by Ransom Riggs
“The hollowgast did that,” I said.
“But what about everything after that?”
Something terrible occurred to me. What if the explosion we’d set off from the bunker had knocked us unconscious, and we were only now waking up from it?
What if we’d never left my grandfather’s house, and it was all happening again, for the first time? The whole long nightmare cycling. My God. Such horrors I could hardly name them.
Then we heard something bang from inside the house and jumped again.
“Jesus,” she said, “what if that’s—”
“There,” I hissed, pointing outside.
Someone was walking at the edge of the woods.
“Weapon!” I whispered. “Grab something—anything.”
Both of us lurched in different directions, collided, and fell into a pile.
“Jacob! Noor!”
Emma came running out of the house onto the porch.
“Emma?” shouted the young man by the woods, and then he was running toward the porch, too.
“Hugh!” Emma shouted.
And then Bronwyn came through the door with Miss Peregrine, back in human form and wearing an old housecoat that had belonged to my grandmother, and a second later we were all hugging on the floor, delirious with gratitude to see one another again.
“What happened?!” Hugh said. “Did we just kill Caul or not?”
“This happened,” Emma said, and she pulled a cracked and soot-blackened stopwatch from her pocket. The Expulsatator. “Millard handed it to me just before we went through the loop door into Abaton. He said the old man had lied about losing it, and got it working again. The second Caul appeared I hit the button, and five minutes later . . .”
V’s watch had saved us again. We were alive. And we were in Florida.
“So . . . Caul’s dead?” Bronwyn said. “We won?”
Miss Peregrine smiled. “Yes. We won.” She wrapped us all in her arms, our heads clonking together in her embrace. “Oh, my children, my children, my children. I swear on our ancestors: From this day forward, I am never, never letting you out of my sight again.”
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” Emma said. “How did Caul follow us to the Library of Souls if he was outside your shield in the Acre?”
“My brother was forever anchored to the Library,” said Miss Peregrine. “It seems when Murnau resurrected him, it merely lengthened his leash. A lot. Enough for him to go wherever he liked. But part of him was always there, and when Jacob arrived, the rest of him was able to return quickly enough.” She turned to me. “That was very rash of you, racing in there like you did.”
“Noor was going to face Caul by herself. I had to do something to help her.”
“So you were going to face Caul by yourself instead?” said Emma.
“I didn’t expect him to be waiting for me in there.”
Bronwyn shuddered. “It was terrible, seeing you that way.”
“I thought it was quite cool, if I’m being honest,” said Hugh. “Though I’m glad you’re not a hollowgast anymore.” He looked at me sideways. “Are you?”
I laughed. “Apparently not.”
“It seems Miss Pradesh was able to remove the suul you’d swallowed before it had fully set in,” Miss Peregrine said. “Thank goodness for that.”
“Thank goodness for her,” I said. “That was not a future I was excited about.”
Emma turned to Noor. “You were ready to sacrifice yourself to save all of us. Thank you.”
“I’m sure you would’ve done the same,” Noor said.
“I hope I would’ve. But I’ve known these people a whole lifetime longer than you.”
Noor’s shoulders went up and down. She didn’t know what to say.
“Let’s get you somewhere we can finally rest,” said Miss Peregrine, rising to her feet. “Everyone else will be waiting at Jacob’s house. They’re more than anxious, I’m sure, for our arrival.”
“Goodness, what must they think,” said Bronwyn.
“That we’re dead,” said Hugh.
Miss Peregrine smiled. “Let’s disabuse them of that notion, shall we?”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
We limped out into the rain, carrying each other, miles beyond caring about wet weather or the state of our clothes. Someone had tied a blue tarp over the hole we’d blown in my grandfather’s bathroom, and it flapped in the wind. We ducked under a line of police tape and walked down the street knocking on doors until we found a neighbor who was at home. Miss Peregrine memory-wiped him while I found his car keys in a bowl in the hallway, and then we borrowed his car.
I drove us across town, over the bridge to Needle Key, back to my house. Along the way, the storm passed and the weather cleared up. There was a big crowd waiting in my yard. Ninety-five peculiars and ten ymbrynes, and God, were they glad to see us. I hadn’t even parked the car and they were already running toward us, shouting, cheering for joy as they recognized us.
Everyone wanted to know what had happened, but the story was too long to tell, and I worried cops would start showing up any minute, and at this point I didn’t have the energy to deal with any more trouble, however minor. For now, the peculiars were satisfied to learn that Caul was dead and we were safe. They didn’t need to know that I had briefly been a hollowgast, and my friends who’d seen it happen understood without being told that it was best kept between us.
At that point I assumed everyone would immediately head back to the Acre, but instead the ymbrynes gathered everyone in the backyard and made an announcement.
“We have some very happy news to tell you,” Miss Peregrine said. “After a great deal of painstaking work and study we have perfected the reset reaction, and anyone who’d like to have their internal clocks reset will be able to do so.”
The crowd was stunned. Miss Peregrine was asked to repeat what she’d said. When everyone was sure they’d heard her correctly, whoops of excitement rang out. Hugh picked up Fiona and spun her around. Ulysses Critchley, not known for his exuberance, climbed halfway to the top of one of my parents’ palm trees and started singing.
My friends and I rushed to Miss Peregrine.
Millard was breathless. “But how did you manage it?”
“My brother Bentham,” said Miss Peregrine in a hushed voice. “Caul being so near the house last night allowed him to get close, too, and he appeared to Perplexus in the washroom and whispered the answer to him. A slightly revised incantation, requiring only ten ymbrynes, not twelve.”
“And you’re sure it’s not some kind of trick?” said Hugh, one arm around Fiona.
“The other ymbrynes tested it just a short time ago—on Miss Babax’s old loop, sadly now unneeded. And it works.”
“And?” Dogface boomed, intruding on our conversation. “How soon can it be done?”
“How does right now suit you?” Miss Peregrine said loudly, and the whole yard exploded into cheers once more. Today, finally, they would be free. The only ones not here to enjoy the victory—or the reset—were the American clan leaders.
Then something alarming occurred to me. Miss Peregrine had turned away to speak with Miss Wren, but when I tapped her shoulder and she saw my agitated expression, she excused herself.
“You’re collapsing this loop?” I said.
“Perhaps that was presumptuous of me. There aren’t many left to spare.”
“It’s not going to blow up my neighborhood, is it?”
She smiled. “No. It’s a nondestructive collapse. But removing this pocket loop will make it a great deal less convenient for you to return here. Perhaps I misjudged your . . . attachment to this place. If you’d rather preserve it, I could discuss alternatives with the other ymbrynes.”
I looked around. My old house, my old town. My parents, sitt
ing on the back porch, staring placidly at Lemon Bay as if their lawn weren’t crowded with extremely odd strangers. One of the ymbrynes had memory-wiped them again.
“You didn’t misjudge,” I said. I nodded toward my parents. “I’d like a minute to say goodbye though.”
“I can give you five. We’re about to begin.”
“That should be enough.”
Miss Peregrine turned to rejoin Perplexus, and I walked through the grass to the porch. My parents sat a few feet apart on a padded bench. I perched on the porch rail beside them. I wasn’t sure how to start.
“I need to tell you guys something.”
They wouldn’t look at me. I snapped my fingers. No reaction.
It was better this way. I could say what I wanted to say and leave, and they couldn’t hurt me any more than they already had.
“I want you guys to know that I’m not angry at you anymore. I was, for a long time, but I’m over it now. You didn’t understand what you were getting with me. And how could you? You’re not peculiar. Pretty much zero percent of parents get it, from what I’ve heard. I think you could have tried harder, been more open-minded, but whatever. You didn’t sign up for this. At least you didn’t tie me down and try to sell me to the circus, like Emma’s parents.” I sighed. I felt like an idiot, talking to zombies who couldn’t hear me.
Out on the lawn, all the peculiars had gathered in a pack near the glinting pocket loop entrance. All the ymbrynes had joined hands in a circle, even Miss Avocet, who had been helped out of her chair and was being supported by Francesca.
I felt a strong pull to join them but turned back to my parents instead. Even if they couldn’t hear me, there was more I needed to say.
“I made a decision. I’ve gone back and forth on this a bunch of times, since Grandpa died and all this peculiar stuff started. I thought maybe I could live with you part-time, and have this life and my other one, too. But it didn’t work out. Not for me, and definitely not for you guys. I mean, you’re sitting here drooling, and you’ve been memory-wiped so many times you’ve probably forgotten your own birthdays. Or mine, anyway. So what I’m trying to say is: I’m going, and I won’t be coming back anymore. This isn’t my home.”
My dad sighed, and I jolted. “That’s okay, champ,” he said woodenly. “We understand.”
I almost fell off the porch rail. “You do?”
He was still staring out at the water. “We’re buying a boat. Isn’t that right, honey?”
My mother, with absolutely no expression on her face, started to cry.
A clench was tightening in my chest. “Mom. Don’t.”
She kept on, quietly, eyes fixed on nothing. I slid off the rail, sat beside her, and hugged her.
“My boy,” she said quietly. “My little boy.” Her arms stayed limp at her sides.
I stayed there hugging my mother for what felt like a long time. My friends kept glancing at me from the edge of the lawn. The ymbrynes were singing an eerie, lilting song, which grew louder with each verse. Eventually my mother stopped crying. She didn’t speak again. When I finally let her go, her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep on my shoulder.
I laid her down on the padded bench, a cushion beneath her head. Then I went to go see my father. At some point he had risen and walked out to the end of the dock, passing the crowd of peculiars without a glance. He lay on his back with his loafers in the water, gazing blankly at the clouds.
My shadow fell across him. “Goodbye, Dad. Thanks for trying, sometimes.”
“Goodbye, Dad,” he replied, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Was he making fun of me? Or had he thought, for a moment, he was talking to my grandfather?
I turned to leave.
“Good luck, Jake.”
I stopped. Turned back. He was looking right at me.
It felt, in that moment, like we were a million miles apart and as close as we’d ever been.
My mouth opened, but my throat had gone dry. I nodded.
“Love you,” he said.
“Love you, too.”
It was time to go. He watched me walk away. The pocket loop’s glimmer had widened and brightened to a hard, shining point like a mirror reflecting the sun, and it was shuddering in the air, unstable.
The ymbrynes sent their wards through in groups of three. I waited at the edge of the lawn with my friends; except for Fiona, none of us needed the reset.
Fiona was the last reset to pass through. My friends went next, and then all the ymbrynes but Miss Peregrine.
She walked over to where I stood. “I could always make another pocket loop for you here one day. If you like.”
I looked at her. Smiled gratefully. Then shook my head.
“Thanks. But I don’t think so.”
She nodded. Then, sensing that I wanted to be the last to leave, she turned and went ahead without me.
I waited a few seconds in the silence. A humid breeze picked up. I felt no urge to stay. No pang of regret. When I reached the loop’s mirrored glimmer, I paused to lift my hand in a last wave to my father. In return he lifted his, but his expression was so blank I wondered if it was automatic.
Choking back a swell of emotion, I stepped through the door.
Miss Avocet died at dawn. She had fought hard for a long time, but she was weak and worn out and could fight no longer. She breathed her last in the arms of her sister ymbrynes, many of whom she had taught as girls, and her beloved Francesca. Her last words were a quote from Emerson: “Nothing is dead: men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful obituaries, and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some new and strange disguise.”
None of us had witnessed an ymbryne funeral before. Three were held that day. There was no digging, no burying, and per explicit instruction, no crying. Miss Avocet, Miss Babax, and V were each wrapped in a thin white shroud. The whole Acre turned out to accompany their bodies in a procession that was more celebration than funeral, with chants and demonstrations of peculiar ability and songs in the old tongue. Some were shocked to learn that V had been an ymbryne, but as shocks went, it was a minor one weighed against those we’d endured the past few days. Our parade ended at a small stone roundhouse that had once been used to germinate barrenwort, an ingredient in a foul alcohol the maggot farmers of Devil’s Acre had been infamous for making. That wasn’t important—the only requirement for an ymbryne bælstede was that the building have doors that latched and a roof with holes in it, and this roof had many.
There were no speeches. When the last ymbryne was laid inside and the door had been sealed, the crowd was ushered so far back from the building I half expected it to explode. Instead, Miss Peregrine made a loud birdcall and a massive flock of starlings circled down from the sky, then flooded through the holes in the roof. There was a great commotion inside.
“What are they doing?” I whispered to Enoch.
“Picking their bones clean,” he replied, his eyes rimmed with tears. “They’ll be powdered and made into medicines. Ymbryne bones have many uses and it’s a crime to waste them.”
It was fitting. An ymbryne’s life was one of endless service. Even in death they had a job to do.
The birds began to filter out from the roof. A few ymbrynes and ymbrynes-in-training approached the door and peeked through the keyhole to make sure the bones were clean.
I turned to Noor, leaning against me. Her eyes were closed.
“You all right?” I asked her, as I always did.
She slipped her hand into mine. After a moment her eyes opened. “Just saying goodbye. Hopefully for the last time.”
The cloud of starlings rose and disappeared into the yellow sky.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
There was a great deal still to be done in the Acre—more funerals to hold, much to be cleaned and
repaired and discussed—but all that could wait a day, or at least a few hours. We had finally earned a rest. A real one, without the looming threat of annihilation hanging over our heads.
The crowd dispersed. Everyone headed back to their houses and dormitories. There was no rush to the loop exit and the present, as the ymbrynes had once feared there might be following a mass reset. Even without wights and hollows to harass us, or a ticking internal clock to worry about, the dangers of the outside world were more than anyone was ready to face right now.
My friends and I walked back toward Ditch House, heavy in heart but happy, too, enjoying one another’s company. We had won. After more than a century of struggle, Caul and his evil cohort had finally been vanquished. The threat peculiardom faced now was broader, duller, and much older: normalkind.
It was a threat our society had been designed from the start to guard against. Normals were the reason ymbrynes began making loops, millennia ago. Normals were the reason we hid our true natures, and why there were ymbryne code laws against the flagrant display of peculiar abilities in the outside world. The ymbrynes had long feared our being exposed and had worked diligently to prevent it. But now that it had happened, they were sanguine. Millard had overheard them discussing it in my parents’ backyard: that with enough time and effort, perceptions of us could be changed. Not with memory-wipes—we would’ve had to wipe half the globe—but through a long and steady campaign of good works, we might one day engender some goodwill toward us in return.
That day would not be coming anytime soon. Until it did, we would need loops. There was some strange comfort in that, like we were returning to an older way of life, one whose limitations and dangers were at least well understood.
The world had never been an easy place for peculiars; that wasn’t about to change. But it was enough. Even Devil’s Acre was enough. I had my friends. I was falling in love. I could be happy here, working together to rebuild our society, making it into something that could never again be splintered. Something unbreakable.
