Chapter 1

The Unnamed Loop

London has always been a large city, filled to the brim with people of different peculiarities. Some of them unbelievably real and some of them quite laughably fake. However, nestled on the South Grove across from Highgate Cemetery, a genuinely peculiar boy was born. Enoch O'Connor. A dead-riser. Although, not a particularly unique power as far as peculiarities went, he was still a force to be reckoned with. He could hold life in his hand and that was nothing short of a godlike ability, even if it was only for a brief-lived moment. His parents, Adelaide and Jeremiah O'Connor were relatively normal souls, but were playing with forces of the universe, when they decided to bring new life into the world practically right in one of Death's most infamous gardens. But, they were very strong-willed and dedicated folk who just said: "Screw it." They were realists and not one to believe in the supernatural hoaxes that surrounded the area. The devote pair worked together as undertakers. Even before his birth, death surrounded him. Adelaide didn't take the advice of any of her well-intentioned friends and continued working through the entire duration of her pregnancy. Sometimes she'd even join her darling husband with gravedigging, which she'd always found to be somewhat of a refreshing activity. Occasionally, when she was off her feet, she'd read Frankenstein aloud for her husband, who was usually embalming someone, and her unborn child.

Despite being a tad unusual in most areas, they were still practical, grounded people, and nothing could've possibly prepared them to handle their son's peculiar ability of raising the dead. It's mere existence in the world undermined all their work and opened up a realm of questions about the afterlife that they would rather not have answered. Also, it was rather hard to keep in business when there were rumors spreading about the city that their patients kept literally walking out the door. Enoch's power might've not of even had the opportunity to appear in the first place, if they didn't literally work with dead bodies lying around.

The inciting incident was a harmless accident. Enoch was only six when he first brought someone back to life. His father had left the embalming room to answer the telephone and his mother was at one of the neighbor's houses for tea. The wives liked to gather, but she liked none of them and always complained about their catty behavior to Enoch when she returned. Enoch was bored and, when he saw the open unattended door, he was overcome with the temptation to go in. Most normal kids would've stayed clear of a room that smelled like death and had a literal dead man lying in it, but Enoch saw it as an unmissable opportunity. It was all supposed to be just a small prank to quell his harmless curiosity. He would simply put the heart back in the man's body and his father would have to fish it out again. He often saw his mother do the exact same thing and his father was always highly amused, but pretended not to be.

"Quit playing with hearts, dear—before you break one."

Nothing special was supposed to happen after he did it. His parents took people apart and put them back together again, but that's naturally where it ended. However, suddenly that was not the case. Enoch's father immediately halted his phone call when he heard voices speaking from the other room. Enoch was usually on the quiet side towards strangers and other children, but seemed to come alive at this peculiar event. Meanwhile, his father was stunned silent at the sight of it all. His son had apparently pulled a Dr. Frankenstein form of mad science and had brought one of his patients back from death in a matter of minutes. However, before he could tell anyone or pry his wife away from the rest of the neighborhood cluster to come see him, the man dropped dead again. His second set of last words were towards Enoch's father:

"Your son is rather peculiar."

He mumbled a 'thank you', unsure of what else to say, before the man went limp again. Then, he quickly grabbed Enoch and rushed out of there. He set him down in their living room and made sure he was okay, before starting to interrogate him a little. He had gone quiet again, but perhaps it was only because he sensed he was in trouble for what he just did. Enoch was honest and explained every detail, even though he was mostly just as lost about what had happened. He was questioned until his mother came home, where he had to relay everything again and then try to prove himself when she didn't believe any of it. They went back to the embalming room and the man's body. His father took the heart out and gave it to Enoch.

"It's exhausted. I don't think it'll work anymore." he replied, staring down at the organ. He passed it back to his father. "Do you have any other patients?"

"Not at the moment, son…" his father answered, softly. Although, he hadn't been able to show proof of Enoch's power to his wife, she still looked at him gravely serious. He obviously wouldn't have just handed their young son a vital organ, if he wasn't trying to prove something real. Meanwhile, he was looking down at Enoch. He'd come up with that answer relatively quickly for someone who apparently had caused all this by accident. "You haven't—by chance—done this sort of thing before, have you?"

"Of course not. As I've already said, I don't even know if I can do it again." Enoch said, with a bit of an angry grit. After the long interrogation, he was a little fed up with everything at the moment. "It was a mistake."

However, Enoch was certain in his own mind that it wasn't a fluke or a gaffe. He sure as hell didn't know the rules or the limitations that his newfound ability had, but he could feel his power now that he'd used it. It was bound to his soul forever and was something that always had been. That dead man had been right.

He was peculiar.

A thirteen-year old Enoch sat in the cemetery, only technically alone. He wasn't much for living human friends, but had fun with little clay soldiers he could bring to life with rat hearts. His parents set up lots of rat traps for him. It was probably to try and tempt him away from bringing humans back to life. Although, they'd accepted Enoch's power in theory, there was still times where it was a hassle to deal with. The rumors were giving their whole family an even worse reputation then they already had. The offer of limitless rat hearts also could've been a trick to prevent him from trying to make any living friends. He needed to be kept away from the "normal" kids. It wasn't like he could harm them, but it'd be better if he didn't go showing off his abilities. It wasn't as if Enoch had zero control over his powers either, on the contrary, he was all too clear about his actions and not planning on hiding any of his intentions either. He was growing into his teens with far too blunt an attitude and full of more than just a little morbid spite.

It was clear that something needed to be done about Enoch and, unbeknownst to him at that particular moment, someone was coming to help him.

Enoch was lazily resting against the side of a hedge stone that late afternoon, after watching his little clay soldiers battle until they were all dead. He often hung around with "Tom", the man who'd he'd first brought to life. He had a very nice spot, not too far from his house and just secluded enough that he wouldn't run into any of the other cemetery visitors. While this place would've brought dread to most patrons, Enoch found it the most peaceful place on earth and was dozing off to sleep in the warm sunset. However, something was preventing him from completely dosing off.

A bird.

It sat in the tree above him, twittering and jumping about, destroying his tranquility. What kind of bird? That was a question Enoch couldn't answer. He had interests in mechanical things, like cars and war tanks, he could care less about birdwatching. Enoch quickly squished up one of the bodies of his little clay men and chucked it at the bird. Usually, that would've been enough to make any bird fly away and not come back. However, after a skillful dodge, the bird flew right back to where it had been. It wasn't making any more noise and was now staring right at him with piqued interest.

"Leave me alone, you dumb bird!" Enoch shouted. The bird blinked at him a few times, before finally deciding to depart after all. Although, it might've not have been because Enoch told her too.

"Enoch!—Time to come in now!" his father called, from somewhere far off. Enoch groaned. He started collecting the debris of little clay bodies and said goodbye to Tom. After that, he waited for his father to appear on the path, before following him back home.

"—I forgot to mention that we have a guest joining us for dinner." he said, after a minute of silent walking together.

"A new client?" Enoch asked, curiously. Sometimes his folks offered dinner invitations to their patrons, most often men who'd tragically lost their wives and didn't know how to properly function on their own. They didn't get many of their offers accepted though. Most people believed the house was cursed and the O'Connor's were a family of sinners.

"Not exactly…" his father mumbled. Enoch was instantly suspicious of this. His parents didn't have the best relationship with him nowadays, but they still made sure that they never lied to him. They had to bathe in lies to keep Enoch's secret as just a bad rumor. He would've hated if they started lying to him too. "She'd like to meet you, so please be on your best behavior."

"Alright, my men will stay dead for the evening. But, you owe me." Enoch replied.

"Will Mrs. Cooper's heart do? I know you're rather fond of poets." his father inquired, with a bit of a sly smile that resembled Enoch's.

"Deal."

When they arrived at the house, the guest was already in the drawing room talking with Enoch's mother. Enoch hastily rushed upstairs to put his men away, but did not bother to clean up his dirty, haggard appearance. However, he slipped his best soldier and a rat's heart into his shirt pocket, in case he wanted to rescind his promise and have a little fun. He made his way to the drawing room a few minutes later, where all the adults sat in the tall armchairs, chatting idly like complete strangers would. It took them a second to recognize his presence since he didn't announce himself. The woman looked to be about the same age as his parents, but carried herself with more maturity and refinement. Enoch's mother never dressed elegantly or cared so much about her appearance. She'd even tailored a pair of his father's old trousers to fit her, so she could wear them around the house while she worked. What was the point of nice dresses if she was just going to get blood splattered all over them? However, this stranger woman seemed to be relatively up to date with the latest fashion trends. Her sleek black hair was pinned up under an elaborate feathered hat, with the veil drawn back to reveal her face. The puffed sleeves of her blouse were probably bigger than Enoch's head and, while he couldn't see most of her skirt from the chair, the hem was embroidered with gold leaves and birds.

"How do you do, Mr. O'Connor? I'm Miss Amalthea Nightjar." she said, finally rising to her feet to greet him.

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Enoch smiled, shaking her hand. He sounded far too sweet, and he wondered if the woman could sense his dishonesty. "Thank you for joining us this evening."

"Doesn't he have such excellent manners?" Miss Nightjar smiled back, just as cheerfully dishonest. His parents seemed content though and excused themselves to make the proper preparations for dinner. The second they left the room, she dropped her act a little, "—Alright, give it to me straight—what're they paying you?"

"Not sure you want to know. Your heart may not be able to take it..." Enoch replied, unable to fight off a malicious grin as he said it.

"Fair enough. I suppose that was a dangerous question to ask a boy like you." she remarked. Enoch frowned. Clearly, she had information he did not and was going to hang it over him, like any adult would, because she felt that he was too young to understand the truth.

"Forgive me, madam. But, you are the one who is clearly here with ulterior motives." he added, dropping any sort of pretense between them. They could dance around and play clever mind games all night, but Enoch didn't want to be played by this woman. He was a fairly confident boy, but he also wasn't too sure that he'd win. "You're not a real client. Who are you really?"

"What gave me away so easily?"

"No one on the block would be fool enough to accept a dinner invitation from our family and, if by chance you were a real friend of my parents, I definitely would've heard of you before," Enoch explained. "Not to mention you're standing here now. Who'd willingly subject themselves to ten minutes alone with me? With all that quite logically deduced, I ask you again—who are you?"

"Nothing to get so heated about, Mr. O'Connor. I meant to reveal everything over the course of the evening, but if you'd rather get it all out on the table now. By all means…" she explained, rather calm for the amount of grit in Enoch's tone. "I didn't lie about my name. I'm Miss Amalthea Nightjar. I'm here because I've heard the rumors of your abilities and I want to see what you can do."

"Look, lady—I'm not some performing monkey. Why should I show you anything?"

"Because you called me 'dumb' and threw a chunk of clay at me earlier. That wasn't very nice of you, Enoch." Miss Nightjar replied, with a bit of a threatening grit in her own voice. Enoch clammed up. While he still didn't know much about birds, he reckoned the one that he'd encountered in the graveyard could've been a nightjar. "I've already shown you something I can do, now it's your turn."

"My parents insist that I shouldn't use my abilities to defile the dead patrons of our humble mortuary." Enoch explained, mostly as an excuse. He was still hesitant about showing her. However, he could sense something in her soul. Kindred. Alike. He could show her his abilities and she would not reprimand him. "Will something smaller suffice as evidence?"

"Of course."

Enoch took out the little clay soldier and the rat heart. She remained undisturbed to the fact he had been carrying around a vital organ in his pocket so nonchalantly. He pressed it into the clay and the lifeless figure started to move. It climbed onto Enoch's shoulder and looked up at him, awaiting further orders.

"My, isn't that spectacular?" Miss Nightjar smiled. She presented her hand to the soldier for a closer look. Enoch nodded and the homunculi jumped into her palm. "You truly have a gift, Mr. O'Connor."

"Curse is more like it…" Enoch mumbled, bitterly.

"My dear boy, you most certainly aren't cursed," she assured him. "—You are peculiar."

"Has old Tom been spreading rumors about me too? No one else has ever called me that."

"Tom?"

"Never mind. It's not important. Everyone else just calls me a freak."

"Enoch, you aren't alone, and you most certainly aren't a freak either. You're part of a special kind of people called 'peculiars'. They range in abnormal abilities from super strength to having a dogface—"

"How is being hideously ugly a power and not a curse?"

"—Listen, I know it's a rather difficult thing to take at face value, but you're going to have to trust me. I run a refuge for peculiar children in Swansea and we'd be honored if you would come live with us." Miss Nightjar explained.

"Are you out of your mind? I've barely been talking to you for ten minutes. Why on earth would I go leave London to live with you in bloody Wales of all places?" Enoch snapped, viciously. He suddenly side-eyed a particular section of the room. "You two are being awfully quiet?—Have you already consented to this? This woman is trying to kidnap me, your darling son."

His parents had rejoined them at some point during their budding argument, but like him didn't bother to announce themselves in anyway. Enoch could only guess why. It was guilt. They'd welcomed this woman in knowing that she would be taking him away with her to some kind of madhouse.

"Enoch, we think this might be the best option for you…" his mother mustered the courage to answer him. "Now that you're older, your power is really starting to draw more attention. It's not going to be long before people find out it's not a joke or a rumor and start knocking on our door with pitchforks."

"It's easy to hide though. At least I don't have a dogface. No one will know unless I use it."

"You're not going to stop, and I wouldn't dream of continuing to ask you to hide part of who you truly are for the rest of your life." his mother continued. "Please believe me that this is for your own safety. I don't want you to get hurt..."

"We love you, Enoch." his father added. "This is for your own good."

Enoch was quiet for a moment. He wanted to continue to argue and fight, but what exactly was he going to be leaving behind here that was worth fighting for? There was nothing he really cared for, other than his folks, and staying with them would only continue to cause them more grief. He could definitely tell that this decision was hard for them, and they weren't just trying to get rid of him because he was an inconvenience. They wouldn't have put in thirteen years of work raising him if they didn't really love him. After the moment had passed, it didn't really seem like he had much of a choice either.

"Fine…I'll go with you. For them."

"Excellent. We'll leave immediately."

When she said immediately, Miss Nightjar was not messing around. They left for the station a few minutes later. Enoch's parents had already pre-packed his things into a trunk and, judging from a couple clinks, something told him there was a few jars of goodies to bring him comfort in his new surroundings. The train ride was nearly three hours and neither of them spoke the entire duration of the trip. Enoch had a billion skeptic questions to ask her, but was still a tad bitter from the sudden departure from home. They arrived at the darkened station and walked approximately seven minutes, until they arrived at a large crumbling castle structure.

"Is this where you live?" he asked, looking around at what just seemed like a condemned structure.

"This is just the entrance. Come on, we've still got a ways to go." she answered, climbing through one of the empty doorframes. Enoch was climbing through as well, when he was suddenly hit by an abnormally chilling gust of wind. It was more than the cool night blowing on them, it physically hit him. Almost like he'd been punched in the gut. However, Enoch instantly recovered when they walked out. The feeling was exclusively attached to the doorway and surely meant that they'd just gone through something significant.

"What the hell was that?"

"We've passed into the loop." Miss Nightjar added. Enoch looked at her clearly puzzled and upset that he didn't know what that meant. "I might've forgot to mention. Our house isn't exactly in this year. We live on April 3rd, 1901."

"Excuse me? You want to run that by me one more time." Enoch said.

"I'm what's referred to as an 'ymbryne', and women like myself have two major abilities. We turn into birds, and we create little loops in time to raise our wards and protect them from any threats." Miss Nightjar explained further. "Lesson one of being peculiar: Our biggest threat is normal people. That's why you'll be perfectly safe and sound in the loop. No normal allowed."

"What's so special about April 3rd, 1901?"

"Nothing at all." she replied, simply. Enoch frowned at the dull answer. She had the power to manipulate time and she'd decided on looping an insignificant day only four years ago. "That's what makes it good."

They took a mysterious carriage that had been waiting for them. Miss Nightjar explained that her house was hidden at the edge of the Ynysforgan Woods, which was about five miles away from town. Although the normal people would forget ever interacting with them when the loop reset, it would be better to avoid lurking eyes as much as possible. It took another twenty minutes before they stumbled upon the large manor house. It was only when they exited the carriage did Enoch realize there were no horses at the front pulling it.

"Thank goodness we made it in time. The loop needs to be manually reset by the ymbryne in charge and the other children worry about it every time I have to leave." Miss Nightjar added, as they clambered into the dimly lit house.

"They have good reason to, Amalthea. I won't always be able to babysit for you."

There was an older woman settled by the fire in the living room, wide awake despite the late hour.

"Don't worry, Millicent. Mr. O'Connor should be the last ward I take on." Miss Nightjar sighed.

"I'm surprised the council let you have another after—"

"—Miss Thrush, it's rather late. You really should be flying off to your own loop now." she snapped, quickly. Miss Thrush didn't look too pleased by the rude dismissal and Miss Nightjar realized that she would need to account for her wretched behavior, less she be in even more trouble with the council then she already was. "Thank you so much for coming all this way. You've been a great help."

"Very well…" Miss Thrush concluded. "I'll be back soon to check up on things, Amalthea."

Before Enoch could mentally prepare himself, she transformed into a bird and flew off, leaving nothing but the clothes she'd been wearing behind. Miss Nightjar sighed and picked up the articles of clothing.

"Is that how you do it?" Enoch asked, curiously. She must've had some impressive quick change abilities because she'd just flown away when his father called him. When he'd seen her in the drawing room she was entirely put together and, thankfully, clothed.

"Come along, Mr. O'Connor. I'll show you to your room." Miss Nightjar sighed. There would be plenty of time to explain things in further detail, but right now she needed to work on getting him more settled. After folding the garments and setting them on the chair, Miss Nightjar lit a lantern and started walking towards a set of stairs. Enoch couldn't see too many details in the warm light, but the wall of the staircase was lined with dozens of different photos. One caught his eye for a moment, but with Miss Nightjar in control of the lantern, he couldn't stop to dwell on what he'd seen.

Surely, it'd been a trick of the light.

"Where's Miss Thrush's loop?" he asked, persistently. Despite the late hour he wasn't the least bit tired. If he was going to be stuck living out the rest of his life here, he wanted to know absolutely everything.

"London."

"Well, why didn't I go there?" he snapped back, thinking about how easy it would've been to leave the loop and see his parents if they were still in the same city.

"When I heard about you, I begged the council to let me take you on instead." Miss Nightjar explained. However, it only brought up more and more questions with Enoch. Why had she gone through all this trouble? He surely wasn't worth so much effort.

"Why?"

"Please dear. No more questions right now. It's late and I'm exhausted..." she yawned, dismissively. "I promise you'll know everything in due time."

They stopped on the third floor and Enoch hesitated momentarily in front of the first door. However, Miss Nightjar led him into an empty bedroom at the very end of the hall instead. Enoch's new room was located at the back of the house, facing the woods. However, he wasn't too bothered by how good the view was in the light of day. She could've stuck him in a basement coffin, and he still would've had a lukewarm approach to the place. Miss Nightjar wished him a goodnight and finally left. Enoch wasn't about to fully unpack his things until he was absolutely certain he was staying, but still was curious about what his parents thought he ought to have taken with him. There were the essentials, like clothes and his little soldiers, but there was also the heart his father promised him. The heart of a poet. He wouldn't likely get the chance to use it, but it was a small comfort, nonetheless. The jar was tied with a light green ribbon. It was probably his mother's doing. An extra jar of rat's hearts for his men had been clinking next to it the whole journey and was now slightly leaking. It would survive the night. He'd make it a priority to search for a new one in the morning. His clothes smelled wretched, but he took very little notice because he was already so used to the horrible chemical smell. There was a photo of his parents stuck inside that thankfully survived the mess. They didn't take many pictures of themselves, so it was a rare gift to have given him. It was also very fitting that they would send him off with a photo of them looking so serenely dead and that would be his last image of them ever. Better to imagine them dead then peacefully living their lives without him.

Enoch stopped rustling through the trunk. He set the photo near the lantern on the bedside table and climbed into bed. His new life would begin tomorrow, and he had to make sure he was prepared to meet the others. Based on the broad range of possibilities Miss Nightjar had laid out to him, he had no idea what freakshow he had in store for tomorrow. However, he ended up falling asleep to a rather comforting thought.

There was at least one other room here that smelled like death.