The taxi made good time out of the city, and within minutes they were on the thin stretch of road to the peninsula of Howth. She could do this. She could take him. If he still had his magic, then no, she wouldn’t be so stupid to come here alone. But he didn’t have magic and Valkyrie did, and she was planning on using it. On the journey over she kept focused, kept her mind on what she was going to do, on what was about to happen. Not Fletcher. She didn’t think about Fletcher. She couldn’t.

Valkyrie paid the driver and hurried up to number forty-one. It was a nice house, like all the other nice houses on Nashville Drive. She didn’t know how Sanguine had ended up here, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was paying him back. He’d hurt her so now she was going to hurt him. If Guild’s family was still alive, that was a bonus.

She wasn’t going to be subtle. She didn’t have the time or the temperament. She snapped both hands against the air, the space before her rippled and the front door flew off its hinges.

Valkyrie walked in, shadows writhing around her right hand, flames curling in her left. The living room was empty and so was the kitchen. She went in deeper, to the bedrooms. A woman and a girl were shackled together on the floor in the corner of the master bedroom, gags over their mouths.

She turned, expecting Sanguine to be rushing up behind her, but the hall was empty. With two pairs of frightened eyes on her, she stepped into the bedroom and nudged the door open fully. It swung slowly back and tapped the wall. She crossed to the ensuite, using the mirror inside to make sure it was clear, then she darted in, but there was nowhere for Sanguine to jump out at her.

She moved back into the bedroom. Her right hand flicked a trail of shadows under the bed. They didn’t hit anything. Her eyes found the wardrobe, both slatted doors closed over. If he was in there, he was watching her right now and he could see how tense she was. How scared.

Valkyrie let the flames go out and abandoned the shadows. She pushed at the air and the wardrobe doors smashed to kindling. Clothes dropped from railings and hangers clashed, but when the debris had finished falling, there was nobody in there.

She went to the woman and the girl and pulled the gags from their mouths.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” the woman answered. She was younger than Valkyrie had expected. The girl looked to be about twelve. “He put us in here ten minutes ago. We haven’t seen him since. Is Thurid all right?”