A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children #4) - Ransom Riggs Page 0,112

anymore.” Lilly looked pained. “She’s the strongest person I know. And I’ve never seen her so scared of anything.”

“We were sent here to help her,” Emma said. “I think we’re supposed to protect her from those people.”

“So, you told me what you can do,” she said, “but who are you?”

“We’re Miss Peregrine’s peculiar children,” said Bronwyn.

“You know what,” said Enoch. “That doesn’t sound quite right anymore.”

“We don’t know what we’re called yet,” I said. “But my grandfather was in . . . sort of like the FBI, for people like us? And we’re taking over.”

“Oddfellows,” said Lilly. “The Oddfellows . . . League of . . . Defense.”

“It spells O-L-D,” said Bronwyn.

“Did she just make up a name for us?” said Bronwyn. “On the spot?”

“I like it,” said Millard.

“Of course you do,” said Enoch.

“If we can’t find your friend and help her, we won’t need a fancy name,” said Emma. “We’ll be back in the Acre getting punished for the rest of our natural lives.”

“Can you take us to her?” I asked.

“She’s in hiding,” said Lilly. “But I can send her a message to ask if she’ll meet you.”

Just then, through the café’s front window, I saw a black-tinted SUV roll by very slowly. The passenger window was rolled down a few inches, and inside I could see someone in mirrored glasses, scanning the neighborhood.

“We’d better make a move,” I said. “Is there a back way out of here?”

“I’ll show you, but first I need to text Noor,” said Lilly. “Which means talking loudly into my phone’s speech-to-text app. Considering the subject matter, I think I’d better do it in private.”

“May I be of help?” asked Millard, scooting his chair back.

Someone at another table looked over sharply.

“Millard, cool it,” I whispered. “People are noticing.”

Lilly stood up. “Thanks, but I’m good.” She began walking, a bit slowly but with confidence, toward the restrooms at the back of the café.

When she was out of earshot, Millard let out a long, wistful sigh.

“Fellows,” he announced, “I think I’m in love.”

When Lilly emerged from the restroom after a few minutes, Millard ran to offer her his arm. She took it—subtly, so it wouldn’t look strange to the other patrons—and when they’d made it back to the table, she said, “Okay. She’s agreed to meet you.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Where?”

“I’ll have to show you the way. Where she is, I’m the only one who can reach her.”

I couldn’t imagine what she meant, but I was intrigued nonetheless. We followed Lilly out a back door into an alley behind the café. As stealthily as I could, I walked around front to our parked car—there were no black SUVs in sight—then drove to the alley to pick everyone up. They piled in. Millard insisted Lilly ride up front. She gave us an address that wasn’t far away.

As we drove, the character of the neighborhood changed. The houses got older, uglier, then disappeared altogether, replaced by warehouses and industrial buildings, old and rusted. I noticed in my mirror that a certain gray sedan had been following us for a while. I took a sudden right turn, then three more in quick succession. After that, it was gone.

The address Lilly had given us led to a row of brick warehouses. At the end of the block was a building, five or six stories tall, that was still under construction. The bottom story was ringed by chain-link fences, the top half windowless and skeletal. I drove past it and parked down a side street.

Before we left the car, I grabbed my duffel bag and tossed in a few essentials. A flashlight. Abe’s operations log—heavy, but I was paranoid about leaving it. And a certain pear-shaped fast-food combo item from the glove box. (One never knew when such a thing could come in handy on a mission.) I slung the duffel crosswise over my back, shut the trunk, and turned to face the group.

“Ready.”

“How do we get in?” Emma said.

“There’s a hidden entrance,” Lilly said. “Follow me.”

And then we were off, actually struggling to keep up with Lilly at times as she strode down the street, tapping her cane before her.

“You really seem to know where you’re going,” Millard said.

“Yeah,” Lilly replied. “We’ve hung out here a few times, Noor and me. When we need to get away from people?”

“Like who?” I said.

“You know. Parents. Noor’s foster parents, especially.” She muttered something about them under her breath that I didn’t quite catch, and then she turned and tap-walked down an alley