'He was sure it's the same woman?' I asked urgently.

'Seemed so,' said Branok. 'We'd heard this lady were in our lands huntin' bluecaps an' the like. It were all over the towns, when our Merouda came back from her tradin'.'

That surprised me. 'You go into the towns?'

'What, out among the big 'uns?' Ang chimed in.

Merouda treated her to a raised eyebrow. 'Don't you?' She grinned again, showing teeth more pointed than Ang's. 'We needsta do business. We sits an' waits in shadows fer them that come as needs us, an' we trades what they needs fer what we wants. Last I went, we traded our tin woven with piskie magic fer other metals and engineering parts. Always in need of solder we are, and batteries, too. Humans may've left our mines, but we be keepin' 'em shored up and well in use.'

'An' yer customers be wantin' toys such as this?' Ang said, scowling at the tin monkey.

There were sharp edges to the way Merouda smiled. 'I makes meaner curses, too.'

'I don't doubt it,' I cut in, and sent Ang a warning glance. I'd done business with knockers on a few occasions before. I knew their charmed trinkets to be vicious little things; arcane booby-traps scored in metal. If a knocker hands you a piece of jewellery, it's probably best to pass it on to your worst enemy instead. 'So Merouda, what exactly was the word on the street about this woman?'

She shrugged. 'Zactly? That she be from up country, lookin' fer fairy folk round our parts. One incomer said 'e'd seen her wi' little cages full o' dancing lights, what sounded much like bluecaps. Saw her in the Big City, 'e said.'

My mind tripped up over this. 'Which city? Surely not London?'

Merouda cackled. 'Na, ya great bleddy tuss! I means Truro.'

'That best be a place an' not another made up word,' Ang hissed under her breath.

'We passed it on the way here,' I said loudly. 'Probably, what, an hour's journey by car? Did Goron go all that way by himself?'

'Ain't nothin' fer a knocker what has the knowin' of the leys.'

I couldn't step back fast enough. 'Hey now. Ley lines? I'm not messing with those.'

'Whassat, gwas?'

I openly grimaced. 'Fairy pathways. They criss-cross the country where the damn things used to live, like scars they've left on our reality. It's as dangerous as trying to travel through the Nether.'

''Tis only a skip to Truro,' said Merouda flippantly.

'Aye, and Goron knows it well,' Branok agreed. 'Well acquainted with the ol' fairy relics, we are.'

I cleared my throat. 'Nevertheless. We'll drive.'

* * *

When I said 'we', I hadn't intended for Branok and Merouda to join us.

As it was, Ang sat next to me in heated silence while in the back father and daughter jabbered loudly and enthusiastically in a mix of old and modern Cornish. Knockers, I was quickly realising, did not have the same sense of restraint as their coblynau cousins.

'Whassis?' Branok yelled at a road sign.

'Lookithat!' Merouda cried at a brightly lit house.

'Go, go, go!' they chorused at traffic lights.

Despite multiple admonishments, they'd both abandoned their seat belts and spent most of the journey stood up in the seats with faces pressed against the windows. I could only be grateful that it was dark and there weren't many other cars on the road.

In their roundabout way of getting to the point, the knockers had eventually given us the full name of Goron's destination. We were headed to a bed and breakfast on the edge of town.

Ang and I had shared a sceptical glance. It didn't sound like the kind of place Quiet Eyes would hole up in.

We pulled onto a wide and neatly kept driveway. In the glare of my headlights the name 'Three Stones Retreat' swung on a genteelly styled sign.

The reception building looked like a sprawling old farmhouse, with what might be converted barns lining the courtyard. Warm light spilled from the gaps in their curtains. It had an air of tranquillity about it.

'This doesn't feel right,' I murmured.

'Nothin' about that ast were right, though,' Ang added quietly.

''Ere, lookit that wheel o'er there!' Merouda screeched.

''Ee, it's off a pit head, that is!' shouted Branok. 'That'd be a right useful spare fer back 'ome!'

I lunged into the back and grabbed them both by their collars. 'You listen to me,' I said sternly, 'there's to be no stealing here, got that? We've got to have our wits about us!'

Merouda cocked her head, looking at me slyly. 'Then ye needs more wits than yer have, merchant man.'

I glanced down, and saw she was holding the clockwork monkey in one hand. The other was poised over the key.

I relaxed my grip. 'Hey now. It was just a warning, all right?'

'Ya. A warning,' she replied sweetly, tucking the toy away.

'What's the plan, gwas?' said Ang.

I surveyed my three diminutive yet grizzled companions. 'I think . . . Perhaps you three should stay here. I'll . . . I think I'll just knock . . .'

A trio of penetrating gazes followed me up the drive. There was a bell by the door. I pressed it.

There was no answer, to which I wasn't surprised. Who'd take in travellers at this hour? But I thought I saw a curtain twitch high above, so I pressed again.

At length, there were muffled footsteps, and the grand wooden door was opened just a crack. A tired middle-aged man in a fluffy pink dressing gown was partially revealed.

'It's an emergency!' I blurted out before he could say anything. 'I'm here for . . . There's a . . . Let's see, shall we say . . . There is a lady of great importance staying at your fine accommodations. Very private individual, I'm sure you'll understand, and I wouldn't know what name she's given you. But I must speak with her urgently. If you please, Sir.' I imposed an inflection on the sir to convey a meaning as close to 'my lord' as feasibly possible.

This kind of confidence trick only has a few seconds in which to work – the mix of urgency, brashness, and flattery should pummel the recipient into assuming you have a right to be wherever you are, and thus overlook your shortcomings (in my case, the scruffy hair, rumpled trench coat, and general untrustworthy demeanour) to allow you passage.

In this instance I fear that our man was still waking up, and so his sleep-addled brain took several crucial extra moments to digest the situation.

He squinted at my shirt, which I realised held a smear of mud from where I'd fallen into the knockers' home. 'D'you know whut time it is?'

Bugger. I wasn't in the mood to try genuine persuasion.

'I'm terribly sorry,' I lied, 'but this can't wait. Do you know the woman I'm talking about? I'm certain she's here and she must be given this . . . this incredibly important news.'

He grunted at me. 'Write it orna note. I'll gi'it her in mornin'.'

I glanced behind me, hoping for inspiration. To my fortune, Branok and Merouda were both stood with faces pressed up against the windows of my car, staring right at us. I thought I saw Ang jumping up and down behind them.

'The children!' I said desperately, waving an arm at them. I tried to go for compassion. 'You wouldn't turn them away, would you?'

His eyes widened – possibly because his brain had registered that one of the 'children' had a beard – but I snapped his attention back onto me with a sorrowful, imploring tone. 'Please, sir. The children have lost everything. The lady will want to see them. Discretely, you understand. Just point us at her room.'

'Oh, dearovem! The poor little tackers,' he muttered. He nodded across the courtyard to one door in the barn row. An impish stone ornament stood guard outside. 'Give 'er me condolences.'

I waited until he'd certainly shut the door.

Crossing the distance to the barn, I held up a hand for the others to stay inside the car. I wanted my full wits about me, and no distractions. If I were to face Quiet Eyes again . . . it would be like balancing on the edge of a knife. A serrated one, at that.

Just like her appearance, her words were illusory and her motives impenetrable. I'd been a victim to her mind games before – hell, I'd been stupid enough to think that I'd won one, for a while – but now I was wiser, and I knew the violence she was capable of.

My palms were sweating.

Was I really just going to knock on this door and face her again?

Should I feel guilty about this nervous burbling of excitement in my chest?

I wonder if she's been thinking about me, the fish that slipped the net?

'Hey, gwas,' –I jumped– 'why haven't ye knocked yet?'

I hoped my face wasn't red. 'Preparing. You don't need to be out here, you know.'

'Aye. But no luck getting' these two t'sit still.'

'These two' were busy inspecting the garden ornament. 'Looks like you, Tas,' Merouda snickered.

'Oh, cripes. Fine. In that case, here's the plan–'

As if on cue, my words were cut in half by the sound of a lock clicking. The door swung open and welcoming light spilled over our faces.

Looming in the glow, a vision of tweed and tightly wound curls frowned down at us.

'Hwat,' she said, 'is the meaning of this?'

As a group, we were stunned. There's nothing quite like the tone of a school ma'am to whip the nervous system into fight-or-flight mode. This woman – who was obviously not Quiet Eyes – looked each of us up and down with a thunderous expression. I risked a return appraisal and noted the fuzzy slippers peeking out from under her skirt, and the dishevelled state of her tweed jacket which suggested it had been thrown on last-minute to cover her blouse.

She clapped – startling us all – and suddenly beamed down at Ang.

'More fairies!' she exclaimed. 'How delightful!'

'Who're ye callin' a–'

I gave Ang a quick kick. 'Ah, good evening my . . . dear? Perhaps you will understand if I say we are looking for an acquaintance of ours . . .'

'I am not your dear,' she said pointedly. 'But I am entertaining some wonderful company tonight.'

She stepped aside. A familiar face perked up from its position in a pillowed, paisley armchair.

'Wasson, shag?' said Goron happily. He was holding a cup of tea.

* * *

Author's Note

Wheeee! We finally got to see Goron. I had a few different versions of how this episode would go down - originally it was a more hostile situation. Let's see how this new direction plays out.

How're you finding the Cornish dialect, by the way? I sometimes get too enthusiastic about playing with regional language, so please let me know if anything is totally incomprehensible!

I'm now off for two weeks over Christmas, returning to weekly Wattpad updates in January. (If you happen to be subscribed to my email newsletter, you'll find an extra tidbit in your inbox next Wednesday to make up for the absence.)

It's been a wild year - thank you to everyone who bought a copy of Season 1, and thank you to everyone now following Season 2. I'm hyped to have made this much progress and looking forward to unfolding the rest of the story with you.

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and Happy Holidays if you don't!

See you all in the new year.

– Georgina