King Arthur Returns (Book #1 of the King Arthur Returns Trilogy)

Chapter Nineteen

    The police came to see us, thankfully before darkness had fallen. They knocked on the front door - on the opposite side from the sea - which we'd barely used while at Rosemary Cottage, so often were we coming in from the garden or the clifftop paths. While we'd been waiting for their arrival we'd sat in almost silence as the hours passed; anything that was said was a hushed whisper. 

    It was the same Sergeant Phillips as before, accompanied by a younger peer who appeared to be a firearms officer. I was glad that they were taking things seriously and had guns to defend against the possible sword attacks. Pity they'd take the gun with them when they left us.

    'Ye've had an eventful stay in Cornwall, Ms Kerstein.'

    'Believe me, after today I wish it hadn't been.'

    As the police folk were getting ready to leave us, Nancy stirred. I think the, 'Anything else we can do...' jogged her free from whatever waking nightmare she was locked in.

    'Bessy and Archie?'

    'Nancy, we can feed them. You shouldn't be alone tonight.' I looked to Sergeant Phillips for support but he was absorbed in his notebook. 'Branok?' As our resident softy I figured he'd be more likely to succeed in keeping the fur-babies calm while Nancy was with us. Tristram had sweet-talked her so I hoped would be permitted to stand guard when she returned home. Branok nodded.

    'There are bowls under the kitchen sink.' Nancy told the room, Branok nodded again from where he stood behind her before exiting the cottage.

    'We're nawt sure if anything's been taken. There was an empty gun safe, but no record of a permissions certificate for a weapon registered in Mr Gwavas's name.' Sergeant Philips continued.

    'Jory had a shotgun, maybe not the paperwork but...he definitely had one.' If it was gone I really hoped the brothers hadn't taken it. Or if they had that they couldn't hope to use such a modern weapon...without severely injuring themselves with it as a result. 

    'Well, we'll have to send out an alert that there are illegal firearms involved now. Where did they come from?'

    'I haven't exchanged small talk with them.'

    'I only want to see if we can track down their records and get a better understanding of their possible actions and MO and such. Could ye tell an accent?'

    'I'd say local?'

    'I doubt that.'

    'As you can tell by my accent and the passport I showed you I'm not from here, either. It just sounded like the Cornish accents I've heard while I've been here.'

    'None of the local guys would do this.'

    'Not necessarily that local, they could be from further North than Sennen.' Like Tintagel...in the 11th century.

    After finishing with us Sergeant Phillips and the young gun-slinger left us. Starting the car the youngin lit up the headlights and then perched against the open driver's side door while the sergeant turned back to us. I never found out what he had wanted to add before he left. Extra bright, the headlights lit up the front of the cottage and Nancy's jeep where it was parked on the grass nearby. It also illuminated youngin's blood as it splattered across the bonnet of the police car. Still facing me, I saw Sergeant Phillips flinch at the noise before spinning around to see what horror had happened.

    I could feel my own face was frozen in shock as I let my gaze follow the path of the deadly missile to where two figures now stood outside the shadow of the cottage, instead the setting sun was glowing across them. Cadan had the stolen shotgun hanging from his side. Lit up, it was clear that Crantok was older than Morgayne's last memory of him, they must have found someone else to perform another curse years after the others were buried. Both looked as though they had raided Jory's cupboard after murdering him. They didn't deserve to be dressed in the mud from the bottom of that man's shoe.