The next morning, despite Miss Peregrine's objections, the gypsies gave us a ride to Coal, the next town over. We all road on different horses, with different gypsy riders in front of us. Miss Peregrine was riding with a man who looked like he enjoyed her presence, but he didn't say anything. Miss Peregrine certainly must have noticed, but acted oblivious to deviate his attention from her. It didn't work. But soon we said goodbye, thank you, and headed into town.
We made our way to the train station, in which we bought tickets without a problem, since apparently it made all the difference to show the wads of money outright and to have an fierce-looking woman with you.
We were all jittery, jumping every time a new person came in, paranoid that it would be a wight come to take us all. But none ever came.
It was odd, after reading about being attacked or captured or hunted so much, that we would have so much success in our travels. But I suppose that was a good thing.
We got to London soon after, taking roads and alleys until we got to Wakeling Street. We followed the winding road, and we got to the four stories high office building. It wasn't encased in ice quite yet. We made our way to the door.
Miss Peregrine knocked.
"Balenciaga?"
No answer.
We headed along the side of the alley until we got to the cellar-like doors. Bronwyn forced them open, and we each fell through, Miss Peregrine holding Claire.
We followed the tunnel (not yet covered with ice), until we got to the interior.
No one was there. We went from room to room, but no one was there. Miss Wren wasn't there.
"What now?" I asked. I wasn't sure who I was asking. Perhaps I thought that if I asked, fate would answer.
Before anyone could answer, my book (that I'd been holding against my chest started to pulsing. I pulled it in front of me, and I realized it was emitting a faint orange glow. My fingers started to tingle and out of instinct I swiped a hand through the air. Orange threads spin out of my hands and everyone let out a collective gasp.
As the threads spun they formed more and more words that changed every second, much too fast to read or translate. A few words I recognized as old peculiar, like syndrigasti and aswindan.
Then, as soon as the threads had begun, they stopped. But my book, it began to vibrate, and then, it exploded. I tried to stumble back as it erupted into flames, my hands somehow still stuck on it, but I felt no hint of heat. Slowly, it turned to golden ashes that stuck on my hands and fell to the floor.
Everyone stood, stunned.
"Bravo!"
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Thin Ice (MPHfPC Fanfic)
FanfictionAugust thinks her life is settling down in Cairnholm went she meets Jake, a boy not much older than her, who came looking for the old children's home. She knows nothing about a home, but agrees to meet with him later. But she soon realizes that, bas...
