Eventually, we all found our way back to the house. Nobody had come up with anything useful. Millard hadn’t found anything in the ymbrynes’ collection of American loop maps—and he was abundantly familiar with them now, after days of combing them for V’s loop. Horace, despite his best efforts to force a revelation, had, much to his embarrassment, only dreamed of pizza. No one else had anything to show for their efforts, and Miss Peregrine hadn’t returned.

  We were a sad group.

  I took in my friends’ gaunt faces—Hugh’s devastation, Emma’s exhaustion, Noor’s anxiety, even Enoch’s lethargy—and I made a decision.

  None of us were going to get any sleep tonight, anyway.

  “All right.” I clapped my hands together. “We tried, right? We tried to find more information while following the rules, didn’t we? Gave it our best shot?” No one answered and still I nodded, mostly to myself. “Well, the night is young. I think there’s enough time to try one last thing.”

  One by one, my friends looked up at me, eyes blinking, confusion mounting.

  “I don’t understand,” Claire said, both mouths yawning.

  “Nor I,” said Olive, yawning, too.

  “I do,” Hugh said, his shoulders straightening. “I understand you clearly, Jacob, and I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  “And me,” Noor said, smiling. That smile pierced me straight through the heart, messed up my insides. I loved it.

  I smiled back at her. Big. Stupid.

  And then, remembering myself—I smiled at the others, too.

  Bronwyn had narrowed her eyes at me, her mind clearly at work. And then, suddenly, she turned.

  “Olive,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder, “would you be a dear and take Claire to bed, please? It’s well past your bedtime, and you know how Miss Peregrine likes you both to be asleep at eight o’clock on the button.”

  “All right,” Olive said, stifling another yawn. “Come along, Claire,” she said, taking the other girl by the hand.

  They were already halfway up the stairs, Olive’s metal boots clomping on the wood, when I heard Claire’s voice, soft and echoing—

  “But we read that one last time,” she was saying. “You promised that tonight we’d read The Terrible Tale of the Grimbear and the Nine Nosy Normals. Or, oh, maybe we can read The Witch That Wouldn’t Burn, that one is my favorite . . .”

  Only when the littlest ones were safely off to bed did the others turn to face me. Enoch, Bronwyn, Emma, Horace, Hugh, Noor. Millard.

  Six pairs of eyes blinking at me. A seventh pair, invisible.

  “All right then,” I said. “Who wants to help me break into the Marrowbone loop?”

  Six hands shot up into the air. “My hand is raised, too!” Millard said.

  I smiled so wide my face hurt.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The sun had long since sunk beneath the grimy horizon, and in the absence of light, Devil’s Acre became particularly gruesome. We had no youthful interest in breaking curfew to wander the streets at this hour; we simply had no choice. In order to make our way back to Bentham’s attic and the Marrowbone loop entrance, and to reduce our chances of being spotted by the home guard along the way, we had to cross through the sketchiest part of town, which meant dealing with the dirtiest scraps of people—the ambrosia addicts, the wiliest thieves, all the unimaginable horrors lurking in the muck. Emma lit a small flame to keep us from being plunged too fully into the thick of it, but Millard snapped at her to shut it off, lest we be rounded up by the authorities.

  “The steep fines notwithstanding,” he shout-whispered, “I’ve no interest in sleeping naked on the cold floor of a prison, thank you very much.”

  “Then maybe you should start wearing clothes,” Horace said archly. “I’ve offered dozens of times to dress you, and yet—”

  Millard groaned.

  “Quiet, both of you,” Emma said. “We’ve got to keep our wits about us, and there’s no chance of that with the two of you sniping at each other.”

  Bronwyn sighed. “Bentham’s house seems much farther away in the dark, doesn’t it? Are you sure we haven’t passed it?”

  “We’re not far now,” Hugh said quietly. I heard the buzz of his bees, who were helping guide us in the darkness. “We turn left at the lamp, and it should be just up the street from there.”

  Since there was only one streetlamp currently lit, it was easy to spot. But it was still at least a thousand feet away. A thousand feet of creeping, slithering night.

  Something actually seemed to hiss in the distance.

  We pressed onward, this time silently, the seven of us hemmed in by the dark. And by fear, too. By fear perhaps most of all.

  Just then I felt a strange, warm breeze against my hand.

  I looked down, startled, to find an isolated dot of light illuminating my palm. I stopped in place, lifting my palm upward, inspecting the tiny glow. And I was just about to say something about it to the group when Noor came up beside me.

  I felt it, right away. I knew it was her without the visual confirmation. I could feel the sparks in my head signaling her nearness.

  “I was just trying to find you,” she said softly, taking my hand to draw me nearer. The glow slipped away between our linked fingers. She whispered as we walked. “I hope I didn’t freak you out.”

  My spine felt like a live wire.

  I shook my head no, forgetting she probably couldn’t see me do it. But I felt kind of dazed. I don’t know why this felt different, more extraordinary. In my limited experience, holding hands with a girl had never been particularly memorable. But tonight my nerves were unusually sensitive. I couldn’t see anything but the blurred gaslight humming in the distance, and with one sense gone, the others had awakened.

  Noor’s grip on my hand was making me lose my grip on everything else. I wanted to tell her to let go, to give me my head back.

  I wanted to hold on forever.

  I took a single, shaky breath to clear my thoughts when three things happened at once:

  Millard said, “Nearly there!”

  Hugh—no, Horace—screamed.

  And Emma caught fire.

  That last one happened only for a second, and Emma was clearly embarrassed by it, because she couldn’t put it out fully. She was flustered, muttering about how Horace had startled her, and why had he screamed anyway, everything was fine, wasn’t it, but the flames kept jumping from her arm to her leg to the top of her head and then, finally, to the tips of her fingers—ten birthday candles that refused to extinguish.

  She was still shaking her hands—the vigorous motion only making the flames worse—when Horace explained.

  “I just remembered,” he said. “I just remembered!”

  “Remembered what?” Emma said, irritated, as she began to snuff out her little fires.

  “The lamplight—I was staring at it and it reminded me of my dream, of a detail I’d overlooked. Do you remember when I said that I saw Caul was floating in the sky, directing the apocalypse—”

  “—like an orchestra conductor, yes, we heard,” Millard muttered.

  “Don’t you pay him any mind, Horace,” Hugh said. “Go on.”

  “Well, he was floating in the sky—but the sky was above a hill. The sun was blazing—the lamplight triggered that bit—and I remember now that there were graves nearby. Inscriptions on said graves. I’m seeing it now. Seeing it clearly. The name of an American city. Something new.”

  “A new city, you mean?” Millard again. “But new compared to what? Anything can seem new depending on the historical context.”

  “Good point,” Enoch said, sounding annoyed. And then he yawned loudly. “Can we get going? I’m freezing and hungry and I thought we’d be having more fun by now.”

  “You’re only being unkind to hide your fear,” Bronwyn said to him. “And that’s not fair to the rest of us. We’re all scared, you know.”

  “I’m not scared,” Enoch snapped.

  “Wait,” said Noor. “Wait, wait.” And I heard the frown in her voice when she said, “You said it was a ‘new’ American city. Do you mean new, like New York?”

  Horace gasped.

  “Yes,” said two people at once.

  The first was an exhilarated Horace.

  The second—

  Emma struck a new flame, the light of which illuminated both her fear and our ymbryne’s anger.

  Miss Peregrine.

  Not just her, either. A flock of ymbrynes had descended upon us—Miss Peregrine, Miss Wren, Miss Cuckoo, Miss Blackbird.

  The ymbrynes had come back from Marrowbone.

  “Back to bed, all of you,” Miss P said angrily. “Now. This instant.”

  “But, miss, we were only—”

  “Enough,” she said, breathing hard. “Breaking curfew? Deliberately disobeying my orders? I am more than shocked, Miss Bruntley, I am extremely disappointed. Now turn around and head home at once.”

  “But, miss,” Hugh tried, “do you—Was there any news?”

  A beat of silence. “Yes.”

  “Does it have to do with New York?” Horace asked.

  Miss Peregrine sighed. The fight seemed to leave her. “Very well,” she said. “We can talk about it back at the house. I’m sorry for shouting, children. It’s been a very tiring evening.”

  “It’s all right, miss,” Emma said. “You’ve been dealing with so much. We’ll go back home and Horace will make you a nice cup of chocolate. Won’t you, Horace?”

  “I’d be delighted!”

  “Brownnosers,” Enoch muttered.

  “What was that, Mr. O’Connor?”

  “Nothing, miss.”

  “Indeed.” Miss P took a sharp breath. “Ymbrynes? Shall we meet back at the house?”

  A violent shuddering of wings was the only response.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  We were all of us—children and ymbrynes—settled in the living room clutching hot cups of chocolate when Miss Peregrine finally broke the news. Well, Miss Peregrine allowed Miss Wren to break the news.

  Regardless, we were on tenterhooks.

  Miss Wren took a step forward from the gaggle of ymbrynes. “The Americans finally gave us some information we believe we can act on. There is, in the upper portion of the American state of New York, a town called Hopewell. And in that town there is a loop of deadrisers.”

  “New York!” Horace shouted. “That’s what I saw on the stone in my dream!” He and Noor shared an awkward, but enthusiastic, high five.

  “And Hopewell!” Bronwyn cried. “Well of Hope!”

  “Why wouldn’t Bentham’s list just say that, then?” Emma said.

  “My brother loved puzzles,” Miss Peregrine said. “And I’m sure he was trying to frustrate Caul by encoding his list a bit, in case it was discovered.”

  “And the alphaskull?” Millard said.

  “If we’re looking for a special skull, a loop of deadrisers isn’t a bad place to start,” said Enoch. “What do you know about them?”

  “Not much,” said Miss Cuckoo. “Only that they are quite isolated, and don’t welcome visitors.”

  “Sounds like my kind of people.”

  Hugh banged his hand on a table suddenly. “We’ve got to raise an army and storm this place! Come in with guns blazing!”

  “Not so fast,” said Miss Peregrine. “I understand passions are running high, but we don’t know what we’ll find in this loop. Whether or not the wights have been there already. What kind of peculiars we’ll be dealing with. We need to tread carefully—but prepare ourselves for a conflict.”

  “The wights could be waiting with an army,” Bronwyn said.

  “They don’t have an army,” Enoch said dismissively. “It’s just a handful of fugitives.”

  “And a hollowgast,” said Olive.

  “Maybe more than one,” I added.

  “It wouldn’t be wise to underestimate them,” Miss Peregrine said. “That’s why we’ve already begun to assemble an elite team of our very best peculiars for this mission.”

  Emma crossed her arms and frowned. “Who?”

  Miss Peregrine smiled. “You, of course.”

  “You’re the ones who liberated Devil’s Acre,” said Miss Wren. “There’s no one with better experience or preparation than you all.”

  We were all grinning now. Beaming with pride.

  “You’ll have backup, of course,” Miss Peregrine hastened to add. “A support team.”

  “Us,” said Miss Cuckoo. “And a few other peculiars handpicked for their special skills.”

  “I’ve got some grimbears who’ve been itching for a little exercise,” said Miss Wren. “And a detachment of the home guard is already making preparations.”

  “But you’ll be the vanguard,” said Miss Peregrine.

  “If you’re willing to give it a go, that is,” said Miss Cuckoo.

  “Are you serious?” Bronwyn said. “We’d have gone even if you forbade it.”

  “And chained us in a dungeon,” added Hugh.

  “I know,” Miss Peregrine said proudly. “Well, we have a great deal ahead of us, don’t we?”

  “Let’s go murder some wights!” Hugh shouted, and the room exploded into cheers.

  “Yes, yes, but first—sleep.” Miss Peregrine stood up. “Off to bed, children. And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

  Everyone groaned.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The house was a buzzing hive in the morning, everyone running around, squeezing past one another on the stairs, gathering whatever small items they thought might be needed for a dangerous mission. Food. Extra clothes. A favorite knife. Whatever could fit in a pocket or a small bag. None of us had much, anyway.

  I was scrounging in the boys’ common dresser for some fresh socks. Noor went to splash some water on her face. “I’d kill for another shower,” she said, “but you can’t have it all.”

  I ran after her. “Hey,” I said, “can we talk for a second?”

  She finished drying her face, looked at me, and frowned. “I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “The answer is, forget it.”

  “What was I going to say?”

  She pulled me into an empty room.

  “That I don’t have to do this. That maybe I should just stay here, where it’s safe. But I can handle myself.”

  “I know you can. But this isn’t your fight. Or, it doesn’t have to be.”

  She was shaking her head, starting to get angry.

  “If you’d rather just focus on finding V,” I said, “I would understand—”

  “Were you serious when you said I was one of you guys?” she said. “Or was that just some line?”

  “Of course you’re one of us.”

  “Then this affects me just as much as it does you. Actually, more, because if we don’t shut these assholes down now before they resurrect their devil king or whoever, it sounds like it’s me who’s going to be dealing with the mess they make. I’d rather get on that before they start the apocalypse.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Good point.”

  “I will find V when this is over. Right now, this is my fight. And I’m not going anywhere. So no more of this it’s-cool-if-you-stay-behind-and-twiddle-your-thumbs-while-we-risk-our-lives stuff, okay? We’re in this together.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’re a team.”

  She beamed. “We’re a team.”

  “Yep. And just in case there is an apocalypse? There’s no way in hell I’m letting you handle it without me.”

  She broke into a smile. “Okay,” she said. “But let’s try to avoid that.”

  “Okay.” I laughed.

  Enoch came into the hall. “Come on, lovebirds. We’re leaving.”

  An hour later, we were flying down an American highway in a small convoy of SUVs. It was night, and it was raining. There was a heavyset man from Temporal Affairs at the wheel. Miss Peregrine was beside him in the passenger seat, knitting something in her lap. Noor and Millard and I were on the bench in the middle row; Enoch, Emma, and Bronwyn were in the back. The rest of our friends and the other ymbrynes were in another SUV behind us, the backup they’d promised was in an SUV behind that, and somewhere in the slashing rain was an American escort.

  It was the Americans who’d lent us the cars. We had taken the Panloopticon door to New York, where Leo promised us safe passage. The ymbrynes had told him that Noor had been tracked down by me and was staying with us now, though they allowed Leo to continue believing it was a wight who had used a hollowgast to break Noor out of his loop, rather than H. Astoundingly, he agreed to let the whole matter drop, and as part of the Americans’ deal with the ymbrynes, he promised never again to send his men after Noor. Noor and I could hardly believe it. Miss Wren refused to say what the ymbrynes had promised in return for all this, but it must have been something good.

  As we drove, my friends’ excited fervor had settled into a tense quiet. No one had spoken in minutes. Noor’s left hand was on my knee, fingers laced through mine. With her right hand she played with the headlights of passing cars, scooping the light up and letting it seep out of her fist, scooping it up, letting it out. I found it hypnotic and calming.

  “There’s something I’ve been wondering,” Emma said, her sudden words in the silence startling me.

  “What’s that?” Noor said.

  “Why was Caul so obsessed with finding a way out of a collapsed loop?”

  “Hm,” Millard said. His thinking noise.

  “Was he expecting to get trapped in a collapsed loop one day?”

  “No one expects to get trapped in a collapsed loop,” Bronwyn said. “Maybe it was just a precaution.”

  “If so, it was a very specific one,” Millard said.