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  “But it did work for those few you tried,” Edwin said keenly.

  Master White nodded reluctantly.

  Prue looked at Edwin. She couldn’t believe he would be willing to do this for her and her family. Her heart was tugged by hope, yet also torn at the thought of any risk to Edwin. “You can’t do it,” she said.

  “Prue, I’ve never been surer. If I could remember my family, I would do this for them, but I can’t. You are my family now, and I want to do this. And if something goes wrong, then I will have lived two lives and I’ll be the luckiest ghost in the world.”

  The lawns of the factorium felt frozen in time.

  Then Edwin coughed. “Come on, Prue, who am I kidding? I have the chance to become a flying lion! Of course I want to do it!”

  Prue and Agapantha exchanged a look and smiled.

  “If you’re absolutely sure, Edwin?”

  “I’m certain.”

  “Hold on, I haven’t agreed yet! And why are you calling Frances Prue?” said Master White.

  “Oh, we can explain that later,” said Prue. “Please, Master White, they are the only family I have left.”

  “We did just save the Guild, and the Governor,” said Agapantha.

  Master White looked to the sky and breathed out loudly through her mouth.

  “She may be shy, but when she speaks, she always makes the most sense,” said Edwin.

  *

  Master White opened up the inner mechanics of the great winged lion. She scanned the wires and connections. Everything looked intact apart from the missing qwortzite. All the instruments she needed had been laid out neatly beside her. She checked the diagrams again.

  Edwin waited quietly on the table. Prue glanced over at him. “Are you certain about this?”

  “If you ask me again, I just might bite you in two when I’m a lion.”

  She laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.

  “Think of your parents, Prue,” he said. “There’s a personifate out there, outside Medlock, terrorizing people. What will that mean for personifates, if that’s how the outside world will come to understand who we are? I need to stop him.”

  She nodded. “But what if…”

  Edwin shook his head. “No what ifs. What ifs are going to get in the way.”

  “If you could please lay on your side,” said Master White.

  Edwin lay down.

  “I’m opening the mechanical seam.” She carefully parted the fur and found the join. She proceeded to set up the wires she needed. Soon she said, “When I remove these connectors, you won’t be able to talk any more.”

  She carefully undid all the connectors and then it was as though the lights suddenly went from Edwin’s eyes.

  Prue was utterly motionless as she watched Master White, her stomach muscles clenched tight.

  Inside Edwin’s stoat machine, the qwortzite glowed iridescent with every colour imaginable and something that seemed to go beyond into another spectrum, lustrous and shimmering. It was still the most beautiful thing Prue had ever seen.

  As though handling a delicate snowflake made of the finest glass, Master White removed the qwortzite.

  Edwin’s limbs were limp, the stoat body just a piece of machinery. Prue bit hard on her lip as Master White carried the qwortzite in the palm of her hands. “It needs the warmth of life to transition.”

  The winged lion was ready.

  “Frances,” she glanced up, “or should I say, Prue, can you hand me the micro solder, please, and Agapantha find a mirror just in case he…”

  “What?” said Prue, passing her the micro solder.

  “In case he loses his second-life memories and imprints again. Agapantha, hold the mirror to its face ready.”

  Prue and Agapantha exchanged a panicked look.

  With a quick fizz of light, Master White connected the first one. She worked deftly, without speaking a word until they were all bridged. She began adjusting the next set of connectors, then carefully she closed the seal and smoothed the fur down. Finally, she stood back. “I’m done.”

  They stood watching the great animal. Nothing moved. There was no sign of life. Prue felt the swell of tears in the corner of her eyes.

  “Give it a moment,” said Master White.

  “Look!” said Agapantha, pointing to the lion’s eyes.

  There was a tiny flicker. They all stared in amazement as the eyes slowly opened. It was like watching someone slowly awake from a confusing dream. The lion stared at it’s mirror reflection, it’s eyes growing wider.

  “Edwin, is that you?” said Master White.

  The lion’s mouth parted a little. “He … hello,” he said. “I feel … strange.”

  There was no denying that it was the voice of a young boy.

  “Edwin, it’s us; can you see?”

  He looked at them and blinked. A frown on his brow.

  “Can he remember?” Agapantha said quietly.

  Prue rushed to him and peered into his eyes. “It’s Prue, you remember, don’t you? And Agapantha and Master White.” Her voice rose with her heartbeat.

  “My body feels so different,” he said.

  “But can you remember us?”

  Then the start of a smile formed. “Hello, Frances.” He winked.

  “Hello, Jack Swift!” she said and threw her arms around him.

  “Jack Swift? Why is everyone changing names?” said Master White.

  “I’ll explain that later too,” said Agapantha.

  “Do you think you can stand up yet?” Master White said.

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  The huge winged lion rolled from its side. He sprang up on his forepaws to sitting, then powerful back legs bought him to standing. He swayed and stumbled for a moment. “It’s all right, I’m just getting a feel for it. Gosh, I’m huge!” Edwin said. He looked at his stoat body on the table nearby. “Wow, was I really that small? And look at the three of you down there all teeny too!”

  There was a sudden whoosh of air as the lion’s two great wings extended and a great clatter as books and equipment were knocked to the floor.

  “Careful!” Master White said.

  “Sorry! I’m not used to wings!”

  Prue thought it was strange having a huge beast before you and feeling no fear. It was so beautiful – golden white shimmering fur and great feathered wings, and even more unexpected that it spoke with the voice of a boy.

  “How do you feel about flying?” Prue said.

  Edwin the winged lion smiled. “I can’t wait.”

  FLIGHT OF A LION

  They opened the great window and cold air rushed into the room, fluttering loose paper. There was a small iron-work platform outside the window.

  “Edwin, I’ll need to get on your back,” said Master White.

  “There’s only room for one,” said Prue. “It’s best if I go; you don’t know the way to the farm, and you and Agapantha would be best explaining everything to Master Woolstenbury.”

  Master White sighed and nodded. “I suppose it would be best if it was the smallest of us – who knows how much added weight he can bear and still stay in flight?”

  Edwin fully extended his wings and beat them once. His body rose easily from the floor before landing again.

  “Do you think we’ll fit through this window? I feel pretty huge,” said Edwin.

  “Give it a go!” said Prue.

  He put his forepaws on the ledge and climbed out on to the platform. The others hurried to watch as Edwin stood on the platform edge. Falling from this distance would certainly break bones and probably result in lost life. The others watched soundlessly. Edwin tipped forwards. As he dropped, he spread his enormous wings and began gliding down, then his body tumbled head over feet. They all cried out.

  “Wings, Ed!” Prue shrieked.

  He managed to beat them in huge swathes of power, righting himself and landing clumsily on to the path below.

  “Spend a few minutes practising!” Prue called.<
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  She watched him beat his wings and take off again. He flew to the trees, went around in a circle then landed back on the platform.

  “Ready?” Edwin asked.

  “Always,” said Prue, although she felt sick with both the nerves of what her parents could be facing at that moment, and the fact she was about to trust a newborn flying lion machine with her own life. She edged herself out of the window on to the platform.

  “Be careful,” Master White called.

  “You can do it!” said Agapantha.

  Prue climbed up on to Edwin’s back and held tight to his mane. The synthetic hair was warm, like fur gloves around her hands, his body wide and sturdy. Edwin took a couple of quick steps, flapped his wings, and they began rising up and up above the huge lawn.

  “Good job, Ed. Now, head northwards!”

  Edwin banked left a bit too sharply, and Prue tensed and yelped.

  “Sorry! I’m still getting used to these,” Edwin called.

  “If you could learn quickly, it would be much appreciated!” Prue cried.

  The cold evening air rushed over Prue as everything below became smaller. She looked to her left at the great factorium of the Guild, the illuminated windows now tiny golden lights. What was still left of the crowd below pointed and called out. The burnished copper moon shone high above the forest, tinging the snow-covered grounds with amber. As her gaze moved across the lawn, her breath caught, remembering the stag-men. They were still in neat fallen lines below, and one of them had been Francis.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, doing her best to put a wall up to all the emotions she’d felt when she’d pushed the button.

  As they rose higher, Medlock was in full view, even more magnificent at night than the day she’d viewed it from the chimney top. Snow-covered domes and spires looked like a man-made mountain range against the night. The lights appeared as though a giant hand had scattered diamonds across the city.

  “Wow, look at that!” she called.

  “Cool, huh! But there’s just one thing,” Edwin called. “Everything beyond Medlock looks pretty black to me, and I don’t know the way to your farm!”

  He was right. It would be hard to navigate by night.

  A deep horn sounded in the far distance.

  “The evening Gigantrak!” Prue called.

  Just outside of Medlock, pale-grey smoke rose in the night sky and fast-moving dots of light travelled swiftly across the landscape. “That Gigantrak goes north to Batterthwaite. Follow it!”

  They flew across sweeping fields and glimmering lakes and kept the Gigantrak in sight all the way. It was swift, but Edwin managed to just keep it in sight.

  A couple of times Edwin faltered, his wings unexpectedly missing a beat.

  “Are you all right?” Prue called.

  “I think so – it’s as though all of a sudden my mind is confused, and I feel like I’m back in my stoat body. I’ll be fine, I just have to focus.”

  After a couple of hours of increasingly laboured flying, they had reached Batterthwaite. “The next village is Staplefield. Follow the river!” said Prue.

  “How are we going to find a stag-man in the dark?” said Edwin. “And what are we going to do when we find it?”

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll be able to reason with it,” said Prue.

  “Lucky I’m in the body of a lion, then!”

  As they flew over North Owlcot, the shape of the landscape in the moonlight was so familiar to Prue.

  “Land on the hill over there, behind the trees,” she called. “Let’s find the stag-man before it sees us.”

  They looked down on the farm in the valley below. She saw the lights on in her parent’s room, and felt relief that everything seemed all right. They were in there, she was sure. But the creature was somewhere down there too. She scanned the moonlit fields for any unfamiliar shape. Her heart missed a beat in a brief moment of mistaking a scarebot for the stag-man.

  “Can you see anything?” Edwin whispered.

  She shook her head.

  “Where would you hide in waiting if you were one of them?” he said.

  “Somewhere close enough to act, but far away enough to hide. Where you can see, but not be seen.” It was suddenly clear: the place where she and Francis hid on so many occasions.

  “Haywood’s Oak!” She pointed at the single-standing tree in one of the fields close to the farm. There was nothing there. Then she saw it: a tall shape behind the tree. Antlers, sharp and fierce, tinged with the yellow-orange of the blood moon. It was the stag-man.

  “There it is. Now what do we do?” said Edwin. His voice was determined, but Prue felt the quiver in his muscles.

  “We need to be quick. I can’t quite see, but I’d guess its attention is on the farm. Maybe we should fly in from behind and take it by surprise?”

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  She nodded, but nerves tangled like tree vines in her stomach.

  They took flight again, circled back a little, then flew directly towards the oak. When they were almost upon it, the stag-man must have heard the beat of Edwin’s wings because it looked up. Edwin and Prue cried out, an instinctive, fierce battle cry. There was a moment of confusion as they landed and Edwin bounded forwards, towards it. But it quickly recovered and began running away towards the house. It was incredibly fast, and as Edwin chased after it, it became clear they weren’t going to catch it.

  “Jump off, then I’ll be quicker,” Edwin called.

  Without thinking, Prue took a great leap, tumbling and crashing into the barley field. She jumped to her feet and scrambled to the top of the nearest bale. More lights came on in the farmhouse. Edwin had caught up with the stag-man who had stopped and turned back. They stood face to face, only a few metres from each other, eyes locked.

  Mrs and Mr Haywood emerged from the house. “What’s going on out here?” Mrs Haywood called. But Prue’s parents froze in their tracks as they saw the stag-man and great winged lion.

  “It’s over. Primrose is dead and so are the rest of the stag-men,” said Edwin.

  “Who are you?” it hissed.

  “I believe we’ve already met, actually. You attacked us in the forest.”

  The stag-man tilted his skull-like head. “Where is the master?”

  “Your master is gone. He’s dead.”

  The stag-man let out a coarse rasping noise.

  “Give yourself up and we’ll see you’re looked after,” Prue called.

  The stag-man glanced in her direction.

  “Prue! Is that you?” Mr Haywood called.

  “Gone?” said the stag-man.

  Edwin nodded.

  “Then no more waiting.” The stag-man reared back, then leapt. Edwin ducked, but sharp claws swiped across his face and Prue cried out for him. He was just a boy in his first life and then a stoat in his second, thought Prue; he doesn’t know how to fight.

  “Kill those in our way,” the stag-man said, almost robotically, stalking around Edwin.

  “Stay back,” Edwin called, his voice plainly that of a scared young boy.

  The stag-man flew at him again and slashed across his face. Edwin’s head lurched to the side. He staggered.

  “No!” Prue cried.

  “Kill,” the stag-man sneered.

  Edwin bounded at him, but the stag-man darted to the side.

  Then, with brutal intent, it put its head down and hurtled towards him, its vicious antlers blade sharp.

  Prue yelped.

  Edwin managed to leap out of the way, and the stag-man tumbled, but it was soon on its feet again, readying for its next move.

  She had to do something. “Hey, think you’re clever? Catch me!” She jumped from the haystack and started running.

  “Prue! What are you doing?” Edwin called.

  The stag-man turned on its heels and sped after her.

  “Prue!” he yelled.

  Her parents shouted too, but all Prue could hear was her desperate breaths
and the thumping feet of the stag-man moments away. She darted left and right but it was gaining with every step.

  The stag-man sprang for Prue, its arms reaching out, claws inches from her. She cried out.

  Edwin hurtled after them, his mighty paws crashing across the field. With an almighty leap, Edwin bounded on top of the stag-man, bringing it crashing violently down. “You don’t touch her!” he spat. With that he grabbed the stag-man between great powerful jaws and bolted it from side to side as fast as he could, until the stag-man’s body suddenly lost all resistance and became limp in his mouth. He dropped it to the floor.

  Prue lay panting. “Is it gone?”

  “I think I shook it enough to dislodge the wildspark from its qwortzite.” Edwin pushed it with his paw. The stag-man was just a body – an empty machine now. “Prue, it could’ve killed you! What were you thinking, taunting it like that!” said Edwin.

  “I was thinking that there was probably no way you’d let it.” She smiled.

  “Yet another risky plan,” said Edwin, flopping to the ground. “I rather hope our friendship quietens down a bit. You’re exhausting.”

  “What in all the haystacks is going on here!” said Mr Haywood, rushing to them.

  “Mum! Dad!” called Prue.

  She ran towards them and was engulfed in their arms.

  “What in the blazes!” Mrs Haywood said.

  “It’s fine! The lion’s a friend, that thing … not so much. But it’s gone now. It’s all right; the lion is a personifate second lifer – just a boy really. He’s my friend…” She thought for a moment on the best way to introduce him. “This is Jack Swift.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Edwin smiled shyly.

  Mrs Haywood was staring at him, her mouth wide open.

  “Mum, he’s my friend. And he just saved all of us.”

  Mrs Haywood nodded.

  “Well, this is not the night I was expecting!” said Mr Haywood. “Let’s get inside. Explanations are more palatable over a cocoa with cookies.”

  Soon they were sitting in the farmhouse kitchen drinking steaming cocoa and eating oat biscuits, although Edwin had to sit outside with his head poking through the kitchen window as he was too large to fit through the front door. Prue told the story of what had brought them to that moment.