So now Horace knew. And he was okay with it. So maybe, just maybe, everyone else would be too.
Horace had promised not to tell anyone about it until I was ready. But he told everyone we were together now, I knew that. I was okay with that. Miss Peregrine seemed fine with it as well, in fact, she seemed relieved. Ever since Horace and I got together officially, I had been happier all the time. I think it made her happier when all her wards were feeling good.
The only sad thing was, we couldn't hold hands. Bentham's newest batch of gloves had lasted a bit longer than the ones before, but they still hadn't been successful. It sounds childish, but seeing Emma and Jake hold hands made me dislike my peculiarity (and a little bit jealous), even though I knew it was powerful and useful.
At least that one side of my life was going well. The only other sorta-good-news was that Bentham and Miss Peregrine had found another place for us to go to. The trouble was getting there.
We would travel in groups, two or three of us going at a time. Once again, I was in the first group to go. I was one of the most powerful peculiars in our group, and the less time someone had to come and get me, the better. Miss Peregrine was coming with me, so she could lay out the path, be extra sure it was safe for everyone else, and to make sure we went to the right place. You never know. The last member of our group was Horace, because, well, I insisted.
We were leaving today, so we wouldn't be leaving on the day the wights were coming. We had to be long gone. Bentham was too scared to face them when they came looking for us, so he was coming with us, as well as his bear. But they would be the last to leave and would take an even more complicated route to our safe house.
God, I hoped Bentham didn't turn on us now.
. . .
"August?"
I turned around. There stood Bentham. It was the first time I'd seen him since our conversation.
"What is it?" I asked, my tone more icy than I meant it to be.
Bentham pulled out a pair of gloves and handed them to me. I held them for a long moment. They didn't give out.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bentham asked me. "Put them on."
I slid the thin gloves on and my heart stalled. They didn't go. In awe, I touched a chair and... nothing happened.
"I had a feeling these would work."
"Huh?" I looked up at him.
"Nevermind that. How do they feel?"
"Amazing." I said, and it was true. Not only were the gloves comfortable, but they allowed me to touch! It was too good to be true.
"Thank you."
"Your welcome," Bentham said. "And I do hope you'll excuse me for our conversation the other day. I got ahead of myself, you know how it is, when something out of the ordinary happens."
"It's all right," I said, even though my heart wasn't all into it. "And you made up for it." I flexed my hands inside my new gloves.
I excused myself then, not able to wait another moment to tell Horace (and everyone else, of course).
. . .
I clutched Horace's hand as we made our way through the streets. Miss Peregrine was in front of us. We each wore cloaks with our hoods up, which concealed our identity and made us look like ambrosia addicts.
But then my fingers tingled. I had my gloves on, but then they started to thrum, getting too much. I let go of Horace and stepped to the side, pulling off my gloves. Tendrils of purple spanned out. I was intrigued, I admit, but we were in a public area. I was lucky I was in an empty alley, anyway.
"Put those away!" Miss Peregrine hissed, but I shook my head.
"I can't!"
The purple was spinning around, but other than that, it wasn't doing anything else. I tried to shove them under my cloak, but they just searched the folds and reached out again.
"Here!" Horace held out my gloves, which he had picked up from the ground. I had dropped them. I tried to take them, but the purple threads pushed them away, as if the yarn-like appendages were limbs. Horace yelped. The purple was twisting around Horace's arms. I pulled, but it didn't make a difference. I felt Miss Peregrine's hands on my shoulders--
Then Horace fainted.
The world dissolved into pain, gnawing through my skin, into my heart. I don't think I screamed- the pain was too much- I felt like I wasn't in my body anymore. I was detached, no longer able to hear or see, just feel the raging agony. I couldn't think.
Then I only saw endless black.
. . .
"How'd you get here?"
I blinked my eyes open, the light piercing my pupils. A man stood over me.
"Huh?"
"You're a slow one, aren't you?"
"Get away." I ordered.
"Okay, okay." He held his hands up. "Forgive me for being curious."
I sat up, looking around. I was with other people... wasn't I? My head was fuzzy, I couldn't remember their names... And where was I? The setting was completely unfamiliar, white light that seemed to glow from everywhere. Doors sat randomly around. There didn't seem to be an end to the room-- if it was even a room. There wasn't much else. Suddenly I remembered everything, the purple tendrils, Horace, Miss Peregrine.
"Where am I?" I asked the man. "And who are you?"
"I'm Marcus Anton the Third," The man said, holding out his hand. "Call me Marcus, if you must call me anything."
"Of course I must call you something." I stood up to face him, shaking my head at his hand, causing him to put it down. "But again, where are we?"
"Time. Reality. Space. Past. Present. Future," Marcus said. "Take your pick."
"What?"
"Yeah, it's really confusing," Marcus chuckled. "But you'll get used to it."
"Get used to it?" I repeated. "I'm supposed to be somewhere..." I wasn't comfortable telling Marcus everything. I had just met him.
"I've been stuck down here for years. Not sure how many. How are you gonna be any different? Say, what was your name?"
"I'm August," I told him. "But how can you be stuck here if there's so many doors?"
"Doors?" Marcus repeated.
"Those doors!" I said, gesturing to the doors around the area.
"August, I'm not seeing any doors."
"What-- Wh-- Huh?" I rubbed my eyes, looking at the doors. I walked over to one, running my hand over the wood. It was definitely there.
"That's freaky." I looked back on Marcus, who was staring at the door. "How'd you do that?"
"Do what?" Then I looked back at the door. It was glowing.
"I can SEE it."
I turned the doorknob, and it clicked open a crack. I opened it a tich more. Inside was a strawberry-haired girl hunched over a glowing book. She seemed to be dropping pencils into it. It reminded me of my old book.
Suddenly a ghost of me stepped forward and walked toward her, settling into the strange girl and taking her shape.
I felt an odd sensation and gasped. I quickly closed the door and slid to the floor. I felt faint, like I was going to pass out.
"Are you alright?" Marcus asked me, kneeling down beside me.
"Yes... yes." I said.
"What was that place?"
"I don't know," I said, recovering myself. "But I'm going to keep looking."
"You remind me of someone. But I don't know who." Marcus commented, squinting at me.
"Do you know an Alma Peregrine? Bentham? Caul?" I asked, getting tired of this quickly. Surely if my heritage was this obvious, everyone would know.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know," Marcus answered, smiling sadly. "I don't remember anything much except my name. I don't think I was a very nice person. Although I still feel like part of my name is missing, too. Do you know what I mean?"
I nodded my head. I did know.
I walked over to another door and opened it. I gasped once again as another ghost of me sunk into the figure of a girl glaring at a woman. I quickly closed the door, and another ten deep breaths later, I opened another. This time it was a girl who was holding the hand of a man in bright robes, who I assumed were father-and-daughter.
I opened more and more doors, and I lost count of how many I opened. Every time another figure of me sunk into another girl. But I kept at it. I had to get back.
But one door I couldn't open. I let go of the knob and went to another door, but Marcus inched closer.
"It feels like it's calling me, now that you've touched it. And I can still see it, too." He gazed at it. "Perhaps... Perhaps it's time for a new beginning." He reached out and opened the door. But it wasn't like the other doors. Inside it was infinite black.
"I think now is when I say good-bye." Marcus looked back at me. For some reason I felt sad, like I was saying goodbye to an old friend, instead of an old guy (okay-- maybe not THAT old) I had just met. Marcus raised his hand in a farewell gesture, then stepped through the door, his form merging with the frog-man's. I numbly reached out and swung the door shut.
It was time to say goodbye. Time for his new beginning.
I moved to another door, but the hair on my neck stood.
I had a feeling everything would change now.