Discovering the Future

Chapter 23- Chapter 9 (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I don't own Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

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We found the children huddled around the sitting-room door. If they hadn't heard everything Miss Avocet had said, they'd heard enough, and it showed on their anxious faces.

"Poor Miss Avocet," Claire whimpered, her bottom lip trembling.

"Poor Miss Avocet's children," said Olive.

"Are they coming for us now, Miss?" asked Horace.

"We'll need weapons!" cried Millard.

"Battle-axes!" said Enoch.

"Bombs!" said Hugh.

"...That may be slightly overboard, Hugh," Fiona stated.

Hugh shrugged. "Oh well."

"Stop that at once!" Miss Peregrine shouted, raising her hands for quiet. "We must all remain calm. Yes, what happened to Miss Avocet was tragic-profoundly so-but it was a tragedy that need not be repeated here. However, we must be on watch. Henceforth, you will travel beyond the house only with my consent, and then only in pairs. Should you observe a person unknown to you, even if they appear to be peculiar, come immediately and inform me. We'll discuss these and other precautionary measures in the morning. Until then, to bed with you! This is no hour for a meeting."

"But Miss-" Enoch began.

"To bed!"

The children scurried off to their rooms. "As for you, Mr. Portman, I'm not terribly comfortable with you travelling alone. I think perhaps you should stay, at least until things calm a bit."

"I can't just disappear. My dad will flip out."

She frowned. "In that case, you must at least spend the night. I insist upon it."

"I will, but only if you'll tell me everything you know about the creatures that killed my grandfather."

Millard smirked. "I like him."

She tilted her head, studying me with something like amusement. "Very well, Mr. Portman, I won't argue with your need to know. Install yourself on the divan for the evening and we'll discuss it first thing."

"It has to be now." I'd waited ten years to hear the truth, and I couldn't wait another minute. "Please."

"At times, young man, you tread a precariously thin line between being charmingly headstrong and insufferably pigheaded." She turned to Emma. "Miss Bloom, would you fetch my flask of coca-wine? It seems I won't be sleeping tonight, and I shall have to indulge if I am to keep awake."

The study was too close to the children's bedrooms for a late-night talk, so the headmistress and I adjourned to a little greenhouse that edged the woods. We sat on overturned planters among climbing roses, a kerosene lantern on the grass between us, dawn not yet broken beyond the glass walls.

Fiona smiled. She loved it in there.

Miss Peregrine drew a pipe from her pocket, and bent to light it in the lamp flame. She drew a few thoughtful puffs, sending up wreaths of blue smoke, then began.