When I awoke, it was to a nicely blazing fire held in a dustbin, and I was covered in a mountain of blankets. Chill morning air grazed the many scrapes I'd picked up during the night.

A group of knockers in a strange variety of attire were making cups of tea round the fire. Old-timey Victorian waistcoats clashed with fluorescent hi-vis wear.

'How long was I asleep?' I asked. The words only just made it out. My lips were cracked and dry.

A knocker passed me a cup. 'About two days, I reckons,' he said.

'What?' I pushed myself into a sitting position. 'It can't have been that long.'

A police siren shrieked down a nearby street. Tea sploshed over the edge of my cup.

'That ain't fer us,' the knocker said, turning back to poke the fire. 'Been left alone, we have.'

As I rested my head back – it seemed I'd been laid at the foot of a concrete pillar – it knocked into a string of plastic fairy lights. They'd been looped all around the column. Shapes of stars and hearts and flowers.

'Done our best to cheer the place up,' my new knocker friend told me. 'Least we could do to thank Minty.'

There were two more pillars to my right, similarly adorned, which held up what remained of the bus station's roof. It made for a kind of L-shaped canopy, with a wall sheltering the open side from the road, creating a courtyard effect where the knockers were brewing their tea.

In the far shadows by the last pillar, a mound of candles burned steadily. The knocker followed my gaze.

'Fer them we lost,' he said quietly. 'Their souls light the darkness no more.'

A figure detached from the candle shrine and donned a flat cap. I sagged with relief as Ang's craggy features came into view.

Her face was lined more deeply than I remembered. Her eyes seemed heavier.

'Mornin', gwas. Good t'see ye've come round.'

I rolled over a few responses on my tongue. There was really only one appropriate one. 'Listen, Ang. I'm sorry–'

'It's done,' she interrupted. She sat in the pile of blankets next to me, arms folded across her shirt. Blood stains were still smeared across it – mine, I realised. Her waistcoat was wholly absent. But then, it was probably unsalvageable after she'd used it to staunch my wound.

'I regret betraying a friend,' I said to my feet. 'Especially knowing you would've still had my back, if I hadn't.'

'Why'd ye do it?' she said wearily.

'Ego, I think.'

She snorted. 'That thing'll get ye killed.' It became a rueful chuckle. 'Still, am grateful yer ego led you back to savin' me own life, back there.'

'That was a selfless act!'

'Ye don't know the meanin' of the word.' She gave me a light shove. 'Yer a good man, Hansard.'

'I could be better.' I hoped to draw a smile, but Ang rested her chin on her knees and stared listlessly at the fire. 'Why so down? We finally did it, Ang. Well, you did it. Rescued your kin. Everyone's safe now, right?'

'Aye,' she said. 'Them's that made it out.'

This triggered a foggy memory. Something about a cloud of bluecaps. Had I been dreaming, in that space between being shot and waking up?

'How many were lost?' I asked.

'Too many.' She huddled in on herself. 'My mother's bluecap were one.'

I glanced to the stacks of candles. At least two dozen there, if not more.

'I'm sorry,' I murmured.

'It's done.'

The knocker wandered back over, this time offering a steaming mug to Ang. 'We're heading out soon, lass.'

She nodded. 'Safe travels t'you an' yours, Jago. Give me regards to Goron.'

'Shall do, lass.' He touched his forelock and moved away to round up knockers into packing food and gear into sacks. The knockers in modern clothing separated from their old-fashioned counterparts, bidding warm farewells. The group left over were Ang's coblynau, I realised.

They clustered around some sudden activity at a hole in the wall across the courtyard, and Minty emerged carrying a bulging shopping bag in one hand and a knocker on one shoulder. She caught my eye as she dumped out the bag's contents: fresh vegetables and cans of soup, and another string of pink fairy lights.

'Stealthy little buggers, ain't they!' she said gleefully.

I raised an eyebrow at Ang. 'Stealing, are we?'

'Seems more like charity t'me, gwas,' she replied. 'Noble cause, right?'

'But people don't know they're providing donations, I presume?'

'Thassit.'

The coblynau set to work chopping vegetables into a pot.

'So here's the plan,' I began. 'There's what, eight of your lot, all told? It'll be a tight squeeze, but I reckon we can fit everyone in the car. We'll double up on seat belts and some will just have to lump it in the footwells. Won't be long til we have you all back home.'

'Nah, gwas,' said Ang. 'You ain't comin' with us.'

'But–'

She shot me a stern look. Then poked me right in the stomach.

I keeled forward. 'Goddamn it. That bloody hurt!'

'Right? You need rest, twpsyn. No more foolishness for you, fer a while.'

'How will you get home?'

She settled back against the pillar. 'We'll walk. At night, like. And some o' these don't even want to go home. These are the ones that wanted t'leave our mines in the first place, see? Take me time, it will, to see 'em right. Find 'em somewhere safe. A couple have already gone with Jago. Excited about working with piskey dust, they were. The rest don't yet know where they ought t'be.'

Minty paused her happy rooting through stolen goods. 'You're welcome to stay here as long as you want.'

'Thanks,' Ang said. 'Stay awhile, we prob'ly will.' She sipped from her mug and closed her eyes. The lines fell out of her face, very briefly.

I hated to break into her peace, but I still had questions. 'What happened to Baines and Grayle?'

Minty joined us. 'Police and fire engines have been all over it, twenty-four-seven. They're keeping journalists out, though. Gas explosion, they're calling it!'

'Aha. Of course they are,' I said. 'And no one saw the god explode through the roof, I expect?'

'Freak tornado, I heard,' Minty said. There, I heard the faltering in her voice. If she repeated that lie enough times, she'd end up believing it herself. Funny how the brain can overwrite itself, when faced with something it doesn't want to accept as true.

Like how I convinced myself that letting Ang in on my deal with Quiet Eyes was a bad idea. That somehow chasing a flighty promise of exhilaration was more important than keeping the trust of a friend.

I glanced over, and saw Ang had drifted into sleep.

'Never again,' I promised.

Sunlight was peeking over the station's ragged walls. The sky overhead was a bright, clear blue. A flock of birds turned lazy circles in the air, enjoying true exhilaration – total freedom.

I massaged the ache under my ribs. There was still so much to do. Still questions to be answered.

But for now I could enjoy the moment. The clink and sizzle of food being cooked over an open fire; the slightly restrained laughter as battered souls learned to open up to hope again; and the gentle snores of a friend finally finding peace.

* * *

Author's Note

The End...

As with all the other chapters I have more details I want to add into this ending, especially with Jack's reflections on everything they've been through - and what might still be to come. What questions do you still have? Has the overall story come together in a satisfying way?

FYI, there's also a super-secret 'epilogue' that will come after this. It's only available in the final published version of the book.  =)

I want to say a massive THANK YOU for reading and lending your support to the series. Your comments keep me going, especially on those days when the words don't seem to be flowing or have mutated into dreadful parodies of themselves on the page. I'm proud of how Season Two has shaped up, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

The Jack Hansard Series: Season Two is due for release on 11th January 2022. You can preorder the ebook for a special discounted price here:

https://books2read.com/u/3LwJkJ

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Take care, and see you again soon~