not at all. You should apologize to the doctor.”

“I know. I was just freaked out. And I’m sorry if I scared you.”

She nodded and then looked away. Her eyes drifted briefly to the wall, and when they returned, a new hardness glittered in them.

“I like to think I’m strong,” she said. “That the reason I’m free right now instead of Bronwyn or Millard or Enoch is that I’m strong enough to be depended upon. That’s always been me—the one who could take anything. Like there’s a pain sensor inside me that’s not switched on. I can block out awful things and get on with it, do what needs doing.” Her hand found mine atop the sheets. Our fingers knotted together, automatic. “But when I think about you—how you looked when they pulled you off the ground, after those people …”

She let out a shaky breath and shook her head, as if chasing away the memory. “I just break.”

“Me, too,” I said, remembering the pain I felt whenever I saw Emma hurt, the terror that gripped me every time she was in danger. “Me, too.” I squeezed her hand and searched for something more to say, but she spoke first.

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” I said.

“I need you not to die.”

I cracked a smile. Emma didn’t. “You can’t,” she said. “If I lose you, the rest isn’t worth a damn.”

I slid my arms around her, pulled her tight against me. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not good enough,” she whispered. “Promise me.”

“Okay. I won’t die.”

“Say, ‘I promise.’ ”

“I promise. You say it, too.”

“I promise,” she said.

“Ahh,” Sharon said airily from the corner, “the sweet lies lovers tell …”

We broke apart. “You’re not supposed to be listening!” I said.

“That was long enough,” he said, dragging his chair loudly across the floor and planting it next to the bed. “We have important things to discuss. Namely, the apology you owe me.”

“For what?” I said, irritated.

“Impugning my character and reputation.”

“Every word was true,” I said. “This loop is full of scumbags and creeps, and you are a money-driven lout.”

“With not an ounce of sympathy for the plight of his own people,” Emma added. “Though, again, thank you for saving us.”

“Around here you learn to look out for number one,” Sharon said. “Everyone’s got a story. A plight. Everyone wants something from you, and they’re almost always lying. So yes, I remain unapologetically self-directed and profit motivated. But I deeply resent your suggestion that I would have dealings of any kind with someone who trades in peculiar flesh. Just because I’m a capitalist doesn’t mean I’m a black-hearted bastard.”

“And how could we have known that?” I said. “We had to beg and bribe you not to abandon us at the dock, remember?”

He shrugged. “That was before I realized who you are.”

I glanced at Emma, then pointed to my chest. “Who I am?”

“You, my boy. Mr. Bentham’s been waiting a long time to speak to you. Since the day I first hung my shingle as a boatman—forty-odd years ago. Bentham ensured me safe passage in and out of the Acre if I promised to keep an eye out for you while I did it. I was to bring you to see him. And now, finally, I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” I said. “I’m nobody.”

“He said you’d be able to speak to hollowgast. How many peculiars do you know who can do that?”

“But he’s only sixteen,” Emma said. “Really sixteen. So how can—”

“That’s why it took me a while to put it all together,” said Sharon. “I had to go see Mr. Bentham about it personally, which is where I was when you two ran away. You don’t fit the description, see. All these years I’ve been keeping watch for an old man.”

“An old man,” I said.

“Right.”

“Who can talk to hollows.”

“As I said.”

Emma tightened her grip on my hand and we exchanged a look—no, it couldn’t be—and then I swung my legs out of bed, charged with new energy. “I want to talk to this Bentham guy. Right now.”

“He’ll see you when he’s ready,” Sharon said.

“No,” I said. “Now.”

As it happened, at that very moment there was a knock at the door. Sharon opened it to find Nim. “Mr. Bentham will meet our guests for tea in one hour,” he said, “in the library.”

“We can’t wait an hour,” I said. “We’ve wasted too much time here already.”

At this, Nim went a bit red and puffed out his cheeks. “Wasted?”

“What Jacob meant,” Emma said, “is that we have another pressing engagement elsewhere in the Acre that we’re already late for.”

“Mr. Bentham insists upon meeting you properly,” Nim said. “As he always says, the day there’s no time for manners, the world’s lost to us anyway. Speaking of which, I’m to make sure you’re dressed appropriately.” He went to the wardrobe and swung open its heavy doors. Inside were several racks of clothes. “You may choose what you like.”

Emma pulled out a frilly dress and curled her lip. “This feels so wrong. Playing dress-up and having tea while our friends and ymbrynes are forced to endure bird knows what.”

“We’re doing it for them,” I said. “We only have to play along till Bentham tells us what he knows. It could be important.”

“Or he could just be a lonely old man.”

“Don’t talk about Mr. Bentham that way,” Nim said, his face puckering. “Mr. Bentham is a saint, a giant among men!”

“Oh calm down,” Sharon said. He went to the window and pulled open the blinds, allowing a weak, pea-soup daylight to dribble into the room. “Up and at ’em!” he said to us. “You two have a date.”

I threw back my covers and Emma helped me out of bed. To my surprise, my legs took my weight. I glanced out the window at an empty street enveloped in yellow murk, and then, with Emma holding my arm, went to the wardrobe to pick out a change of clothes. I found an outfit on a hanger tagged with my name.