A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(111)

“Mother Mary,” Wreck muttered under his breath.

“Who are you people?” said Dogface.

Bronwyn had just snapped Millard’s ropes, and now she was coming over to free me.

“They can’t be from around here,” said Angelica. “With peculiarities like that, everybody would know their names.”

“Remember the wights?” said Millard.

“You must be joking,” said Wreck.

“They’re dead or in jail now because of us.”

“Because of him, mostly,” said Bronwyn. She snapped the rope that held my wrists and then held up my arm like the winner in a footrace. “We’re Miss Peregrine’s wards. And when she hears about what you people are doing, she and the other ymbrynes are gonna bring such hell down on your heads, you won’t know what hit you.”

“That’s the craziest thing I ever heard,” said Wreck.

“Then I think they’ll fit in just fine,” said Dogface.

The dynamic in the room had changed. We had earned some grudging respect from them, and the balance of power had evened. But the clan leaders were still wary of us—and of one another—and no one had let their guard down. Wreck was still aiming his gun, Emma was still holding her flame to Frankie’s face, Dogface was crouched on all fours, ready to pounce, and Angelica’s cloud was now quietly storming, pellets of rain wetting her head and shoulders. It felt like we were dancing around a stick of lit dynamite.

“I got one question to ask you, and you’d best answer it true,” said Wreck. “People like you don’t come through town without a good reason. So what are you doing here?”

I suppose I thought I could talk to them like equals, but thinking back, I don’t know why I said it. I was feeling proud and reckless, and the truth just came tumbling out. “We came to help her,” I said, nodding at Noor. “She’s a brand-new peculiar who’s in danger, and we’re taking her home with us.”

There was a moment of tense quiet as the clan leaders digested this, then looked at one another.

“You say she’s new?” said Dogface. “You mean . . . uncontacted?” He leaned back on his heels, his voice rising from a snarl back to normal.

“That’s right,” said Emma. “What’s it matter?

Angelica was shaking her head, rainwater dripping off her chin. “That’s bad.”

“Damn it!” said Wreck. He punched the air. “Damn it, I really wanted the fiery one on my crew.”

“What are you talking about?” said Bronwyn.

“Yeah, what just happened?” said Noor.

Frankie started laughing. “Oh, you’re in trouble,” she said.

“You shut up,” said Emma.

“Kidnapping an uncontacted peculiar is a serious crime,” said the tutor. “A very grave offense.”

“No one’s kidnapping me,” said Noor.

“You’re outsiders,” said Wreck, “and you’re transporting an uncontacted across territory lines. And that means—” He let out a loud breath and stamped his foot. “I hate this!”

Dogface stood up and brushed off his hands. “We’ve got to turn you in,” he said. “Or we’ll be accessories to the crime.”

“Must we?” said Angelica. “I like them more and more.”

“You must be joking.” Dogface started pacing nervously. “If we don’t report this and Leo hears about it? Our lives are worth nothing. Less than nothing.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of ‘nobody, no man, no nothing,’” Angelica said.

Dogface spun toward her and yelled, “Only an idiot wouldn’t be afraid of Leo!”

Wreck turned away, and when he turned back he was holding something that looked like a small cell phone. “I hate to do this. I really do. I was looking forward to working with you. But I’m afraid I have no choice.”

He punched a few buttons on the device. A moment later, a siren began to blare. It seemed to come from everywhere at once—the walls, ceiling, the air itself. My friends and I looked at one another, then at the Americans, who had lowered their weapons and were no longer making threatening moves toward us at all anymore. They just seemed disappointed.

Emma let go of Frankie. She fell to the floor. “Where’s our friend?” she shouted at the girl. “What did you do with Enoch?”

Frankie scurried away toward the Americans. “He’s part of my collection now!” She peeked out between Wreck’s knees. “You’re not getting him back, either!”

With that, there seemed no reason left to stay, and nothing compelling us to. The siren blared. My friends and I looked around.

“I think we’d better go,” I said.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Emma.

Emma, Noor, and I helped Bronwyn, who seemed almost her old self again but was still a little woozy, and we ran down the stairs and up the aisle toward the back exit as fast as we could—which wasn’t very. Neither the Americans nor their flunkies made the slightest attempt to stop us. We burst through the doors and out into the fading day.

Running toward us were a half-dozen men in 1920s-era suits carrying antique machine guns. They raised them and shouted for us to stop. A spray of bullets ricocheted off the concrete behind us.