The doctor, on the other hand, had gone very quiet. He wavered for a moment, but then he took a small step back.
“If it gets any worse—” he said.
“It won’t,” my papá said.
“I know you won’t hesitate to do your duty for the city,” he said.
“We won’t,” my papá said, in a way that made it very clear the conversation was over.
Without another word, the doctor disappeared. My papá turned to face me. He looked flushed, like he’d run from the Parliament buildings in his crisp black suit.
“What’s happening, Papá?” I said, and my voice came out very small.
He took up the chair at my bedside. “Nothing,” he said coolly. “Now, tell me about your dolls, my little spider. They look rather… headless.”
That night, it was Paola sitting at my bedside instead, a pile of shoes to be polished in her lap. I was supposed to be sleeping, but I was just staring at the ceiling, until finally, the words tumbled out of my mouth.
“Why did the doctor want to take me away?” I said.
“He’s not going to,” Paola said without looking up. “Your papá made sure of that.”
“I know, Paola,” I said. “I saw it. But why did he want to take me away?”
She paused in her work, and she was quiet for a long moment. Too long.
“The doctors wanted to keep a closer eye on you,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Because they think I’m going to die,” I said.
Paola opened her mouth. She shut it.
The doctors thought I was going to die, which meant they also thought my first omen was about to appear. They wanted to make sure they were nearby to rush me to the watercrea’s tower before my omens spread. Anybody could get their omens at any moment, but with very sick people, it was a certainty.
Everybody said that when we died, we went back into the veil. They said God was in the veil. They said everyone who had ever lived was in the veil. But they never explained it in a way I could really understand. They never explained how it would look or what it would feel like.
When I tried to imagine it for myself, I couldn’t. Instead, I just pictured my family and Paola and Ale going on without me. I imagined them growing older and filling up their lives with other people and not even noticing when my birthday passed by. Now that I was thinking about it, I couldn’t believe I’d ever been able to not think about it.
“Paola,” I said.
“Yes?” she said slowly.
“I’m not going to die,” I said. “Do you know why?”
“Why?” Her voice was quiet.
“Because I don’t want to,” I said.
The look on her face was impossible to read. I was terrified she was going to laugh, because sometimes I said things that were very serious, and grown-ups just laughed. She smiled, and I tensed defensively as she picked up the washcloth at my side and reached out to dab my clammy forehead.
“Fierce little Emanuela,” she murmured. “I believe you. I really do.”
She was right to believe me. My fits became farther and fewer between. In a few months, I was bouncing from tea party to tea party, tussling with all the other little girls, and the worst of it was a distant memory.
I was completely healthy when my omen appeared on my hip. It just showed up out of nowhere, for no reason at all.
Of course I didn’t turn myself over to the tower. My sickness couldn’t kill me. One little mark on my skin wasn’t going to kill me, either.
Nothing is going to kill me. I won’t let it.
FIVE
I DON’T REALIZE I’VE DOZED OFF UNTIL I’M WAKING UP. It’s pitch-black, and there are cold fingers on my arm.
“Emanuela—shh—shhh—”
Now there’s a cold hand over my mouth, suffocating me. My first thought is that I’m in the watercrea’s tower. I’m certain that her guard is carrying me off to whatever terrible punishment she uses on people who defy her.
“Sorry.” The voice is whispering right in my ear. “Sorry. I—I heard something. I think—”
Of course. It’s Ale. I’m in the catacombs with him because the watercrea is dead. Because I killed her.
“I blew out the lantern,” he says.
I sit up and look around the dark hall, which doesn’t accomplish much. Then I hear the footsteps. They’re soft and quick, and they’re coming from… somewhere nearby. The way the sound bounces off the stone walls makes it hard to be sure about anything more than that.
Ale fumbles at me like he’s trying to pick me up.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Shh,” he says. “I’m hiding you. In one of the memorials.”
He’s talking about the nooks all sitting in a row, meant for dead people. I’m not going into one of those. I squirm away.
“Emanuela—”
He tries to grab me again. A brief struggle ensues, and my foot connects with something metal. Our lantern topples over and rolls, and it is, to say the least, rather loud.
Ale and I freeze.
The footsteps get louder.
I climb to my feet. I’m still shaky, but sleep has given me just enough strength to get by. I can feel Ale close behind as I run, quietly, trying to get away from the footsteps. I reach the end of the hall and duck around the corner.
I’ve miscalculated. Someone is there. It’s a shadowy figure holding a glowing lantern of their own.
They lunge for me.
“Emanuela—” they’re saying. “Don’t you—augh! Don’t you dare bite me, you little—”
I recognize the shrill voice and cease my attack.
“Paola?” I say. “How did you—”
“Shh.” She pushes me against the wall and urges me to the ground, where she crouches in front of me. “Here.”
She puts something in my lap. It’s a loaf of bread, and I’m tearing into it without even deciding to.
“Where’s Alessandro?” she
