Silence. Rain fell steadily. Alex touched the old man’s shoulder. He shook him gently, to no response, tried again more urgently, then let his hand fall to his side.

He knelt staring at the body before him, watching raindrops land on his grandfather’s coat and disappear, absorbed. His mind was blank and heavy.

“Aw, Gawd.” Harry stood and turned away.

“I think I’ll take a bit of a holiday after this one.” The voice was faint, but the old man managed a grin as he turned his head. “Somewhere with a bit of sun, I think. Nice café by the water.”

“Grandad,” Alex said. Relief beat through him. “Grandad, I—”

“There should be a first aid kit in the Rolls,” Kingdom said. “And blankets and things. I saw it up there, not far from where we left the car we, uhm, borrowed. Philippe was out cold inside, tied up. I couldn’t wake him. I should check on him. I’ll bring back what I can.”

“Now, Alex,” the old man said weakly as Kingdom and the dogs ran off. “I really wish you hadn’t dabbled with using the flier. We’ll need to have a serious talk about that later. But in the meantime: thank you. Give me a hand to sit up, eh?”

Alex helped Harry maneuver him upright. He was sure his grandfather’s hair had grown even whiter. Alex sat back. His ankle ached. He noticed the old man’s hand trembled badly on his cane. Alex looked over at the space where the gate had stood.

“Beckman,” he said bleakly.

“Yes. Well, don’t shed too many tears, Alex. Hans Beckman made his bed a long time ago,” his grandfather said. His breathing was ragged. “Now he’s gone to lie in it. I mean, leaving aside everything else—he killed Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry said grimly. “I’m not one to ’old a grudge. But I’m ’aving an ’ard time forgiving that one. Mind you, came in ’andy.”

“Huh?” Alex said.

“The opening that the gate made started closing behind you when you went through,” Alex’s grandfather said. He was mopping at his face with a handkerchief. “Nothing I did could stop it. But it opened again when Harry reached into it. It’s just a theory, but I think it’s because he has a different kind of energy about him now. A different kind of life force—when it tried to close around him, it was like, you know . . . like two magnets forcing each other apart.”

“I’m officially repulsive.” Harry beamed.

“I think Harry might have been responsible for the damage that was done, actually,” Alex’s grandfather continued. “His holding the gate open for longer than it should have been, that’s what caused the convulsions, the rip in the sky, the earthquake, all that.”

“The collapse of the Devil’s Pulpit back in 1981.” Alex nodded.

“Eh?”