A Map of Days (Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children #4) - Ransom Riggs Page 0,78
help protect it?”
Adelaide looked at me and whistled. “Ymbryne. When’s the last time you heard that word, Al?”
“Long time ago,” said Mr. Potts.
“I haven’t seen one in . . . oh, forty years,” said Adelaide, his voice softening with nostalgia. “A real one, I mean. Not one of these halfsies who can’t even shape-shift.”
“Where did they all go?” Emma asked.
“There weren’t all that many to begin with,” said Mr. Potts. “I remember back in the fifties, the loop up in Indiana where I lived shared an ymbryne with the next closest loop. Miss Pigeon Hawk. Then one day it seemed like the wights and their shadow creatures were everywhere all of a sudden, and they just hated ymbrynes worse than poison. They tried everything they could to get rid of ’em. Did a pretty good job of it, too.”
“How?” said Emma. “We’d had hollows and wights in Europe since 1908 and they hated our ymbrynes just as much, but most of ours managed to survive.”
“Can’t say I’m an expert on how the wights operate,” said Adelaide. “But I’ll say this: Our ymbrynes were every bit as tough and smart as anyone else’s, if not more. I’d trust an American ymbryne with my life—if I could find one. So it’s not that they lacked mettle.”
“And instead you have a so-called loop-keeper,” said Millard, sounding doubtful.
“Old Rex,” said Potts. “Passable keeper. Terrible drunk.”
“He drinks?” Millard said.
“Like a tent preacher,” said Adelaide. “Rex comes every few weeks to fiddle with the loop clock, day turns to night, and so on—”
“And then he finishes off a bottle of Miss Billie’s homemade rye,” said Potts, “which I believe is how she pays him.”
Emma turned to Millard and said, “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“Only apocryphally,” he replied.
Adelaide clapped his hands. “Have you all eaten? I got a pot of coffee on in my room, and Al always has a few crullers stashed away.”
“You leave my crullers alone,” said Potts.
“These young people are having a bad day, Al. Get the crullers.” Potts grumbled something under his breath.
Adelaide walked us across the courtyard to his room. We passed a bungalow where a woman was singing opera, loudly, behind a closed door.
“You’re sounding fine this morning, Baroness!” Adelaide shouted.
“Thank youuuuuuuuuu,” the woman sang back.
“Is it just me,” Emma whispered, “or is everyone here a little—”
“Nuts?” said Potts, and broke out cackling. “Yes, we are, honey. Yes, we are.”
“Wow, his hearing’s good,” I said.
“Eyes are shot,” said Potts, pushing past us in his wheelchair. “The ears still work.”
We had coffee and crullers around a little table in the living room of Adelaide’s bungalow, a tiny space appointed with a floral-patterned sofa and chair, a knob-operated TV bolted to the wall, and flowers in vases. I noticed he had a suitcase packed by the door, and I asked about it.
“Oh, I’m leaving,” Adelaide said.
Potts laughed. “So you keep saying.”
“Any day now.”
I glanced at Potts. Potts shook his head.
“Headed to Kansas City,” said Adelaide. “To see an old girlfriend.”
“You ain’t goin’ anywhere,” said Potts. “You’re stuck here just like the rest of us.”
It reminded me of the nursing home where we used to visit my grandma on my mom’s side, who had Alzheimer’s. Leaving was all she talked about, but of course she never could.
“We’re supposed to find a portal,” I said. “Have you heard of one around here?”
Adelaide looked at Potts, who grunted and shook his head. “I sure haven’t,” said Adelaide.
“There’s no such thing as portals,” said Millard. “We’re just going to keep getting the same answer. It’s a dead end.”
“You all should talk to the baroness,” said Adelaide. “Or Weiss, our nonagenarian bodybuilder. Those two have been everywhere.”
“We will,” I said. “Thanks.”
We ate our crullers in silence for a minute or two. Then Bronwyn set her coffee mug down loudly and said, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but what are you gentlemen’s peculiarities?”
Adelaide coughed and looked down, and Potts pretended he hadn’t heard the question. “What say we go outside and get some sun?” he said.
My friends and I looked at one another. It was an odd moment.
We went outside. Paul was walking by.
“Young man!” said Adelaide, raising an arm and waving.
Paul came over. He had a slim, knotted tree limb under one arm and a knife in his hand. “Yessir?”
“These people want to find a—what is it again?”
“Portal,” said Emma.
“Oh,” said Paul, nodding. “Sure.”
He didn’t seem confused at all. Totally normal thing to be looking for.