She draws back. “You went to spy on awitch?”
I scan the square again. Amidst the usual sounds of bargaining maids and calling vendors, a handful of children are engaged in a game of catch. Everything seems so... normal.
“I... I don’t know,” I sign. It’s the truth, after all.
Was she?
“Did you go or did you not?” Em signs before crossing her arms. That defensive posture is new. The old Emma would’ve leaned closer, eyes bright with curiosity, eager for every detail.
I rub my temples in a futile hope to ease the incoming headache and close my eyes as I sort through the information. Does Mrs. Willox deserve to be burned as a witch? Maybe. On the other hand,I, too, will be burned if I don’t bleed soon, and I might be many things, but I amnota witch, and that means the minister isn’t always right. What Idoknow is that I saw her give birth to what the minister called not human, but that creature is dead, so why can’t that be the end of it?
Putting two and two together, I can only assume that the reason for killing some of the prostitutes’ babies is that they give birth to these so-called moonborn creatures too. However, they never burnthosewomen. The once-pregnant prostitutes always come back to continue their trade, although with a distinctly glazed-over expression on their faces, as if they’re no longer present in their bodies. Not that their customers seem to care.
Em pierces me with a questioning gaze, eyebrows raised in a silent nudge to go on.
I pause for a second, gathering my thoughts, then tell her as fast as my hands can move, “If she’s a witch or not, I honestly don’t know, but I witnessed Mrs. Willox give birth to something that looked like a human baby but that the minister claimed was a creature not of this world.”
A hand flies up to cover her mouth. “The minister was in Mr. Willox’s home? In the middle of the night?” she signs.
I nod. “He said it was moonborn.” I finger-spell the strange word since I don't know the sign. “And that it was evil...” I stare at her. “Do you know what am-o-o-nis?”
She shakes her head.
“Right after the baby was born, he intervened, snatching the baby away, and then... he... snapped its neck.” I cringe at the memory of the lifeless infant. “Mrs. Willox completely lost control, clawing at him and screaming...” Em’s face is losing its color as I sign. “She accused him of being a murderer... But if it was some kind of creature, was he not justified in killing it?”
Face ashen, she nods slowly, lips pressed into a thin line.
“There is more...” I raise my eyebrows, silently questioning if she wants to know. We’re both aware that having too much knowledge is far more dangerous than being clueless.
She hesitates for the tiniest of moments before gesturing for me to proceed, and I don’t blame her.
“The minister was followed by this tall, shadowy figure that sent shivers down my spine... And the shadow did something to Mr. and Mrs. Willox. They passed out like two sacks of potatoes.”
Em’s face, previously pale, is now void of any color. She signs a word I don't know—a gesture that somehow layers her hand in shadows. She immediately shakes her hand, then whispers, “The umbra.” Her voice is so low I can barely make out the words. “What have you gotten yourself into, Laï?”
“What haveIgotten myself into?” I stare at her in disbelief. “Youwanted to know as much as I did!” My hand movements are sharp and angry, although I’m well aware Em is rightfully concerned. Information that people will pay money for is rarely harmless.
I soften my expression, stating what is on both our minds. “This information can be worth enough forbothof us to buy our freedom, Em,” I sign.
She stares at me for a long moment before she shakes her head.
“No,” she signs. “I don’t want anything to do with this.”
There’s nothing I can do to hide my surprised expression. “You don’t want your freedom?”
“I . . .” She looks away. “He’s different.”
“Who’s different?” I frown. “Your master?” I grab her arm, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Don’t be a fool, Em. You’re just another property.”
She tenses, though she remains silent.
“Well, at least tell me what this umbra is. You clearly know.” There’s a painful tightening in my chest as I realize she’s known about the umbra all this time and never shared it with me.
Her veil flutters as she lets out a heavy sigh. “They... They live in the shadows.” Her hand gestures are reluctant. “It’s said they have eyes and ears everywhere.” Her gaze darts around the square, as if one of them might jump at us this very moment. “I witnessed a conversation between Master and an administrator once, and from what I understood, they are the eyes and ears of the Father himself. That’s how the minister is always aware of every single incident that displeasesHim.” Em’s hands are visibly shaking now. “If anyone—anyone—finds out, you will be the next to burn.”
I seize her sleeve as she turns to go. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” I whisper, not bothering to sign. “Right?” I say again, a little louder, when she doesn’t answer.
A look of pity crosses her face. “I’m sorry, Laï, but you’re on your own.” She shakes herself loose of my grip and sets off before I have time to get in another word.
