The sun burns like a glowing cigarette end pressed into pale skin. Rowan closes the bathroom window and leans on the sink, head down, blood-red hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face. Don’t be sick. She’s stronger than that. She did what had to be done.

‘The Kirk. . .’ The words stick in her throat. She takes a deep breath and forces them out. ‘The Kirk is my mother and father. It is my rod and my staff. My shield and my sword. What I. . .’ She closes her eyes. ‘What I do in its service lights . . . lights a fire in God’s name.’

Don’t be sick.

‘Lights a fire in God’s name, lights a fire in God’s name, lights a fire in God’s name. . .’

The churning fizz inside her settles, leaving a hollow shell behind. Like a chrysalis after the moth has gone. Empty and brittle.

Her black leather gloves leave scarlet smudges on the porcelain.

Tenet Three: ‘Leave nothing of thyself behind: lest thine enemies use it against thee.’ Rowan turns the hot tap on and lets it run until it steams, then washes her hands. The water runs pink, soaking through the gloves’ stitching, leaving the leather shiny like fresh liver.

‘What I do in its service lights a fire in God’s name.’

She pulls a towel from the rail by the door and wipes the sink clean.

There. That’s better, isn’t it?

Did what needed to be done.

She raises her head and looks at the woman in the mirror. Empty and brittle. Tendrils of dark red and black make wings across her shoulders, jagged with barbs and thorns and claws.

She bares her teeth. ‘WHAT I DO IN ITS SERVICE LIGHTS A FIRE IN GOD’S NAME!’ Spittle flecks the mirror.

And slowly the red fades to pale blue, then gold.

A little smile pulls at the corner of her lips.

All better.

‘. . .or not? Guv? ’

Logan blinked.

‘Guv!’ Sitting in the visitor’s chair, Rennie crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. ‘Least you could do is pretend to be interested.’

Logan frowned, then checked his watch. ‘What are you doing in here anyway? Not even half-seven yet.’

Rennie screwed his face up. ‘Aaaaaargh! I just told you. I’m in because bloody DS bloody Chalmers phoned me – while I was in bloody bed, by the way – wanting to know where all the hate crime files were. And—’

‘Did you tell her? ’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then what’s the problem? ’

‘What’s the. . .’ Rennie screamed at the ceiling again. ‘Why did you tell her to check up on me? We used to be a team. But now it’s all: Chalmers this, and Chalmers that.’