James’s anger had distracted him momentarily from the agony, but now that Haight had gone the itching and burning returned worse than before. He pulled against the straps, grinding his teeth, and the pain of the leather cutting into his wrists felt almost like a relief.

He was covered in the hateful insects; they sought out any tender parts to feed on, his eyelids, around his nostrils, in his armpits…

‘Go away!’ he screamed. ‘Get off! Leave me alone. Please, leave me alone…’

But it was pointless.

The mosquitoes carried on coming.

Slowly he started to slip in and out of consciousness. He kept imagining he was somewhere else, as his brain sought to give him some release.

He was lying on the beach at Capo d’Orso with Mauro. It was a golden afternoon. The sun shone in the azure sky, but it was hot – too hot – it was burning down on him and his skin was peeling and blistering…

He shook his head and forced his mind back to reality.

But he wasn’t back in reality; he was in his bed at Aunt Charmian’s cottage in Pett Bottom, cosy and safe. She was bringing him a cup of coffee in the morning, to wake him up, but she spilt it and it fell on to the bedclothes, seeping though and scalding him.

No.

Not that.

There was no escape; every route he tried to take led straight back here, to this reeking swamp and these bloodsucking monsters.

He gave in. He let go.

Let them come.

Let them do their worst.

There was nothing he could do.

He opened his eyes, looked up at the patch of slightly paler darkness above him that must be the sky, and accepted the pain. If this was how he was going to die, then so be it. He wasn’t going to waste his last moments fighting it.

There were two Bonds now. One had a body that was crawling with mosquitoes, itching and sore and bleeding. The other was just a spirit and it floated above the body, observing it, separate from the pain, detached. Slowly his consciousness dimmed, like the flame turned down on a lamp. At last he must have fallen asleep, because when he awoke something was different. The patch of sky had gone. He was aware of someone leaning over him. The guard probably, come to gloat.

James swore, but then he realised that it couldn’t be the guard. The figure was too small, its movements too quick and furtive. Maybe it was a wild animal of some sort. He strained his eyes and tried to clear his foggy brain and as his vision focused, he was amazed to see a girl’s face.