Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

I was moved by this new idea of my grandfather, not
as a paranoiac gun nut or a secretive philanderer or a
man who wasn’t there for his family, but as a
wandering knight who risked his life for others, living
out of cars and cheap motels, stalking lethal shadows,
coming home shy a few bullets and marked with
bruises he could never quite explain and nightmares
he couldn’t talk about. For his many sacrifices, he
received only scorn and suspicion from those he
loved. I guess that’s why he wrote so many letters to
Emma and Miss Peregrine. They understood.
Bronwyn returned with a decanter of coca-wine and
another flask of brandy. Miss Peregrine sent her away
and set about mixing them together in a teacup. Then
she began to pat Miss Avocet gently on her blueveined
cheek.
“Esmerelda,” she said, “Esmerelda, you must rouse
yourself and drink this tonic I’ve prepared.”
Miss Avocet moaned, and Miss Peregrine raised
the teacup to her lips. The old woman took a few sips
and, though she sputtered and coughed, most of the
purplish liquid disappeared down her throat. For a
moment she stared as if about to sink back into her
stupor, but then she sat forward, face brightening.
“Oh, my,” she said, her voice a dry rasp. “Have I
fallen asleep? How indecorous of me.” She looked at
us in mild surprise, as if we’d appeared out of