After a few more hours, the seemingly sourceless light began to fade. We squinted and leaned closer to our work, determined to keep going, but then an officious boy appeared at the end of the stacks and bellowed, “The department is closing for the day! Kindly see your way out!”

  “We’d better go,” said Horace. “There are a few patients from the old asylum still loose in the building, and they’re said to come out and roam around at night.”

  “Finally,” Enoch muttered.

  We were all exhausted.

  As we walked out, Noor asked Millard what progress we’d made.

  “Slow but steady,” he said. “We’re a great deal closer than we were this morning. But there are acres of proverbial weeds left to plow through”—he couldn’t stifle a yawn—“unless you happen to remember a town name.”

  “I’ll try.” Noor sighed. “Sorry to wear you all out like this.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Really.”

  “This concerns us all,” Emma added.

  Noor smiled meekly. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

  We emerged into the busy lobby, where all the ministries people were flooding out the doors and closing up for the day, when I overheard something that made me unreasonably happy:

  “Don’t you worry,” Hugh said to Noor. “We’ll find her.”

  And he patted her on the back.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  It was getting toward evening. Low on the horizon, a sickly yellow sun glinted at us through nets of factory smoke. Peculiars who’d been working all day were milling around in the streets and in the Acre’s few public squares, blowing off steam. There was a lot of it to blow off, with the recent drama and the pall of tension hanging over the entire loop, and every conversation I overheard as we walked sounded heavy and full of dread.

  Noor had slowed a little and fallen behind our group. I turned and saw her staring wistfully through the breaks in the tenement buildings, into the distance. So much had happened to her today. To us all, but to her especially. She’d hardly had a moment to process it.

  I slowed my pace until she caught up to me. It took her a moment to notice, and then her head snapped up in my direction.

  “Sorry to lag,” she said. “Just lost in my own head.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  She shook her head. Looked down. For a moment our steps synchronized on the worn cobblestones. Finally, she said, “Do you ever think about running away? Picking some door in the Panloopticon and just . . . going somewhere for a while? Get away from it all?”

  “That’s never really occurred to me,” I said, frowning. “Though it does sound appealing.”

  “That’s never even occurred to you?” She looked incredulous. “How is that possible? You have a thousand doors to a thousand places just waiting to be discovered. No airport, no passport, no customs—”

  “Actually, that last part isn’t true. We’re getting special treatment these days only because things are so dire, but most peculiars need tickets for the Panloopticon. And they go through customs just like normals do.”

  Noor rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s not the same thing at all.”

  I smiled. I did know what she meant.

  “I don’t know,” I said finally. I looked out toward the blurring horizon. “Ever since the first time I came to Devil’s Acre it’s been nothing but drama and chaos and putting out fires. I’d love to explore one day, but it’s not something I’ve had much time to think about . . . yet,” I added, trying to put an optimistic spin on what had probably sounded a little hopeless.

  “That’s fair,” she said. She looked to the horizon again. “If you had to pick another loop to live in right this second, which Panloopticon door would you choose?”

  “Right this second?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Somewhere calm and beachy where nothing ever happens,” I said right away. “I could use some more boring in my life.”

  I realized then that I was describing my hometown, the very place I’d wanted to escape my whole childhood. I wondered what the hell was happening to me.

  “I’d go somewhere ancient,” Noor said. “Hey, how far back can you go into the past?”

  “As far back as loops have existed, I guess. Which has got to be a few thousand years. Millard used to have a big Map of Days with a lot of super-old, collapsed loops marked in it, and there were some from ancient Rome, ancient Greece, ancient China . . .”

  “That sounds amazing,” Noor said, a faraway look in her eyes. “That’s what I’ll do.” She paused. “I mean, if I ever get the chance.”

  “I know you will,” I said.

  She laughed. “I like your optimism.”

  “One day we’ll put all the fires out,” I said. “And then we can explore as much as we like.”

  She looked over at me and smiled, and I realized I’d said we without even thinking about it. “We’re falling behind,” she said quietly. But she was still smiling when she said it.

  Just as we caught up with our group, some peculiar girls passed us going the opposite way. They jumped and waved, giggling in bursts. “Can I have your autograph?” one said.

  I felt my face go hot with embarrassment. Noor stifled a surprised laugh before raising an eyebrow at me, and I shook my head, refusing to meet Noor’s eyes.

  “Can I have a kiss?” another girl called out.

  Now my skin was crawling, too. I kept my gaze straight ahead, waiting for the mortifying moment to pass.

  “Oy, I’ll spare you a kiss!” Enoch called after them, but the girls ignored him and kept walking.

  Emma glared at them.

  Finally, Noor nudged me with her elbow. “So. Does that happen a lot?”

  “Once in a while.”

  “Must be rough,” she joked, but her smile was genuine. Maybe there was a secret silver lining to all this strange attention. After all, I was not above hoping that Noor Pradesh would find me just a little bit impressive for being inconsequentially famous.

  “Hurry up, you two!” Emma was glaring at us now.

  We picked up our pace a little, but I wasn’t ready for the conversation to be over. At least until Noor said, “Was it weird? Being with your grandpa’s ex-girlfriend?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin, I was so surprised. “How—How’d you know we were . . . ?”

  “It’s pretty obvious. I see the way she looks at you.”

  I sighed. I was hoping I was the only one who saw those looks. “Well, we’re not together anymore.”

  Noor asked me what happened. This, I really didn’t want to go into.

  She wasn’t over him.

  I might’ve shriveled up and died of embarrassment if those words left my mouth.

  “I think in the end it was the age difference,” I said, which was maybe 10 percent true. “We just couldn’t . . . relate.”

  “Mm. I can see that.”

  I don’t think she bought it. In fact, I’m sure she saw right through me. But she took pity on me anyway and let me change the subject, which was good enough for now.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The ten of us stopped for a moment to watch a group of telekinetics have a tug-of-war with a rope—that none of them were touching. Noor was, naturally, fascinated, so we found uncomfortable seats on a low wall in Old Pye Square and stared out at the strangeness before us.

  “So, what is there to do around here at night?” Noor asked.

  “There’s the Shrunken Head—the public house on Stabbing Street,” said Emma. “But they mostly serve embalming fluids and mice wine. And it gets crowded.”

  “There’s the aforementioned hanging,” said Enoch. “Happens every night at six p.m. sharp by the docks.”

  “I really don’t like hangings, Enoch,” said Olive.

  “Oh, fine. It’s boring anyway once you’ve seen it a few times.”

  “The grimbear blood-sport ring got shut down after the wights were defeated, thank the birds,” said Hugh, though I noticed Emma’s and Horace’s faces tighten at the word defeated. It had a false ring now.

  “Most everything is shut down because of the stricter security rules,” said Bronwyn. “Plus there’s a new curfew that starts at sundown.”

  “Which is fine. I think civilized people should be in bed by dark, anyway,” said Claire.

  The security rules apparently included guards watching over everything. I could see them on roofs around the square, scanning the area.

  Emma saw me looking and said, “That’s the home guard. New recruits—most of the old ones got wiped out in the hollowgast raids.”

  “Poor buggers,” Enoch muttered.

  “The ymbrynes aren’t taking any chances,” said Bronwyn. “I think they’re quite scared.”

  Just then a group of people started chanting and marching around in a circle in the middle of the square.

  “What do we want?” shouted one of the marchers.

  “Loop freedom!” the others replied.

  “When do we want it?” said the lead marcher.

  “Relatively soon!” the others bellowed angrily.

  “Well, this is something,” said Horace. “Look: democracy!”

  Some of the marchers were carrying signs. WE WANT EQUAL TREATMENT! Another, echoing that morning’s Muckraker headline, read: YMBRYNE INCOMPETENCE!

  “These are the muddle-brains we were telling you about back in Florida,” Enoch muttered to me. “Who want to stop living in loops and go join the real world.”

  “As if we wouldn’t be burned at the stake,” said Emma. “Didn’t we all study the same peculiar history books?”

  “Their movement is growing,” said Millard. “If the ymbrynes don’t handle their business and get the wights under control, they’ll lose support amongst the rank and file.”

  “But ymbrynes are the reason we survived the twentieth century!” Claire said angrily. “Haven’t they proven they know best? Without their loops we would all have been eaten by Caul’s hollows!”

  “Some are saying we could have been better prepared for the raids,” said Millard. “And that we should have attacked their compound here in Devil’s Acre long ago.”

  “Sounds like Monday-morning quarterbacking,” said Noor.

  “Thank you, exactly,” said Millard. “What’s a quarterback?”

  “Ungrateful sods!” Enoch shouted at the marchers.

  I felt a sudden coldness near me, and a smell like refrigerated compost wafted over us.

  “We’re meeting this Saturday,” said a low voice. “We’d love to have you come and speak to everyone.”

  I turned to see seven feet of black robes. “You’re all invited,” Sharon said, teeth gleaming.

  “You’re associated with those fools?” said Enoch.

  “But you work for the ymbrynes!” Claire barked at him.

  “I have a right to my own political beliefs. And I happen to believe it’s time the ymbrynes’ long monopoly on power transitioned into something more equitable.”

  “They listen to regular peculiars’ ideas,” said Emma. “They have public forums!”

  “They pretend to listen, nod their heads, then do whatever they think is best,” said Sharon.

  “Well, they’re ymbrynes,” said Bronwyn.

  “See, that attitude is precisely the problem,” Sharon replied.

  “You’re precisely the problem,” Claire shot back.

  Suddenly a loud, deep rumble shook the ground and rattled all the windows around the square. Someone in the crowd screamed, and several of the marchers dove to the ground.

  “What was that?” Horace yelped. “Another jailbreak?”

  “That’s either a disaster or a breakthrough,” Sharon said, a hand cupped to his hood, listening. “The new battery wasn’t supposed to be fully charged until tonight . . .”

  And he took off toward Bentham’s house faster than a man that big should have been able to run.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The curfew went into effect, and we went back to the house. Everyone was tired and wanted to unwind and get ready for bed. It had been a long day spent in close proximity to one another, and we’d all had our fill of conversation and excitement. Well, almost all of us.

  Noor and I found ourselves alone in the upstairs common room.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about our earlier conversation. She’d been so surprised that I hadn’t used the Panloopticon freely, and it made me wonder about myself. Why hadn’t I? I’d heard my own answers out loud, of course, but I wondered, now, if they were the full truth. Worse, Noor had gotten the idea that I was uncurious, which I knew wasn’t true at all.

  But my quiet contemplation only inspired her to ask me more questions—What’s wrong? Something on your mind?—and I realized then that there were lots of things I hadn’t told her about myself. Things I wanted her to know. Things about my early days with the peculiars, about how I’d first met them, about what it was like to find out I was one of them. I told her the whole story: my coming to misty, mysterious Cairnholm with my dad; the clues I followed from my grandfather’s last words and his old photographs; and their leading me to Miss Peregrine’s ruined house and then into her loop. Meeting these kids who I had thought were now either very old or long dead, and my bafflement and shock that they were still kids. All the doubt I had wrestled with: Should I believe my eyes? Could I trust my own mind? Noor actually gasped when I got to the part where I realized I could see the hollows, too, and then again when I told her about the stranger on the island revealing himself to be my psychiatrist—and a wight.

  I talked until my jaw hurt, but found myself leaving out small details, mostly about Emma and me. I didn’t want to go into it—the role my feelings for her had played in my decision to abandon my normal life. But it felt good to talk. To connect with someone who seemed to feel the same things I once felt.

  It made me feel less alone.

  But eventually all my babble made me self-conscious.

  “Okay, your turn,” I said quickly. “I want to know more about your life.”

  “No way.” She shook her head. “My life only got interesting like three months ago, and you know about that already. Now tell me what happened after you all left the island. I hate cliffhangers!”

  “I’m sorry, but your life could not possibly have been more boring than mine was before all this.”

  “Just tell me this, and then if you insist on talking about my boring life, we can. Did you ever think about telling your parents?”

  I almost laughed. “Yeah. I actually tried to, but my mom couldn’t handle it and my dad basically disowned me. It got so bad Miss Peregrine had to wipe their memories, so they don’t even remember.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that before,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “They’re on an extended vacation now. They think I’m home alone. I guess they’ll start worrying when they come back and I’m not around.”

  “The part about your parents totally sucks. But the rest is . . . like destiny, or something. Your mom and dad didn’t really feel like family to you. Believe me, I know what that’s like. But in the end you found a new one.” She smiled and brought her hands slowly together, forming a perfectly round ball of shadow between her palms. “It’s amazing, how it happened.” Then something changed behind her eyes, and a heavy cloud seemed to pass over her.

  There was a small gap between us on the ratty couch, and I scooted toward her and closed it. “You’re going to find her,” I said, wrapping my hands around hers. “I know you are.”

  She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Who knows, maybe she won’t even remember me.”

  “Of course she will. I’m sure she’s still heartbroken over you. And I know she’s going to be so happy to see you again.”

  She drew in a long breath and sighed. “Can we stay here and talk about our boring old lives for a while?”

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “That sounds nice.”

  And we did. We talked for hours—about her old life and mine and what happened after I left the island and a dozen other things. I could’ve talked to her all night and into the morning, and probably would have had Horace not padded downstairs, bleary-eyed, complaining that he could hear our voices through the floor. Only then did either of us realize how late it was or how bone-tired we really were, and we went, regretfully, to bed.

  I woke up, for the second time in two days, to loud banging. This wasn’t an explosion, though—it was someone pounding hard on a door.

  It was still dark out.

  “Jacob!” Emma shouted from downstairs.

  I scrambled out of bed, barefoot and bedraggled, and raced into the hall. There was a thunder of feet on the stairs as we all rushed down.

  Emma was standing at the front door, which was open.

  “Miss Blackbird’s here,” she said, stepping aside to reveal the ymbryne standing there. “It’s about Miss Peregrine.”

  “Where is she?” I said. “Is she here?”

  Miss Blackbird skipped the greetings and got straight to the point. “Miss Peregrine is in America, in the loop where the peace talks are being held,” she said, her three eyes staring at me. “We got the Panloopticon working an hour ago, and shortly after that we received an urgent message from her via parrot.”

  Miss Blackbird pushed into the house. She looked rattled. “There’s a situation,” she said cryptically. “She asked for you specifically.”

  “Me?” I said. “To come there?”

  “Immediately,” Miss Blackbird replied.

  “Can you say what it’s about?” asked Emma.