Lucidity faded from her eyes and the hand grasping me fell limply away. 'Betty,' she moaned.

'We'll take it from here,' said a voice by my shoulder, making me shoot a foot into the air. 'Sorry to startle you. I've radioed the others.'

The chap was a nurse. He didn't seem fazed by the strange excretions of hair and teeth, and set straight to covering Julie with a warm blanket.

'Does this happen often?' I said as he handed me my coat.

'No,' he replied brusquely.

'Is she being looked after?'

'Yes.'

'She was asking for Betty.'

'She always does.' I was about to snap when he altered his tone. 'Look mate, I understand. It's difficult to see someone in this state. But Betty was Julie's wife, and she died three years ago. Poor Julie just doesn't remember. Dementia is cruel as anything. She has a son, though, David. A good lad.' He threw me a sideways glance. 'He knows the specifics of her . . . condition. We'll get it under control. Don't you worry.'

More staff arrived, with more blankets and clothes and the promise of a cup of tea.

'She's had a psychotic episode,' he told them. 'Worse than last time. She needs some calm and quiet.'

Julie followed them wide-eyed, like a child, and they led her away.

'Was something wrong with her meds?' I asked.

'Possibly a bad reaction. Can't say for sure.'

'Bet you weren't prepared for that kind of side-effect.'

He snorted. 'No. We'll be changing her prescription, that's certain.' He had already pulled out a small white box and was turning it over in his hands. 'We had such high hopes for her with this. New wonder drug, you know. Seems to cure almost anything.'

'Surely not lycanthropy.'

'Goodness, no. I'm talking about the dementia. It's been amazing for other patients. Really life changing. We might be able to bring these people back to themselves, you know.'

'Oh?' Of course, Cora flashed to the forefront of my mind, even though I'd long ago lost hope of conventional medicine being the answer to her problems.

But it was almost absent-mindedly that my gaze lingered on the box, and finally saw what I hadn't seen before, a glaring detail in Cora's room that my eyes had passed right over.

I snatched the box of tablets from his hand.

All trace of affability evaporated. 'You need to put that back. Right now,' he said severely.

'But–' I saw his hand hover over the radio again, and gently placed the box back in his palm. Gingerly, I pointed to a logo in the bottom right corner. 'What's this?'

He relaxed. 'Oh, that's just the name of the pharmaceutical company that makes them.'

'I see. Excuse me. I have– There's something urgent–' I hobbled past him, knees twinging where I'd taken a blow from flailing werewolf limbs.

Mavis was right where I'd left her on Cora's bed, being tended to by Ang, who had apparently poured her a cup of tea from the trolley.

'No milk, gwas,' Ang informed me. 'An' only a coupla them plain biscuits. Could do wi' some chocolate ones when you get a minute.'

I ignored her completely and strode to the trolley where Cora's tablets still lay on top of Mavis' clipboard. There, the same red logo branded the box. 'Ang,' I said sharply. 'Look at this.'

She joined me and looked at the box. Her sunglasses dropped to the floor.

'What's this mean?' she said hoarsely.

'I don't know.'

Glaring up at us, so blatant as to be obscene, were the words Baines & Grayle. An Egyptian wedjat eye was stamped underneath.

I cleared my throat to get Mavis' attention. 'Mavis, how long has Cora been taking these?' My voice sounded hollow.

Mavis swayed as she broke from shocked reverie. 'The panaceatemol? The doctor switched her onto them about a year ago now, I think.'

'Why?'

'Thought it was worth trying. I feel they're doing some good, love. We've seen improved muscle control. She can sit for longer and she's better at swallowing.' Mavis sounded hopeful, but her face fell as she took in my expression. 'What's wrong, love?'

It was hard work, keeping the hysterics out of my voice. 'You take her off them. Right now, you hear? You don't give her this drug any more.'

Her eyes crinkled in sympathy. 'I don't decide that, Mr Hansard. And you don't, either. You're not a family member.'

'She has no family,' I hissed through my teeth. 'I'm as good as she's got.'

'Believe me, I wish it could be that way. But there's paperwork.' Mavis tapped her clipboard. 'Lots of paperwork. Why don't you want her on these pills? I promise, I think they're making a difference.'

I glanced at Cora, where I saw no difference at all. 'Please Mavis. Can't you put a word in?' I thought suddenly of Julie. 'Tell the doctor she's suffering bad side effects! That's why I'm worried. She could even be allergic . . .'

Mavis clacked her teeth and gave me such a look that I knew I must have sounded a touch pathetic. 'Jack, in all these years, you've never once mentioned anything about Cora having an allergy.' She sighed. 'But if it's really worrying you, I'll see what I can do.' Taking hold of the trolley, she rattled out the door. 'No promises, love.'

'We could steal 'em,' Ang said, when she was out of earshot.

'The tablets? No. They'll only get more. How many other residents are they treating with . . . with . . .' I could barely bring myself to say it. The words whooshed out of me in a frothing mouthful of rage. 'Bloody Baines and Grayle! Pharmaceuticals? Ha! Are we supposed to believe they're – what, scientists? Doctors? There's something awful going on here, Ang, and I have no goddamn clue what their game might be. None at all. None at all!'

'Aye, gwas. I hears ye.' Ang sucked her teeth. 'Why ain't we heard this before, you think? Seems right brass o' them, t'be doing business so openly.'

'Maybe it's not their real business. Maybe it's a front,' I hazarded wildly. 'It can't be as simple as . . . this. Except, obviously it can.' I slumped into a chair. 'We've been asking in the wrong circles, Ang. We should've just gone down the bloody pharmacy.'

I rubbed my face. I'd been expecting to find some presence of Baines and Grayle here. But not this. Not horribly entwined with Cora's care. I'd expected an assassin, that's what Quiet Eyes had made it sound like . . .

'Whassat, gwas?' Ang said sharply.

'What?'

'You was muttering. About the quiet-eyed ast.' Ang's grey eyes drilled into me. 'How's it that she said somethin' to you?'

'Oh, Christ.'

She'd flung off her disguise, clearly intent on having this barney in more accustomed attire. I briefly wondered if she could throw a punch, and how much it would hurt if she did.

'All right, you need to hear me out,' I said levelly. 'And the most important thing is that I was definitely going to tell you.'

'Tell me what?' Ang visibly seethed. 'Secrets, is there? What was it we agreed gwas, about keepin' secrets!'

'It would've complicated things!' I shouted over her. 'Quiet Eyes came to me–'

'When?'

'At Mên-an-Tol. Yes, hardly any time at all!'

Ang scoffed. 'We were there a few weeks. Were this before or after the mess wi' the piskey dust?'

I forget how well Ang can read my expressions sometimes – and that a good poker face can be the biggest giveaway of all. She went very quiet. 'Say, gwas. What happened to all our piskey dust from that business? 'Cuz I feels like I only seen one bottle go into the stock.'

'You need to listen. Quiet Eyes made a deal–'

Ang cursed vividly. 'You listen. You makin' deals with our enemies, gwas? What were you thinkin'?' She silenced my attempt to interrupt. 'I don't care what it were for! Ye shouldn't've done it, least've all without talkin' to me! Ye should've told me. That's what business partners'd do. That's what friends'd do, gwas.'

'I'm telling you now,' I said. 'And you have to listen. Because what Quiet Eyes exchanged was the location of your missing friends!'

This didn't have the effect that I'd hoped for. Ang went quite rigid, and stared at me as though I were a stranger.

'Say again,' she said, in an oddly strained voice.

'In return for the piskey dust, Quiet Eyes told me where to find the coblynau,' I replied patiently. 'She more or less confirmed Baines and Grayle were behind it, too. I don't know if she's turned tail on them or what, but she gave me an address, Ang. So now we know exactly where to go.'

'When were ye gunna tell me this?'

'I'm telling you now.'

'Only because ye let slip. Which it feels like ye didn't mean to.'

I winced, caught out by the texture of a lie. How could I make her understand? 'I thought Cora was in danger–'

'I would've still come with ye,' Ang said ruthlessly. 'If ye'd said. If only ye'd said, Hansard! Why'd you paint me as a deserter? Or were you afeared I'd demand that we leave your lass behind? Ye thinks that of me? Partners, we were s'posed to be.'

Words, usually so pithy on my tongue, utterly failed me. Ang's anger had dulled into a despondent monologue.

'Yer good at leavin' out details,' she said. 'Because no one else is important enough for the details, aye? An' so ye drags people along without concern. Bottom line, gwas: your matters were more important than mine, an' you didn't think I was worth even consulting on it.'

She held out her hand. 'I wants what's mine. Write down this address o' yours, so's I can find mine kin.'

'I'll still help you,' I mumbled, though my ego was busy licking its wounds.

'I paid,' she snapped. 'Give me what you owe, and be on yer way. I don't wants your help.'

'Ang,' I implored, 'hang on a minute. Let's take a breather. We'll be laughing about this tomorrow . . .'

'Ain't nothin' funny about betraying a friend, Hansard.'

'I didn't–' I stopped, because I recognised the warning in her eyes. 'If you really insist. Here.'

I handed her the crumpled slip of paper that Quiet Eyes had given me. Ang read it coldly and shoved it into a pocket. 'Done, we are. Debts paid. If I sees your face again, I'll give it a cuffing.'

She turned and walked to the door. Without even a farewell, she was gone.

Just like that?

I was stunned.

You fucked up.

'Shut up,' I said under my breath. I looked at Cora and exhaled. 'I think I really have fucked up.'

Why hadn't I told Ang as soon as Quiet Eyes appeared? Because she wouldn't agree to the terms of the deal, I'd kidded myself. But why not? Why couldn't we have plotted together, outsmarted her somehow? Why couldn't Ang have been in on the plan?

Because I wanted it all to myself.

That rush of adventure. A roll of the dice on who plays the game best.

I was starting to get the feeling that the dice were loaded, and Quiet Eyes always rolled sixes.

I thumped the window sill.

'She played me,' I said to Cora. 'She fucking played me. It's all mind games. I wonder if Baines and Grayle even know who you are? Who I am? What's it matter if a couple of nutjobs are trying to investigate them? They're a whole goddamn company! We could've looked them up on a register!'

We thought they were master sneaks. We peered deep into shadows when we should have been staring at the light. They say the best hiding place is in plain sight.

I made myself busy tidying up Cora's room. I straightened her clothes and brushed her hair. I dug into the recesses of my coat for a charm, a trinket, something to replace the pentacle that I'd taken from her drawer. I came up with a fistful of costume jewellery with various Celtic symbols. All cheap pewter and glass. Fakery. A pale imitation of the real magic I was constantly grasping for.

'It was never far out of reach for you,' I whispered to Cora. 'I would've followed you, if I could. But then we'd both probably be stuck, wherever you are.' I closed my eyes. 'I wish you'd told me.'

It still stung. Ang didn't know how deep a barb she'd shot.

Cora had also made a deal. With a fairy.

It was supposed to give her a way to the 'other side'. She'd already made up her mind by the time I found out. I should've been able to stop her from going through with it.

'You weren't good at being held back, though,' I said aloud. I swept her dark hair behind her ears.

She'd said, 'Wish me luck, Jack!' and grinned. And then the light in her eyes was simply gone.

Quiet Eyes wanted to mess with me. To let me know she knew far more about me than I about her. Why? I was barely a threat, that much was clear.

Perhaps it was just amusing. Amusing to show me that the grand enemy I'd been tracking was even further out of my league than I could've imagined. Amusing to break down my delusions of grandeur and the novelty of actually having a purpose, for a change. What had I even been doing, before I met Ang? Drifting. Distracting myself with one mildly interesting oddity after another.

Ang had have taken the phoenix egg with her, I realised, still safely ensconced in her bluecap. Not that it mattered any more. Maybe it could have been my big score on the Black Market – but a score to what? To impressing gaudy braggarts like Edric Mercer for all of five minutes? Most of the time I scored so low, no one else even knew I was competing.

I'd once entertained the idea that I might hunt down a unicorn for Cora. The horn could cure anything, they said. But the last time I'd heard even a rumour of one, it was for a single gram of powdered horn supposedly being smuggled by a mafia somewhere in Europe – before it was confiscated by Regulators. If the stuff ever turned up, which by all accounts it hadn't, then every corner of the supernatural underworld would be on top of it.

I folded my hands into Cora's and rested them in her lap.

'I'll stay awhile,' I said softly. 'I know I never stay.'

I turned my gaze to the window and watched the sun climb high into the sky, untethered and free.

* * *

Author's Note

And that closes Episode 7! What did you think to this reveal, folks?

My main note in the edit concerns rewriting the interactions directly after Betty's transformation back to human - possibly so that her main carer isn't actually clued up on her 'condition' at all, making her even more isolated. The idea for Betty in this story came from wondering how folks with an uncanny nature would get on later in life if they were thrown upon the mercy of the system for their care. If a werewolf develops dementia and forgets that they even are a werewolf... and then isn't able to put themselves safely away from others...

There's a whole can of worms here I want to dig into, but alas we only have time to scratch the surface in this story. I think it feeds nicely into the themes for this season, which are falling into place around a thread of 'those left behind...'