A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(122)

I walked out of the potting shed into the slanting sun and muggy heat of a Florida afternoon.

My friends were in Devil’s Acre. My parents were traveling in Asia.

The house was empty.

I went inside, settled onto a sofa in the living room, and took my phone out of my pocket. It still had a little battery left. I dialed H’s number. After three rings, a man answered.

“Hong’s.”

“I’m calling for H,” I said.

“Hold on.”

In the background I could hear voices, the noise of clattering plates. Then H came on the line.

“Hello?” he said warily.

“It’s Jacob.”

“I figured the ymbrynes would have had you under lock and key by now.”

“Not quite,” I said, “but they’re pretty angry. I’m sure they wouldn’t be happy if they knew I was calling you, either.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure they wouldn’t.” I knew he was angry with me, too. I could hear it in his voice. But he seemed to have forgiven me already, probably even before we’d talked. “Hey, I’m glad you’re all right. You had me worried.”

“Yeah. I had me worried, too.”

“Why the hell didn’t you listen to me? Now things are all fouled up.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Let me help fix it.”

“No, thank you. You’ve done quite enough.”

“I should’ve aborted the mission when you told me to,” I said. “But—” I hesitated, worried this would sound like an accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me we were doing something illegal?”

“Illegal? Where’d you get that?”

“It’s the clans’ law. You can’t take an uncontacted peculiar—”

“We should all be free to go where we like,” he interrupted. “Any law that takes your freedom away should be ignored.”

“Well, I agree. But the ymbrynes are trying to negotiate a peace treaty between the clans, and—”

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, getting frustrated. “The clans will go to war if that’s what they want to do, and don’t let anyone fool you into thinking it’s got anything to do with you or me. Anyway, there’s bigger things at stake than whether the damned clans want to fight with one another.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Like the girl.”

“You mean Noor.”

“Of course I mean her. And don’t say her name out loud again.”

“Why is she so important?”

“I’m not going to tell you over an unsecured telephone line. And, anyhow, you don’t need to know. Truth is, I should never have gotten you involved in the first place. I went against my better judgment. I broke a promise, too, and I’m sick about it. You nearly got killed because of it.”

“What promise? To who?”

There was a pause. I might’ve thought the line had gone dead, but I could hear dishes rattling in the background. Finally, he said, “To your grandfather.”

Which reminded me of the reason I’d called H in the first place.

“Why?” I said. “Why did he never tell me anything? Why would he ask you to keep secrets from me?”

“Because he wanted to protect you, son.”

“That was never going to be possible. All it did was leave me totally unprepared.”

“He always meant to tell you who you were. But he died too soon to do it himself.”

“Then what was he protecting me from?”

“From our work. He didn’t want you involved.”

“Then why did he send me postcards from your missions? Or make maps for me? Or make my nickname the passcode to the bunker under his house?”

I heard H take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He was leaving you tools in case of emergency. But that’s it. Now, I’m afraid you caught me on my way out.”

“To do what?”

“One last job,” he replied. “Then I’m retired for good.”

“You’re going to try to get her back, aren’t you?”

“That’s no business of yours.”

“Wait for me. I’ll come to you. I want to help. Please.”

“No, thank you. Like I said, you’ve done quite enough—and you don’t take orders.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay, then take this order. Go back to your life. Go back to your ymbrynes and your safe little world, because you aren’t ready for this one yet. Maybe we’ll meet again, someday, when you are.”

And then he hung up.





I stood in my living room, phone in hand, still listening to the silence on the dead line. My mind was racing. I had to get to H, and quickly. I had to help him. I was green and inexperienced, yes, but he was old and out of practice. He needed me, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He was right about one thing, though—I was terrible at taking orders. Oh, well; it was a second chance at helping Noor. Maybe just a sliver of a chance, but at this point I would take what I could get.

First, I would have to find H. Luckily, I knew right where to start looking: on the book of matches where I’d first gotten his phone number. It was from a Chinese restaurant somewhere in Manhattan. When I’d called him this time, I’d heard what sounded like a restaurant in the background—a busy kitchen, maybe, or the dish prep area—and I was pretty sure someone who worked there had answered the phone. I figured H lived in the back, or above it. The name and address were on the matchbook, so it would be easy enough to find. I just had to get to New York.