listening to the bump of his own pulse. What had Ray Tregear called him— Guardian Frayne ?
A shriek pierced the night. In his years as a copper, Gideon had heard almost every variation of pain and terror the human throat could produce. This was new. He began his run towards it without questioning the elation shimmering through the sound. The backyard walls were too high for Granny to have climbed them. She had to be up ahead of him, somewhere in the only building she could possibly have accessed from the street.
A derelict warehouse, once part of Penzance’s lively shipbuilding trade. It was poised on the very crest of Gwidder Hill, the town laid out below it in glimmering gridlines and clusters. The glass was long gone from its windows, the remains of its door kicked wide and sagging from one hinge. Inside it was one huge space, gutted and left empty years ago.
Nowhere for anyone to hide. Gideon paused in the doorway long enough to make sure. He found a torch in one deep jacket pocket and shone the beam around, but only cobwebs and streamers of dust glowed back at him. He was about to retreat and run on when the conviction seized him that he wasn’t alone. “Mrs Ragwen,” he repeated, quietly this time. “You’re in here, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, Constable. How clever of you to know!”
He jerked the torch beam up. His breath caught in his throat and he had to swallow a cry of fear and laughter mixed. “Dear God. How did you get up there?”
She sat poised in the middle of a rafter, fifteen feet off the ground, her heels swinging merrily. Her feet were bare, and from somewhere she’d obtained a full-on Halloween witch’s fancy-dress costume, complete with ragged skirts and pointy black hat. “I didn’t think I still could,” she said, grinning down at him. “Screamed like a vixen with her first dog-fox, I did. And you came running.”
“Yes, I did. You’re going to be all right.”
“I know I am, dear.”
“You need to stay very still.” Gideon lowered the torch so that it wouldn’t dazzle her. “I’m just gonna get my phone out, okay? I can have the fire brigade here in five minutes, and they’ll get you down.”
She exploded into cackles. “Like a mangy old cat out of a tree! Put your phone away.”
“I can’t, Mrs Ragwen. You’re in danger, and I have to get help for you.”
“Don’t. I’ll lose my balance if you make me laugh much more.”
She began to rock on the beam, and Gideon took a few steps towards her. She was little and frail, and maybe he could catch her, or at least break her fall. He’d worry about how an old lady had got into the roofspace from ground level some other time. “Listen to me. Listen. If you’ve got problems at home, or you’re upset about anything else at all, I’ll help you sort it out. There’s no need for you to—”
“Oh! Oh, stop. You’re killing me!”
Literally, any second. He froze, holding his breath. “Please don’t.”
“All right, all right. Don’t look so scared.” She stopped her terrifying back-and-forth yaw and settled on the beam as casually as if it had been her armchair at home. “Tell me. Who did you see on your way up here?”
“Why is that important?”
“Never mind. Humour an old lady.”
“Well, I... Lots of people. Sarah Kemp and her little girl. Darren Prowse.”
“No. Who did you see ?”
Gideon stood immobile. The warehouse was very quiet, and his heartrate gradually slowed. Was it just yesterday she’d stood by Tamsyn’s cradle? The solstice gate swings wide for the Frayne brood... He let her question enter his Kernowek marrow, the ancient glitter-spirals of his blood. “I saw,” he said quietly at last, “the Beast, the Lord of Misrule, and Old Penglas.”
She nodded as if satisfied. “And what did he call you, Constable, that last one? That old death’s head?”
“He called me... He called me Guardian Frayne.” He must have run up here too fast. The vacant space began to spin
A shriek pierced the night. In his years as a copper, Gideon had heard almost every variation of pain and terror the human throat could produce. This was new. He began his run towards it without questioning the elation shimmering through the sound. The backyard walls were too high for Granny to have climbed them. She had to be up ahead of him, somewhere in the only building she could possibly have accessed from the street.
A derelict warehouse, once part of Penzance’s lively shipbuilding trade. It was poised on the very crest of Gwidder Hill, the town laid out below it in glimmering gridlines and clusters. The glass was long gone from its windows, the remains of its door kicked wide and sagging from one hinge. Inside it was one huge space, gutted and left empty years ago.
Nowhere for anyone to hide. Gideon paused in the doorway long enough to make sure. He found a torch in one deep jacket pocket and shone the beam around, but only cobwebs and streamers of dust glowed back at him. He was about to retreat and run on when the conviction seized him that he wasn’t alone. “Mrs Ragwen,” he repeated, quietly this time. “You’re in here, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, Constable. How clever of you to know!”
He jerked the torch beam up. His breath caught in his throat and he had to swallow a cry of fear and laughter mixed. “Dear God. How did you get up there?”
She sat poised in the middle of a rafter, fifteen feet off the ground, her heels swinging merrily. Her feet were bare, and from somewhere she’d obtained a full-on Halloween witch’s fancy-dress costume, complete with ragged skirts and pointy black hat. “I didn’t think I still could,” she said, grinning down at him. “Screamed like a vixen with her first dog-fox, I did. And you came running.”
“Yes, I did. You’re going to be all right.”
“I know I am, dear.”
“You need to stay very still.” Gideon lowered the torch so that it wouldn’t dazzle her. “I’m just gonna get my phone out, okay? I can have the fire brigade here in five minutes, and they’ll get you down.”
She exploded into cackles. “Like a mangy old cat out of a tree! Put your phone away.”
“I can’t, Mrs Ragwen. You’re in danger, and I have to get help for you.”
“Don’t. I’ll lose my balance if you make me laugh much more.”
She began to rock on the beam, and Gideon took a few steps towards her. She was little and frail, and maybe he could catch her, or at least break her fall. He’d worry about how an old lady had got into the roofspace from ground level some other time. “Listen to me. Listen. If you’ve got problems at home, or you’re upset about anything else at all, I’ll help you sort it out. There’s no need for you to—”
“Oh! Oh, stop. You’re killing me!”
Literally, any second. He froze, holding his breath. “Please don’t.”
“All right, all right. Don’t look so scared.” She stopped her terrifying back-and-forth yaw and settled on the beam as casually as if it had been her armchair at home. “Tell me. Who did you see on your way up here?”
“Why is that important?”
“Never mind. Humour an old lady.”
“Well, I... Lots of people. Sarah Kemp and her little girl. Darren Prowse.”
“No. Who did you see ?”
Gideon stood immobile. The warehouse was very quiet, and his heartrate gradually slowed. Was it just yesterday she’d stood by Tamsyn’s cradle? The solstice gate swings wide for the Frayne brood... He let her question enter his Kernowek marrow, the ancient glitter-spirals of his blood. “I saw,” he said quietly at last, “the Beast, the Lord of Misrule, and Old Penglas.”
She nodded as if satisfied. “And what did he call you, Constable, that last one? That old death’s head?”
“He called me... He called me Guardian Frayne.” He must have run up here too fast. The vacant space began to spin
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