MISS PEREGRINE'S HOME FOR PECULIAR CHILDREN.

CHAPTER 2

Jake's POV.

The ferry ride to Cairnholm was rough, all choppy waves and biting wind that left me shivering despite the heavy jacket my dad had insisted I bring. My parents hadn't come with me, though. Instead, they'd sent me with an escort—a local guide named Dylan who barely spoke a word and kept looking at me like he could already tell I didn't belong here. And maybe he was right.

Cairnholm felt like a place where time had stopped a long time ago and hadn't bothered catching up. The buildings were all gray stone and squat, huddled together against the cliffs like they were trying to keep warm. There was no cell service, and the few locals I saw eyed me with wary curiosity. I was clearly an outsider, and the more I looked around, the more I realized just how different this world was from the one I'd come from. But then again, maybe that's exactly why Grandpa had sent me here.

Dylan dropped me off at the only inn in town—a creaky, drafty place that smelled like seawater and fried fish. The woman at the front desk checked me in with a gruff nod, like she'd seen kids come through here on strange errands before. But I doubted that. Cairnholm wasn't the kind of place anyone visited by choice.

In my room, I unpacked the few things I'd brought: a notebook, a flashlight, and, shoved in the bottom of my bag, the small pocketknife Grandpa had given me years ago. I remember him saying it had once belonged to someone important, though he never told me who. I kept it with me for good luck, but out here, surrounded by Grandpa's secrets, it felt more like a charm, a piece of him I could still hold onto.

The first thing I wanted to do was find the old house he'd always talked about. I'd seen faded pictures of it in the dusty albums he'd left behind, and there was something hauntingly beautiful about it, even if it was just a ruin now. The locals called it the "orphanage," but Grandpa had always insisted it was something more than that. He'd called it home.

By the time I set out, the sky was heavy with clouds, casting long shadows over the narrow, winding path that led up the cliffs. I kept my eyes trained on the muddy track beneath me, watching my step as I climbed. But even as I walked, I felt something strange, a prickling on the back of my neck, like I was being watched. I stopped and turned, but there was no one there, just the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks below.

Finally, I reached the house—or what was left of it. The roof had caved in, and most of the windows were shattered, but the front door hung open as if someone had left it that way on purpose. The place had an eerie stillness, like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for me to step inside.

I hesitated. All my life, I'd been told to let Grandpa's stories go, to leave them in the past. But as I stood there, looking at the dark, empty doorframe, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was right where I was supposed to be.

I took a step forward, my hand resting on the knife in my pocket. And then I heard it: a faint, musical sound, like a child's laughter, drifting out from deep inside the house.

It was impossible, I knew that. There was no one here—no children, no music. But I'd heard it all the same. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Dust swirled around me, thick and heavy, and I coughed as I took another step forward. I'd barely made it three steps before I saw something glinting on the floor—a small, silver pocket watch, covered in grime but still ticking, still working after all this time.

I knelt down to pick it up, my hands shaking slightly as I wiped away the dust. I didn't know how or why, but I could feel that it was important, that somehow, this was the first piece of the puzzle Grandpa had left for me. And as I held it in my hand, I realized that everything he'd said—the monsters, the children, the strange, hidden world—might have been more real than I'd ever imagined.

The laughter came again, this time closer, echoing through the empty hallways of the old house. And before I could stop myself, I was moving toward it, deeper into the shadows, letting the darkness pull me in, step by step.