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I’d forgotten it until Matt’s nervous gesture brought it back into mental focus.

‘I’m fine,’ Matt said, with slightly too much emphasis to be convincing.

I hesitated. We really don’t know each other all that well, Matt and me: that lost ground in our childhoods is somehow still there in between us, keeping us at a distance from each other no matter what else happens and what life turns us into. So now, for instance, I didn’t know if he wanted me to push it further or not, or even whether he saw me as a friend or an enemy.

From one point of view, Gwillam and I ought to be natural allies. I used to be an exorcist, at least after a fashion, and that put me on one side of a line that more and more people seemed to be keen to draw: between us and them; between the people who still lived and breathed and the people who’d passed through the veil only to bounce right back again. The Anathemata were on the same side, building bulwarks of faith against the rising tide of the dead.

But I didn’t like that company much.

And I didn’t see the dead - or the undead, for that matter - as the enemy.

‘Matty,’ I tried again. ‘Toss me a bone, will you? I’m not walking away from this because I can’t afford to. You heard what Coldwood said: I’m in the frame here, and the woman in charge of the investigation hates my guts. So I really need to know what the hell it was that Kenny was trying to tell me. If I’m wrong - if what’s going on down on that estate has got nothing to do with him and nothing to do with me - then tell me what it’s all about and I’ll leave it at that.

Swear to God, I’ll mind my own business. If you don’t trust my honest face, trust me to be a selfish bastard.’

Matt was silent for long enough that I believed he was really giving that proposition some serious thought. But when he spoke it was only to repeat himself.

‘I’m sorry you’ve become involved in this. You need to get out of it again and stay out. Whatever happens - I don’t believe you’ll be incriminated.

’"

"‘I’ve already been incriminated,’ I yelled, grabbing his lapels and giving them an exasperated shake. ‘Haven’t you been listening?’ It was the first time I’d touched him, and he brought up his arms to break the contact, smacking me away forcefully. In Matt that looked like a scary lack of control: he’s so used to turning the other cheek he can do the whole Linda Blair thing and rotate his n cd rikeeck three-sixty.