A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(66)

“We’re not going to die,” I said. “We just have some questions.”

“Such as, are you the headmistress here?” said Bronwyn.

Miss Billie frowned. “Head-what?”

“An ymbryne,” said Bronwyn.

“Oh, Lordy!” Miss Billie said, rearing back in her chair. “Do I really look that old?”

“She’s a demi-ymbryne,” Emma said.

“It’s like an ymbryne-lite,” I explained to our friends.

“I’m the manager and that’s enough,” said Miss Billie. “I collect the money and try to keep the place from falling down. Rex stops in every few weeks to wind the clock.” She pointed to a grandfather clock that stood against the opposite wall. Old, massive, and incongruously ornate, it looked out of place amid the gaudy motel decor.

“Rex?” I said.

“Rex Posthlewaite, loop-keeper extraordinare. He does plumbing and a little electrical, too, though he ain’t licensed.”

“Let me get this straight. You don’t have an ymbryne here, and the fake one only stops by every few weeks?”

“Only he can wind it. Or another loop-keeper, I suppose. But Rex works the whole northern part of Florida, so the pickings are mighty slim.”

“What if he gets sick?” asked Millard.

“Or dies?” said Enoch.

“He ain’t allowed to.”

“What is this thing, anyway?” said Enoch, stepping toward the clock. “I’ve never seen a—”

All three dogs began to yap loudly.

“Don’t you go near that!” Miss Billie snapped.

Enoch spun away from it. “I was only looking!”

“Don’t look at it, neither,” said Miss Billie. “Can’t have you messin’ with my loop clock, boy. You could knock everything out of whack.”

Enoch folded his arms and fumed. I figured it was time to get down to business, so once the dogs stopped barking, I said, “I’ve got something for you.”

I held out the package from H, the one marked Flaming Man.

She peered at it over the rim of her glasses. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but if you’re the manager, then I think it’s for you.”

She wrinkled her brow. “You open it.”

I tore the paper open. I’d been dying to see what was inside ever since H had given it to me.

It was a pouch of dog treats. BIG FLAVOR! BIG FUN! read the label.

“You’ve got to be joking,” muttered Emma.

Miss Billie’s face lit up. “How nice! These are the girls’ favorite!” The dogs saw the pouch and started squirming. Miss Billie snatched it from me and held it high above their heads. “Eh! Eh! Don’t be greedy!”

“We went through all that to deliver some dog food?” said Enoch.

“Not just any old dog food,” said Miss Billie, turning to drop the pouch into her purse as the dogs’ noses followed it.

“You’re not curious who it’s from?” said Emma.

“I know who it’s from. When you see him, thank him kindly for me, and tell him he’s back on my Christmas list. Now—” She squeezed the dogs tight to her chest and stood up with them held against her. “I got to take the girls for a tinkle, so here’s the rules of my place. Number one, don’t touch my clock. Number two, we don’t like noise or commotion here, so don’t go making any. Number three, there’s a filling station with a garage next door where you can work on your busted car. When you’re done, I expect you to be gone. There’s no vacancy.”

She turned to go.

“Have you got anything for us?” I asked.

She frowned. “Like what?”

“A clue,” I said. “We’re looking for a . . . portal?” At the very least, I had hoped she might give me something useful in return for the package—a section of map, a postcard with an address on it—something that could help us find our next destination.

“Oh, honey. If you don’t have a clue, I’m afraid I can’t help you!” She laughed out loud. “Now go on, I’ve got to walk the girls.”



* * *



? ? ?

Out in the courtyard, the residents of Flamingo Manor watched us through their blinds as we talked by the deserted swimming pool.

“Dog food,” Bronwyn said. “I can’t believe it.”





“The contents of the package hardly matter,” said Enoch. “Only that we delivered it.”

“He wants to know he can rely on us,” I said.

Paul came over to where we were standing.

“I’ve talked to the garage next door,” he said, pointing to a building beyond the Flamingo’s bungalows. “They have some spare parts, though I don’t know about any carburetors.”

“Even a socket wrench would be better than nothing,” Enoch replied. “Thanks.”

Paul nodded and hurried off again, and we huddled up to plan our next move.

“What about the next place—this portal?” asked Bronwyn. “How do we find it?”

“We’ll ask around,” said Emma. “Somebody’s bound to know.”