A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(52)

“My goodness,” the man said. “You really do have your grandfather’s gift.”

He slid to the edge of the booth and stood. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind letting go of Horatio . . .” He muttered under his breath in hollowspeak, and I felt my control over the beast vanish. “I promised him a hot meal if he was good today. Didn’t I, fella?”

The hollow reeled in its tongues, scampered over to him, and sat down by his feet like a big puppy.



* * *



? ? ?

The man plucked a steak off his table and tossed it to the hollow, who caught it in its jaws and swallowed it in a single gulp. The man began to slide out of the booth and stand up, but Emma took a step toward him with her flame high and shouted, “Stay where you are!”

He stayed seated. “I’m a friend, not a wight.”

“Then why do you travel with a hollowgast?”

“I don’t go anywhere without Horatio anymore. I’d rather not end up like this boy’s grandfather, if I can help it.”

I said, “You’re H, aren’t you?”

“The very same.” He gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Would you join me?”

“You’re completely mad!” said Emma. “Your hollowgast nearly killed us!”

“You were never in real danger, I assure you.” He gestured again. “Please. We have five minutes until the police arrive and a lot of ground to cover before then.”

I glanced at Emma. She looked annoyed, but closed her hand, extinguishing her flame, and let her arm fall. We crossed the dining room, picking our way through a tide of broken dishes and toppled furniture, to the booth where H sat. The hollow had finished its steak and curled itself on the floor by H’s side, where it appeared to be napping. The compass-needle pain in my gut had dulled, but not disappeared, and I realized that its intensity changed depending on the mood of the hollowgast. Aggressive, hungry hollows were more painful than calm, sated ones.

We slid into the booth, Emma first so I would be closest to the hollow. H leaned forward on his elbows, sipping from a tall glass through a straw. He was calm and collected.

“I’m ready for the interview,” I said.

H held up a finger, still drinking. I studied him while we waited. His face was crookedly handsome and deeply lined, his eyes deep-set and piercing, and he had a scraggly beard and a sweater vest that gave him a vaguely professorial air. I had seen a photo of him in Abe’s logbook, I realized, in which he’d been wearing almost the exact same outfit.

When he’d drained the glass, he pushed it away and leaned back against his seat. “Root beer float,” he said, and let out a satisfied sigh. “Food’s got no taste anymore. That’s why I try not to pass up a meal anytime I’m in a loop.” He nodded at several plates of food on the table. “Got you a country-fried steak and a slice of key lime pie. I would’ve ordered for you, too, Miss Bloom”—he shot me a peevish look—“but I asked Jacob to come alone.”

“You know who I am?” said Emma.

“Of course. Abe spoke of you often.”

Emma looked down, but couldn’t hide her smile.

“She and I are a team,” I said. “We work together.”

“I can see that,” said H. “You passed, by the way.”

“Passed what?” I said.

“Your job interview.”

I laughed the way you do when something’s more surprising than funny. “That was the interview? Being attacked?”

“First part, anyway. Had to see if you were the real deal.”

“And?”

“Your command of the language could be better. You need to establish control faster—some of these casualties could’ve been avoided.” He pointed to the broken window, the waiter outside, crumpled and groaning on the hood of a Chevrolet. “But you’re the real deal. No doubt.”

I felt a blush of pride.

“Don’t get happy yet. There are some things you need to know.”

I stifled my smile. “I want to know everything.”

“What did your grandfather tell you about his work?”

“Nothing.”

He looked surprised. “Nothing at all?”





“He said he used to be a traveling salesman. My dad told me Abe used to go on these weeks-long business trips, and once or twice he came back with a broken leg or a bandage on his face. The family thought he’d gotten mixed up with some bad people, or he had a gambling problem.”

H ran a hand over his bearded chin. “Then we’ll only have time for the basics. Abe came to America after the war. He wanted to live as normal a life as he could, because he felt that his diminished powers were more of a danger than a help to his fellow peculiars—Miss Bloom and her loop-mates, specifically. At that time, America was a relatively peaceful place. Normals had persecuted us plenty over the years and sown a lot of mistrust between the different peculiar clans, but we’d never had the problems with hollows and wights that Europe did. Until the late fifties, that is. They came in hard, they went after the ymbrynes, and they did a lot of damage. That’s when Abe decided he had to come out of his early retirement, and he started the organization.”

I realized I was holding my breath. I had been waiting so long for someone to tell me about my grandfather’s early years in America, I almost couldn’t believe it was happening.