A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children, #4)(78)

“Real quiet,” said Elmer. “Always watching. At first it seemed like she might’ve been Abe’s protégé, like he meant for her to take over from him one day. But sometimes I got the feeling maybe she was the one really in charge.”

“I heard her say once that she used to be in the circus,” said Joseph.

“I heard she was in the national ballet of Russia,” said Fern.

“I heard she went out west to be a cowgirl,” said Reggie.

“I heard she killed seven people in a bar fight in a loop in Texas and had to run away to South America,” said June.





“She sounds like a con artist,” said Emma.

“Come to think of it,” said Joseph, studying her, “she looked a bit a like you. In fact, first moment I saw you today I thought maybe you were her.”

I half expected fumes to start coming out of Emma’s ears. I leaned over to her and whispered, “I’m sure it’s not what you think.”

She ignored me. “Got a picture of her?”

“Here,” said June, turning to a page she’d marked with her finger.

In her photo, V looked like someone who ate nails for breakfast. Or rode grizzly bears for a living, and had finished doing so just before the photo was taken. She stood with her arms crossed and her chin raised, defiant. And I couldn’t help but agree with Joseph—she did look a bit like Emma. Not that I ever would’ve admitted it out loud.

Emma stared at the photo like she was committing the girl’s face to memory. She said nothing for a moment, then just, “Okay.” I saw her make a conscious effort to swallow whatever she was feeling; I could almost trace the progress of the bile as it descended her throat down into her belly. And then her face cleared, and she smiled a bit too sweetly at June and said, “Thank you very much.”

June clapped the album shut. “Good,” she said, and started back to her seat. “My food’s about to get cold.”

Reggie leaned across the table toward me. “So, Jacob. Did Gandy teach you everything he knew? About hunting hollows and such? You must have stories!”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I grew up thinking I was normal.”

“He didn’t realize he was peculiar until earlier this year,” Millard explained.

“Good gravy,” said Elmer. “You’re getting a real crash course, then.”

“That’s for sure.”

“It’s definitely more crash than course,” said Enoch.





“Did you know your grandfather was one of the first two peculiars I ever met?” said Joseph. He had cleaned his plate and was leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly on its rear legs. “I was uncontacted at the time, living in Clarksville, Mississippi, 1930. Thirteen years old, my parents dead from Spanish flu. I didn’t know the first thing about peculiarness. But I knew something was changing inside me—that was my divining coming in—and soon after that I could feel something hunting me. But before it could get to me, your grandfather and H did. And they brought me here.”

“Gandy and H brought more than one child here, over the years,” said Elmer.

“But why come so far?” Millard asked. “Weren’t there loops closer to where you grew up?”

“Not for diviners,” said Joseph.

I scanned my friends’ faces, and they all seemed to have the same question in mind.

“So, only diviners can live here?” I asked.

“Oh no, no, no, we’re not like that,” said Fern. “We allow any type of peculiar in our loop.” She pointed at a house across the yard. “Smith over there is a wind-shaper. Moss Parker next door to him is a telekinetic, but only for foodstuffs. Which does help when it comes to setting a table.”

“For quite a few years we had a boy who could turn gold into aluminum,” said June, “though it wasn’t a skill much called for.”

“There are some loops that don’t allow outsiders, though,” said Elmer. “They’ll chase you right out.”

“They don’t trust anybody but peculiars like themselves,” said Alene.

“But we’re all peculiar,” said Bronwyn. “Isn’t that alike enough?”

“Seems not,” Reggie said. He tossed a scrap of gristle into the grass, and his puppy went bounding after it.

“Isn’t it against the ymbrynic codes for only one type of peculiar to live together?” said Bronwyn.

“Of course not,” said Enoch. “Remember the sheep-speakers in that Mongolian loop and the town of floaters in North Africa?”

“There are lots of reasons peculiars of one ability might band together,” said Millard. “I know of several invisible communities, for instance.”

“Oh,” said Bronwyn. “I thought it was illegal.”

“Partitionment according to ability is discouraged under the ymbrynic codes, because it can promote clannish thinking and unnecessary conflict,” said Millard. “What’s expressly forbidden are closed loops, in which only one type of peculiar is allowed to live and all others are banned.”

“All due respect,” said Elmer, “but there aren’t many ymbrynes around anymore. Their codes don’t hold much water.”