Beginning - Book Three

prologue

The room is remarkably warm once the door is shut behind me. I place my suitcase down on the floorboards with a clunk, and look around at my new home in the dim light. The long curtains have been closed for the night, and two tiny lamps on either side of the bed are the only things protecting me from the darkness. A door in the wall closest to me leads to a bathroom, the blonde woman told me before she went to assist the other girls in finding their own bedrooms. Miss Peregrine had said the woman's name was Marguerite Kandinsky, and referred to her as Meggy upon our arrival at the house.

Our little boat arrived ashore in the dead of night - we disembarked onto the beach, shivering and soaked with sea spray, and began our journey single-file behind Miss Peregrine. Olive was instructed to ignite the vessel to erase all trace of our arrival, and we watched it burn for a little while from the promenade of the unfamiliar seaside town we had stumbled upon. Each of us heaving our belongings, we trailed up a hillside path in the darkness, cold and, for the most part, frightened - for what felt like hours upon hours. My feet throbbed beneath my weight, tears seeped silently from the corners of my eyes. It was beyond a relief when a rectangular silhouette appeared on the horizon: a single square window was glowing yellow amongst the blackness.

As we grew closer, the shape became clearer. A colossal limestone structure, dotted with windows which were reflecting the moonlight. Lined with a stone wall which was studded with metal spears pointing up to the stars, like the scattered fir trees which jutted up into the night sky. A spiked gate barred our entry up a wide gravel path until Miss Peregrine drew a large, decorated key from inside her jacket. Her talons curled around the loop of metal as she pushed it into a rusting keyhole, turning it to her right with a clang. The headmistress' arms stretched out to their full length as she sent the imposing assemblies swinging away from one another, before beckoning us through into the grounds.

Claire had slipped her hand into mine as we began our journey along the gravel path. The front of the house was sunken between two protruding sections - like a bay between two headlands, hauntingly similar to the cove which we left early that evening. Miss Peregrine had finished locking the gate and strode in front of us at remarkable pace, leading the way up the path. None of us had spoken for a while - partly because we were still shaken by the events of that fateful afternoon, but also partly due to the fatigue brought on by the amount of effort it took not to vomit into our laps on the journey here. Nobody said a word as we approached the ornately carved front door, illuminated by the light of a gas lamp which hung above the doorbell. A few moments passed before the pattering of feet could be heard from behind the door, followed by the unlatching of locks within. Orange light spilled out onto our feet as the doors swung open, revealing a slender figure wearing a silk turban on her head. A single golden wave had tumbled from the confines of the wrap. She smiled at us - her teeth rivalled the whiteness of the frost on the ground.

Marguerite led us inside, and called upon a woman named Catherine to help us with our luggage. A plump figure emerged, still in her nightgown, and wasted little time in obeying the blonde woman's wishes. I, however, curled my fingers around the handle of my suitcase and stepped forward eagerly - desperate to wrap myself up in a duvet and get some sleep. Thankfully, Marguerite understood my silent pleas and slid a smooth, manicured hand into the crook of my arm. Talking to me in only a whisper, she took me up the main staircase of the house, which was decorated with a crimson carpet which ran the length of the steps. I found myself in an unfamiliar room - behind the last door on the right side. It faced out towards the path which we had walked along to get inside, and offered a view of the rolling hills beyond. She pointed out the bathroom to me and said nothing more before creeping back into the corridor.

My eyelids are failing to remain open for an extended period, I lethargically kick off my shoes and unbutton the bodice of my frock, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. I step out of the sea of fabric and tumble beneath the soft sheets. The bed is freezing to begin with, however with my presence it begins to warm. Two small pouches of lavender hang above the pillows - with the scent filling my nostrils, I feel myself slowly beginning to slip from consciousness. I am able to sprawl out across the mattress, stretching my limbs as far as they will reach. A vast expanse for such a petite girl, needless to say. Rolling over to my side, I switch off the lamps until I am left in the darkness. Alone.