I spent a whole day in Cora's company. Something I used to do at the beginning, but not so much in recent years. I come, drop off my offerings, and go.

Since Ang stormed out, I'd remained sitting in an armchair opposite Cora. The sun was warm in the window, and my body, having been stretched to the brink with an all-night drive and a werewolf attack – not to mention the mental strain of revelation upon grim revelation – finally forced the issue of sleep. I rested quite comfortably. You'd think I should be plagued by guilt-ridden nightmares, but I wasn't. Those came after I woke up.

It was Mavis who roused me. 'Time to go, love. They'll be doing dinner in a minute. Thought I'd let you know before shift change.'

'How late is it?' I burbled.

'Nearly six.'

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked at Cora. She'd been moved into a wheelchair already, presumably to be taken down to the dining room. I was shocked it hadn't woken me.

'Looked like you needed a good sleep,' Mavis offered, noticing my consternation. 'We let you be while we kept Cora's usual routine. There's a sandwich waiting at reception for you, if you want it for the road, what with you not having eaten all day.'

'Thank you,' I mumbled.

She looked concerned for a minute. 'Your niece . . .' I hastily tried to think up an explanation for her disappearance, but Mavis beat me to it. 'It was Nelly on reception. Apparently little Emma said she was being picked up by her mum? Only I didn't find out until after, and no one actually saw her leave and well . . . that is right, isn't it? She was being picked up?'

'Yes,' I said, feeling sorry for the anxiety in Mavis' eyes. 'Thank you for worrying, but she's back with my sister . . . in law.'

'Oh, good,' she said, visibly relieved.

I massaged my legs a bit where they'd gone to sleep, and stood up. My stomach burbled emptily and my shoulders ached.

I leaned down and kissed Cora on the forehead. 'Take care,' I said. And finally to Mavis before I left, 'You promise you'll try to get her off those meds?'

'I can't say he'll agree, but I've written to the doctor today,' she said. 'It's up to him.'

This I hated the most, my lack of agency in Cora's care. She was technically homeless, and had nothing to formally identify her with any family, biological or otherwise. And even if I wanted to intervene – what could I do? Kidnap her from the home? How would I even look after her? Feed her? Keep her breathing when the body occasionally forgot? Should I carry her around like a ragdoll in my car?

These thoughts made me detest myself.

I slumped into my car. It felt wrong to have an empty seat beside me. The absence was mocking. I'm used to gambling with my life – that's safe in its selfishness. Gambling with Ang's trust was a line I should have never stepped over.

So what now? Back to the road, and the next opportunity? Off to another town, tourist-trap or otherwise profitable mark?

I stared unseeingly at the road map.

There was really only one place to go.

I started the engine and plotted a route north. Probably five hours or so, to get to Manchester. I cricked my neck, and settled in for another long drive.

* * *

I ended up sleeping in a secluded residential street once I arrived in the city. In the morning I helped myself to a dose of 'Claritea' from my stock. I don't usually make use of my own wares, but this was an exception, being one of my own creations.

Of course, I sell it to the punters as a refreshing beverage that provides magical focus and clearness of thought.

It's actually just tea, with added caffeine. And a crystal at the bottom, because crystals make anything seem more magical.

Speaking of crystals, I pulled out my quartz for scrying. It wasn't too much trouble to find a couple of Ang's grey hairs from the passenger seat, which I tied into a knot around it. From my treasury of battered town maps I found an old Manchester one and hovered the crystal over it.

I knew 'Empire Industrial Park' was the first line of the address Quite Eyes had given me, but best to check whether Ang was there yet. Sure enough, the crystal swung once, twice, then pinned itself to the park's location.

I fished out a half-eaten packet of biscuits and had them for breakfast while I slowly navigated the city's convoluted streets – full of crawling traffic, one-way systems, and impatient motorists. Eventually the hip and modern buildings of the centre dissolved into a neighbourhood that had so far escaped gentrification, where the industrial bones of the city showed through.

Once I found the place, sandwiched between several other business estates, I circled it a few times before finding a quiet spot to stow my car within a short running distance. I took some time to consider the supplies I'd be taking with me. Crowbar? Somehow I didn't think they'd let me in the door while holding a large metal rod. Instead I reached for my comb and my razor, and did the best I could to reshape the dishevelled landscape of my face into something more presentable.

After adding a severe grey tie and swapping my trench coat for a suit jacket that usually remained bundled up under one of the seats, I almost looked like a respectable sort of salesman. I disliked the inferior pocket capacity, however. I selected a few choice artifices that would fit snugly in the lining of the jacket, and turned toward the gates.

They were wide open, but a road barrier was lowered to stop cars entering without first checking in with the little security post next to it – not a common arrangement, that I've seen. But now that I knew the sort of products Baines and Grayle were involved with, I had wondered whether I might be heading toward some kind of lab or research facility, or maybe a factory where drugs are made. Are medicines made in factories or labs? Perhaps it would be both.

Off to the side, an odd shape sagged against the bottom of the metal fence that surrounded the whole complex. It stirred as I approached, and revealed a shaggy head of hair and extremely world-worn eyes peaking out over the top of a dirty sleeping bag.

'Spare a quid, mister?' it drawled.

'I'll spare several,' I said, 'if you know anything useful about this place.'

The shape stretched out and became more obviously female as she replied, 'I know the best place to take a piss round the back.' A cracked but toothy grin followed this.

'Okay. Funny.' I flashed some cash. 'Is this your spot? I imagine you see people going in and out, right? I'd like to know what kind of people.'

'Don't know, don't care,' she said in a sing-song voice. 'Don't work for you, do I. Prick.'

I bit back on an insult. 'Okay. I know I look like a bit of a twat right now with the suit and everything, but I'm actually trying to help a friend.' I huffed a bit, which didn't help my case. But she probably didn't know anything, anyway.

Her voice followed over my shoulder. 'Who's your friend?' When I was further down the street, 'Not a little girl, is it?'

I stopped in my tracks. It was unlikely but . . . people saw what they wanted to see, didn't they?

'Did she tell you her name?' I said carefully.

'Not like I'm gonna tell you first, is it.'

I approached her again, this time looking properly. Her whole stance was defensive, poised for flight despite being buried inside a sleeping bag. The eyes darted all over me, looking for clues to figure me out. She didn't look like she was comfortable in this corner of the city at all.

'My friend's name is Ang,' I said.

The defensiveness didn't change. If anything, she became more alert. 'And how are you helping her, mister?'

'Hm. I imagine this may sound insane, but I suspect you've seen and heard plenty of insane things on these streets, right?' Her mouth quirked down, but she didn't counteract me. I pointed at the facility. 'Ang has gone in there to save some friends of hers. Honestly, I don't know if she needs my help doing it. She almost certainly doesn't want my help. But I'm here, and I'm going to try. Just in case . . . I don't know. In case something has gone wrong. Because it nearly always does.'

Her eyes flicked backward and forward across my face. 'She went in there last night. Getting on close to midnight, I reckon, and I've been up the whole time watching for her to come out again. She hasn't.'

'That's worrying.' I wouldn't expect Ang to take over eight hours – or more. I guessed it was coming up to 9AM now as cars were beginning to pull up to the security barrier. The drivers looked like clean professional types; smart shirts, cup of coffee in one hand, briefcase or smartphone in the other as they got out of their cars. 'How'd you know her?'

'She asked me for directions. Felt bad, letting her come to this part of town. But she seemed determined. Like she knew just what she was doing.'

'Do you know anything about this place?'

She shook her head. 'Only that people . . . my kind of people . . . say it's haunted.'

Aha. 'That sounds important.' I tried not to let impatience creep into my voice.

'A mate of mine once saw them moving stuff from one building to the other. He was just trying to take a piss, you know? But then he saw them drop whatever it was, and glass broke, and . . . he swears blind that a blue ghost shot out of it. Screeching and crying, he said, like it was in pain.'

'And then what?'

'It disappeared, I guess. And my mate legged it.'

'Anything else?'

'What do you want? You should ask my mate instead. This isn't my patch.'

'So why are you out here?'

She frowned deeply. 'Worried about the kid, me. We've got to look out for one another.' She looked at me thoughtfully. 'Feels like you're one of us, somehow.'

'I don't have a fixed abode, if that's what you mean.'

She snorted. 'If you talk like that, then maybe not.' She huddled back in on herself. 'You're going inside?'

'Yes.'

'I'll be here a bit. Until they move me on.'

I nodded. 'Thank you.'

There was a cough as I turned to leave, and I looked back to see her holding out a cup. 'Deal's a deal.'

I dopped a handful of change in, and the rest of the biscuits.

''Cor, Hobnobs!' I heard behind me as I advanced on the barrier.

* * *

Author's Note

Not too jarring, this jumping between POV's, I hope?

The 'Claritea' in this episode came from one of our competition winners at the Launch Party of Season One! Fab concept, as Hansard would definitely try to hawk regular bottled water as though it were something mystical...