Scorched Earth: The Prequel to Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children (editing)

Chapter Eighteen

January 4, 1935

"Are we supposed to be over here?" came a concerned voice from behind me.

"Well, Miss Peregrine doesn't want us near the dinner so I'm not sure of what other options we 'ave at the moment. Besides, it's fun to explore," I replied.

"Well we could get caught... Or worse," Emma whispered into my ear.

I stopped walking and turned to face her completely.

"Getting caught? By Miss Peregrine? Is that what you're afraid of?" I asked. The pyrokinetic nodded her head quickly and bit her lip in nervousness.

"Well..." she began. "I'm afraid of getting caught by the mean people that you told me about last month."

She was referring to the wights. Miss Peregrine hadn't wanted me to tell her, but it came out anyway and the Ymbryne knew it too just by the mere fact that she could hear my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to block her out sometimes.

"They're not here," I assured Emma.

"But what if they are?" she questioned.

"You're being paranoid! We're fine!" I insisted and tugged on her arm to let her know we should continue walking.

...

The tables were crowded close to each other with pristine white cloth draped over them and seven golden chairs surrounding each one. Flowers decorated the center, and porcelain plates on a mat set before each guest along with a folded red napkin and a cylindrical glass filled halfway with a sparkling alcoholic liquid.

Alma Peregrine never drank. She had only done it once before when she was training at the Academy and she broke into the wine cellar with a friend who had the Peculiarity of unlocking anything and taste tasted every bottle in there before passing out on the stone floor and being found the next morning by a disappointed Miss Bunting.

Since then, she had never touched a drop of alcohol, and she had no desire to. But tonight she felt differently, and she leapt at the first glass of champagne she saw, anything to calm her nerves.

She didn't sit at any of the dinner tables. She stood in the back and watched the curious guests eat as they waited for their speaker to arrive. Terence Black.

Not a wight or a peculiar, but someone who worked for them. There were several non-peculiars that worked for Alma's brother. She didn't understand why, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that Black was the one that hand delivered the information to Jack. He was the one that stole classified details of Abaton from the Council by luring clueless Ymbryne's out of the loop. He was the co-conspirator of evil.

...

"When do you think we should go back?" Emma asked me as we entered a huge barn.

"When Miss Peregrine wants us to," I told her.

"I will admit that this is sort of fun," she mumbled as we stepped into musty darkness. I coughed lightly and the noise echoed within the barn.

Emma's palms suddenly lit up with a flicker of flames and a warm glow surrounded us.

"There's nothing in here!" She scoffed.

"At least it's warmer than outside," I mumbled to myself.

We walked further in and although it was slightly warmer inside, it was still cold. The warmth from the fire in Emma's hands made it tolerable though.

We sat on the ground in the center of the room. The flames grew bigger to keep us warmer. I was curious as to what Miss Peregrine was doing at the moment, and I knew it was wrong to try and figure it out when she specifically left us alone. I wondered what Miss Wren would think if she knew what was happening.